"It's like," Zell went on to the short, bushy-eyebrowed barkeep. "I got feelings too. As soft as it may it sound." He took a swig of his ale. "I'm a person."

"I dunno."

Zell looked offended. "Wha'dya mean, 'you dunno'?"

"Well, I mean, you did say you were the asshole o' the group. Doin asshole things. Sayin asshole things all e'time, reet?"

Bartender confidentiality didn't usually come with so much pushback. "Yeah, but not all the time. I can be nice. Clever? On occasion." Zell knew these were not the strongest claims. "Sort of," he weakly added. "Surely I've got more use to me than fuckinggg..." he shook his head, looking at the counter for the right words but couldn't find them. Then he looked further down, between his legs. "...I dunno... like I'm nothing more than a 6'2" breathing machine for my di-"

"Achoo!"

He was interrupted from finishing his vulgar comment at the last second by the other man sat at the bar. Both Zell and barkeep looked at the old man who was wiping his nose with one hand and raising the other in apology. The barkeep, who was on automatic, wiping 'clean' his dirty mugs with his dirty rag, put another mug down and grabbed the next one. "I can't say I can relate, lad," he said. "I've never been desired for my body."

Zell looked him up and down, noting in particular the giant belly hanging out from under his shirt. The Englishman tilted his head in understanding, then took another swig.

Now the old man with the sneeze decided to get involved. "Ay. Been listenin, I ave, to your dilemma. And I might ave the solution yer lookin for."

Zell's eyebrows were raised, his expression skeptical but he said nothing. The barkeep kept polishing his mugs, still mildly interested in the conversation. The old patron went on.

"I once heard of this scientist from out west who presented an experiment of sorts to his peers. He placed a rat in a small room with nought but a fresh cheese he'd posioned in advance." What the fuck!? was Zell's only thought. "He put it to his peers that until they went in the room to find out if the rat had eaten the cheese and died, two realities existed silemul-taneously. In one reality the rat was dead. In the other, it was alive. But both existed." You could tell that the old man felt quite smart relaying this information. "This phenomenon was coined after the scientists name and thereby dubbed, 'Broodinger's Rat.'" Sneeze! "I'd put it to you that, until you tell this girl o' yours how yous really feel, you don't know what her response will be. So both realities exist. One where you live happily e'r after. And one where yous take yer own life outta depression. Your love is like Broodinger's Rat."

There was a silence that fell on the three. Even the barkeep had stopped polishing. Zell, who literally looked in pain, he was so baffled by what he'd just heard, couldn't even begin. "Double-you. Tee. Eff." Aside from the absolute nonsense of a story, Zell wasn't even sure there'd been a solution presented. "What in the fuck kinda bollocks is that? This is what passes for science in Mytheria?"

The old man looked hurt. "Think so. It might be philosophy."

"Gibberish is what that was. In my world, if some so-called professor had come up with that, he'd be a laughing stock." He shared his disappointed expression between the old man and the barkeep. "Fat lotta help you two are."

"Hey, you're the one came cryin te us. No one asked for ye life story."

Zell supposed that was fair, but shook his head anyway. Done with the conversation, he swivelled on his stool to check out the rest of the room, clocking through the window by the door, a familiar face coming into the tavern. "Well, well." He quickly looked at the barkeep and the old man. "Hey, we never had this conversation, yeah? Not a word." Then he looked back at the door as it opened and nodded to his friend, letting the farmer mosey on over before speaking. "Bit of a coincidence, this, ain't it."

"I ain't even gonna ask what in the devil brought you out here..."

"You don't wanna know, bruv," Zell replied, noting Clive's tired face and tone, which was not like the Texan at all.

Then, as if reading the Englishman's mind, Clive put a hand on Zell's shoulder, sighing "Y'know you and I, we look like shit right now...Reckon we might as well drink to make us feel like it too."

Zell let out a breath. "Christ. Truer words were never spoken. Let's get to it."

And so the pair began their quest to get wasted. Each beer, they knocked their dirty mugs against eachother's in salute before starting on it. They talked a little about how military training was going, Zell naming a couple of soldiers from The Lions that he liked in particular. He was happy to hear about what Clive was doing with his own band as he hadn't seen too much of the Military Centre, the swordsman shirking his duties half the time. After two beers, Zell turned the conversation onto Earth.

"So tell me: Wha'dya miss most about Texas, eh?"

A bit of nostaglia was in order and Zell would enjoy hearing anything other than Mytheria shit, right now. America had always felt like a totally different place to Zell, but here in a world where armies of the undead, willy-nilly just decided to sit outside and lay siege to your city, America was practically home for the Englishman.

He also wanted to ask the man what was on his mind. Clive looked troubled. But Zell decided to wait another beer into their drinking session. He was actually quite happy to just drink and talk about regular stuff, but he figured he should give his friend a chance to get his problems off his chest if he felt like it. He did eventually ask.

Fenna watched her fighters battle an invisible enemy and to her untrained eyes, it looked good. How well would it go when the enemy was here? What more could she do to prepare? She turned to look at Sil, who sat nearby. The bird of prey had proven to be a good asset in battle, she had fearlessly attacked their foes so far.
"Can you set up some dummies?" she asked her appointed second in command. "Where the enemy will likely be when we fight."
The sergeant nodded and together with some other Falcons he set up some targets. "Practicing bow'n'arrow?" he asked.
"No, we'll practice Sil dropping things on them. Help me find some rubish, broken stone and logs the others don't need. lets how big and heavy we can go."

Fenna was fairly sure Sil wasn't an ordinary falcon, the way she had fought and how she reacted at times, there was an obvious intelligence. And, more importantly, a connection. Sil understood her better than any other falcon would, she understood her feelings. That's what Sil reacted to mostly. She came when Fenna was lonely, and that was just one of the many occasions Sil had shown understanding of what happened and what Fenna needed.

Using words while doing actions, Fenna tried to teach Sil three words: "pick up", "drop", "go". The last time she had send Sil on a mission she had used her words and formed mental images, and that had been enough to make Sil understand she had to deliver that message to Lucy. So that's what Fenna did again, while also using physical gestures. It didn't take long for the falcon to understand the three orders and would pick up what Fenna pointed at and dropped it at what she pointed at or visualized.
The Falcons cheered when Sil carried out the orders succesfully.

"You are a very special bird," Fenna said when Sil joined her, smiling at the falcon. "I'm so glad you joined me." She stroke the feathers. "Thank you for being with me." Sil gently touched her cheek with her head.

Fenna turned to the sergeant. "Can you wrap things up here? I need to go on errands."
"Of course, ma'am."
"I have an idea," she said to Sil as she walked away. "We're going to find a herbalist. And after that we shall find Zell for a drink and lament about the beer not being Heineken." Sil spread her wings and made an enthusiastic noise. "He's good company," Fenna agreed. "But they're all good people and we should try to help them as well as we can." She paused. "Maybe we'll start by not going near Wellsprings for the duration of our stay here. I've had enough of hooded people and powerful energies hidden in caves."
As she said that she realized she hadn't seen them again so far. Had they stopped stalking her, or they had gotten better at it? Although the last one was unlikely, whoever the robed people were, they were not good at staying unnoticed.

There was barely a space unoccupied on the floor of the massive hall. Long columns of tightly arranged mattresses, with citizens in a slightly less organised fashion, gathered in groups according to familial ties and, loosely, house address. It was like a refugee camp. This was just one of many buildings atop Citadel Hill that had been co-opted for the relocation of the displaced citizenry. MacKensie walked among them, feeling a little out of her element but looking for a way to help.

"Adventurer?" came a voice, slicing through the hum of chatter. MacKensie looked to see a woman, smiled and squeezed through the columns to get over to her.

"Yes? How can I help you?"

"I was given one dinner too few for my children," the woman told her, presenting the empty bowls as proof.

MacKensie did not bother to count them, she simply nodded and said, "I'll see about getting you another."

She didn't get more than a few steps before other people had noticed that she was taking requests.

"Excuse me?"

"Adventurer?"

MacKensie's work for the evening had just begun.

On his way to Golden Tree Park, Adam thought he heard something in the distance. He listened and heard the shrill voice of a certain gnome, complaining about whatever imagined thing it was Second Chance did to slight his ego - or some other dumb thing - he didn't really know, since he didn't care enough to pay attention.

The red-eyed man chuckled, impressed in a strange way at the consistency of the fool, though grateful he was far enough away to avoid having to deal with Xavier directly.

A nerve was seemingly touched.

The young man's reaction was clear as day, there had been much more to this incident than Alison had been told. He was traumatized by the experience, his retelling was forced, fast, and messy. So much covered, but nothing elaborated.

"So the Texan died but came back? Last I checked, that magic was pretty feared and frowned upon. Best not to press him now about it, he might just lock up if he has to remember anything further. A different angle of attack then." Alison thought, her interrogator mentality kicking in out of habit.

"I think the Academy may know more about him. Let me introduce you to Chief Shield. She is the head honcho of the Academy and a friend. If you ever need information about something, just tell her you know me, and she should hook you up with something." James finished with a shudder and a shaky breath. Alison smiled and nodded.

"Of course, I think I'll take you up on that. That's what we're on our way to do anyway right? That aside, did she try any other attempts since then on your teams' lives? My guess is that once that barrier comes down and the fighting is door to door, we're going to be separated. I'd like to know what vulnerabilities to look out for should some specialized team follow in with the attack and try to pick us off." she said, hoping shifting the focus away from that particular incident would get him talking again.

"It's what I would do. If my real threat was an elite team in the city, I'd use the chaos of the attack as cover for my hunter team. Split them up, isolate them, then eliminate them. The only way we can counter that is by staying in contact and coordinating, but without modern comms, that is going to be much easier said than done..." Alison thought to herself. The situation was rapidly evolving, and their enemy seemed to have more and more advantages the more she learned. But then a lightbulb went off. "On the other hand, the Queen never tried to slit my neck... Which means she might not know about me being a part of the team. The Whispers and Pete confirmed nobody was paying attention to our lunch, and even if they did, they'd have to be in there to hear my tale... So long as that barkeep keeps his mouth shut, I might be able to ambush the hunter team..." With that thought, a strategy began to form and a contingency began to evolve.

It was time that the Second Chance had a much friendlier shadow.

@Teyao

In room 103 at the academy, it had been a long session of practice and repeat. Two things which Barracker was used to with his training at ‘Paladin’s Respite’. He didn’t realise how stressful it could be. Neebs could tell how much progress he was making but from someone in the midst of it, it was hard to tell the progress. Neebs had told him to clear his mind and use his focus into an outlet to guide him in controlling the water. So neebs on one seat, sat reading a book. While Barracker sat on his seat, trying the principles taught by Neebs, which was increasing his time of synchronicity with the water. Neebs kept quiet, if called, he would place his book down and have a better look but he stayed seated as he could sense the water changing form. Barracker took a deep breath, his eyes stayed open, staring into the eye of the bowl. The water started separating, a whirlpool beginning. Then suddenly Neebs was standing next to him, the whirlpool faded, the water splashing together.

Neebs cocked an eyebrow. “Well, look at you friend, you’re coming along nicely. We have more lessons we need to go over, to help bring a bit more balance and give you more control.”

"So tell me: Wha'dya miss most about Texas, eh?" half-way through his second beer, the farmer set the empty mug on the bar with a thud wiping the froth from his lips with the back of his hand face distant if not somewhat pensive. Clive, slightly buzzed by this point had the luxury of his senses being somewhat fuzzy to dull the other more painful feelings and exhaustion that his body would no doubt feel the next day.

"Askin' them tough questions huh? Ah hell, I miss...I miss a lot, I miss my family...I miss home, and most of all-" the southerner raised the dirty mug up with a wry smile "Well good beer of course," Clive stifled a snort, knocking his mug against Zell's before sighing and looking somewhat more serious "If...If I'm bein' darn well honest I reckon what I miss most is what I used to have, my life was simple I...I was a gosh darn farmer, I worked a field and took care of horses not...Not this...Sometimes it's just so...Overwhelming y'know?" the farmer gave Zell a bit of a pointed look as to drop the question but he didn't seem to mind telling his drinking mate more about his life in Texas with a degree of pride, telling Zell of the many times he'd ridden through the fields drunker than Cooter Brown and about his horse and how she'd been his horse since he was a young lad til the day she caught colic and his pa had to shoot her dead.

"Y'know somethin?" the farmer leered closer to his companion placing a hand around his shoulder, his speech somewhat stunted and eyes bleary from the drink "When-Wh-When I died...Ag-Again, it was so dark..." through the redness of Clive's expression came a dark look, the words coming tumbling out maybe the alcohol loosening his otherwise tight lips or that he trusted Zell perhaps it was hard to tell.

"I can't get it out o' my head no matter how much I try."

Fenna continued her walk through the city. The atmosphere had definitely changed now that the big day was getting closer and closer. The continued siege outside made the people within the walls restless. They started having doubts about being able to defend themselves. According to the guards on the walls, the army outside was huge. There were whispers that some people had quietly left the city - had anyone actually seen Ambassador Malcolm Crane lately? - which did not help morale. Where Fenna went she also heard whispers about how blessed the people of Valheim felt with adventurers in the city, they would surely make a difference, but the lack of the highest tier of parties was another reason for concern. Sure, Second Change had defeated Aurok, but there weren't any parties above the gold rank in the city.

"I don't know if there's anything we can do to make them feel better," Fenna sighed. She knew Sil couldn't really answer her, but she enjoyed talking to her nonetheless.
She reached for a herbalist, asking for directions along the way, and once she found the building with a nettle on a wooden sigh she went inside.
"Sorry ma'am," the woman behind the counter said as soon as she saw Fenna. "We do not have any healing supplies left. Everything has been taken to the hospital and will be distributed over the healers for the big fight."
"I'm not here for healing herbs. I was wondering what you have in stock that will itch."
"Itch?"
"Preferably in powder in small cloth bags," Fenna continued.
The woman looked from Fenna to Sil and back to Fenna. "All right, I think I know what you're getting at. You be fighting in the battle, right? Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Leave that to me ma'am. No charge."

With that out of the way, Fenna went back in the city. She found herself near the spa and looked at the entrance. She had mixed feelings about that place now. The absolute pampering with MacKensie on one side, and the business with the hooded figures afterwards. Again she checked the area but there weren't any of them around.
"I think they stopped following us," she said to Sil, who made a sound that could be taken as agreeing.
To think there was this big ball of energy down there. As she thought back to it, she realised something. She could feel it, from here. The feeling was faint, but it was there.
"Okay, I'm going to get a drink now," she decided and turned her back om the building.

"You won?" a child asked.

"Not yet," MacKensie answered. What was intended to be a story to stop one child from his constant crying, had become a tale captivating an audience of at least a dozen, children and even some adults. "Aurok was not done with us yet. With his dying breaths, he began charging his most powerful attack. A magical explosion - intending to destroy us and half of the canyon along with him." There was a pantomime-like gasp from the ring around MacKensie. "We had no way to stop him. All we could do was look on as the magical ball of destruction got bigger and bigger - the screeching noise getting louder and louder." The emotion in her voice translated the fear and intensity of that day, the frenchwoman's eyes almost sightless as she relived the memory. The audience felt it. "But then... Arthur - a valiant knight of our party - appeared above us, at the summit of the canyon. He dove from the top, swinging his incredible anchor above his head like a lasso. And with one powerful lash, his giant anchor flew towards Aurok, striking the monster's heart, killing the beast and saving us all."

"Wow," was the breathless sentiment.

"Arthur lost his life in that heroic attack - hit by the dangerously sharp tail of Aurok - but his noble sacrifice averted calamity for the rest of us. And rid Mytheria of that dangerous monster once and for all. He will never be forgotten."

"What happened to the water ninja?" one older girl asked.

MacKensie smiled, more out of picturing Arthur's face than anything else, but with a mischevious tone, she said, "That was not the end of our epic struggle with him. And I promise to tell you what happened tomorrow..." Big groans and moans ensued. "...if you are all good, and stay strong for your parents, and do as they say - we will continue our tale. Okay?"

It was an agreement 'signed under great duress,' one might say. MacKensie smiled at them. Then she set her sights back on the original crying child, a boy no more than seven years old, with big brown eyes and a smile making space for future adult-teeth. She detached her blue cape from her shoulders and wrapped the boy in it, much to his delight. He was so small that it went around him a full time and then over his shoulder, swallowing him up. MacKensie covered a giggle with her fingers. He was so cute.

A short exchange afterwards saw storytime come to a close. MacKensie got a quiet 'thank you' from the mother of the boy who was no longer crying but proudly sporting his new adventurer cloak. She continued to see to the needs of the citizens, but was stopped at the bedding supplies by a woman.

"You had them in the palm of your hand?" the woman said, making herself known. MacKensie gave her a warm smile. It was clear from the woman's garb and necklace that she was not of the working and middle classes who were staying in this hall. "Agatha Pendlebury."

Pendlebury? MacKensie echoed in her mind. That name was familiar but she could not place it. "MacKensie Trydant. How do you do?"

"How do you do?" Agatha returned. "Come. You've more than earned some tea and dinner."

Meanwhile, in Capitol City…

Fletcher Foley, a tall, muscular blonde man, was happy to be done with his day at work. Maintenance for the city wasn't the most stressful work, but it could be tedious. Of course, it was necessary for his other job, so he kept at it. And thankfully, being an informant for the Merchant's Guild paid a lot more than the government did. And speaking of money, today was payday, so the guy was on his way to his favorite drinking establishment to spend some of it.

The White Lotus certainly wasn't the fanciest place in town. However, it certainly wasn't a rough place either. It was plain, clean, almost nondescript with its wooden furniture and well-lit environment. Of course, that's how the Guild liked it. Why attract the high-and-mighty to where they might overhear something they shouldn't? Better for those pompous bureaucrats to waste their time and money in their own clubs or in the brothels they pretended to be above frequenting.

And so, Fletcher entered the place like he had done many times before. It was a slow afternoon before the night rush, so nobody was there besides the bartender. 

“Vaellon!” the man yelled, a happy greeting for the elf behind the bar.

“Fletcher!”

The older creature with silver hair and black bags under his eyes was attentive towards his only customer. Then again, that wouldn’t have changed even if it was crowded; the government employee had been drinking there for over thirty years.

“What are you having?”

“Give me a-ah, damn it all.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I forgot, I promised the old ball-and-chain I wouldn't drink anymore.  

“Ah, well at least let me give you something on the house then. Something that should help cheer you up.” And after mixing a few ingredients, Vaellon gave the man what would be called a Shirley Temple on Earth.

“Fuck you and your entire pointy-eared race,” Fletcher said, though his facial expression indicated that he actually found this all to be rather amusing.

The barkeep's expression indicated he shared that sentiment.“Well, look on the bright side. Now you can use your money to get rich!” The elf gestured to a newspaper article on the table about the Four Rivers Shipping Corporation, and both men laughed hysterically.

“Sure, and then what, the Witch Queen trips and falls down the stairs?” Neither of them wanted the evil caster to win, but it was common knowledge that the Empire had been gathering all of its forces around Fornost. Valheim and Rivers End, the two biggest cities served by the business, were basically sacrificial lambs due to the government's policy. If either city was attacked like the rumors said they would, most of South Central Mytheria would be laughably easy to conquer. The shares of the company were consequently a terrible investment, and both of them knew it.

But something caused Fletcher to pause a moment, deep in thought. Then he took out his coin purse and placed it on the table. “Actually, I'm going to do that right now.”

The bartender looked at him like he was expecting a joke; however, the informant was serious. “I know what you're thinking, V. This isn't about the money, it's about my quality of life.”

“...you're gonna have to run that one by me, Chief.” Extremely confused, the elf waited for clarification on whatever this was.

Now excited by his idea, Fletcher went on. “See, when I go drinking, I only spend a little each night. Now if I go back home with no money at all after payday, the wife will have to let me drink again!”

Alison, bless her heart, decided to not press the issue and instead shifted her questions which was more than welcome on his part. To be asked about himself out of nowhere was... rattling, not unpleasant, despite the thousand sins he had committed and regretted there was still a sense of pride in his previous prowess. But to James, it still felt odd talking to strangers about their little situation, despite how far he has come in terms of moving past it.

Hearing her talk about being the enemy's thought process was a reminder of the sort of enemy they possessed.

"You make sense, from what I have heard, General Saladin is, well sorry for the language but he is a crafty motherfucker" He gave her a shake of the head "Cunning, pragmatic and with a penchant for overwhelming force, there is a reason why the Witch Queen has him at the forefront of the war"

He hesitated for a moment before elaborating, the subject was difficult but if he felt that anyone could do something with the info it was Alison.

"I learned a couple of days ago about something called the massacre of Eretia, Eredge, and Dantuin, a large scale conflict led by the General, the records are spotty as they were compiled by the few survivors that managed to escape but they spoke of spies and infiltrators long before the operation began, of long-range artillery supported by magic defenses, illusions, tunnels, poisoning of supplies and psychological attacks to lower morale. The General is a crafty old bastard whose pragmatism is surpassed only by his cunning. Make no mistake, if given the slightest opening he will slide a poisoned dagger through a gash in your armor and then convince you to kill your friends in exchange for an antidote"

Maybe there were such records, or maybe there weren't. He didn't know.

All he could remember was the barked orders, the FIREfire, the screams, and the glee.

"That is to say, never underestimate him, always assume he has a backup strategy and an escape route planned" He gave her a small node "I already brought this to the attention of the few authorities I know but what they do with it..."

They never stopped talking as they walked and eventually, the Academy was in sight.

With sure steps James walked right through the front doors while making a gesture to the guards that Alison was with him, he didn't know if there had always been guards stationed at the doors of the Academy or if it was a recent thing thanks to the siege but for all they were intimidating Charles and Manny were pleasant once you got to know them. Room by room he led Alison deeper into the Academy, until he arrived at the now familiar door, giving it a push he came across a familiar sight, a room full of Mytheria style computers and some kind of reinforced glass showing the Control Cube being held tightly by a pillar.

There were several familiar faces and he returned a couple of nods and greetings but his destination was the woman in a small podium overlooking the work stations. Clarissa Shield cut an intimidating figure as always, back straight and shoulders squared, one would think she was getting ready to throw down in a ring but that was just the way she did things.

"Hey Chief! Got someone I want you to meet"

She was also someone he considered a friend so there was a certain lel of informality he wouldn't allow to drop.

Clarissa was in a veritable state of paralysis as she stood, straight as an arrow on the podium. If one could see inside her mind, it would likely resemble the light-projected screen on the glass in front of her that showed an enlarged magnified image of the smaller holoscreen of the main computer. Whereas that enlarged screen showed the computer rapidly combing through the foriegn programming code of the cube, Clarissa's mind was reprocessing every event and finding that she, James and her team had gathered so far.

She registered James' voice, but it was not enough to break her state. Her head turned slowly and she stared at him for a moment, her eyes briefly scanning his hands to see if he'd brought her anything. Then after an uncomfortable amount of time, perhaps 20 seconds, her eyes went to Alison. She also checked the hands.

"We could do it manually," she mused, mulling it over before nodding to herself, still staring at the two adventurers. Then her posture broke and she stepped down off the podium as if to properly greet them. "One thing our generation is missing..." she addressed Alison. "Real hackers. I mean REAL hackers - Clarissa Shields, nice to meet you" (the scientist left the smallest gap to allow Alison the option to introduce herself) "- the golden age of programming is over. Everything is now prefabricated hacking software designed with algorithmic instruction to do all the heavy lifting for us. Sure, we have studied to the highest qualification to be able to bend these programs to our will and do amazing things with them, our manpower spent on higher machinations and ambitions. No longer do we waste 4 programmers and 3 weeks building the simplest piece of software. Our computers can do the same grunt work in a matter of hours. Why would we bother ourselves? Of course, we learn in class what it is that is taking place at the foundational level." She opened and closed her fists in front of her. "But unless you've spent time laying those foundations, brick by brick, yourself. Made the mistakes, wasted entire days pouring through your own code to figure out that you've misplaced a single digit in the sea of macros... it's hard to really respect a fellow programmer's feel for the discipline."

And finally the neurodivergent rant was over.

"Sirius," she looked sharply at James, her tone no longer distant. "Where've you been? I needed you." It was an admonishment. Not that she didn't acknowledge just how much time James had devoted to the cause of the Cube. She knew, and while not grateful in the slightest, she did understand that not everyone was a complete robot like herself. Normal people needed time to mentally decompress on occassion. "We have work to do. I don't suppose you know how to read code? Not Source Code. Computer code." (Again, the gap left for James to answer was incredibly small.) "No matter, your inspiration and creativity will be useful nonetheless." As she folded her arms, her thumb, ring and pinky casted a high-level Identify while her index and middle fingers modified the spell for stealth-magic. A habit of hers when sizing up another Source Crystal User, honed almost to an illusionists level of sleight-of-hand. "Time is of the essence," were her last words for James.

"Alison," she looked at the Rogue. Whether or not the woman had introduced herself by name, Identify was filling Clarissa in on the newcomer. "I'm glad you're here - well, not really, I need Sirius - but it is nice to meet you. I trust you must be interesting, if Sirius would bring you here. Perhaps we can have a proper chat under less pressing circumstances. But, it is quite the convenience that you are of the Rogue Class. If you would kindly follow me." She didn't care what James did, but she waited for Alison to follow and led her out of the room. "I trust you know of The Thieves' Guild," she said as she led Alison down the hall. Each door they passed had a sign above.

[Shields 4]...

[Shields 5]...

"My associate, Titus Hart is from the Guild. I've been letting him use one of my labs for a project that might help us get out of this siege problem with our lives - such an inconvenience. The siege, not Titus - but I do believe he has some toys lying around that someone of your calibre may be able to make use of. Perhaps you could take a look and see if any tickle your fancy. You may aswell. No point in waiting for official patents to come through when extermination is on the horizon."

[Shields 11]

"Here we are," she announced and went straight in without knocking. "Hart." Titus was leaned over a table, welding mask glowing brightly as he worked. He stopped what he was doing, put his tools down and took off the safety mask. Chin raised slightly, he held his wrist behind his back as he awaited them closing in.

"Shields," he said politely.

"We have a volunteer for field-testing some of your weapons." Titus looked at Alison and bowed his head slightly in greeting. "I will leave her in your capable hands."

Clarissa inclined her head to Alison in a silent thank you and left. Now, it was time to toss fancy software applications to one side and get into some old-fashioned hacking. James had arrived with perfect timing.

"...most of all-" the southerner raised the dirty mug up with a wry smile "Well good beer of course," Clive stifled a snort and Zell grinned.

"Too right, mate. I'd give my last silver for even a watered-down Fosters, right now."

They knocked their mugs against eachothers an extra time for good measure before Clive sighed and looked somewhat more serious. The cowboy had started on a sincere answer, mentioning family first. He'd probably cracked a joke just to make the 'sharing' a little more palatable between the two men. Zell understood.

"If...If I'm bein' darn well honest I reckon what I miss most is what I used to have, my life was simple I...I was a gosh darn farmer, I worked a field and took care of horses not...Not this...Sometimes it's just so...Overwhelming y'know?"

"I hear ya, mate. You aren't alone in that one." Zell gulped down some beer. "My life wasn't exactly simple... Come to think of it, it was pretty fucking crazy at times." A flurry of images flickered through Zell's mind, among them; the parties, the nightclubs. Hand-offs of little baggies of just about every drug that could be found in London. Recieving wads of notes from his workers, counting piles of cash in his dorm. Getting a brutal kicking from club bouncers who'd caught him moving in on their turf, meeting big names in the London's criminal underworld. Still though... "But it was nothing compared to this shit," he made a show of looking at the source crystal in the back of his left and shook his head exasperatedly. "Sometimes, when I wake up, it takes me a second to remember that this is all real." He looked at Clive with a snort and a grin. "So... simple country boy, eh? What's that like? I've only ever known the city."

There was a hint of reluctance but Clive did indeed go into some details about his old life. Zell enjoyed it, laughing along with some of the stories. It was an alien lifestyle and definitely not to Zell's taste, but Clive's passion and storytelling was persuading the Englishman that he might actually love it.

...

"Y'know somethin?" the farmer leered closer to his companion placing a hand around his shoulder, his speech somewhat stunted and eyes bleary from the drink. The sun was almost set. Zell was somewhere between drunk and tipsy himself, at this point, and he leaned right into Clive to hear him. The two looked like they were huddling together for warmth or something. "When-Wh-When I died...Ag-Again, it was so dark..." Zell moved away enough to be able look Clive in the eye and there he saw a troubled soul. "I can't get it out o' my head no matter how much I try."

"Musta been weird ay-eff," was all Zell could think to say. It was pretty traumatic for his own self, remembering every moment from getting hit by that bus to finally passing away. Pretty traumatic to say the least. Clive had two deaths to haunt him. And the description of this second one sounded fucking terrifying. There was an oppressive weight to the minimalism of it. The nothingness. "We won't let it happen again, bruv. Mark my words."

...

"Fenna! Let's fucking goooo." The appearance of the Dutchwoman was fantastic and she looked ready to drink. Zell and Clive were not so drunk that Fenna wouldn't be able to catch up to them. "Barman. Get our friend a mug." Zell had only parted ways with her this afternoon, yet he greeted her like they hadn't seen eachother in ages, holding out his hand so he could clasp hers with a hearty clap. "Our search for Amstel or Heineken has borne zero fruit, but they got somethin that passes for beer... barely."

"Hey," the barman protested as he pulled a drink from the barrel.

"No offence," Zell apologised, then whispered to Fenna. "It's crap, but it does the job."

Fenna approached the building that served drinks. Sil, who wasn't looking forward being inside with a lot of humans around her, flew up and settled on the roof, where she would keep watch.

When Fenna entered the bar it didn't take long to find two of her comrades, especially with Zell calling her name through the room and waving at her. She clasped his extended hand before she joined them at the table. They were drinking, but it didn't look like happy drinking. Both had grim expressions on their faces, even with Zell keeping up his lighthearted behaviour.
Fenna chuckled at his comment. "It will have to do," she sighed.

The beer, while not bad, was one of the many things that just wasn't the same as back home. At least it had the same effect: dulling of the mind and a headache in the morning. How long ago was it she had just sat down with friends in a bar and drink? Not often since she had become a parent. "Cheers," she said to Clive and Zell, raising her mug. "We've been through a lot and the troubles are far from over, but at least we're in good company."

Barracker decided to have a silent walk along the walls of the north gate of Valhiem. So this is where the Bats will be placed and fight for our future. Barracker stood leaning against the battlements, thinking about a range of different things that came to mind. The impossible feat that he and his friends would be fighting to achieve. The future of Valhiem and the rest of Mytheria. The safety of his loved ones at the orphanage. Lastly and most prevalently there was the desire to embrace Evelyne in his arms one last time.

He felt overwhelmed by the odds set against him in this battle for Valhiem. Mytherias best parties were scattered elsewhere and the Witchqueen had already proven a match for The Empire’s best at the beginning of the war and since then had been winning territory slowly, so many lesser known towns and villages had been wiped out with many lives lost in the process. Barracker felt the nerves he would not allow anyone to notice. He stood alone with a view and smell of the bombardment, the attack on the shield protecting Valhiem from the roaring artillery fire. The unsettling smokiness creeping through the air. Thoughts of war always brought on a different notion of feelings, since that day. That day when the battle on the plains had been lost and he had held off the enemy so his squad could retreat. That day when Viktor Battousi, Hades damn his soul, had gotten his hands on him and made him into a monster. What it would mean for others living elsewhere, if they lost to the WitchQueen here? There had been a pause in the war for a short time now, with the WitchQueen holding the east and The Empire holding the West. Barracker closed his eyes, clenching both fists. Valhiem was the new frontline for his people. He was the vanguard of the resistance. Always a frontliner.

His mind split into two, chaos, anger and revenge clashing with the things most important to him, order, protection and justice. The importance of preserving the lives of everyone in Valhiem was his mental temple, but the chaos was knocking on every door, directly from all sides. And behind the mist of chaos shone through a dim light of hope, goodness and beauty. His eternal love.

Evelyne…

"Real hackers. I mean REAL hackers - Clarissa Shields, nice to meet you"

"I-"

A rambling reminder of why Alison hated defense contractors quickly cut her off as it went off on a long tangent regarding programmers. Alison gave a deep sigh and exchanged a glance with James. She was now definitely in unfamiliar waters. She had been expecting some sort of dusty university campus, with academics and the like. Not MIT barely legally sane savants going on tirades about coding. Though weirdly it did remind her of the people who worked in the cipher department. Lots of Shields in that place and thus lots of reasons she preferred to get their decoded results via email...

"Alison," Clarissa looked at the Rogue.

"Miss Shields" Alison acknowledged.

"I'm glad you're here - well, not really, I need Sirius - but it is nice to meet you. I trust you must be interesting if Sirius would bring you here. Perhaps we can have a proper chat under less pressing circumstances. But, it is quite the convenience that you are of the Rogue Class. If you would kindly follow me." Clarissa said curtly. Alison simply nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. She gave an apologetic shrug to James and followed after her.

Alison decided to play along for now. If they were this world's equivalent of the Skunk Works or Raytheon back home, overbearing personality or not, there might be some powerful tools at the end of all of this.

"I trust you know of The Thieves' Guild," she said as she led Alison down the hall. Again, Alison nodded.

"I've done some work for them, here and there." was her nonchalant response.

"My associate, Titus Hart is from the Guild. I've been letting him use one of my labs for a project that might help us get out of this siege problem with our lives - such an inconvenience. The siege, not Titus - but I do believe he has some toys lying around that someone of your caliber may be able to make use of. Perhaps you could take a look and see if any tickle your fancy. You may as well. No point in waiting for official patents to come through when extermination is on the horizon." Clarissa said as they walked. Each lab they passed was seemingly labeled with her name. She finally stopped at one and barged in without a second thought, Alison soon following in behind her.

In the lab was a lone man working away at what seemed to be a few projects. They regarded each other curtly.

"Hart."

"Shields,"

"We have a volunteer for field-testing some of your weapons." Titus looked at Alison and bowed his head slightly in greeting.

Wait what?

"I will leave her in your capable hands." Clarissa Shields finished before leaving as quickly as she had come, leaving Alison and Titus alone. Alison gave a sigh and a sympathetic smile to the man.

"Well, it seems I've been volunteered. I just came with a friend to check out the place, and now I'm here." Alison said with a shrug. She let her hands then rest on her hips as she continued. "Miss Shields tells me you with our Guild and have been cooking up some new gadgets that might be useful to us. So what kind of developments are we talking about here?"

@xenon@Teyao

"Cheers," Fenna said to Clive and Zell, raising her mug. Zell copied her. "We've been through a lot and the troubles are far from over, but at least we're in good company."

"Spot on. I'll drink to that, mate," Zell added with a one-sided grin. He knocked his mug against theirs and took a big swig.

Shortly after Fenna's arrival, the trio had grabbed a spare table and gotten down to business. Beer, lively banter and funny stories all around. Each took a turn getting a round of drinks in, which took them a hour or two into the evening. As the sky outside darkened, the tavern got a little busier, not another adventurer in sight, just regular local folk who'd likely put in a hard days work with the defence preparations and now wanted to relax and take the edge off.

The addition of the Ranger had changed the vibe and Zell was glad of it. It was nice to have some one-on-one time with Clive, to hear about his life, to let him vent some of his thoughts. But in Zell's experience of friends, nothing good comes from extensive drinking while depressed. Combining this bit of wisdom with the Source Crystal superpowers; Fenna had potentially averted a disaster.

"Wehey!" Zell cheered as he approached the table, his big hands wrapped around three small glasses, with his fingers also hooking three mugs of beer. He set them down before taking his seat, then slid each of his friends a mug of beer and glass of dark fluid each. "Would you believe Mytheria's got shots n all, ha."

The stuff in the glass was called, "Manticore Spit," and Zell explained as much, telling them that he got chatting to a table while waiting for the beers and they recommended it as something that will - quote - 'blow your fucking head off.'

"Alright adventurers... shots up." Zell threw back the shot and immediately regretted it. It was as awful as it was powerful and so hard to swallow. "Oh-emm-gee, for fuck's sake," he croaked hoarsely. He banged a fist on the table, his unable to unsquint his eyes for a moment. "I think I'm gonna die."

He frowned as he heard Clarissa talk, thanks to Zigmund memories he understood what she was talking about, despite the different language used in Mytheria and whatever magic the Source was running to translate for them, HACKING was really the best word to describe the process in which one could interact with Source directly. Not that he had much experience in doing so, the closest he came to it was doing sabotage and espionage on behalf of some shady two-bit egghead back when he spent his days at the Capital.

Still, if there was one thing he had learned during his time working with Clarissa was to let her rant, there were nuggets of wisdom she expected you to pick up and she would give you this disappointed stare if you failed to do so.

What he didn't expect was for the instant recrimination, he stared baffled as she scolded him, did she really? He watched around and saw a few of the surrounding scientists pretending they didn't overhear anything while shaking their shoulders with repressed laughter and by his side, he made eye contact with Alison. He grits his teeth to prevent a blush from forming on his face "Oi" Sadly Clarissa Shields was not a woman who stopped by anything, so she simply bulldozed through his attempt at a response, made some creepy gang signs disguised as crossing her arms, then exited the room with his companion in tow. Leaving him in the middle of the room in bemused silence with an eyelid shaking in annoyance.

"Snrk..."

Slowly his head moved in the direction of a particular scientist, a 40-something balding man with an impressive poker face.

He watched as said face turned progressively purple by the moment before deciding it was enough "Ahhhh, a minute, you all can laugh at me for a minute" Instantly his eardrums were assailed by the sound of laughter, for all that Clarissa had trouble being considerate to her subordinates she was talented at accidentally allowing them to relieve tension with her antics.

After said minute he decided that enough was enough "Okay ya lot that's enough, you all have a job to do" He directed a glare around the room and was glad to see that between giggle and chuckle they were in fact returning to work "Marcus you tend to be her translator, any idea what the fuck that was?"

He just knew that no matter the answer it would be a headache for him.

The warmth of the ale settled pleasantly in Clive's stomach, a welcome contrast to the chill that had settled in his bones. Fenna's arrival had been a breath of fresh air, a much-needed distraction from the gnawing anxieties that had been plaguing him. Zell, bless his heart, had been trying his best to be supportive, but his attempts at lighthearted banter felt strained, like a poorly-played tune. Clive knew he was struggling too, the weight of their shared burden heavy on their shoulders but he truly appreciated his friends words.

"Cheers, y'all," Clive said, clinking his mug against Fenna's "To good company, and to facing adver-city? That's how it's called ain't it? Ah hell cheers." the farmer shook his weary head and laughed, the weight of his troubles settling back on his shoulders somewhat but not as much in the present company. They drank and laughed, talked about the days past and now sharing their time together over a drink it reminded him of a home he had far away but now here was home...

'Maybe...Maybe it ain't so bad.' the southerner thought to himself, downing the frothy liquid in his drink he set the dirty mug on the table with a gulp, stifling a slight bit of a belch behind his fist 'Maybe it ain't all that rough going...' he thought looking at Zell cheerfully cavorting with the grumpy bartender and other patrons who seemed to be having none of it then Fenna, his gaze lingered for a second remembering fighting side-by-side with her to save the people all the way back when it began in that town they woke up in...The child they both saved...She was quite something, she was truly a good woman he admired her spirit to say the least...

Zell's boisterous return, however, brought a much-needed dose of levity especially to the southerner who tried to play off his staring as nothing but the drink making him see double. He deposited three mugs of beer and three small glasses filled with a dark, viscous liquid on the table the stuff in the glass was called, "Manticore Spit," and Zell explained as much, telling them that he got chatting to a table while waiting for the beers and they recommended it as something that will - quote - 'blow your fucking head off.' and in the case of Zelll it certainly looked as though it almost did.

Clive couldn't help but chuckle, the absurdity of the situation momentarily lifting the weight of his worries. "Well, now, Zell," he said, shaking his head, "Maybe you should have gone for the beer, partner. But hey, at least it's an experience, right?" he took the shot glass in his hand raised it to Fenna with a smile "Well, here goes! Over the lips, through the gums, look out stomach, here it comes!" oh, it was a foul concoction to say the least like what them folks in Russia drink cept' worse, Clive's face contorted to a pained grimace pounding a fist against his chest and coughing "Hoo-boy..I-I'm gonna be feelin that tommorow." after a fit of coughing and white-knuckling he wheezed out those words to the lightly smiling face of Fenna as she watched them both down the foul liquid.

"Well there little lady, is that pretty little face o' yours gonna smile or-" Clive's voice was hoarse from the alcohol but still had that same charm he usually had if not a little forced sliding the last glass towards the ranger with a little smirk on his now rosey freckled face "How's about them lips of yours taste this, cause I sure as heck ain't gonna have another."

Barracker lay on the grass inside the terrain of Green Glow Woods. He was enjoying the company of a beautiful young lady, Evelyne. Eveylne sat up, her bum shuffled into the curvature of a hollowed part of the trunk of the tree. Taking deep breaths of the air in his lungs, Barracker told Evelyne about his day, about meeting his new mentor Odis Visigni and being accepted by the Paladin order.

Jasmine with amber notes. Her scent. I can smell it now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an upgrade he felt from being a soldier and took pride in his first steps of becoming a worthy apostle, on the path Hades set out for himself. He was becoming devoted to the way of Hades these days and attended the classes to learn more about the cycle of nature, creation and destruction. This was something he always pondered to himself and felt at this time of his life, he could help prevent the darkness from growing ever stronger, to become a beacon of light people could rely on. A protector of sorts, for the people and his loved ones, one that would take the responsibility for the safety of everyone, just like the mythic heroes themselves. Earn a place on the council one day and be hailed a hero by his people and turn up to Valhiem recognised. Recognition is what he got, but he did not know under what gravity the situation would be and what it would unfold to be.

Looked down for being a horror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was so happy on his first assignment, he talked loads about it to Evelyne that day. So proud. He felt a high almost equal to the butterflies Evelyne gave him. He felt that his adult life was taking shape and most of all, he felt like a warrior. The training was gruelling and he had nearly fallen out as a failure, unable to rise to the occasion of having the chance to pass with a breeze.

Training never became any easier, as soon as I became stronger, the next challenge was far harder.

It was always demanding on the body and mind. He remembered being at breaking point so many times. He even snapped at his late master Odis and let off his worries and complicated thought process about wanting to become the very best Paladin Mytheria had ever seen.

He taught me from the ground up and built on my strengths. He was an incredible teacher with a proficient prowess to his lessons and teachings. But would he turn his back on me now that I am this…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An inner voice flickered inside his head and then the scenery changed from Evelyne and the calm tranquil forest to ashes.

Where is Evelyne, where has she gone?



Viktor.

My blood rages when thinking of the name.

In the darkness, his senses might have been enhanced but it was still darkness, it was handicapping not being able to see anything. His blood at boiling point, his rage seething, then quietness followed.

“What is going on, where are you? Show yourself!”

“You are like me Barracker, and the curse you speak, you will succumb. Giggling followed, I miss my precious pet, my thrall. The thirst for blood will overcome you and can’t wait to see you become the very thing you hate.”

From a soft tone to sharp speaking, those poisonous words, his voice he cannot seem to forget.

And why would I forget?