After his question, Zell and the woman who'd poured his drink locked eyes. Green versus blue - cold, bombadier blue eyes. Now that she'd pulled her mask down, Zell could see her properly. She was an older lady, maybe around Fenna's age, with a look about her that suggested cool confidence and control. Zell felt like his soul was pierced in the eternal silence that she left between them as he waited for her answer, but his own gaze was unwavering. Then she grinned and Zell decided instantly that he liked her.

"Because, Zell Brooks, like you I was given a... second chance." That threw him through a loop. Not the fact that she knew his name or his party - that much was a given for the leader of a crew like this, plus; it's not like Second Chance's name wasn't everywhere right now, not least because of his own rumour-spreading, storytelling and bar-room bragging. It was the implication of her words that hit him hardest.

She went on to tell her own story and more explicitly state that she was also from another world. Zell wanted to interject and call 'bullshit' but if she was lying then she deserved a damn Oscar for this performance. "...And then, Pete here gives me good info. Tells me about you, about your little group. Second Chance. Cute name. I like it."

..............Which one of us thought up that name, again? Zell thought. Deep in his mind, the image of a figure silouetted by shadow, struggled in their chains. And the shackles cracked audibly, threatening to buckle and break................

"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!"

"Fucking fun indeed," Zell agreed, ignoring her tone of sarcasm. "I'm having a right old time."

"But I wasn't having any," she finished, not quite feeling the same sentiment.

One of her crew objected, making Zell aware that this woman, whoever she was, had been through a lot to get to this point. There wasn't a question if he believed her or not. It was just crazy that there were more of them. Just how many folks had these Mytherians kidnapped from the universe next door!?

"...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..."

And there she was - that silouetted figured cloaked in shadow, in the back of Zell's mind... Baphomet growled in frustration as the darkness he'd worked so hard to put over her was banished and the shackles around her wrists shattered and splintered with the sound of broken glass. MacKensie Trydant. Outside of his mind and in the actual tavern with the crew of rogues, Zell's features softened at the sound of her name. MacKensie - the lion's share of the reason he could keep so grounded and sane in this insane world. He pictured her smile and laugh, the bittersweet mix of the euphoria of being around her and the guilt that he'd ever think of betraying his team.

He'd missed a little of what the rogue leader was saying but not too much and caught back onto the conversation quickly. "It seems Mackenzie's praise wasn't misplaced. She genuinely cares about all of you."

The Englishman nodded. "She has enough heart for the whole world, that girl."

"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." one of the crew said, throwing a friendly punch into Zell's shoulder.

Zell's trademark one-sided grin appeared. "You ain't wrong, mate. This hero-business doesn't come natural, I'll tell you that much."

Another of them gave a soft laugh and praised Zell's loyalty, reaffirming that the entire crew were very-much in the know of everything that was going on, including the stakes of it all, and actually testing him this whole time. Bloody spies, Zell thought not-unkindly. They're good, I'll give them that.

The leader 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?"

Zell let out a breath. "Christ, we're better off giving out swimming lessons," was his first comment. "Nah, fuck it, we stand tall and proud and fight to the last man. I've not had a chance to speak in-depth with Commander Thorn just yet, but I imagine his plan is to defend the walls, then fall back to choke-points in the streets , finally taking a small stand at Little Bridge, then retreating up the hill." He scratched the back of his head as he thought. He was getting a lot more used to all of the foriegn knowledge of melee combat and battle tactics that were growing in his head with every Ascension. "The walls of the city are trash for a defence, they've got nothing but a couple o' towers here n there, but the Citadel Mountain is pretty defensible. The enemy outnumber us 3 to 1, at least. And that's just the infantry. It gets worse when comparing cavalry and mages. And they have necromancers too, so we have to be even more careful about throwing away our forces on bad positions. If Commander Thorn is smart, we don't spend much time at each checkpoint. Hit n Run, and make our best stand on the mountain. Let the city burn."

On another subject. "I don't like this idea that the city officials think they can wait until the last minute to evacuate the city and bring the people up the mountain though. I know they're going for efficiency and conservation of rations for being trapped up top, but they're playing with fire. The civilians should'a been squeezed up there, like, yesterday."

Zell and the crew of rogues talked until the sun came up, eventually getting Alison's name and shaking her hand for a proper introduction. He found himself quite at home amongst Thieves Guild associates and was surprised that The Source didn't give him the Rogue Class instead of Fighter, but he guessed that it was to put his gym-bro background to good use. And it was like Olaf had said earlier; Zell was heavy and clumsy when it came to sneaking about, which was likely a huge set-back in the job role of a Rogue. Nevertheless, he liked the Alison's eclectic crew and got along with them swimmingly.

"Well, I better go get a few hours of sleep," Zell said, standing up. "I'll see you at lunchtime for 'our first meeting,'" he smiled at Alison. Of course, they would act like they'd never met, later today when MacKensie introduced Alison to the gang. "A pleasure working with you all. Always nice to be amongst professionals. See you around."

And with that, he left the Brass Monkey and made his way back to The Mended Drum, hoping that he could slip inside and get to bed without bumping into anyone and having to explain where he'd been all night.

Clive found himself in a bustling marketplace, vibrant with life and infused with a hint of magic. The air buzzed with anticipation, as townsfolk hurried about what with the building tension of impending conflict at their doors the southerner didn't doubt that people were in a hurry for one reason or another.

He made his way to a leatherworking shop in the big city, a quaint establishment with a sturdy wooden door and a sign that creaked gently in the breeze. The shop had a warm, inviting atmosphere, with shelves made from rough-hewn timber lined with various leather goods. The scent of cured leather filled the air, mingling with the earthy smell of wood and the faint aroma of beeswax from the polished surfaces.

Inside, the shop was simply decorated, with leather tools hanging on the walls and a workbench cluttered with pieces of armor and supplies. The space was well-used, showing signs of hard work and craftsmanship, and an open window let in fresh air, carrying the sounds of the bustling market outside.

The southerner approached the counter, where a man stood looking about in his middle age, the man was Nimuer Farlorn a hardworking but also easygoing man with an infectious smile that he offered the Texan with a joint dangling from his lips "Huh, what can I do ya for sir?"

Clive's hands brushed against a leather chest piece, its texture felt warm and inviting, promising strength in the face of danger. The craftsmanship was evident, infused with enchantments that would enhance his agility in battle "I reckon I’ll take this here chest piece and them enchanted hand wraps,”

Clive declared, his voice carrying a familiar Southern drawl. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna skimp on protection when there’s a fight brewin’.” Nimuer, with a knowing grin nodded enthusiastically. “A wise choice, my friend! These will serve you well in battle, just ten gold for that."

The southerner chuckled, appreciating the merchant's spirit amidst the tension in the air, and dropped the gold coins on the table with a faint clatter securing himself his gear before bidding the man farewell.



The morning sun cast a warm glow, illuminating the determined faces of the men and women who had gathered to hone their skills for what was to come. Clive felt a sense of responsibility swell in his chest; these were not just soldiers, but normal folk like anyone else, each one counting on him to guide them.

“Alright, y’all!” clearing his throat he called out, voice ringing with authority “We got ourselves a fight ahead, and it’s time to get our heads in the game. Let’s make sure we’re ready to stand together when the time comes.” As he watched them respond, a mixture of excitement and anxiety filled the air. Clive remembered the days working the fields back in Texas. Back then, he’d lead a team to harvest crops, but now he was leading a group of fighters preparing for battle. The weight of their trust was heavy, yet it spurred him on.

Once back at The Mended Drum, Barracker said hi to whoever was down on the ground floor and gave a nod to Federick. He spoke to MacKensie about the utmost urgency, to speak to Zell and his whereabouts while she was eating. He explained it was an important conversation, needed as soon as possible, just to comb through a few important details to the fighter. A few truths he needed to hear, but he explained, he would not impose the details on her and interrupt her good meal. She informed him that Zell was out and so he bid her a goodnight, he was mentally exhausted with his day at the library. His eyes were sore from the long reading session. MacKensie did say something that intrigued him, she wanted to introduce someone to Second Chance, he did not think much on who it could be. Too much thoughts about Zells problem with Baphomet stuck in his head.

Where are you Zell?

Barracker tried to sleep, his mind and body not given into sleep, his brain wired as if he had taken the ‘purple fungus’, a mushroom given to enhance the state duration of being awake and to fend off any residue of tiredness in the body. He needed the sleep, more to pass the time rather than to recuperate his exceptional vampiric endurance. Speaking of which, he would need a blood vial soon. But this could wait until just before the battle, he had thought, the cravings making itself known. He ended up getting one of the books he’d borrowed from the library and reading more from it.



The morning came and the Paladin went down for Federicks breakfast.

No Zell.

Then he went to the Military Centre, this was to speak to his second in command of the Bats, Sergeant Warren Burns. After a while, watching captains, sergeants and soldiers flowing in, the vampire got frustrated.

No Zell!

It was getting close to lunchtime and Barracker wanted to get his talk with Zell out of the way before meeting the new person, Alison, so he went back to the Mended Drum to go upstairs and bang on the fighter’s bedroom door.

“Zell! Open the door!” Barracker said loudly.

As soon as the door opened a little, he barged his way inside the room. “You fool, damn you. You lied to me, you lied to your so-called friends and you are defiantly lying to yourself.” The vampire could hear his own heart and breathing. The built up tension in his body finally spilling out. His stare was ice, “There is no person who can control the deadly whispers of the Oblivion Prince of Might, ‘I can make you strong’. ‘Your friends are holding you back.’ Sound familiar?…” He shoved the book into Zell’s chest roughly. “...Baphomet!”.

MacKensie placed her knife and fork together on the empty plate and then dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Frederick was an exceptional cook and had likely been so for a long time, but after watching and learning from James who, last week, had treated everyone to Mexican cuisine for lunch one day, Frederick had been experimenting with new combinations of spices and further enchancing the variety of amazing dishes he could produce.

The innkeeper soon spotted that she had finished and came over to take her plate. MacKensie suspected he had been chomping at the bit to ask for her opinion on his new variation. "All done, Miss MacKensie?"

She nodded gratefully. "Yes. Thank you so much, Frederick."

"Aaaand? What do you think?"

"A veritable festival for the senses," she gladly told him. "You have outdone yourself, Monsieur. Truly a delight."

He was quite clearly proud of himself and took her plate away along with another thank you from Mackensie and a shared smile.

It was getting late and the day had been long. Every day had been long in this tense build-up to the big battle, but this one had left her extra tired. Clive and Barracker had both already returned to the inn, MacKensie letting them know that she wanted to introduce Alison to them and had set a lunch date for tomorrow, asking them to attend and telling them that it was very important. Clive had been his usual steadfast and cheery self, but Barracker had been acting suspiciously odd. The Paladin had been asking after Zell - who was nowhere to be found this evening - and it sounded like the englishman was in trouble. What has that idiot done now? she'd thought. But whatever Zell had done, it must have been serious because Second Chance's two frontliners had struck up a fondness for eachother from the beginning and had seemed fairly close ever since. Barracker was a serious and stoic individual, but there was a different, more intense look in his eyes this time. It was a little worrying, but MacKensie did not pry and hoped that it would work itself out.

She stayed up to see Fenna, James and Adam and let them know about the important lunch date tomorrow. She neglected to tell anyone that Alison was from their world, as she thought it would be fun to give everyone the big surprise when they were all gathered together.

Unfortunately, the encounter with Adam was the last thing on her mind before going to bed. It was awkward for her, although her self-control hopefully stifled it enough that it would not be noticed and rub off on the Druid. She done no crime, but she was full of guilt. She was naturally friendly with everyone, but after developing an attraction to Zell and Adam - and knowing that they both felt something for her too - that natural friendliness had become a weight around her neck and the basis of her self-accusations of being a flirtatious coquette. And now - lying in bed in silence and darkness - her final moments before sleep were spent thinking about the way she'd left things with Zell, the morning after their 'non-date,' and full of admonishments that she could never forgive herself if she tore any kind of rift in the group.

James had to think, which was in character for him. And based on his words and tone, Adam had more evidence he messed up. Oh, what a mess this day had become, and after it being so good for most of it! The Druid's train of thought continued along these lines until being placed on a new track by the Cleric.

"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?"

No, no they had not. And yes, the team leader was right. Upon taking a split second to reflect, Adam knew that charging into the enemy camp like that would end badly. To respond to James’ question, Adam mirrored his action and took a deep breath of his own first; he wouldn't be helpful if he was panicked the whole time. Then he formulated his response:

“No, we did not. And I doubt she knows - Lucy didn't snoop on my message to Glee despite her interest, and I'd imagine someone put in charge of the mail would have to be trustworthy.”

”We need to go. Now"

Yeah, that was a good idea, so the American nodded and walked with the Mexican to the Guildhouse. During that time, Adam tried thinking of ways to help. He did not consider himself to be a great strategist like the man next to him, but he still wanted to try to make up for his mistake, somehow.

“Maybe…if they attack early, the barrier team won't be drained, so they can help the city stay safe?” It wasn't a super insightful thing, he felt, so he added “or is that stating the obvious?” The Druid would listen to and respond to the Cleric of course, though it wasn't a long conversation; the two had entered their destination fairly quickly, having become more familiar with the city thanks to the time they had spent there.

After a glance to see if Lucy was at the bar, Adam and James went upstairs when it was clear she was not. Thankfully, she was at her desk, and the elf was her usual polite self when greeting the adventurers. 

“Unfortunately, I messed up, and I'm sorry for that. First, I never mentioned to anyone that the enemy can see Source Mail messages and interfere with communications. And second, I overlooked that fact when sending my letter, so now the Witch Queen knows we knew when they were going to attack. Frankly, they probably have a new plan now. Again, I apologize for the mistake.”

The red-eyed man, maybe subconsciously, had shifted all of the blame for not sharing the communications hack to himself. Perhaps it was his way of trying to make things right with his team, so they could function even if he became a target for the error. He knew that the mistake wouldn't define him to those who mattered, but his desire to do the right thing was ever-present, even in his current state of exhaustion. Second Chance would not suffer for his error.

In that spirit, Adam would then defer to James on decision-making for the rest of the conversation, only speaking when asked a question or for his opinion. When the conversation came to an end and the two left the Guildhouse, the Druid would once again apologize to the Cleric for his role in this, then return to the inn if nothing else was needed from him.

There, pleasant conversation with MacKensie would cap off a productive day that had turned very bad. Perhaps the red-eyed man would have noticed her feelings of awkwardness if he was less tired. Instead, his mind was on how he would make up for his mistake. Getting to meet the Ranger's new friend would be interesting, at least.

And after the time spent with his friend, Adam went to his room and slept, hoping tomorrow wouldn't bring any more unfortunate revelations.

.

Yesterday evening, after James and Adam told Lucy Bottrill about the hacked Source Comm message and Adam's blunder, Lucy was quick to shut down the entire Source Comm system.

This morning, a message went out to all adventurer's in the city: The Source Comm would be off-limits from here on out.

.





"A COMPUTER?"

The Academy President, Jordash Sigmar's incredulous echo of the revelation was a feeling shared by everyone in the room, including Clarissa Shields who had been the one to reveal it.

"That tiny thing?"

The original prediction that the mysterious cube, small enough to hold in one hand, was some kind of information processing unit, was already an extraordinary claim, considering how compact it was. But now to find out the cube was in fact an entire computer was truly unbelievable. Even the smallest computers in Mytheria took up over 1000 times the space in total.

"Permit me to demonstrate," Clarissa said, taking up the artifact in her hands. "These patterns, symbols and engravings are all input-keys of some kind. James Sirius and I have managed to figure out some of them through trial and error."

She tapped and turned the cube in a specific combination and the cube started glowing purple. Not the purple of Source Interface, but the purple that represented the power of Sillagy, Goddess of Trickery and Persuasion. What Clarissa had done was enter a password that allowed her to bypass the security of the advanced system. Within moments, a holo-screen appeared above the cube, much to the audible awe of the other Academy Directors and the President.

"Mother Iris preserve us."

"We have barely made any headway exploring the operating system. It is extremely advanced and much of the language is foreign to this continent. But it was Mr Sirius who blew the mystery wide open when he hypothesized and subsequently discovered a high-level camouflaged blessing of Sillagy being used to hide the nature of it. We would never have guessed."

"So... what now?" the President asked. "Can we use it?"

Clarissa shut the cube computer down, then levelled her gaze at Jordash, a momentary pause before nodding. "Yes. I believe so. But we would have to get lucky. There is so much to explore about this revolutionary technology, but one thing we do know is that: The computer was programmed to give orders to a troop of Skeleton Soldiers. This being the case means there's a signal emitter built inside. And if we can hack the program and amplify the signal..."

"We might knock out half of Saladin's army!" Enio Ivey exclaimed.

"Not half," Reginald De Wran corrected with his usual grumpy and sharp disposition. "A large portion of Saladin's forces are living. And of the undead, there are vampires, ghouls and zombies too. We can only be sure that this computer can signal to skeleton types."

"Director De Wran is correct," Clarissa confirmed. "Nonetheless... it's something."

After that, they moved on to the other thing on the agenda...

"Director De Wran," the President addressed. "Have you managed to break through the curtain of supression enveloping the city?"

The Witch Queen had managed to stealthily shut down communications by Magical Relay going in or out of Valhiem. Magical Relay was the only secure means of long-distance contact and traditionally used by the higher powers of governing entities for communication between cities, states and tribes around the empire. Nobody had realised that their capabilities had been destroyed until Saladin attacked and the city needed to use it to get outside help, but now...

"It may be too late to do anything about that now," Reginald said. "Even if we can muster up enough Source to contend with Her power, there is no one who can can reinforce us within 72 hours."

"How in the world did she become so powerful?" Enio shook his head. "She was always one of the empire's more gifted wizards but this is another level."

"Who knows," Clarissa said. She looked at the cube in her hands. "The mysteries across The Eternal Sea are vast. So many beyond our comprehension."

The President turned back to Reginald. "We must still try."

"Of course," Reginald snapped back. "What do you take me for? The few mages in my department that haven't been dragged off to fuel the Ritual Barrier are working around the clock. We will not give up."

If only somehow someone would have already gotten the SOS call out already........................

.



Glee John Webster, Druid of the Adventurer Party, True Grade, knocked on the door of the private quarters that his party leader had been given at the fortress on arrival. True Grade being a Diamond Tier party and member of The Council of Heroes would always be afforded such priveliges. The half-orc Druid entered to find his leader, Brandon Heat, sat at a desk going over scouting reports of the mountains east. It was only a matter of time before The Witch Queen had built up enough forces to attack the crown jewel of tactical positions on the continent. Taking the fortress of Fornost, (or Tarost, as it was called by the native Sibliconians who built it,) would allow The Witch Queen complete control of the center of the continent. If the Empire lost Fornost then Capitol City was completely vulnerable to wave upon wave of attacks. Fornost was not necessary to The Witch Queen's victory in this war, but without a doubt, if it was taken then victory was guarenteed.

"Glee, what's up, my friend?"

"Bad, Brandon. Bad." Glee took the chair that was offered by True Grade's leader. "I've recieved a message from a friend, through the Source Comm. Adam is his name."

"That Druid you said was gifted beyond measure," Brandon remembered from their recent campfire stories.

"Yes. Only: Most of the message is encrypted," Glee said worringly. "It's been hacked." Brandon shook his head with annoyance and rubbed his chin. It was no secret that the enemy had Code Readers on their side too. It was also to be expected that they would have hackers. "My instincts are on fire, right now, Brandon. I have a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach."

"Your instincts have never steered you wrong before, friend. And they have kept us alive more times than I can count. Tell me what's on your mind."

"We should contact Capitol City. Report to The Council everything we know about this strange party, Second Chance. And request that they check on the welfare of Valhiem too." Glee shook his head. "Something's telling me that there's something bigger happening here and I can't, for the life of me, figure out what it is."

Torture.

Just the few hours of sleep Zell got felt like days. Weeks. Baphomet was entrenched deep now. Zell had forgotten what a good dream was like, or even a dreamless sleep. Just like every night since he'd first said those fateful words... "Take Vor, Baphomet" ...Zell was in the unending void of impenetrable blackness. This time he was on his knees with the pain Baphomet had filled him with.

It's not real. It's not real.

This is what he repeatedly reminded himself of to try and help handle the pressure. It had worked that one time when Baphomet tried this tactic. But that last time, the illusion was of physical pain. Zell was better suited to dealing with that. Hard training on the football pitch. Gym. A fight or two, in his past. A fight or six since arriving in Mytheria. Zell could handle physical pain. But this was different.

This time, his heart and mind were filled to the brim with overwhelming sadness. An incredible amount. Zell didn't know it was possible to feel this level of sorrow. He didn't have the strength to stand. He wanted to cry. His face was contorted with unbearable emotional damage. The sadness came first. Then came the thoughts of his family. How his mother might never get over his passing. How his father might be glad that he was gone. How his sister might not give a shit. After that came everyone else he ever knew. How his relationships were all shallow and transactional. How his friend he grew up with might be better off without him because he'd now get on the straight n narrow - stop being convinced by Zell to do Zell's selfish bidding. Or maybe he would get himself killed trying to step into Zell's shoes at Uni. Then came Mytheria stuff.

"You'll never evolve," Baphomet told him.

"I... I can be better," Zell said weakly.

"We are not enough."

"We are not the same."

"You don't have that kind of heart. That kind of nature. Face it - a sabrecat never cannot change it's stripes. And your fellow party members know it. They just tolerate you. They know you're not like them. They know you're no good." He could no longer reply. All he could do was feel like he was being torn apart by sheer sadness. "She knows it. You'll never be good enough for her." Zell could not deny this even if he had the strength. "Do you think they will ever see or appreciate that you came back? That you had the chance to leave but didn't? They'll probably think that you just didn't want to risk going it alone. Or something else that serves yourself. Because that's what you do. That's all you've ever done. That's what you're built for. A self-serving machine - good at it too."

"Stop. Please."

Zell awoke to the sound of his bedroom door being knocked loudly. His heart was beating hard. His temples were soaked with tears that had forced their way through closed eyes and streamed down the side of his face as he lay unconcious on his back. He took the deepest breath, relieved that it was all over. But why the hell was someone banging down his door like police!?

He sat up and wiped his eyes and then his face, then shook his head of cobwebs, swung his legs off the bed and quickly put on his trousers. The moment he turned the door knob, Barracker came barging in and just unloaded a stream of abuse at him. Zell was thrown off, but quickly caught onto the fact that the paladin had figured him out. Figured everything out. Fear crept up from the back of his mind. The thought of an upset, vampire paladin was pretty damn scary. But there was also another emotion. Anger. A flicker of disquiet at the verbal attacks, the disrespect, the barging into his room...

It was this negative emotion - anger - that Baphomet took and multiplied dozens of times over.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

“...Sound familiar?…” Barracker shoved the book he was holding into Zell’s chest roughly. “...Baphomet!”.

That was it - all Zell could take. His jaw clenched with anger and, without thinking, he fired a straight right-hand. His punch clocked Barracker square on the nose, taking the vampire by surprise. It must have, for a surprise attack was probably the only way Zell could beat vampire-speed. As Barracker reeled back, Zell realised that he was in trouble. He didn't mean to lash out like that - to hit his own friend. Oh crap, he thought. But also along with that thought was rage and a bit of fear that if he didn't press his advantage, Barracker was going to kick the shit out of him. And so he charged the vampire, slamming his shoulder into chest and sending his friend flying into the door that slammed shut with the momentum.

Zell pressed his attack and threw hard hooks... "The fuck. Are you. Talking to!?" ...a combination of Ascension and Baphomet's power giving him the strength to hurt Barracker with every hit.

He answered the question as they moved.

"Yes and no, it would depend on what is most cost-effective, keeping the barrier to offer protection for the city or using the extra firepower. If the big brass decides to keep the barrier it will hold for a while but I doubt the enemy doesn't have something prepared in advance to break through, remember this was a siege, which means time is in their favor, not ours, and if they got half the preparations I think they did then they likely waited this long because it was easier" And knowing the paranoid old man he probably had anticipated that the wait would make them fight all the harder "

Their arrival at the guardhouse was quick and perhaps they still had some luck left as the guildmaster was fit to see them right away.

Once pleasantries were exchanged Adam beat him to the punch and spoke first.

“Unfortunately, I messed up, and I'm sorry for that. First, I never mentioned to anyone that the enemy can see Source Mail messages and interfere with communications. And second, I overlooked that fact when sending my letter, so now the Witch Queen knows we knew when they were going to attack. Frankly, they probably have a new plan now. Again, I apologize for the mistake.”

He wasn't very good at it.

Once more he was reminded about this particular habit of his friend and not for the first time he felt some faint irritation, it was... frustrating to hear Adam talk like that sometimes. He was a good man and an even better friend but this was one of his traits that needed sometimes got out of control.

But that was okay, this was one of the very few things he could help with.

Giving Adam a few pats on the back he signaled to him he wanted to speak, then took a step forward "I am afraid that the Witch Queen has access to Hacking, I am unaware if she does it herself or if she has a specialist to do it" He gave a few shakes of the head then resumed "Back when we received the message we found it to have been tempered by her, even now I don't think my party knows about 'Hacking', I only know because special circumstances regarding a Blessing from Lathop"

Use the 'we' to signify the whole party, making it clear Adam wasn't alone, explaining they were ignorant but leaving enough rope to involve him.

"At the time we were extremely distraught by the contents and I think we subconsciously pushed the matter aside, the aforementioned Blessing had certain consequences to my physique which resulted in a pathological fear of the Witch Queen" He gestured towards Adam "It wasn't until my teammate here realized he had been using the guild services to send a message that he made the connection that if She could temper with our message, she may be spying on all of Valhaim's"

Involve them, it was their service that was tampered with, also elevate Adam's contribution, he was the one to discover it. He wasn't good at politics, not really, but even he wasn't blind enough to ignore how valuable they were to the whole city during the attack, with all the contributions they had made it was unlikely they would be punished, if he was a betting man he would say the matter would be swept under the rug. Still, it was better late than never, he doubted Adam was the only person using the service during these last days, and sure he may be the only Druid to do so, but there was no telling what other secrets were leaked.

After some further questioning, they were released and back to the Mended Drum.

Mac news was something that he would have welcomed any other day, but in this one in particular he was just silently waiting for one last kick in the nuts to end the day.

It was just one of those.

However, before he went to sleep he made sure to impart some last words to Adam.

"Hey Adam, Tree-Man, look, this may have been a fuckup but it was a collective fuckup, any of us should have reported the entire thing the moment we found out about it, hell I doubt you are the only one who send messages, there are a lot of Adventurers around and I bet a couple of them have friends and family outside" He took a couple seconds to think the right words "Look what I am saying is don't beat yourself too much over it m'kay? I know you are your harshest critic and truthfully thoughts like that will just make you suffer for nothing. Better focus in what is to come"

He gave the man a couple pats on the shoulder before biding him goodnight and then retreating to his room.

What a shitday.

The moment had taken him aback and put him in two minds. He knew he had gone too far and been disrespectful by storming in like this, but he also knew who he was dealing with. Damn you Baphomet. As he was sent into the door, slamming it shut, he knew by the look in Zell’s eyes that he was seeing red. I am going to have to fight back. The first two hooks landed, and then came forth the explosion of pain. He never realised how strong Zell was.

He weaved the third strike, a hook meant for the face, then locked Zell’s arm with his own, dragging the fighter into a vicious headbutt. He then proceeded to pick Zell up and fling him across the room. No part of Zell’s body touched the floor until he smashed into the opposite wall and came crashing down onto the chest of drawers, knocking the lamp off and bringing both Zell and the furniture tumbling over into the ground.

Barracker marched over, hoping the fight was done. But when he got close, Zell sprang up and wrapped his arms around the Paladin’s waist and lifted him off the ground. Barracker managed to punch him a few times before he was plummeting to the floor. Lucky though, they both hit the edge of the bed to absorb some fall damage and then bounced onto the floor.

The two friends rolled around on the ground, hitting eachother and trying to get the top position…



The two of them were sitting on the floor, backs against opposite walls, facing each other. Their breathing was a bit erratic. Barracker could tell that the hate had disappeared from Zell’s eyes, the fighter seemed back to himself. Baphomet is gone, for now, the Paladin thought, as he touched his own face, checking for any injuries. It was hard to tell but he guessed that he might have suffered a broken nose and fractured cheekbone.

“You hit like the very giants that created the Sibliconians,” he said as a straight faced joke.

It took him a few moments to order his thoughts of what he wanted to say, on a serious note. “I am not mad at you, only Baphomet. Only he deserves the blame for this mess.” his breathing levelled out, “You are cursed Zell, just like a hundred men before you. You do see it, don’t you?” The two men went back and forth for a bit. Barracker was glad that the two were on the same page, that things were ok between them. Just a couple of guys hashing things out, albeit in the most primitive way. I think with my muscles way too much. Odis would be disappointed, but would probably laugh.

MacKensie's routine was similar to those of her recent mornings since being named a Captain of the garrison. She was up before sunrise so that she had time to go to her favourite spot by the canalside do her usual stretching exercises. Then she would head back and trade a hearty 'Good morning' with Frederick, get a shower, some breakfast and head out to the Military Centre to arrive before her block, The Rabbits. She would help out with the menial tasks around the training yard while making sure to greet all of her soldiers as they rolled in, being sure to test herself on remembering all of their names. Some required a reminder, which was not good manners, but her commitment to the men and women would hopefully mean more than etiquette, airs and graces.

Light exercise would begin while those who had missed breakfast were sent to the mess hall to grab a quick bite to eat. Then - a slight change to schedule - she would start archery practice as a morning training instead of in the afternoon.

"Permission to speak, ma'am."

MacKensie smirked as she watched The Rabbits organise at the range. She knew the voice. "Come now, Sergeant Grimes; you do not require my permission for that. You know this."

"Just teasing, ma'am," he didn't smile nor did his gruff tone indicate humour, but MacKensie understood that this was just his way and so smiled for him as she regarded him sidelong. "Just wonderin' why we're using the range early today."

"I am out for lunch and I'm not sure how long I'll be," she explained, a tinge of excitement making itself known in her heart as Alison's face came to mind. "I would rather be here for archery. I trust you to handle everything else." Her eyes went back to scanning her soldiers. "Robinson has yet to correct his posture on release, and I need to see if Sellers, Grimwold and Zu'bah in particular have taken to the lessons from days past. Others also have a few bad habits that need some extra polish while we still have time." As she looked back at Grimes, she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder briefly. "Don't worry, I've squared our time away with The Bulls. Captain Wulrick is happy to take our afternoon slot, today."

Wulrick, leader of The Silver Arrow - MacKensie had not forgotten their helping hand when Second Chance snuck back into the city. The experience with their party Druid left a lot to be desired, but on the whole, they were good people.

Grimes nodded, satisfied, then folded his arms and watched as the arrows began flying. "Your confidence has grown in leaps since your first day, ma'am. When I first saw you, I figured you were just another hastily promoted officer. Then I realised the consolation that at least you cared and were willing to try and learn. And learn, you have. The Rabbits are in good hands."

"You are too kind, Sergeant. I will endeavour to live up to your praise. You have my word."

MacKensie ended the morning with an alarm drill, blowing the uniquely low-sounding whistle that signalled The Rabbits to stop what they were doing, arm themselves for battle and head to the rendezvous point as quickly as possible. There they formed up and, in a quick and orderly fashion, made their way up to their designated zone on the wall. As soon as the final soldier had a fully drawn bow with an arrow nocked, MacKensie stopped the timer and congratulated The Rabbits on shaving a couple of seconds off their best time.

She left The Rabbits in the capable charge of Grimes, parting ways with her block before they headed back to the Military Centre. Her own destination was The Mended Drum to meet up with her friends and Alison for introductions and she went with a spring in her step, happy to have had a productive morning, received some praise from the experienced Sergeant Grimes and would now get to what would undoubtedly be the best part of her day.

As she got onto the street where sat The Mended Drum, she saw Barracker, but the man was too far away to call after, so she simply continued on, seeing him disappear inside before she eventually got down the street and went in after him. She greeted anyone else who had already arrived, flashing a brilliant smile before going over to Frederick to make sure he was ready for the coming rush of requests for food and drink. It was after this when her keen senses picked up a noise, a thump of sorts coming through the ceiling, as if something had fallen over upstairs. Perhaps it was instinctive that her eyes would search about the tables and note that; among the missing attendees to their lunch date were Barracker and Zell. It brought her mind back to yesterday when Barracker was acting strangely and looking for the other swordsman. And then came the banging noise again.

She did go and sit down, but the nosey side of her grew more and more curious, until she eventually excused herself and went upstairs to see what, if anything, was going on. Walking down the corridor, her ears picked up voices coming from Zell's room and so she approached and knocked on the before letting herself in.

"Is everything alright? I heard... banging..." her voice trailed off as she looked around the room and saw the mess. Worringly evident by their faces, they had been fighting, but what muted and confused her horrified reaction was the fact that they seemed quite calm now. Relaxed, even. There was no hint of animosity or resentment between them, or tension in the air. It was all incredibley strange to the Ranger, who had no experience in such things as fights between friends, so she was simply frozen at the door, half in the room, half out, staring dumbly as she got her response.

James’ adaptability was quite impressive to Adam. The latter had pushed all the blame onto himself in a likely foolish attempt to help his group, while the former was able to deflect and even potentially turn the situation into an advantage of sorts for Second Chance. Once more, the Druid was reminded why the Cleric was the best choice for team leader - not that he ever had any doubts about it.

After the two left the Mended Drum, the fisherman was content to walk in silence until just before they parted. That was when James imparted some advice upon Adam.

"Hey Adam, Tree-Man, look, this may have been a fuckup but it was a collective fuckup, any of us should have reported the entire thing the moment we found out about it, hell I doubt you are the only one who send messages, there are a lot of Adventurers around and I bet a couple of them have friends and family outside" He took a couple seconds to think the right words "Look what I am saying is don't beat yourself too much over it m'kay? I know you are your harshest critic and truthfully thoughts like that will just make you suffer for nothing. Better focus in what is to come"

All in all, it made sense, and the Druid said as much. “Right, I'll do my best to do that, thank you.” And more importantly…

“Oh, and considering our likely path in the future, if you ever want to talk about that ‘pathological fear’ you mentioned, you know where to find me.” Adam, having thought until today that the Blessing was a simple memory exchange, felt that there was more to James’ Lathop ability than he had said before. The red-eyed man would not pry though; he just wanted to be there for his friend. So with that said, the American said good night as well, returning the Mexican's shoulder-pat sentiment with a friendly wave.

-----

The next morning, Adam woke up early, ate a quick breakfast and went straight to Golden Tree Park. People were just starting to arrive, so the Druid was able to begin casting without too much conversation beforehand. No plants that could kill him this time, only normal trees to aid Valheim's defense.

By the time he was out of magic, it was just about time to head back to the Drum to meet MacKensie's new friend. Upon his return though, it seemed nobody from Second Chance was around! Adam was momentarily worried he missed everyone until Frederick informed him that the French woman had gone upstairs, easing his concerns. With no reason to follow, the fisherman sat down, waiting for his teammates to show up.

There weren't nothing like ending off a day of hard-work and physical labor with a nice tall glass of - Well whatever the locals here drank and it was actually the start of the day, but it had an earthy taste to it that at first made even a true blue Texan like Clive squint hard after taking a swig from the old battered tin cup that the liquor what was served in. It sure wasn't no Lone Star Original that was for certain, but it was good all the same after you got over the first sip kinda like whisky for weaker folk.

The southerner was relaxing, enjoying the familiar yet strange atmosphere of the Mended Drum in the morning. As he leaned back in his chair, about to down the last few drops of his drink there came a loud crash that echoed from upstairs followed by the familiar voices of his companions shouting "Confound it all," spilling the mead on his shirt Clive cursed, instinctively he rolled up his sleeves getting up from his seat "What in god's name is going on up there?" shirt wet from the alcohol he spilt on himself, his freckled face bore a serious expression as he made his way up the stairs.

"Whoa there, fellas!" he exclaimed, his Texan drawl slicing through the tension like a "Why were ya'll fighting? What happened?" Clive crossed his brawny arms and adjusted his shirt now likely stained from his drink.

Ink drips onto the coarse paper, and the metal blade of the pen weaves it into words, symbols, and images. The book's pages turn, and in her mind's eye, she reads from it, unable to tear her eyes away...

Alison awoke in her bed. Light persistently pierced the ratty curtains that hung in a vain attempt to block it out. A loud yawn and a moaning stretch filled the room as she sat up. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. It felt strange, to awake from a familiar dream over and over again. Each time a new page, new words, and...

She looked down at her hand to see where the source crystal lay. She shook her hand and stood. It was time to get ready for the day.

Alison yawned again as she wandered down the stairs to the ground floor of the Brass Monkey.

"Good morning, Miss Jane Doe." a whisper said teasingly.

Alison spun on the stairs and nearly fell. Her head darted around to see who had said that, but nobody was there. It came as a raspy whisper, almost right by her ear. She stood there for a moment, pausing, listening, observing.

Nothing.

A shiver crept down her spine and Alison continued down the stairs. Ever since she touched that damned book, she had been experiencing these strange whispers. A word here, a sound there, it was always on the edge of her hearing, something she couldn't quite make out. But now, she heard it clearly, It was unsettling enough to imagine such voices in your ears. It was even worse when they were familiar.

Alison sighed, resuming her descent down the stairs. She needed coffee.

---

Working off of little sleep was something Alison was very, very familiar with. She had mastered the art of napping years ago and those skills have continued to serve her well ever since. So it was no surprise to her friends when they found her sipping her third cup of coffee as they just began to descend the stairs themselves. Pete gave a big, unapologetic yawn as he plopped himself down in front of Alison, a cup of fresh brew already poured in front of him by Septimus's wife.

"Yous an angel sent by the gods themselves! Septimus don't deserve yous in the slightest. Tell ya what. Why don't ya dumb the grump and lemme treat ya right?" Pete said with his usual exaggerated flair. The old woman hushed him and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.

"Oh, hush you. Septimus is a fine man and you better be thankful to him! If told him what you told me, you may get some poison in this morning's biscuits!" she responded with her exaggerated flair. It was the morning routine for them, whether the city was getting shelled by an undead army or not.

Kerensa sat next to Alison and took a small sip of her own. Her usually calm and collected face ever so briefly scrunched up before returning to normal. She proceeded to pour a concerning amount of sugar and creme into the mug, turning the black brew into an almost brownish-white. Alison stared in abject horror as Kerensa took another sip and smiled.

"How your teeth haven't rotted out by now is beyond me. You realize we're under siege right? Conservation and all that?" Alison said. Kerensa merely responded by taking a longer sip from her coffee. Alison sighed and then spoke in a lower voice. "I heard them again, but this time I could understand it. Even sounded familiar too."

At this, Kerensa nearly choked mid-sip before quickly recovering. She sat the mug down and looked at Alison. There was something in her eyes that Alison didn't like. A sparkle that she hadn't seen before.

"Let us spar today before the big lunch. I think it's finally time for the book you stole to begin working for you." She said, a dangerous smile appearing on her face.

"Stole? Kerensa it vanished when I picked it up, we failed the job because of that. How the hell can I steal something that evaporates the moment I touch it? You and Olaf had to drag me out of there when that magic trap went off. Felt like my head was going to explode." Alison said confused. Kerensa leaned back and sipped from her cup again, that grin still on her lips.

"It was a wonder your head didn't explode. You must be very good at compartmentalizing information. I wasn't sure until recently, but that was no magical curse nor trap. That was, in fact, the intended use of that particular tome. Come, let me show you." She finished her coffee and put it on the table before walking towards the yard. By then Olaf had joined and had been chatting with Pete, the two distracted before seeing her get up. They looked at each other then Alison, who only shrugged and followed her.

The group entered the yard where Alison had introduced herself to Mackenzie. They found a clear spot and in a swift, elegant motion, Kerensa's blade flashed from its scabbard. Its curved shape glistened in the morning sun and she angled its tip towards Alison. Alison sighed, stretched a bit, then drew her dagger and took a fighting stance.

"Close your eyes, Master Walker," Kerensa said. Alison stared for a moment and Pete guffawed. However, the seriousness of the request and that dangerous sparkle in Kerensa's eyes was enough for Alison to take this seriously. She slowly closed them. "Now listen, Master Walker. Listen to the voices of those who rest but wish to help."

The breeze blew. The sounds of the yard become clear. Pete's mumblings to Olaf some joke. Olaf's stifled laugh. The shuffle of their feet. Her breath. Then, a whisper suddenly came, urgent and strained.

"Down..! To the right..!"

Alison ducked and her eyes opened. Above her was the curved blade of Kerensa slicing through the air she had just been in. "Dammit!" Alison thought as she was forced to use her blade hand to brace herself. Acting fast, her left leg came up in a kick aimed at Kerensa's head. Eyes widening, Kerensa barely blocked the counterblow with her left arm. Alison carried the momentum over, dodging a follow-up swing and flipping back some distance away into a fighting stance again.

"What had just happened? That voice again..." Alison's mind raced. Her breath was heavy from the shock and sudden excursion. Kerensa's surprised face suddenly turned into a big smile. She sheathed her blade and in a moment of uncharacteristic intimacy, nearly tackled Alison in a hug.

"I knew it! I knew it was you who could learn. So many years, so many months, I was so worried that it had all been for nothing!" Kerensa said, tearing up. The group was shocked. Alison awkwardly put a hand on her back, motioning to Pete to come grab the dagger still clutched in it. Kerensa leaned back, hands on Alison's shoulders. "You, Master Alison Walker, are the inheritor of a legacy. That book you were meant to steal, was something only you could do. No mere petty thief could ever steal it! I thought it was lost. When the family line died out I thought there was no longer that Dormes's blessing would carry on. It was why I joined you on your job back then. I wanted to know if someone, anyone, would free me from the guilt that I couldn't even protect the memory of the house I served, and carry on the blessings of Dormes." Kerensa said, tears now flowing freely down her face.

Alison stared in bewilderment. "Kerensa, calm down. Take it slowly." Alison waited for Kerensa to compose herself. Ever reliable, she quickly seemed to steady herself. Alison moved the group over to a table nearby and sat down. "Okay. Explain. You know I'm not from here. What does it mean?"

Kerensa took a deep breath and nodded. "Listen again to that voice. I'm sure he or she has something to say." Alison sighed and silently sat for a moment listening. The familiar whisper seemed to return faster now.

"Always here. To help. To listen. Never alone, Jane Doe." the voice said. Alison's eyes widened.

"Johnny...? But how..." Alison said quietly. Kerensa nodded.

"I take it he is someone you knew in life but has since passed? What you are hearing is one of the blessings of Dormes. Dormes is the son of Hades, God of the dreamlands, guardian against Nightmares and of the moon." Kerensa said. At this, Olaf shook his head in a huff.

"I don't like it. Dark Domain affinity is dangerous stuff." Olaf said. Pete merely shrugged at this.

"It's no different from a knife like? All about hows yous use it." Pete countered. Kerensa ignored them both and continued.

"These blessings come in many different forms, some manifest as chosen powers granted directly, others are rewarded, but Dormes's domain is dreams. He has always reached his followers in their dreams. Dreams are the space of the soul between life and death, thus the son of death is chosen to protect those soles while they float through those lands. It is why that book disappeared when you grabbed it, Alison. It didn't disappear but entered your soul, your very dream. It is why you have dreamt of it ever since. The other point is this. If Pete, Olaf, or even myself had grabbed that book, we would have at best gone mad, or at worst, closed our eyes and entered a sleep we could never awaken from. Alison, you were different. I don't know how or why, but your mind was able to handle the blessing. Tell me again your dream." Kerensa asked.

"Well, I usually see that book. A page is opened. The paper is blank, and then a pen starts writing on it. It's almost like I'm writing it but not really?" Alison answered with a shrug. Kerensa nodded.

"Your soul is slowly absorbing the power of the tome." Kerensa tapped Alison's Source Crystal. It was always a dark color, ever since she had arrived in this world, but now it had taken on an even darker shade of purple. "The family I served in turn served Dormes. They safeguarded his few teachings as he guarded our dreams. They gathered forbidden knowledge, to keep it out of the hands of dangerous people. This made them a target for many, so I was raised to protect them. But by the time I was ready, they had been wiped out by the war. All that was left was their most valued estate, The Library. I could never hope to enter, so I traveled with you once I found out about the job. I was worried that their most valued book, the Whispers of Dormes, would be lost forever in that accursed place. But... but..."

Kerensa paused for a moment, her hand shaking. She took Alison's hand in hers and smiled sadly. "We fought side by side. All of us. You led us through the horrors that had been unleashed by the seals that had been left broken. When all our minds threatened to fail, you kept us alive through it. That's when I knew you were no mere thief, but someone special. I cannot be happier that you now carry on that blessing. Use it well, Master Walker, and I will stay by your side and protect you as was my duty before."

Alison smiled softly at Kerensa. Olaf nodded confidently and Pete gave his trademark stupid grin. That familiar whisper passed by her ear.

"In good hands..." it said. Alison nodded.

---

Later that day, around noon

Alison arrived at the Mended Drum, her compatriots in tow behind her. She stared up at the building and took a deep breath. It had already been an emotional day, and now came a new hurdle.

"You sure about this? I don't like you going in alone boss. Zell seemed like a good enough man, but what of his other compatriots? That girl may have been just being nice and singing their praises." Olaf said. Alison shook her head.

"This is something I should take on alone. You guys take up your spots, make keep an eye out for enemy spies and unwanted ears. With such a prominent group gathered in one place, this is our opportunity to catch any unwanted guests who are still in the city. Olaf's up high, Pete, you're working the street, and Kerensa in the alleys." Alison then lowered her voice. "Can I count on you as well?" she whispered.

A whispered response came. "Eyes... up... ears... open..."

Alison looked to the door of the tavern and entered.

When Fenna approached the Mended Drum after her shift at the hospital she noticed the hooded figures again. "All right, quit the stalking," she told them. "What do you want?"

One of them stepped forward. "We were tasked to observe. What happened down there was... unprecedented. You need to come with us now, we have to talk. Please."

If it hadn't been for that last word, Fenna would have bashed their skulls with her spear. However, they have had time to kidnap her if they had really wanted to. Even down there, in the room with the energy, they hadn't seemed hostile. Question was of course, how would James feel about her going with people she didn't know and had this mysterious outfit on? He hadn't been exactly thrilled about her experience under the spa. Then again, she was an adult woman, did she really need anyone's permission? "Sil will stay with me," she told them.

"I'm sure he won't object."

"And we stop at the barracks first." That puzzled them and when one of them asked why, Fenna explained she was the captain of a unit and one of them would stay there. A precaution. They agreed to her terms and promised it wouldn't take long.

After Fenna left one of them with the one she had appointed her second in command, they took her to the academy. At this time of the day there weren't many people about, but those who were, were in a haste. Most here were preparing for the battle in any way they could. Information was brought to those who needed it at any hour of the day. The only one who took his time was a janitor who cleaned the floor, nodding politely to those who rushed by him. Being at the academy, Fenna felt more at ease. These people couldn't be bad if they worked here. When they reached an office, Fenna entered it.

The person in front of her wore the same hooded outfit as the others and she noticed similar tattoos on the forehead when they looked up. None of them had facial hair, as far as she could see. It was hard to assess the gender of the person in front of her, and the mystery remained when they spoke. A high voice for a man, a low voice for a woman. They introduced themselves as the Head of Valhiem's Code Readers and began to explain they had heard about what happened. No-one had ever survived coming into contact with a Wellspring, normally people disintegrated when they touched it.

Fenna paled. Disintegrated? That's why they had stared dumbfounded at her when she had walked away. Truth be told, James did have a very good reason to have been upset with her. Sil, picking up on her sudden spike of worry, did her Loud Screech, which caused the startled hooded people to put their hands over their ears. "It's okay, darling. These are not our enemy," Fenna whispered to the falcon.

"How did you survive?" the leader asked after regaining their composure.

How the hell was she supposed to know? She didn't know anything about the Wellsprings or code reading. The silence lingered, they expected an answer. "I suppose... it may have something to do with my Element Absorb?" she tried. "I have no other explanation. During battle I noticed I could absord a part of the elemental damage I received and when I attacked I used a part of that. Oh, and I've been able to make bolts infused with an element I came in contact with. Maybe that's it?" Still silence. "I think?"

"Is that what caused-" "No, that's been going on before that." "Absorb Elements?" "Maybe, possibly..." After they whispered amongst themselves for a bit, the leader turned to Fenna. "Please come with us."

After Fenna agreed to took her back to the Wellspring she had been before. She could feel the energy before she saw the glow at the end of the corridor, and it got stronger the closer she got to it. It was as mesmerizing as before, the curling of the energy, the different colours shooting through it. It seemed calmer too.

"I won't go into details," the hooded figure next to her spoke. "But there have been issues and maybe... since you can return elements you took. Can you return the source energy?"

Fenna looked at her spear which had a faint glow to it ever since that moment she had come into contact with it. Like that fire before, maybe it waited to be released again. "James is not going to like this..." she muttered. It was a huge risk to be here to mess with that thing again, but this time there were Source Readers with her. Just like with the bolts, she thought to herself. Just like against that wraith. Channel outwards. Don't touch it. She held out a hand and felt the energy move from her spear through her body and out.

The Wellspring shuddered and became a bit more energetic. The people in the room quickly jumped back. "It did something... we'll monitor it for now. Thank you, Fenna of Second Chance for your explanation and assistance. You can go."

Fenna gladly left the hooded people, the source readers, behind and returned to the Mended Drum after telling her second in command he could release the collateral. Finally, it was getting late. "What a day, right?" she said to Sil. "What a day."
After speaking with MacKensie for a moment, who had news about another like them who would meet them at lunch, Fenna went to bed.

---

The next day, Fenna went to her unit after breakfast, but made sure to be back at the Mended Drum before this new person would arrive. She wanted to sit at the bar and examine her as she walked in. Was it really someone from their world, or a spy of the witch queen?
Fenna ordered an ale and some water for Sil, who stood on the bar. She looked up when the door opened and someone she hadn't seen before entered. Was this the person MacKensie had talked about?

Dumb. So dumb. But damn... did it feel good. To have an external opponent to fight once again, was a very nice sense of normality. To vent some frustration by punching someone, even if that someone was his friend, was extremely satisfying. Even the feeling of getting punched was nice, although Zell wouldn't be able to explain why. Zell looked at the paladin across from him with not just 'no hard feelings' but full-on gratitude for being the right person, at the right time, in the right place. Zell wasn't sure anyone else would have fit the bill and he felt closer than ever to the man, for doing him this solid.

“You hit like the very giants that created the Sibliconians.”

"A bloody good job too. It's like hitting a piece of iron, hitting you. Think I might've broken me hand."

Zell chuckled quietly. It was apparent in his speech that he'd busted his mouth open (probably Barracker's headbutt) and laughing any louder would have hurt too much. Additional injuries consisted of a split skull, courtesy of hitting his head on the corner of the drawers, when Barracker had damn-near put the Englishman through the fucking wall. A possible broken hand - it wasn't just banter when Zell attested to the toughness of Barracker's iron chin. Aside from being sore in different areas, that was about it. Truthfully, Zell knew he had got off lightly, picking a fight with Kass. The vampire probably could have destroyed him.

“I am not mad at you, only Baphomet."

"Yeah, same goes, mate," Zell interjected to agree.

"Only he deserves the blame for this mess.”

Zell nodded. Blood from the cut just above his hairline, had built up enough in his bed-head that a trickle came down to be caught by his eyebrow.

“You are cursed Zell, just like a hundred men before you. You do see it, don’t you?”

The nod of reply that followed, this time, was far more reluctant than the last. Zell's head lightly hit the wall behind him as his eyes went to the window. Maybe the vampire's stone gaze was too much for the moment. Maybe he was looking to the heavens, hoping they could hear him. "You know," he started. "In my world, when we say, 'I'm cursed' we're usually just decrying our bad luck. Fuck, if only. Who knew there'd be a world where being cursed means there's an actual Devil living in your head. Talk about 'Rent free.' I feel like I'm being slowly eroded to dust, bro. And there's nothing I can do."

Barracker assured him they would sort it and Zell assured him that he would cooperate. He also, not realising just how much the vampire knew, told Barracker that James had already put in hard work to help him and that he'd messed it all up by being insincere with his feelings. But he would be honest with both the paladin and his best friend, from now on.

Anything else they had to say was interrupted by a knock at the door and MacKensie popping her head in. Shit. And if anyone thought that things couldn't get any worse, more footsteps could be heard approaching and next was a Clive appearance.

"Well... if it isn't the two best-sounding accents in all Mytheria." Zell gave a guilty and nervous laugh as Clive folded his arms. It was clear by the faces of the Frenchwoman and American that quips weren't going to cut it. At the same time, Zell thought it bad enough that in addition to James, now Barracker was aware of what was going on. This was one too many already. Something told Zell that the more people who knew, the more unpredictable and problematic this situation would get. He just hoped that it was his gut telling him this, and not Baphomet. "It's nothing guys. Barracker and I are just screwing around and it got a bit out of hand." It was an obvious lie, but he hoped they would take it. "We're fine. Go on," he told them. "We'll be down in a sec."

Once they were gone, Zell took a breath and got to his feet. He waited for Barracker to be up, then they clasped forearms in Barracker's patented warrior's handshake, Zell pulling him in to pat him on the back. "Thanks for going along with that, mate," he said. "Everyone has enough on their plate, right now. After the battle, if everyone needs to know then, then fine. But let's just see about saving Valhiem before we go about tackling my problems, eh."

Going downstairs (and forgetting to clean himself up, therefore leaking a trickle of blood down his forehead and sporting a bloody, busted lip to boot) Zell said, "Hey," to everyone like nothing was remotely wrong at all. He spotted Alison come in but did not even look twice. He sat down like normal, then waited for MacKensie to introduce Alison to the group before doing anything, showing his acting skills by feigning his reaction to fit with everyone else.

"Zell Brooks. A pleasure." He offered Alison a one-sided grin and his hand to shake. "Any friend of Mac is a friend of mine." And if MacKensie had already revealed that Alison was also from their world: "Boy, do we have a lot to talk about."

Clive squeezing past her to get into the room and demand answers broke MacKensie from her stupor. She barely heard Zell's comment about their accents as she looked a little more closely at Barracker's face to realise that he was injured. "Barracker," she gasped, walking over to him and going to one knee so that she could touch his face. Her fingers gently guided the Paladin's jaw line up so that his cheek was in the light.

"It's nothing guys. Barracker and I are just screwing around and it got a bit out of hand."

She shook her head slightly in disbelief as she assessed the damage, concern knitting her eyebrows together. She then looked Barracker in the eye to see if he fought this obvious downplaying by Zell, disappointed to see that he wasn't going to, so she turned to look accusingly at the other frontliner, but her eyes widened to see the blood on Zell's forehead that was previously obscured from her vision because of her position at the door. "Sacre bleu, Zell... Barracker... what on earth have you been doing to eachother?"

She left Barracker to go over to Zell, all of the recent awkwardness put on hold for the minute. She dropped in front of him and took his face in her hands, a tad more roughly than with Barracker she moved his head a little to see his mouth, his lips, bloodied and slightly swollen. Then her hands moved to part his hair and squint to see where the blood was coming from. Fingers moving through his hair as her thumbs located the cut, she found herself wondering what she was even doing right now, as a wave of familiarity hit her. "You are seriously injured," she said aloud in a most uncertain tone, her eyes fixed on his.

"We're fine."

She pulled away, her self-conciousness now trumping all other feelings. She glanced over her shoulder at Clive, then back at Zell. "You are sure?" she stood up and backed away a step so that she could share her gaze with the two swordsmen. "You do not want us to call for James to heal you?" This had suddenly become so disingenuous and it felt awful, considering her friends were hurt.

"Go on," Zell told her and Clive. "We'll be down in a sec."

MacKensie, as much as she wanted to, made sure not to take that as a signal to run out of the room. In fact, she lingered to over-compensate. "If you are sure," she said, looking at Barracker too in order to see his reaction. Then she looked at Clive, a slight shrug of her shoulders and shake of her head. After that she left, glad to be out of the room, a sick feeling in her stomach as her mind replayed and replayed.

"You boys are so silly sometimes," she lectured Clive, who had done absolutely nothing wrong but just so happened to be with her as they descended to the ground floor. "I will never understand what drives you to such stupidity." She realised that she was lecturing the wrong person and smirked at the farmer from Texas to show she was being unserious. "Gorillas."

MacKensie was happy to see everyone gathering and greeted each of them, passing by the bar to place her hand on Fenna's and give her a smile, rubbing James' shoulder and asking Adam how he was doing. They moved two tables together to make one big table that they could all sit down at. Frederick was over, engaging in a little small talk and noting down, on his pad, anyone's order who was ready to give it, but there was no rush. When Alison entered the inn, MacKensie's eyes lit up and she rose from her seat to go over and greet the woman.

"Alison, I'm so glad you came. How are you?" MacKensie told her that everyone was here, then turned to walk with her to the table. "Umm, guys," she said to everyone. "This is Alison. Alison, meet my party, my comrades and most of all... my dear friends."

In spite of wanting it to be a surprise, MacKensie had already blabbed to Fenna, the night before, that Alison was from Earth - she simply couldn't help herself. But for everyone else, now that they had said hello as a group and heard Alison say hi back, MacKensie would now reveal, "If you could not tell by that accent..." she barely contained her giggles. "...Alison is from the United States."

Of course, the right thing to do in such a situation as this would be to introduce Alison individually to each person so that she could put a name to each face, and MacKensie would do so, when and where required, but the reactions of everyone would likely do most of that job for her, so she stayed by Alison's side, her good-natured amiability quietly encouraging a warm welcome.

"Is everything alright? I heard... banging..."

Before either swordsmen could reply, another could be heard approaching fast.

"Whoa there, fellas!" "Why were ya'll fighting? What happened?"

Clive was honest and straightforward and MacKensie was so caring, they both meant well but Barracker held back as he felt it wasn’t his place to spill the details. MacKensie knelt in front of him and he smiled, as she tilted his face up to the light.

"It's nothing guys. Barracker and I are just screwing around and it got a bit out of hand."

Barracker was not a big fan of lying so he restrained himself from saying anything at all. When MacKensie went over to Zell to check on him, Barracker gave a smile and a nod to Clive to reassure him that everything was ok.

"We're fine. Go on," he told them. "We'll be down in a sec."

Once they were gone, Zell took a breath and got to his feet. Barracker followed suit, then walked over and clasped forearms in a warrior's handshake, giving eachother a pat on the back for good measure. "Thanks for going along with that, mate," Zell said.

“No problem, friend. You can pay me back by letting me and James help rid you of this curse”.

"Everyone has enough on their plate, right now. After the battle, if everyone needs to know then, then fine. But let's just see about saving Valhiem before we go about tackling my problems, eh."

“Sounds good. As long as you know Second Chance needs you. Don’t let Baphomet tell you otherwise.” Barracker put his hand out towards the door. “Shall we”.

The two swordsmen joined the rest of the group in the bar-room. Barracker greeted those he had not seen yet this morning. When Alison arrived and MacKensie introduced her to the group, Barracker was cordial, but knew a rogue when he saw one. Interesting. He pondered to himself. I wonder how someone like MacKensie would have struck up a conversation and acquaintanceship with such a person. Not that rogues were necessarily bad people, it was simply an adventurer class like any other, they just seemed like an odd pair.

When she said where the woman was from, it took Barracker until he had seen the reactions of his party to realise that Alison was from their world. Something that astonished the Paladin. This is incredible, another that is not bound by the source.

He waited to introduce himself, he gave a warrior’s handshake, clasping her forearm. “Barracker Kassel, it is good to meet you Alison.” he smiled warmly. “I am not as special as the rest of you all,” he joked in a jolly spirit. He was feeling in a much better mood since all that tension with Zell had been resolved and the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I am a simple Valheim boy. But I’m here to help, and I can start by getting you a drink. What are you having?”

He smiled and nodded after getting her drink of choice, then proceeded to go around asking everyone else which beverage they favoured. Then went with Frederick back to the bar to collect the tray of drinks.

Adam was quite surprised to see Barracker and Zell arrive downstairs looking quite beaten up and injured.  The Druid asked them if they were okay and what happened, obviously quite concerned. When he learned that they were apparently okay and the situation wasn't a big deal, the young man moved on. Zell had glossed over important things in the past, but Barracker wasn't that type of person. Whatever had happened, it wasn't concerning.

Now that this was resolved, Adam didn't expect any more surprises for the rest of the lunch. Just typical stuff like greeting and talking to MacKensie (who had been the first to talk to him) and everyone else on the team, not that this was a bad thing. Oh, how wrong he was! The revelation that Alison was from the US was big. Her accent had given it away, and the Ranger had confirmed it.

The Druid was curious about this new person. Judging by the way she sounded, she was probably from someplace on the eastern seaboard, but he would not assume that. He would first introduce himself - Adam, from Michigan and user of plant magic - then ask the following question when it was pertinent to do so:

“Have you been doing alright here in Mytheria?”

It was important to Adam that he get to know this new person, and he had several questions he wanted to ask. After all, based on their place of origin, it was very likely she would end up joining Second Chance. But she was new to this world like most of the people at the table, and did not have others like her to support her. Too much at once might be overwhelming, so the red-eyed man would try not to do that.

Instead, he would give Barracker his drink request and offer to answer any questions the Rogue had.

Clive raised an eyebrow at Zell's explanation, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Now, Zell, I reckon that don’t quite sound like just some friendly foolin’ around," he said, his voice steady but laced with concern. He glanced over at Barracker, then back to Zell, trying to gauge the truth behind the words. "You boys look like you’re carryin’ a heavy load, and I just hope it ain't trouble brewin’."

With a slight nod and a shrug of his broad shoulders, he pushed off from the doorframe the farmers demeanor shifting to one of camaraderie. "But hey, if y’all say you’re fine, I’ll trust ya. Just remember, the more folks know, the messier it can get," he added, his tone serious but warm, before heading down the stairs.

Clive chuckled softly as MacKensie began to lecture him as they made their way down the wooden old stairs of the Drum, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Now, Mac, I reckon we ain't the ones actin’ silly. We just get caught up in the moment, y’know? Can’t help it if life throws a few curveballs our way," he replied, his twang adding a comforting rhythm to his words.

He caught her smirk and returned it with an easy grin. "But I see what you’re sayin’. Sometimes, it feels like we’re just a couple of cowboys ridin’ into town without a care in the world. Don’t you worry, though—if things get too wild, I’ll be right there to lasso it all back together," he added, playful yet sincere. "Just remember, lil chickadee, it’s all part of the adventure."

Reaching the foyer they were greeted with the whole entourage of their companions together, Clive went and leaned against the bar, watching MacKensie move with an ease that spoke of her genuine warmth. He couldn’t help but smile as she greeted each person with an infectious enthusiasm.

When they moved two tables together, Clive joined in, helping to push the sturdy wood to create one big table “Looks like we’re settin’ up for a feast.” the southerner joked boisterously slapping Fredrick on the back with a jovial laugh.

His attention turned when a stranger entered the inn, having a second where he grimaced blinking once then twice - as if he had a spotlight shone directly in his eyes for but a moment before shaking his head. Before he could question himself Clive cackled slightly as the girl who gave him a right proper tongue lashing just a few ticks back jumped up from her seat giddy as a schoolgirl to greet the newcomer introducing the woman to the whole group, Clive stepped closer eager to join in the welcoming.

“Well, I’ll be! Ain’t that somethin’? Glad to have a fellow American in our midst,” he said with a friendly grin. “Name’s Clive. Just a simple farmer, but I reckon we’ll get along just fine. Welcome to Mytheria.”

"Let's go introduce ourselves," Fenna said to her falcon and extended her left arm so Sil could sit there. She walked over to Alison and held out her right hand. "Fenna Postma, from the Netherlands. Mother of two, forest guard back home, Ranger here," she introduced herself. As she spoke she wondered, not for the first time, if this hadn't been a coincidence. Had they been chosen based on abilities and skills? The thoughts flashed through her mind as she gestured to the falcon to continue the introduction. "And this is Sil, I met her on the first day being here."

She examined the woman in front of her as she thought back to when they all had woken up from the coffins. If she recalled correctly, Lilliana's sarcophagus had fallen later than the others. Had Alison been in a delayed sarcophagus or landed further away from them? She was certain they all had opened in that village. The memories of that first day were still fresh, even before they truly knew who everyone was and what was going on they already had fought skeletons and from there they had travelled together. While being in a foreign world, they had had each other.
"It must have been tough, by yourself," Fenna said softly.