Chapter One
The City of Locusts

Hello. My name is Hector Filbert Faust. A butcher in both occupation and hobby; a brilliant mind trapped and misunderstood beneath the twisted confines of society- that is to say- I kill people because it's fun. And because mother wouldn't love me enough. Or some shit.

"Please! Please! "

I've seen things my life I don't fully understand- take for example, this sweet thing I'm currently strangling. Pretty as a peach; rosy, blonde and legs that go on forever. Y’know, I like her legs. Like em' just fine. But it's when suddenly she sprouts what can only be described as second kneecaps that things start to get weird. "What the hell are those, doll? …Huh?" I must admit that in all my years of strangling I most certainly did not see this one coming.

"Please! Stop- Help! Hel-" her accent was, foreign and only faintly recognizable. Traces of an Irish brogue wrought with an edge of something I've never heard before. She was having trouble screaming, and fair enough since I’m choking the shit out of her- but also because the kneecap looking things were traveling fast up the backs of her legs to the base of her throat just under the thin membrane of skin.

Here’s where it gets even stranger, gentlemen: I felt them within my grasp; one bulge soft and squishy like putty and the other below it hollow like a pocket of air. I began to laugh, aside from the familiar bloodlust that surged within me; I also felt a great deal of grim determination, like popping a pimple.

She started making this sound, similar to brewing a pot of coffee—know what I mean? It wasn't the usual 'Gahhhhh-ack-gurgle' sound I hear from victims, it was a watery squeal that projected deep from the diaphragm.

Well that’s a little odd, it was almost as if she were about to hock a l-- "ARGHH! My eyes! "

No sooner had I let her go- the girl ran.

Acid. She. spit. acid.

I writhed around howling and clawing at my peeper-holes until I had the good sense to stand and feel my way around to a tree. Little shit is going to pay. Big time. I swiped at the air until I got a hold of some leaves and wiped my eyes clean "You're dead sweetheart. You're dead! Central Forest isn't big enough for you to hide in-- dryad, slut!" my vision remained a little hazy and tunneled but I could still hear her frantic footsteps not too far off.

Aside from the fact that I throttle people and occasionally use the rib-cages as top hats, I genuinely do like jogging. I'm not a runner mind you, An orc like me, well into his life and past the point of being sprinter even if I wanted to, but I have endurance.

I can jog through the woods for hours without stopping…

“O young laaaady! Where are you, beautiful-- come on out, I didn't mean what I said earlier... Now, there’s no use in hiding from Ol’ Hector-- ” And that much was true. Yours truly, has the keenest nose in the tri-city area. Only a matter of time before I get to lay my hands once more on that supple neck-skin.

“I’m over here you sick, old, Fuck!” she cries from off to my left.

Oh?
Oh.
Oh shi—

Although I retain my vision, my limbs begin to cease up. There is a trickling sensation that sweeps over the span of my legs and I’ve just realized that this bitch has a gun. But that doesn't make sense. Where did she get the fucking gun from? And why didn't she try that business when I was about to throttle her? Why can’t I feel my body? Something doesn't fit into the equation.

Oh.

“Are you okay,Nimmy?” a familiar voice asks. I’m about to answer, but then I realize that I’m unable to speak. I swivel my gaze upwards only to immediately regret doing so. The Boy King. Gaia, help me. Not this brat again.

“I-I’m okay” the girl says, and to my satisfaction, her voice is whispery and uneven. Good. Bitch should be so lucky. “Say, Ulrich? I think we may have went three grams too heavy on the medications—he’s starting to convulse.”

She was correct. However it was from sheer rage, not drugs. To think the little shits lured me out here—

“Not quite. I think he’s starting figure out why we've been trying to talk to him—haven’t you, Faust?”

Of course I have you little prick. You've been tracking me for weeks. Come close a few times too, but... Bah! Playing to my weakness though? I thought, fuming. The boy simply has no shame.

Nimmy. That’s her name. I’ll make sure to remember that…

---

"This is fucked, man."
"We have to know if it's gonna work if you do a full sprint across the river at full rush. It's gnarly but it's the only way we'll know it's flawless."
"I know, it's just...fucked."
"It's sketchy Damien I know, but I wouldn't ask you to do this if I wasn't entirely confident in my work."
"You can't just do it yourself? This is sketch, man."
"Damien I'm 3 feet tall I know it'll hold my weight, I need someone solid for this."
"You couldn't get Domerix out here? Orcs are solid."
"Orcs also don't trust magic that isn't Orcish."
"This is fucked."

"Just get ready, I'm mixing a fresh batch for you right now." the gnome said, rummaging through his knapsack for different powders, oils and pastes needed to make the salve they were out there to test. The gnome was Windsor Sinclair, a 5 year graduate of a 10 year course in fae science. Windsor left his premier internship in Manhattan to join Damien and show that fae science wasn't just pixie dust and fireworks. A pioneer in functional potions and concoctions of all sorts, Windsor's latest creation was a salve that could be applied anywhere on the body and would allow the user to walk, run and hopefully sprint across bodies of water as if it were solid ground. He had already demonstrated it for himself, but needed to be sure it could hold someone with real bulk, like Damien. The leader of the Sea Tigers always expressed that he would never ask his guys to do something he wouldn't, so naturally Windsor went to the man himself. There they were, mid day on the banks of the roughest part of the river. Damien checked the straps to the harness that was made to his measurements. Adjusting the fit, the harness allowed him to carry a gnome comfortably for an extended period of time, causing no strain to the shoulders or back. It all pllayed into an upcoming task Damien was putting together, but that was still in the works. They needed to know if the salve would work, first.

"Done, here you are." Windsor said, handing over the open container of blackish brownish paste. Damien took a long look at it before dipping in two fingers and applying one stripe under each eye, resembling the eye black he used to wear on the football field. Taking a nervous deep breath to try and shake the tingle in his gut, Damien paced a few steps back just before the treeline meet the riverbed. There he stood focused, doing his best to dial in and push away any hesitation in his mind. As if a gun went off, Damien swiftly dropped his hips and took off, full sprint dead ahead towards the river. Nerves made their way back into his mind, but he didn't slow down. Letting out a shout as he touched the last of dry land, Damien maintained his high speed as he sprinted clear across the river. Water splashed up from the impact of his strides as he kept in line straight across to the other side. His steps thudded hard as he slowed himself down and looked back across the river to see Windsor with his hands up in victory, both he and Damien smiling in excitement. It was an awesome moment. "That was insane! Fuck yes!" he shouted before they both began laughing. Damien calmly walked back across the river, the rapids morphing around his form as he caught his breathe.

"Let's get out of here, c'mon, I'll give you a lift." Damien quipped, getting down on one knee.
"Asshole."
They both laughed and headed back to camp. Which was a mixture of old public buildings, an abandoned subway terminal, tunnels and a maintenance tunnel junction that was out of use for a few decades. There were also plenty of tents, towers and treehouses and the canopy allowed for plenty of sun with just the right amount of privacy. Either way, Alistar's scout lines kept great watch of not just their home, but their entire part of central forest. It was a real community, there were gnomes, elves, orcs, satyrs, pixies. Pretty much every kind of fae was represented to one volume or another, but they were all equal. Damien made sure to nod and wave to as many as he could, or to those who noticed him. Everyone had been really busy lately, art, music, lectures, there was a boom in creation for the large group of fae. The two walked Windsor to his large tent and said their farewells, Windsor shouting excitedly, telling his fellow scientists about their accomplishments. Damien walked in the shade through a group of tents and past small office buildings before reaching the largest in the center.'MANNING COUNTRY CLUB' read across it's tired concrete front, which had been reclaimed by Gaia, covered in moss and vines. The walls inside the main atrium were lined with statues, idols and paintings. Many had offerings at their base or underneath them. Some fae were even in the middle of praying, communicating with their chosen deity. The building carried a respectful silence, but a satyr played the pan flute in the distance. The melancholy tune echoed through the halls as Damien walked past room after room of statues and people meditating, before finally reaching his own.

The statue of Liara was deceiving. Her noble dressing covered her shapely form, and her crown appeared much more majestic. She looked upward, as if from the sea to the surface but Damien could still feel her gaze upon him. At her feet, a tiger laid dormant, peacefully asleep in it's master's comforting company. It was a stark contrast from the coldness of his dreams, of which only Damien was familiar with. An elven craftsman constructed the statue for Damien, using only instructions from a centuries old book detail her existence, and of the hundreds of warriors that worshiped her and died vying for her love and approval. It was how the goddess was remembered in the hearts of men. Damien presented a lone water lotus he had picked from a certain spot along the river. Placing it at the statues feet, Damien took a deep breath and looked up at her.

"In a few days, I'm going to do something I've been meaning to do for a long time. It's what I've been training myself and these Tigers for. I'm here today, to ask that you make sure things go our way and we can find out what happened to Avan. I'm not here to beg, or ask for protection, just make sure he stays out of my way. Make sure Ulrich doesn't fuck anything up for us. He's my brother, and I miss him, but we are men with different purposes now. Make sure he knows that-"
"Damien." a voice echoed from down the hall, it was Damien's captain Alistar, his steps grew louder until he stood in the doorway. "Damien, we found him."
"How?" Damien asked, his fists clenching as he kept his gaze on Liara's statue.
"Earlier today, one of my guys saw him. I'm sorry to interrupt, it's disrespectful, but I think you needed to know."
Damien sprang up to his feet, looking his scout captain in the eyes, "Grab three more of your guys, let's go."

Hours later:

Ulrich places his hands on his knees, panting hard. He had tried everything. Everything. He could think of to get the Orc to talk. Blackmailing and threats had no effect, Faust just laughed at them. When presented with bribes he seemed bored, ignoring them with a indifferent shrugs, making comments about only being interested in Nimmy's body. Frustrated, they had resorted to kicking the shit out of him for the past hour. He seemed to really love that. Breaking out in mad hysterical laughter, he moaned for 'more', and for Nimmy to take her top off. Orc skin was thick like leather and rough as sandpapaer; he was the one probably doing the most damage.

"Screw this, Ulrich-- lemme spit in his eyes again!" the tranquilizers had worn off of Hector and so they were forced to bound his hands and ankles with the metal cables they had brought as a precaution, Nimmy inhaled deeply.

"No." Ulrich ran a hand to smooth down the front of his hair, a habit he had picked up from his brother, "He'll go blind-- and we need him to guide us directly to the suppliers"

"The suppliers? Why didn't you say so? Ha. Untie me and I'll take you to them--"

"You're lying"

"I might be," Faust smiled, "Or you can consider the fact that I'm hungry, bored, and in dire need of a proper nap. What can I say? You kids wore me down. You win. I'll take you to these suppliers, if that's what they go by now. My day we just called everything like it was, gangsters were gangsters, killers were killers... "

Ulrich sighed, and after a long pause said, "Alright. Nimmy help me, untie him."

"What! But you know the moment we free him he's just going to try to kill us-"

"He won't. I was afraid it would come to this," Nimmy glares at the two of them as Ulrich kneels to Hector's level, "The captain of the Sea Tigers keeps a young Orc with him. I can call in a few favors to get him down here. I don't have too many friends of your kind," to Hector, Ulrich's eyes seem to flicker strangely, "but surely he'll know how to get some information out of you."

"Cummon' kid you're bluffing."

"I might be," Ulrich straightened upwards, scowling back the lines he had fed earlier, "Or, you can consider the fact that I'm hungry, bored, and in dire need of a proper nap. What can I say? You wore me down, Mr. Faust."

---

Psssshhhhht

"Alpha. Tango. Whiskey. Looks like we got a blip on one of the net traps. Southern riverbank. We're in Sea Tiger waters gentleman, send in the idiots to deal with it. We can't afford distractions."

"Should we let the boss know?"

"Negatory. She doesn't need to be bothered-- most likely a couple of tree-ban--what was that?"

"Sir?"

"It's nothing. Thought I heard growling...Look, just send them to check on the net and we can all breath easy. Gideon, out."

Pffshhhhhhh

---

The ability to conjure even the smallest amount Fae-fire was not only difficult, but painful to the point that Faeries born the gift of Will-o'-wisp often rejected their heritage and migrated deep into the city. The ghostly blue flames that invariably burned it's user along with the intended target. Utterly pointless save for the predicament they were currently in. The Boy King sneered; why couldn't he have been born with something more practical, like a tiger. Or the ability to become one with trees or water -- fuck's sake, he'd even take becoming a rock at this point.

The three of them were suspended in a net supported by a thick tree branch. The material of it was not ordinary; but it wasn't flawless either, there was only a very small hole, enough to maybe fit a head through. He no longer had a choice. He had to use it, if only for a second. He closed his eyes, sucking in deep gulps of air in preparation for the pain to come; something cool and smooth slipped into his palm. Nimmy didn't look at him directly, but he could tell by her hand that she was trembling.

“I’m Nade’catcher and this here’s Pineapple. Say ‘hello’ Pineapple.”

“Hello, Pineapple. Huhuhuhu”

“Okay that’s enough, buddy-- so what are a few tree-bangers doing so close to a city sanctioned waterway?”

The two men below were so opposite of each other, it might have been comical. Nade' catcher, the smaller one, carried what looked to be an industrial electric cattle prod. His partner, Pineapple was about as large dumb looking as a bull; he dressed even more ironic-- were those.. real grenades strapped to his belt?

“You don’t smell like cops…” Faust inhaled, the orc smiled to show them all of his teeth, “You smell good. Like steak and butter.” the larger one, Pineapple, returned the smile; clearly oblivious.

“Huhuhu. We ain’t cops. We run the goods down this river for Boss Lady and--”

“Idiot!” the one who called himself 'Nade'catcher' used an electric tipped prong to zap his partner's ribs.

Pineapple giggled stupidly as smoke that began to exude from both of his nostrils, Huhuhu. The three Fae watched disturbed.

"I'm scared," Nimmy whispered.

Ulrich murmured, squeezing her hand, "I have an idea. But it's solely reliant on your ability to keep it together," pressing his lips into her hair he whispered "Here's the plan..."

"Wait a minute-- what about me?" Faust interjects in Gaelic, "you're the ones who got me into this."

They both look at him, squinting.

"Right. Point taken." and then he adds quickly, "Save me, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

“Nimmy, you got this?” he watches her nod and press her mouth taut against the net.

“HEY! What are you tree-bangers talking about in there? Better not be thinking of escape—why the hell is she gagging like that?” but it was too late. Nade’catcher goes down like a sack of rocks, rolling in pain “My eyes!”

Faust howls with laughter, “Try some water!”

Pineapple tries his best to guide the agitated man, who claws and swings like madman, to the lip of the river.

Ulrich goes to work fast using his hands to sear at a tiny pre-existing hole in the net.The pain was excruciating but when it's barely enough he pushes Nimmy through; as he pulls his hands back to look at them, he realizes the extent of the damage. His hands are charred black with bits of fibers welded to the tips.

The last thing he sees is a flag of emerald hair as Nimmy hits the ground running. He passes out.

“IIEEEAA-ACK! Water makes it burn, worse! Pineapple-- grab her before she blows the entire operation!”

“Hokay, Nadie’ ” and he bites his lip and begins to lumber in what he thinks is the right direction. He pauses and then plucks two round spheres from his belt “Hide and go boom-boom? Huhuhuhu. My favorite!”

Faust watches the scene unfolding before him, muttering to himself “Run you crazy, bitch...and you’d better come back for us…” and then he raised his voice, cackling “Water? Aye, that’ll never work try pinecones.”

“EEERRRAAH! IT BURNS! I’m hauling you in straight to Boss Lady!”

Meanwhile

Helen wrapped around herself the secrets of her new life, and if the wrap was necessary, even comforting, it was also constricting, a barrier, because it had such sharp limits on areas of herself and what she could share. A journalist –and perhaps, deeply closeted exhibitionist- crippled by vows of silence. Actually, when she thought about it all, she didn’t really feel like she had much of a life altogether these days, she belonged to the Folk now.

To top things off, Ulrich had been missing for about a week, not wholly unusual; but when Helen learned that in he had left with the dryad called Nimmy, she grew leery. He probably had his own reasons for it; hell if she knew. Word around the tents was that the Nimmy girl had strange talents; if Ulrich pulled her along for a job then things must be...

“Turn around, let me see the other side—it was always my favorite part aside from the face.”

Selene pivoted sharply on her heel, as always, eager to comply with her Queen’s wishes, “Are you in love with him?” she questioned woefully, “Oh! Sorry.” Helen’s bodyguard and best friend, was about as straight as a three dollar bill, and watched over her like a hawk. A pining, love-sick, hawk. Normally, the rule followed that Selene would remain wordless during their ‘playtime’.

“Why is it that you can’t do the voices?” Helen reached out to feel her handy work. The elf had improved considerably, “Slightly firmer on the right cheek, you have it uneven—think steel. Think: two-a-days in the hot sun just before the big game. Needs dimples just on the lower back. And down here… this needs to be a bit more unruly if I remember correctly--”

“That tickles— Not there! Your Majesty, please!” She titters and brings a leg up to fend off vulgar, grabbing hands, “I will never be able to mimic the voices—that is because my transformations are an outward lunar projection and not an actual mutation.”

“Can all elves do this?”

“Some. But none as well as I can, Your Grace. One has to come from a good family with less diluted lines; normally an elf from my clan needs a full moon, but I can pretty much do it any time so long as the moon’s orbit is in sync. ”

Helen nodded thoughtfully, “Now for the hair”

“This is exactly like the picture you showed me, no?”

“Yes, but Damien’s at his best with a five o’ clock shadow. And I’ve always thought with longer hair he might look a bit more the way I like-- ” a look of furrowed concentration as Selene attempted to conjure something unfamiliar to her. When they usually played dress up, Helen had her change into people she had already met; Selene could do a pretty good imitation of her cousin Alistar when the mood struck her. They would laugh for hours in a spun out drug-haze.

Today was different. Helen was sober—for the most part. And with Ulrich missing too long, she was feeling a little reckless.

“Want to pretend?” Damien’s figure suggested coyly. Look wise, she was a dead ringer for O’Shalna.

“Will I feel a difference?”

His eyes slid into half-lidded hunger, “None” Selene tried a gravely whisper, she traded her Kilarney accent for South Bronx, “Go on. Touch one. Best pecs in New York, honey.”

Helen grimaced and ran a nail down a perfectly sculpted bicep, “Y’know, I could never prove it, but with Damien…I always got the feeling that I wasn’t the only one…” the elf shivered, “Anyways, that was years ago—he and I are…” shaking her head, “What am I saying? Forget it. Let’s just do this.”

“Yay!”

“Don’t do that.”

“Oopsies.”

“Or that”

Hesitation. Anticipation. Education. Reciprocation.
Respite. Rinse. Repeat.
Fascination. Manipulation.
Respite. Rinse. Repeat.
Precipitation.
Respite. Rinse. Repeat.
Indignation
Respite. Rinse. Repeat.
Awkwardness and laughter. More respite.


Hours later, the sounds of their laughter are interrupted by the unwanted intrusion of yelling:

“Your Highness” Thistle appears in the doorway, jam and butter knife in hand, “Nimmy’s back and she’s hurt—wait, what the hell Damien O’Shalna doing here?!!”

“Wait--” the two of women said in unison.

“KNAVE!”

Helen ties to explain but her Gaelic is still rusty. Next to her, the captain of the Sea Tigers pinches the bridge of his nose and holds up a hand, “No really. It’s not what it looks like. I’m a woman.”

“THAT IS PRECISELY WHAT--” the Sprite brandished her blade, swinging it around wildly about the room, “What?” Thistle halts mid-swing, it dawns on her, and she lowers the sandwich knife slowly, “You don’t mean… Selene, is that you?”

Damien nodded.

“That’s not funny,” the tiny pixie starts in a rage, “and Helen? You’re sick, girlfriend, real sick. Kinky in the worst way, everyone knows Sea Tiger boys are all uniform, why just the other day I was walking by the river- and I said to one of them, I said--”

“Nimmy? Where is she?” Helen breaks in, recovered.

“Oh. Right. Come with me!”

---

"And then what happened?" Selene had moved Nimmy's frail body atop the long dining table. Greenish, insect-like blood oozed from her fresh bandages; Thistle said something about an oven burning and slipped out as quickly as she could "Did this Pineapple guy follow you back here? Where is Ulrich?'"

Nimmy shakes her head weakly, and then nods "Ulrich? He's still back there...I dunno, this guy, Pineapple had explosives on him. One of them I just barely missed but when I looked back he..."

"Nimmy? Nimmy! Wake up you can't go to sleep until you've told us everything!" Selene shakes the Dryad hard, "If you sleep before the medical team arrives you could die"

"When I looked back--- he was gone. Just gone. I'm sorry but that's all I know. And that I could hear fighting coming from near the river..."

Helen and Selene exchange glances. Helen speaks, "Someone-- Get me Dirk Aearhil. If anyone knows where the to find Damien, he might. This has RAID spelled all over it."

Central forest was for the most part, very serene. Only a small fraction of it was tourist friendly, as it was made a national park decades ago, allowing for nature to take over the concrete roads and buildings, the dark tunnels and sunlit playgrounds. It became a symbol of fae making their way back into society. As the trees grew, so did the fae's courage to question their social oppression. So, techies and humans typically avoided Central Forest, which just reminded them of the shift in social norms that was occurring around them, it was something most people didn't want to acknowledge. Naturally it became a safe haven for groups of fae looking to get away from the constant noise of the hive city, it became a popular spot for college students to spend the weekend camping, whether if it was so they could get high and trip out peacefully or just to practice some transcendence. There was always a mysticism to the forest though, stories of magic and spiritual happenings that went on beyond the safety of the trails. For years, fae students would return from trips to Central Forest with stories of seeing apparitions or hearing something, it became an exciting thing. When Ulrich and Damien made their homes on opposite side of the forest, it became a big deal. Making a permanent home out of the sanctuary made perfect sense, but was oddly bold, something the O'Shalna brothers became known for.

"We're almost there!" alerted Alistair, he, along with 2 of his scouts lead Damien and Domerix through the trees and brush. One of Alistar's scouts, a Satyr named Thialgo had spotted Ulrich in a small grotto laying among the flowers and butterflies. It would be the first time Damien will see his brother in months, which is all he could think about as they ran through the forest. What would he say? How would he say it? Would he try and hug his brother or simply tackle him at first sight. Would Helen be there and would she be happy to see them together again? Clearly, Damien's mind was clouded, the usually calm and collected leader of the Sea Tigers was susceptible to distraction when it came to his brother. UIrich was the only one with the ability to rattle Damien's mind with words alone, and it was because Damien both love and hated his brother at the same time. Ulrich did a lot for Damien, introducing him to Avan, inadvertently helping Damien reach his full spiritual potential, apparent as the Sea Tigers came shortly before the boy king's clan. What really got to Damien more than anything was that they both wanted the same thing, only they were complete polar opposites about it and while that was heartbreaking, it didn't quell any of the intense animosity between the two.

"Here, just over here guys." Thialgo warned, prompting the entire group to stop their running and slow down to a slow, crouched walk. Through the tree line, the grotto was in full sunlight, the patches of flowers spread throughout glowed with life and butterflies fluttered around, dancing. Statues of old politicians stood covered in moss and vines, dulled and cracked, unrecognizable. Damien sat on one knee and waited in silence, listening for someone who wasn't them to make a noise. From the flower patch closest to the grotto, a hand reached out from the flowers, laughing softly as a butterfly landed on it, flapping it's wings for a bit before taking off again. The figure sat up, shirtless and pale, it's shock of red hair glistening in the sun. Damien's eyes peered as he watched Ulrich soak up the sun so nonchalantly. Oh, how it pissed him the fuck off. The figure stood up and walked around, kicking up dirt and coming into full view of the group that remained hidden in the cool dark of the trees. Damien let out a deep breath and stood up, shaking his head and walking right out into the sunlight in frustration.

"Damien!" Alistar whispered loudly.
"It's okay, it's not him." Damien turned and shouted back, a good distance into the grotto.

Damien approached the figure, coming closure and noticing it's otherworldly glow, confirming his suspicions. Waving Domerix over, the large orc stood and jogged out, joining his friend and leader in the grotto's sun, swatting away the annoying butterflies that came near him. Domerix got close enough to realize it wasn't really Ulrich, but a residual projection, something Ulrich was a professional at. Domerix reached out to Ulrich's form, his hand going right through the young man. Frustrated that they had been tricked, he reached back and swung right through the thing, it's head dispersing like smoke only to regrow and smile so smugly at the orc. Damien calmed his captain, waving over the rest of the guys. Thialgo the satyr hung his head in shame.

"I'm sorry Damien, I thought it was him." the satyr confessed, shaking his head.
"It's alright Thi, this is probably the best projection I've ever fucking seen." Damien replied, examining Ulrich up and down.
"Yeah I wish it was him, I'd have laid the little fucker out." mumbled Domerix.
"How'd you know it was a projection?" Alistar asked.
"His tattoos, this one has none," explained Damien, his finger pointing at Ulrich's clean hand and torso, "Ulrich's damn proud of those tats, he wouldn't hide them for anything."
Alistar's last scout finally made his way out of the treeline, another elf by the name of Barthas.
"We're all clear guys, nobody around here for a while, no footprints, no markings, nothing. I don't get it." explain Barthas.

"I don't get it D, why would he do this?" asked Alistar. Just then, the figure began to laugh, Ulrich began to crack up, laughing hysterically, slapping his knee and holding his stomach, only it didn't really make a sound. All of the Tigers stood puzzled, watching as the figure laughed harder and harder, it's face red and sweaty from it all. Suddenly, aloud shriek rang through the trees, seemingly into the grotto that was a combination of a tea kettle going off and nails on a chalkboard, whilst listening to feedback in a room full of large fucking speakers. Each of the Sea Tigers covered their ears and shut their eyes, the sensation being too much to handle without your ears exploding. The screaming faded away, and Damien along with the rest of the group drew their swords and immediately watched the treeline, waiting for whatever made that noise to show itself. That's when the projection breathed in, all five turning to listen.

"BALTAMA DULECIA NE GUZAROOO" shouted the projection, and without warning it exploded, the sheer force sending Damien and the others flying back about 10 feet. The terrible shriek from before rang out again, disorienting the Tigers as they scrambled to recollect themselves. Damien's ears rang as he struggled to stand, looking around for his comrades before finding his sword, picking it up out of the dirt. Domerix picked up Thialgo, Alistar was on all fours trying to regain his focus and Barthas laid unconscious on the ground. Damien shook his head, trying to snap himself back into a sharp focus, but it proved difficult. The ground shook and vibrated in rhythm.

Footsteps approached, and dark figures could be seen standing among the trees. Something was coming, something not of this world.

At the first breath of dusk, the silent heart of Central Forest begins to beat again. Slowly at first, ever so slowly, until the last of the sun’s rays recede into the purples and blues of evening. Central Forest awakens from its daytime slumber. You smile with anticipation. Somewhere in the back of your mind you worry though; their criteria is a mystery, there are days when very few are allowed to enter. There is no official entrance into the nocturnal Kingdom; many college freshmen have simply tried walking or sprinting in the direction of music or following glowing lanterns that strung about the trees, only to find themselves wandering aimlessly until dawn.

Only when The Path reveals itself, will one vanquish all illusions.

A breeze picks up on this windless day, and tickles at the tips of your lobes. With the strange sensation of eyes at your back, you resist the urge to look around. They- whoever they are- don't seem to like it when you acknowledge their presence. "Pleasure? Or Business?" Rasps a thin, reedy voice; it's owner is unseen.

"Pleasure." you answer immediately.

"Tonight's theme is: Roy G Biv. Please remeber that all recording and photography is prohibited." intoned the speaker.

Like magic, or perhaps it really was magic, your feet sink into the earth with a soft crunch. Looking down, you realize that The Path has revealed itself; its made of glossy obsidian pebbles that flicker in soft lantern light. You follow it deeper through a marvelous web of blue string lights, if they were red and green, perhaps this part of the forest could have felt like Christmas. The air grows warmer and the perfume from apple trees make you hungry, but before you can consider plucking one of the waxy fruit, The Path ends.

Tents. Dozens of them, arranged in a large crescent moon shape, each one unique in texture and size: plastic and striped red and white like the circus, silks and burlap, velvet and tarp, there was even one that was made entirely of glass. The one that catches your eye however, is the largest one of all, it is lavishly constructed out of Persian rugs with a flowing banner reading 'Sultan's Hookah Palace'. Before you can consider your choices, a Fae offers for you to pick from a large tray of concoctions; ruby red wines and cloudy green absinthe, amber beers and orange ales- sparkling violet juices. He is dressed in the colors of the sunset, "Welcome to Tent Country, my friend, where the law is loose and the girls run wild," he chuckles, "and boys, too if you're into that sort of thing?"



Neutral Territory:

“Other than asking your barber for that layered haircut, when was the last time you did anything about anything?”
“I know not of this Damien, fellow. Nor do I know who Dirk is- he sounds quite dashing. I am but a humble man of the forest.”
“Dirk!” She felt a small knot of guilt for him. When he didn't make the cut to Sea Tigers, Dirk took it pretty rough.
"Hello. Yes, why you're a handsome butterfly, aren't you?"
Okay. He took it really, really rough.



"Look," she starts exasperated, "I know--"
"Know? Yes, enlighten me Thistle. What do you know about, aside from wiping the King's backside?" the butterfly flutters away, and the corners of his lips twitch "Sorry. Sorry-- that just sort of slipped out--"
"We... have gone to the same school since Wee Acorns Scouts. I know you... At what point did you convince yourself that not making the Damien's gang was your breaking point? "
"I DID MAKE THE TEAM! I--" he looks down sadly at his big cuticle moons, "I mean. I should of made it..."
"Not this agai-"
"What you don't believe me?" Dirk cries dolefully "Why does no one ever believe me when I say that?" in his sorrow, he allows himself to fall backwards and sprawl onto the soft earth.
Thistle lets out a long, low whistle and slumps down beside him, "It if helps, any--- I believe you."
"You do?" he sits up slightly.
"Fuck no. You're mental, love. I mean think about it," Thistle holds out a hand as she begins to recount his story "You're telling us that during try-outs, you saw a ghostly woman trying to murder Damien O'Shalna in broad daylight--"
"It's true! That's the only reason why I had to actually push him out of the way--"
"Right. Right. Wait I wasn't done" she paused "So. You broke rank, and charged your captain-- probably humiliating him by pushing him in the river... All because you thought you saw a ghost? Dirk. We're friends, and I happen to know that you're about as spiritual as a rock"
"It's true... and maybe it wasn't a ghost. Maybe it--"
"Maybe what? Huh? You think that you saw a Goddess? Get over it, Dirk! Please." having about enough of his nonsense, Thistle rose, dusting off her sleeves "Cummon, you're the only one we could think of that knows where they might be located after you help us find them-- I'll buy you a drink"
"Two drinks?"
"As many as it takes to find your mother attractive"

"You tell me what she is to you Damien, because I can tell you don't just pray to her. Ulrich says that-"
"Ulrich has nothing to do with this, leave my little brother out of this."
"Can you just show some emotion for once and be transparent with me? Ulrich's the only one who talks to me anymore."
"I didn't realize."
"Damien, I love you, and I want us to keep going but there's one thing you need to do."
"What's that?"

"I NEED YOU TO GET UP RIGHT NOW MAN, BARTHAS ISN'T MOVING." Domerix barked, his focus switching between dragging the limp but visibly breathing Barthas to a safer spot in the grotto and keeping his eyes on the figures in the treeline, shrieking and hissing, the clicking of their claws echoing through the clearing. Alistar helped Thialgo to his feet, and the two found their swords, still trying to focus themselves after the explosion. The projection released some sort of powder designed to confuse and disorient anyone who was caught in it's cloud and Damien caught the worst of it, catching a large batch as he stared Ulrich's projection in the face. "Thialgo, come over here and watch Barthas, I've gotta get Damien up!" he ordered, Thialgo immediately complying. Damien managed to get himself back on his feet, staggering as he wiped the powder from his face, reaching out, Domerix quickly handed Damien his sword. In an effort to intimidate the approaching attackers, the orc let out several loud warcries, his pointed ears pinned back in instinctual focus. "Damien, we got a fight coming, c'mon buddy, grab your sword. ALISTAR, GET OVER HERE!" Alistar's footsteps could be heard as he joined his comrades. Damien coughed and reached out for his sword, feeling Domerix place the hilt in his palm less than a second later.

"What the fuck are those?" Domerix asked.
"We gotta spread em out, there's way too many." warned Alistar.

Damien blinked repetitively, slowly regaining his focus only to spot the threat now standing in the treeline. Seven dryad summons stood in a line, working themselves into a frenzy. Dryad summons came in many shapes and sizes, these sharing a feminine, lanky figure, brandishing large claws and spiked horns that curved upwards. Whoever summoned them used nearby trees, native to Central forest. Damien stood and faced the group of summons, letting out a loud roar similar to Domerix's, prompting the dryads to shriek back in a display of viciousness. "If they reach Barthas, they'll shred him to pieces. Do whatever it takes." Damien commanded, sticking his sword in the dirt and kicking it up, a cloud of dust blowing in the summons direction, "COME AND GET IT YOU SHIT EATING TWIGS!" he shouted, charging towards the group, his captains at his flank. When the dryads began heading towards them, the three split up in separate directions, thinning them out and keeping them from Thialgo and Barthas. Domerix bellowed out another warcry, attracting the attention of two of the summons. While Damien or Alistar would've had a difficult time taking on two opponents, Domerix welcomed the challenge, easily being the best warrior among the three.

Pushing one summon away to make some space, stabbing one summon in the throat, pulling him between himself and the other summon. The second summon hesitated, shrieking as it watched the glow fade from it's doomed sister's eyes. The now husk of a summon collapsed, hitting the ground and breaking into a pile of wooden shards. Domerix disposed of the remaining summon with aggressive ease. Meanwhile, Alistar had rushed his assigned summon, showcasing his elven agility, deflecting the creature's slashes with his sword whilst keeping a safe distance from it. Creating about ten yards between him and the dryad summon. The summon leaped in the air, claws brandished forward in an attempt to pounce on the elf, only to watch Alistar smoothly baseball slide under him, thrusting his sword through it's wooden midsection, twisting the blade and finishing it off. Damien danced with the summon that pursued him, glancing claws away from his body using his sword. The summon shrieked in frustration as Damien confidently egged it on, closing in and slashing it's arm off before spinning and driving his sword through it's side. Finishing it off, the three Sea Tiger captains regroup and stride towards the three remaining tree demons. The summons gathered in a huddle, their bodies morphing and bonding together, forming a wooden behemoth that can only be described as 'huge fucking tree monster thing'. It roared, announcing the completion of it's final form.

All three captains rushed the tree hulk unanimously, their lack of strategy backfiring as each were sent flying away as the tree hulk swung it's arms about tossing them like pieces of trash. Domerix went crashing into a tree, while Alistar's body went tumbling clear across the grotto. Thialgo stood fast, watching as Damien's form was thrown against one of the dull statues in the grotto, his back arching in pain as he fell to the floor. Opening his eyes, he could feel the ground quake as the tree hulk approached, roaring in confidence. Looking to the treeline as he tried to get up, Liara stood, a smooth smile across her face, her eyes eager to watch Damien die and join her forever in the afterlife. Damien realized what she was doing there, slamming a fist in the ground. "No..." he mumbled, "...not here, not now..." rising to his feet, the mirage of Liara faded into the trees as Damien's muscles began to convulse and grow, bulking in size as fur grew from his skin.

After moments of lurching in pain, the weretiger stood and roared to the sky. In one fluid motion, Damein's tiger form pounced on top of the tree hulk, taking a wooden spike in the side before hacking and slashing the behemoth to pieces, finishing it off by biting a chunk of wood right out of it's neck, immediately collapsing in a cloud of dust and dirt. The rest of the tigers collected themselves, while Damien morphed back into human form, walking from the dust cloud applying pressure to the open wound just under his ribcage. Domerix got back on his feet and let out a deep breath, embracing his good friend in a rare sign of vulnerable emotion. Eventually Barthas regained consciousness, discovering what happened to his captains and leader as they prepared to leave, not before Thialgo collected pieces of what remained of the summons and tree hulk, figuring Windsor would be able to pinpoint whose handy work that was.

The walk back felt like an eternity, but after a while the camp was in sight, Alistar's patrols making contact and breaking off to alert the camp.

Fourty-Eight. Unopened. Messages. First. New. Message.
[Hey, I’m coming home early tonight! Woo-hoo, right honey? Hahaha, I love you sweetheart… and your sister loves you too… I know things are a little different since you quit being Drizzy X—but we’re a family now. A real family--]
Next. New. Message.
[Helen? This is your mom. I’m in a meeting right now, but I just wanted to say that I really appreciate you helping me take care of Abby. How about some drinks when I get off? Whadd’ya say about a girl’s night out, huh?]
Next. New. Message.
[Taco night!!! Helen, it's Abby! Will you pick up the Guac on the way home? Oh by the way, your boyfriends are here-O.EMM.GEE. Can I can one of them to prom? Hurry and get your butt over here before mom get's home or she's going to kill you! ]
Next. New. Message.
[Abby skipped class again, I need you to pick her up from detention—the High school right next to---]
Next. New. Message. Next. New. Message. Next. New. Message. N-n-Next. New. Message.
[I just missed your call, I’m sorry—look I don’t want any of those type of things in the house with your sister around. I've accepted that you have a different way of seeing things; you're a real progressive thinker just like I was-- but these boys are a bad influence on Abby.]
Next. New. Message.
[I noticed that we've been sort of distant lately. You come and go and sometimes we rarely see you, honey.]
Next. New. Message.
[Helen? D-don't be mad okay? Please don't tell Mom. Can you just come pick me up? I went with some friends down at Central Park and...]
Next. New. Message.
[Hello Miss Fenten, my name is Tahl. I am an educator at Central Forest University. Regretfully, I must inform you that your application to serve as our Cultural Media Studies professor has been rejected by the Board of Education. If it is any consolation Helen, I was fighting for you hoof and horn; it just goes to show us that perhaps it is not only Humans who have been misguided by progress... ]
Next. New. Message.
[You've been gone about a week. Fine. Just fine. You're grown you can do what you like but don't expect our door to be open after coming back from all that filth. I'm your mother-- all I ever wanted was for you to be successful at whatever you do. If you want to waste your talents on a bunch of... of...Tree Boys... then fine-- I've got your sister to think about. God forbid if she decided to follow the example you've --]
Next.New.Message.
[This is Abby. Can I come with you? Everything sucks without you around anymore. I was actually happy when you moved back in with us-- no matter how uncool quitting Drizzy was... Oh. And mom wanted me to tell you that she's sorry. And that she didn't mean what she said. Anyways, can I come? Mom's been seeing someone at her job and she's driving me insane with her giggling.]
Next. New. Message-- Are you sure you want to Delete All Messages?
Saved. All. Messages.
Next. New. Message...

---

Helen jumped as she heard the clearing of a throat. She wiped something out of her eyes, and stretched a smile before turning to see who it was. She frowned again. "Oh, it's just you"

Her bodyguard saunters in. When she is not someone else, Selene has a rather small and bookish face. Prim lips and egg-white hair that just oozes down both sides of her face. Like she was fresh from a hot, sunny day at the beach, "Nimmy's condition is stable. We've managed to get a few more facts out of her--says there were some seedy looking techies ferrying cargo down by the Hudson. Turns out she was also lying to us earlier... she did in the thug chasing her. Calling it self-defense. I sent some guys out there to recover the body but nothing's turned up so far."

"The Hudson River? What in the hell were they doing way out there?"

"She couldn't say. The Dyrad girl is out cold, and might be for a while it looks like."

"And Dirk?"

"Him and a few of us will be waiting outside for you with the palanquin."

The royal palanquin, was a ridiculous thing, "No, I won't." A two person tent, made entirely out of deep violet cashmere. Spider silk interiors, fur pillows, nary a finger or hair would land upon a rough edge or sharp corner. A gift from an investor's son in exchange for... well... whatever Ulrich had promised him. In any case, it was far too ostentatious for her taste.

"It's for safety. You will." Selene had a way of saying things. When it came to the Queen's own safety, she wouldn't be challenged.

Fifteen minutes later Helen found herself spread eagle groaning in protest on the enclosed platform. Six female belly dancers, rather than the usual four knights in armor, were selected to carry her to the entrance of the Sea Tiger's camp. Dirk and Selene leading up the front, suited to the nines.

Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease, don't be there. She hadn't seem him for so long. Thankfully, she was allowed to wear her usual street gear and not show up nude like the females who carried her. She glanced into the mirror ceiling- which she suspected was custom, and probably indented so that rich people could watch themselves fucking- gods she was a mess. Her short hair had grown out a bit in the past few months, and she perhaps had lost a little more weight than normal...Well, I'm no Goddess...

---

"Look who it is boys!" the two guards that stood at the camp's entrance had recognized Dirk on sight, "If it ain't ol' Dirky boy-- weren't you suppose to be off in the woods crying, somewhere?"

The tips of Dirk's ears, reddened, "If it's a challenge you want," with a long drawn out shiiiiiiink, the elf draws his saber, "I'll take you both on at once!"

Both guards exchanged glances and then squinted, unsure. They shrugged upon seeing that he was serious and placed their hands on their own weapons.

"Boys, boys this isn't a---" Selene's shoulder rolled forward suddenly and she froze with a smirk, balancing on her right leg and eyeing something just beyond the gates.

Her knife spun handle over blade in perfect revolutions for Alistar's face. "Hmn?" He had happened to be passing, clipboard in hand, apple in another. He looked up bewildered to find that he had dropped his apple, but why? He then glanced at his hand only to find Selene's knife had neatly replaced it. He swallowed what was left of the fruit in his mouth, "I thought I said no sparring in the public areas..."

"Alistar!"

"Selene?"

She launched herself at him no sooner than he had let himself through the gates. They both hit the ground hard "I've missed you. How is Uncle? You look horrible! Shh. Don't say anything--Mmmn--mmnn--nnngh!"

The two guards looked uncomfortable, Dirk simply rolled his eyes. It was very common for Elves to greet family members with a kiss, but they were pressed for time as it was "Selene, when you're done eating the poor guy's face, can you ask him where Damien is?".

Suck. Pop.

"What do you say, Ally?" Selene sat up and pulled them to their feet "We have to see--"

"Impossible." his tone all business, now. With a trace of regret he thumbed the last bit of lipstick off his uniform "He is busy"

"I think he can make an exception" Dirk called out, jerking a thumb past his ear.

Alistar's eyes traveled in the direction of the palanquin, "This should be interesting... I'll let him know. Wait here."

Selene folded her arms, "It's her. Not, him. Just so you know..."

He halted mid step, "Sorry. He's not interested."

"Not interested in what?" a grunt from behind, the mighty Sea Tiger captain approached them all with a limp.

Damien had lost a lot of blood, not even realizing that he had pretty much put the bulk of his weight on Thialgo who had began to help him stay on his feet some ways back. With what looked like the camp in sight, the loss of blood and exhaustion had finally made itself known. Damien's resolve was the only thing keeping him conscious as the gates to the camp swing open and a group of Sea Tigers came out.

Front and center was Dr. Lua Tisari, an elven doctor who had graduated in the same class as Damien. She lead the Sea Tiger Medical Club, whose main focus was the research, development and advancement of fae medicine and medicinal practices. Like Windsor the scientist, Lua joined Damien in Central Forest when her job folded it's fae medicine division, her parents who were also prominent fae doctors had been arrested under suspicion of illegally practicing fae medicine at the hospital they worked at. The whole thing was in the papers at the time, it was a big deal since they had saved the mayor's son from a virus that had pretty much guaranteed his death, so they were prominent figures in the fae community and had helped start to bring people around on faes before the whole thing boiled over after Avan's death. Anyways, Lua had the hots for Damien, and she was a beautiful girl, but the timing of everything was off, what with Helen finally reappearing but with Ulrich and Liara growing impatient. Had Avan still been alive and if Damien had the chance to get over Helen, they could have had something special. They both know it would work were circumstances different, but they weren't and they were already so busy with their respective passions they only got the chance to see each other a few times a week.

Lua ran towards Thialgo and the near unconscious Damien, two large orc soldiers in tow. She had a veil with her, popping the cork off and throwing it aside, slipping the fluid in Damien's mouth. Damien breathed in and let out a loud, medically induced sneeze before passing out, his weight becoming too much for Thialgo the satyr as the orcs ran in and caught him, carrying him to the large clinic building in the camp, where they'd be able to treat his wound along with everyone else. Domerix refused help, visibly angry as he limped all the way to the building under his own power.

Meanwhile, Alistar walked with Lua, discussing the severity of Damein's wound, Alistar explaining what had taken place. It would take about an hour to clean him up correctly and to patch him up without leaving a scar. Luckily her team and Alistar's runners had just come back from an ingredients run, finding plants and buying medicine from all over the city to bring back to her. Domerix sat down on a bench in the hallway, only pointing to Damien's room whenever someone stopped to help him, "Damien...help Damien first..." he would grunt. Everyone was exhausted, just relieved to be back on friendly soil. Lua and her nurses would begin work on Damien, a sharp scream being heard before they subdued him again.

Liara stood on the shore, looking out to the sea as the waves crashed at her feet. Damien approached her, staggering in an exhausted daze, he fell to her feet. Trying to get himself up, Damien felt her soft skinned foot press against his back, keeping him down as the waves rushed back in, the saltwater filling his mouth. His vision faded to black, listening to her inaudible whispers before passing out again. About an hour later, Damien's eyes slowly opened, his eyes being met with the clinic lights. Trying to get up, he looked down and saw the bandages that were wrapped around his torso, deep green paste could be seen under all of the gauze, explaining his numbness in the area. Lua stood in the corner, writing on her clipboard before setting it down and walking to Damien's bedside.

"If you wanted to see me all you had to do was say something." she spoke, giving his arm a playful squeeze.
"Well you're a hard person to get to these days, I had to do something." he joked back, smiling, feeling her hand run down his arm to his hand. His train of thought was broken by her leaning in and kissing him. It was a bittersweet moment, she was an amazing person and all that did was remind him of how the Sea Tigers inadvertently got in the way of them having something. Victims of circumstance, he reaped what he sowed on a daily basis, came with the territory. Damien rested for about another hour before getting back on his feet, stepping out into the courtyard and stretching, testing to see just how much his wound had healed. It was pretty much as good as new as he sat down and looked up at the canopy above him. Beams of sunlight had broken through the tall trees and Damien found himself relaxed, that was until Domerix joined him.

"D, someone's at the gates." he spoke, wasting no time in asking his leader if he was okay, or asking how he was feeling. Orcs worked that way.
"Any idea who it is?"
"No, but it's a palanquin with Ulrich's crest on it."

Damien discovered his limp as he made a b-line to the gates, Domerix letting out a particular whistle. Immediately, about a dozen orcs and large figured soldiers appeared out of different tents and buildings, taking their place behind Damien and Domerix. One orc approached from the weaponsmith, handing Damein his sword. Damien buckled it to his waistline before walking up to the scene that unfolded. It was Dirk, a strange elf that had an abnormal spiritual well and proved himself incapable during the initiation trials, he wasn't very dangerous on his own, but after the rejection he kinda snapped, making him a bit unpredictable. Next to him was Selene, Alistar's cousin. Selene was once on track to become a Sea Tiger, perhaps even one of Damien's captain had Ulrich not convinced her to join him. It was a shame, Damien respected her abilities and combat prowess, but that didn't stop him from not trusting her. He eyed her up and down before examining the palanquin. Ulrich had some fucking nerve showing up the way he did, at least he thought it was Ulrich.

"Interested in what? Taking these rejects back? He walked forward, looking back and forth between Dirk and Selene, "You guys aren't with us for a reason, so make your intentions known or leave." he spoke sternly, grabbing the hilt of his sword as he turned to face the palanquin, "And you, you've got some fucking nerve showing up after setting us up in the grotto today, just what exactly where you trying to prove, Ulrich?" he asked. His people were silent, this was a serious reunion unfolding before them. When Helen stepped out of the palanquin, Damein froze in disbelief. "So he's gonna try and kill me twice in one day? Your boyfriend sure has lost it, Helen." he finished. More Sea Tigers had made their way into the gateway, murmurs of Helen's appearance spread throughout like wildfire. Lua ran out, getting in between Damien and the palanquin, placing her hands on his bare chest, keeping him from stepping forward anymore.

"Damien, you've been through a lot today, now's not the time to be looking for a fight." she warned. Damien was silent, his stoic eyes still fixed on Helen. Lua placed her hand on his cheek, turning his head to face him, only to receive a cold star in return.
"On the contrary, doc, a fight's just what we need." Domerix barked, drawing his sword, the sound of swords being drawn ringing out as his soldiers armed themselves. "Now speak up, all of you, or we can end this right now."

"Interested in what? Taking these rejects back? You guys aren't with us for a reason, so make your intentions known or leave."

“Actually we--” Dirk began, but it must have been a rhetorical question or one where the answer didn’t matter. Either way, the reject comment stung.

“And you, you've got some fucking nerve showing up after setting us up in the grotto today, just what exactly where you trying to prove, Ulrich?" Damien is yelling now. Everyone else had fallen silent. When Helen stepped out of the palanquin, she braced herself, "So he's gonna try and kill me twice in one day? Your boyfriend sure has lost it, Helen." More Sea Tigers had made their way into the gateway. The dancers that had been shouldering the palanquin hissed in return.

A woman, a doctor by the looks of it, ran out, getting in between Damien and the palanquin, blocking him. "Damien, you've been through a lot today, now's not the time to be looking for a fight."

Helen felt Damien’s gaze heavy on her, she stared back. Curious. The woman placed her hand on his cheek, turning his head to face him, in a move Helen had often used herself once upon a time. She couldn’t help feel a pang of sadness. It goes to show though, that whoever she was, she clearly didn’t know O’Shalna well enough to see that his threats were empty.

He was annoyed. Severely raging, even. But there was no way he’d fight a bunch of seemingly unarmed girls. And Dirk.

"On the contrary, doc, a fight's just what we need." The orc, drawing his sword, followed by all of the Sea Tigers. "Now speak up, all of you, or we can end this right now."

“Maybell..?” said a small voice from the gathering crowd, “Maybell? Is that you?”

One of the belly dancers smiled. Their arms opened up and they sunk to their knees as a pixie child slipped past the legs of soldiers and beyond the narrow bars of the gate.

“Winslow… darling… lovely boy, is that you? Look at you, you’ve grown so big!”

Another voice, “Fatima—hey beautiful! How about a dance for old time sake?” This time a Sea Tiger in uniform comes rushing forward to pick up another dancer bridal style, “I wasn’t sure it was you at first, I’m sorry. About what I said at the wedding… about everything.. I’m sorry.”

One by one each of the dancers were called out to by people in his village as someone they loved recognized them. The tension in the air dissolved, the majority of the crowed was buzzing with excitement.

Helen smiles weakly, “We brought them here as a peace offering... despite our differences… we’re still family, right?” she watches as the doctor excuses herself into the crowd where apparently her presence is needed, “I don’t know what you mean about the grotto—come on let’s talk about it. Alone?” she holds open the flap of her grounded palanquin and waits for him to enter.

Damien looks around, is about to say something. And then looks resigned, “Okay.”

Inside of the small tent, the air is filled with electricity. She motions for him to take the seat on the plush floor pillows across from her and then silence. They hear the dull camaraderie of the crowd as both Selene and the dancers entertain the crowd and loved ones do some much needed catching up.

“So…” he begins wearily, he still feels the weight of his tired bones. His face was passively eyeing the lavish décor. Even Helen seemed to be avoiding his gaze directly.

More silence.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Livid”

“That’s not going to change anytime soon is it?” Damien shook his head, honestly. Helen nodded, and then to his surprise began to unbutton her shirt “I’m going to give you a chance to say everything. And then I’m going to tell you about what’s been going on”

“What are you—where is Ulrich?”

“He’s waiting for you back at our base. Relax let’s just get this out of our systems now before things become more complicated.”

“Like fuck we will!”

“Like, fuck we will.” She agreed.

Like adults they quickly came to terms, however-- he wasn’t a gentleman about it. She couldn’t blame him though. His bandages complicated matters at first—he flinched each time she would accidentally graze one of his wounds, knocking her hand aside, grimacing. This wasn’t about affection. It was about the fact that he couldn’t hit her, and so he channeled his bitterness and frustrations into one small coordinate in space. The movements were devastating, almost painful; but extremely satisfying for both of them. It had been far too long, the buildup too great, and the thought of consequences along with their sense of autonomy had long since flown out the window.

When they were finished and dressed, she immediately scraped what was left of herself off of the overpriced pillows and headed to the laptop and began click-clacking away at it wordlessly. Damien was a little surprised, although he realized that the last thing he wanted was to bask in any sort of afterglow.

“You should sleep. This is probably going to take a while.” She said, her eyes never wavered from the screen.

“You don’t have an off switch, do you?”

“I do. In fact you were just flipping it repeatedly a moment ago.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?”

Greenish glow and white strings of code flew across her face; she was only half paying attention to him. “I think I’ve got a signal.”

“Great. I’m going to get the others.” It was awkward, he leapt on the excuse to leave, but when he tried to stand he found himself unable to move, from the waist down “Could you…?”

“Yeah, hang on.” She spent a few more moments typing furiously at the screen before, pulling back the cloth door of the Palanquin “Selene?”

The bodyguard poked her head through the flap of the door, “Yes?”

“You know what to do.”

“What?” Damien’s expression was confused and felt angry but he didn’t know why.

Selene’s features melted and stretched into Damien’s form. She smiled and then turned towards the camp, coughing, she started with “Men, I’m not feeling well… I’m going to let them take me back to Ulrich’s so that I might have at this alone… Don’t look at me like that Orc. That’s an order. All of you. You look terrible, heal up and I’ll be in contact soon!”

Damien finally having registered that he was being kidnapped, swore “Mother fu-”

“A mild tranquilizer. It’s no use trying to get up.”

He ran a mental checklist and sure enough. He felt a tic-tac sized bump on the inside of his thigh. Oh fuck. She wasn’t kidding. “….You didn’t have to do this, I’d have just cooperated if you told me what the hell was going on.”

“I lied. Ulrich is missing. I didn’t know if you’d agree to help us without wanting to do things your way; we don’t have a lot of time, time we really don’t have at this point.” She glanced over her screen, “Relax we have a long ride ahead of us, I’ll explain everything on the way there”

The palanquin rose unsteadily and they began the long journey to the city.

It was quite the spectacle, Helen's arrival. A miasma of emotions had blitzed Damien in a second. It'd been so long since he'd seen her, her figure, her eyes. He was relieved she wasn't all drugged out, sweaty and messy haired like most of the girls that followed Ulrich's trails. She had a sensible look about her, she looked good and it kind of relieved Damien to find that out. Regardless, after the kind of day he'd been having so far, it wasn't fun having them arrive at his door and all it did was throw him off, confuse him. Making sense of the situation was a waste of time, but that didn't stop him from trying. Slowly, Tigers from the gathered crowd had began recognizing the dancers that Helen and Selene had brought with her. Old acquaintances, old flames, each dancer was someone important to at least one of Damien's people. How could he be angry? How could he be rude when things had taken such a turn for the better? Damien shook his head in disbelief, this whole thing made no sense. It was nice, it just made no freaking sense and if Damien had a reason to be suspicious, it hadn't presented itself yet.

“We brought them here as a peace offering... despite our differences… we’re still family, right?”
Ok, there it was.

The overall mood had made the dramatic shift to relaxed, and even though Damien still found the sudden appearance of Helen a bit suspect, he eventually let his guard down. Lua looked him in the eyes and gave him a reassuring nod before she went back into the crowd, running her hand across his chest as she walked back towards her work. Damien watched her disappear in the crowd, feeling Helen’s eyes on him. Letting out a deep breath, he returned his focus to her. Following her into the large palanquin, Damien got a look into Ulrich’s world. Decadent, ornate, exuberating and unforgivingly excessive, this is what his brother had created and it was tangible and mighty. These people were truly devoted to him, not just loyal, but devoted, infatuated. Damien sighed deeply, wondering if it was foolish to expect anything less from his little brother. Reminded of the situation at hand, Damien took a seat across from Helen, and the two exchanged words. There was plenty of palpable silence between the two, but it was only a matter of time. It had been forever since he had seen her, she looked damn good and he knew for a fact that she liked what she saw. They gave in.

The sensation that was her touch hadn’t changed, but the wound added a challenge. They still had plenty of chemistry though, and were really familiar with each other physically. This wasn’t how it used to be though, and that was obvious. The affection wasn’t there, the passion yeah, but it wasn’t like before. There were no nightcaps among the stars or anything like that, this was two people in a palanquin who needed to get it out of their systems, together. The commotion outside had essentially turned into a party, nobody really paid attention to what was going on. Domerix and Alistar were so caught up in keeping an eye on the happenings. Helen and Damien had plenty of time. When they had finally had enough of each other, Damien sat up among the lavish sheets and throwpillows throughout the palanquin, watching Helen, still trying to piece together what was going on. Seemingly ignoring what had just taken place, Helen went to work typing on her laptop, the clicks of the keyboard being the only thing to break the silence before she spoke.

“You should sleep. This is probably going to take a while.”
“You don’t have an off switch, do you?”
“I do. In fact you were just flipping it repeatedly a moment ago.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?” Damien replied, cocking an eyebrow in surprise, she seemed to be enjoying herself well enough.
Some more beeps and clicks, “I think I’ve got a signal.”

“Great, I’ll go and see what’s going on with the others,” he tried to get up, his legs giving out on him halfway before becoming numb, the loss of feeling creeping past his knees and towards his waist. Selene and Helen exchanged some chatter before Selene came in and morphed into Damien, voice and all. Damien focused as much as he could on trying to figure out just what their plan was, but was having a hard time ignoring the fact that he was going numb little by little. In an attempt to call for help, Damien felt the scalding dryness of his throat. It was part of whatever Helen had given him. He exhaled through his nostrils in confused frustration. She had got the slip on him, and he let it happen, right under his damn nose. Selemien walked out and addressed the crowd, his men dispersing as the meeting of camps ended and the palanquin was being prepared to depart. Damien tried his best to listen in, but his vision started to give, blurring and unfocus, Damien reached out for the exit.

“Relax we have a long ride ahead of us, I’ll explain everything on the way there”
“We’ll need guys, my guys, we have to go back, we have to…”
Damien’s surroundings faded to black.

---

Domerix and Alistar stood together in the gateway, Barthas, Thialgo and some of the others just behind, watching their captains. Domerix stood with his arms crossed, pacing back and forth as Alistar stood still, his index fingers up to his lips as they both reflected on what just happened. Alistar was happy to see Selene, but things got fishy fast. Domerix kicked some dirt up, prompting Alistar to clear his throat.

“Did you buy that?” Alistar asked.
“I did at first, then he called us 'men', then he called me 'orc'.” Domerix retorted, still pacing, “I say we trail em.”
“No, Selene’s with them, she’ll smell us coming, she’s good that way.” Alistar warned.
“Well then what do you suggest, scout captain?” Domerix asked, frustrated.
"I got it. Tyrus! Front and center, scout." Alistar commanded.
"No fucking way, you genius." Domerix reacted.

"Outta the way scrubs, coming through!" a small voice cried from the back of the crowd of soldiers and scouts. Everyone scooted to separate sides as a small gnome stepped forward, standing proud and as tall as he could. This was Tyrus Cobb, scout extraordinaire and one crazy motherfucking athlete. Let me tell you about Tyrus Cobb, Tyrus Cobb was the only gnome, standing at a meager 3'2, to make the Syracuse rugby club and start. All-human schools had to fight for a rule change that prohibited him from playing against teams without faes, cause he was crazy. Earning All-American Honors in wrestling and track and field, the only reason he was a scout and not a soldier was because being a soldier would've been to easy for him, that and he and Domerix loved to fight each other, it was terrifying. A true athlete and sneaky bastard, Tyrus nodded at his captains confidently, knowing he would be counted on, knowing he was the right man for the job. Adjusting the small, almost dagger like sword strapped to his back, Tyrus took out a can of war paint and applied it under his eyes. The salve, created by Windsor, would improve his vision tenfold, allowing him to spot and focus on the palanquin with ease and more importantly from a safe undetectable distance. Selene was good, but she wouldn't be ready for this. "I've got em, I've got their scent." Tyrus spoke, "I'll keep an eye on him, make sure he's safe and they'll never see me." Alistar and Domerix nodded and before they could submit their votes of confidence, he was off, sprinting down the trail to find Damien and to figure out what the hell was going on.

---

“Welcome to the Ritz, sir and ma'am, help with your things?”

The effects of the little device would wear off by the time we made it close to the Ritz, the silver adhesive would peel off with a proper shower. Probably. If not, madam would be most happy to assist--- What's this?

“We’ll need guys, my guys, we have to go back, we have to…”

For a terrifying moment, I thought that I had just killed him. The tranquilizer was only supposed to numb his limbs for an hour or so. But that he couldn't even finish a sentence-- I panicked. Two fingers just below the jaw confirmed a strong pulse.

That. And the snoring.

"Idiot..." I let out a long, deep breath I wasn't aware I had been holding. "I'm giving you two hours." I yawned, "Just two." I reached around and gripping my left arm, twisting over at the waist. I peered at him over my shoulder before hunching back over to the laptop, envious. "...gee, I wish someone could fuck me into submission..." either it was a coincidence or the bastard had actually heard me, a peeved tug of the lower lip suggested he might have. "Kidding," I said, "kidding."

Minor hyperbole aside, I was drained. Questions. Too many questions, they were the only thing that prevented me from curling into my own set of swan feather pillows. Oh, and not to mention Tiger-Blood here, snoring like a freight train. I fished around for some ear buds and inserted it's spongy tips. His roaring sleep dulled to an acceptable level. Some things never change. And what did he mean by saying Ulrich jumped him in the grotto? It's just one more thing I have to deal with. My list of chores:

1. Find Ulrich.
2. Kick his ass.
3. Find out what jumped the Sea Tigers.
4. Kick it's ass.
5. Take a vacation.

[Eeep]


[Would you like to accept invitation to this Chat Pod? ... ... Loading ... ... You are now in a conference with The Widow]

The Widow: Suite 203. Bring Damien as planned. Leave the rest behind. They will only be a liability.
H: There was something that jumped him in the grotto. Do you know anything?
The Widow: Ask for room service. Order the Blue Lion.
H: Finally feeling like showing your face?
The Widow: You will be delivered a package. For security, you will be unable to open it easily.
H: How about the alternative: You tell me who you are and what you know. Or I take Damien, skip town, and you can just eat me?
The Widow: I have no information on the Grotto incident. Once Ulrich is secured, you may have a better chance at finding the ones responsible.

[The Widow has logged off]

---

Two hours later I managed to wake him; midnight on the dot. By 12:30 A.M. he could move around, albeit sorely, and I began to tell him the basic outline of the situation. He didn't take it well. By 1:30 A.M. we had escalated to shouting at each other like typical New Yorkers, (and anyone who dared check on us: "THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" we yelled in unison.) I shoved him, frustrated. He made the mistake of laughing. Shove. Shove. Slap.... By 2:00 A.M. our clothes were off again, (a boot to the face for poor Dirk Aearhil when he mistook our heated negotiations for something more sinister). Finally. Fiiiiiiiiiiinally. By the time Selene cleared her throat from beyond the flaps, we had reached a deal. 3:30 A.M.

I tumbled out of the palanquin dazed and badly in need of a cigarette.
"Your Majesty! How was it?" Selene eyed the doors of the palanquin tensed for a fight.
"Strenuous"
"H...How deplorable!"
"Well, what the hell sort of a question was that, anyhow?" If I was sleepy before, it was really kicking in now. My crabbing did nothing to deflate her.
"I meant, did you reach an agreement?" she lunged forward to catch me as I trip trying to keep up the march pace. My legs were jelly.
"Yeah." I raised my voice, making sure that you-know-who could hear me, "We do this my way. We help bring the rain on those jokers from the grotto."

He made a noise.

"And..." I winced, "...and...access to The Old Library..."
Selene raises both eyebrows. "Dude..." Dirk murmurs, "...nice..."

That last part I wasn't too sure about. Mostly, because I wasn't sure if it was my promise to make. Ulrich had personally sealed off access to The Old Library within hours of the news that Avan had been killed. He wouldn't tell me why or what was in there. But I knew that in order to get Damien's stubborn ass to even consider my proposition, I had to bring out the big guns.

---

“Welcome to the Ritz, sir and ma'am, help with your things?”

"Actually" I pivoted about-face, "Selene this might be a good time to mention that you have to go--"
"Nope." Her form takes on one of a much taller stature and gives me a 'try-me-punk', look.
Swallowing hard, "I was going to say that I need for you to check into the room across from us. After making sure the dancers know which path to take back home"
"Oh" her frame zips into that of a child's. She smiles sweetly, "Will my Queen spring for the costs of the mini-bar?"
Shrugging.
"Splendid!" the child exclaims delightedly; the bellboy smiles nervously "Dirk-- you amuse me. You will keep me company."
"I. What?" the Elf replies indignant as he is dragged off.

Damien is at the front desk running on less than three hours sleep, "We need suite 203. And clothes." he proceeded to tell the customer service representative his sizes and preferences and when to deliver them. I forgot that we had been here before. Once. A long time ago for... Christmas...

I trail miserably after him, shaking off a memory that threatened to surface; I leaned across the counter and sleep-slurred, "Clothes. And I want extra pillows. No. A mountain of pillows. And chocolate sauce. An Olympic sized pool of it, too. Got that?" That's how you had to be with these people. Ridiculous and demanding or else they won't take you seriously enough.

"R-Right away, Miss!"

We took an elevator up, I tipped the bellboy generously and told him thank you for insisting on carrying my laptop for me...little jank.... I swiped the card key, opening the door and looking up, I nearly wept. "The bed... it's... so... beautiful." Don't get me wrong. Ulrich's place was nice. But it was 'Folk' nice-- carved wood and detailed stitch work.

The Ritz was all modern. The beds appeared to be hovering, while the walls were glossy white with holograms of endless food and drink choices. The shower, upon further inspection, was only a plain grey room. But I knew better. As soon as you stepped in the massive flooring would depress and a voice would ask you to pick from more endless choices: A heart shaped tub for newlyweds? A steam room for grandma? How about some sand and a projection of Maui for the kids?

I wanted rain. A tropical thunderstorm in the jungle... but instead I hurled myself on to the left bed nearest the door, shoes and all, and began scrolling my way through the itemized list. "Blue Lion... Blue Lion... Blue...L..." I dunno when I dozed off. But I did. It was best sleep of my life.

Gods fucking damn it Damien, what a snafu this broad has brought you into.

The entire monarchy must be this way, fighting and fucking and arguing and kissing and just being a lavish emotional circus in general, because once he woke up and shook off the effects of the tranquilizer the palanquin turned into a damn rollercoaster. They were like an old married couple from the Bronx, and argued in ways that only two who had been in and out of love with each other could. She wouldn't let him win, and he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. What a mess, Damien, what a mess. Negotiations eventually got serious, and Helen had dealt a fine set of cards on the table. If this whole thing worked out then Damien would get The Old Library, which would undoubtedly shift leverage in his favor ten fold so giving this a real shot was justified.

Not to mention it was Ulrich, and while Damien was fine with him on the other side of forest partying and letting his hippies scrub his feet for him or whatever they did, he couldn't live with himself knowing his little brother was in danger. The tranquilizer left Damien susceptible to emotional flare ups during the ride, but he could feel himself calming down and as Helen pounded the keys on her laptop with urgency, he was able to use the peace and quiet to calm himself. Exhaustion was the warm breeze that began to hit the group, a surprising look spilling over Damien's face when he checked his watch. "3:30, wow." was all he could manage to say as the sound of bellcarts and valets became audible, they had arrived at the Ritz. It had been a while. Damien got himself together as he listened to Selene and Helen converse outside of the tent, stepping out and eyeing Selene up and down like a true Bronx citizen.

"Maltar dur metterna." or 'mind your fucking business' in Elvish. Selene had waited until he had began to walk away and gave him a small shove, and all Damien did was laugh because he knew that would piss her off more than anything. Petty. Tom Petty. Anyways, the place was barely busy but being tired made the place seem like Vegas on a Saturday night. A lobby attendant flustered at the sight of shirtless Damien, running towards him with a robe, only to be denied by Damien with a shake of his head and a point in Selene's direction. "Put it over her face." he instructed humorously as he tried his best not to stagger on his way to the front desk.

The place was so damn relaxing, every cushion laden chair or couch enticed him over as if Liara laid on them herself. Like a horse with blinders on, Damien focused himself towards the goal that was the front desk and nothing else. Dirk made the mistake of walking up and standing next to him as he checked in, only to have Damien stare a hole through his head until he flinched and fucked off to wherever he was wanted. He was tired, half naked and kidnapped, being a little rude was more than justified. Helen and Selene once again exchanged conversation in the distance as he finished registering, taking the keys and holding them up as he walked towards the elevators. "Helen, loser, ugly, let's go." he barked passively, calling an elevator down and leaning tiredly against the wall in front of him.

The elevator ride was about 10 seconds long, but felt agonizingly long. The silence was electric and in it, Damien's thoughts really began to focus on just what was going on. She had kidnapped him, regardless if they had known each other for so long or had their thing a while back, she kidnapped the shit out of him and acted like it was cool. That, and she was throwing him into some botched scenario that would certainly put them all in some sort of danger because Ulrich got himself caught up with some bad people. For all he knew, she got him in that situation. She had a tendency to bring trouble with her, it was beginning to be her thing. Damien was determined not to let her in his heart again, and even though they got physical, it was to get the urge out, to thrust away the last he had felt for her. That's what he told himself at least, who knows what tomorrow would bring.

When they got into the room, Damien walked over to the window, checking out the view. The fields of artificial lights and LCD lettering was all too familiar with Damien but it had still been a while since he'd really looked at the city this way. The moment of reflection only increased the feeling of uncertainty in his gut. What were they walking into? Why was he so okay with just going along with whatever it was they were planning? The door was right there, and as Helen laid in bed engulfed in her deep sleep, Damien looked at the door in deep thought. If he just walked out, Selene was the only thing that stopped him. Sure she might have more of that stuff on her, but it was likely she was just as knocked out as Helen over there. As the sound of rain began to play and fake trees and leaves blanketed the windows, Damien began to walk towards the door only stopping himself and shaking his head in frustration. You walk out on your brother, you have to live with the consequences. He couldn't do that, so he would play along, for now.

Sitting on the lounge chair next to the bed, Damien waved the TV over, it quickly hovering in front of him and turning it on. Rubbing his eyes when the light from the screen hit them like a wall of bricks, he began flicking his wrist upwards, flipping through channels until his head slumped down, finally falling asleep. Across the street, Tyrus would wait patiently, finding a nice perch on the roof of the small building across from the main entrance of the Ritz. He would activate his message drone, typing in a summary of what he had saw in detail. What was emphasized was that Damien was safe and in no danger, yet and that he had seemed to tag along on his own will despite Selene giving them all the slip earlier. "and...I...will...find...out...what...room...them, fuck, no...they...are...in." he finished typing, closing the tiny console on the drone and clicking it on, sending it back to the camp.

Tyrus sat down and continued to watch the main entrance, because like Damien, he didn't know what would come next.

I awoke at nine in the morning to the sound of the world ending. The apocalypse was finally happening-- humanity had pissed off Gaia for the last time. Earthquakes, rapture--- Damien fucking O'Shalna snoring.

I sat up rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and cussing him out under my breath. "This is why we couldn't live together--" I stopped when I noticed the way in which he had fallen asleep. There were two beds in the hotel room. And just like a male, he chose to fall asleep on a couch in front of the television. Eh? The Red Sox won? I'd better turn this off before he wakes up... I reached over him to motion for television to turn off.

His hand snapped out and caught my wrist as the shadow of my arm crossed his face, he squeezed hard. "Ah-ahooww-Da-" I knew he wasn't awake, but it hurt. With my other hand, I pinched the bridge of his nose. The snoring stopped. His hand wasn't letting go. "Cummon... don't make me do it... don't make me..."

We played chicken for a few more moments and I wondered bleakly how anyone could sleep though this. I lost, and let go of his nose, "Fuggin'sox" he mumbled, and then his hand went slack with sleep.

"I feel ya' buddy... I feel you..." rubbing my wrist I headed straight to the intercom. "I need room service"
['Yes, what may we bring to you madam?']
"I need" I held my breath, glanced over at Damien, and then asked in a small voice "I need the Blue Lion"
['...It may be a moment, is that okay?']
"How long?"
['About an hour']
"Fine."
['Anything else we can bring you? Breakfast?']
"None for me. But I will need a board. Bring what ever you have available I'm not picky about the model"
['Yes madam right away']

A thought occurred to me. I made a mad dash to the bathroom. Flat lined when I saw that the button that said "Cosmic Sun Bath". A then emerged half an hour later rebirthed into some semblance of my former life. I eyed myself in the mirror and almost laughed: metal soled boarding boots, hair gelled and tousled into perfection, siren led lips, shades. Hello Drizzy baby, it's been a while, no?

There was a polite knock at the door and I snatched the board from the service guy and reached into his left pocket where I knew he kept complimentary chewables. "Do you have the Blue Lion?" He looked confused and I stopped him short, "That's okay. I'm going to go for a little run. I'll be back before it gets here."

"Madam, I--" I was sure he was going to say something about me riding on the board inside of the hotel but I really didn't care. It's not like I was hurting anyone-- rules. Pft. Snapping my gum. I'm sick of rules. A few people gasped on the staircase and hugged the flocked wallpaper the hoverboard slid down with relative smoothness. I tested the throttle. Not bad. I leaned backwards to test the breaks. Mmmhph, maybe a little delay on the breaks... I felt the wind leave my chest.

Thump.

"No boarding in the Ritz Carlton." The woman at the front desk stared me down. She held up a little tablet to show me that it was she who had cut out the magnetic grid to the lobby. Unclamping the braces from my board, I bent my knees and stood up from where I had fallen. She waited until I was three feet from the exit to cut the power off? I grinned my best 'fuck you' grin and lugged the board through the revolving doors.

Outside, New York felt great. It had been a while since I had hovered along the city's underground grid. Damn it felt good. Maybe I should have ignored mom and gone pro instead of going to college. I'm leagues better than any of the boys not counting... well... Avan's gone... So I suppose he doesn't count anymore... A sudden fluttering feeling comes to my chest. Not butterflies. Moths. An image of his dead body flashes through my mind and I begin to feel queasy.

[Eeep.]

Oh, hell. I pushed in the 'talk' button on my wrist and a woman's scrambled voice greeted me with:


I hold up both middle fingers, ducking and dodging pedestrians on the sidewalk-- some guy selling doughnuts calls me jank when I barely miss skiffing the top of his foodcart. Another vendor selling wristbands holds out his hand and I take the free 'Jaka Knee Vibrations' band and slip it on. Cruising a steady five in the walking lanes past a pack of girls with shopping bags. I spot the coffee vendor ahead and swoop in lower to swipe a java from the counter. It's okay. I didn't steal it, it's shitty and past the point of filter change. I was doing him a favor. I put the cup to my lips and cringe. Yeah. Hell, it's civic duty.



Hot coffee splashes the back of my throat and I begin to cough. Holy shit, was she serious? I almost run into a pole but I reach out and swing my legs out in front to make a full circle heading right back to the hotel. Jamming my heel into the throttle I zip into the fast lane. Bagel King another time.

---

I burst through the entrance only to fall flat on my face. "No boarding in the Ritz Carlton, Madam." the same lady who waved the tablet at me earlier clicked her tongue. I looked up but couldn't see my room from this vantage point. Still, I kept my eyes trained upwards for anything suspicious-- two staff. Big men far too large to just be bellboys walking fast towards the room, each of them appearing to cradle something under their blazers. Fuck. They've got guns too? What the hell is going on?. I get up. Fall. And then twist so that I'm turtle-up in the middle of the lobby. "Madam. There is no boarding in the Ri--"

"I know!" my fingers fumble unclamping my boots. "Just give me Live Hardware. It's listed under Fenten"

She watches me with a flummoxed expression, probably wondering if I was under the influence. Nevertheless, she vanished a moment only to reappear with a black case. "Here you go...Live Hardware. You going to the arcade with it?" Eyeing me with a funny look she waited with it behind the counter until-- My god did she actually expect a tip?. I lunged across the granite top and snatched the case. Looked up. The two men had disappeared.

"Not the elevator..." There was already a line waiting for it and the few carts with luggage that looked like it could require multiple trips. I reckoned if I could board my way up it would take me three seconds flat. "Hey." I said, "There's a kid over there pissing in the fountain."

Success. "Nooooooooooo pissing-- I mean-- urinating in the lobby!" As soon as she left I lifted my hips over the counter and switched the magnetic grid power button to 'on'. Gunned it to the board and hopped on without bothering to strap in.

My fingers felt cold. Steady. Something within me-- I dunno, grim determination-- whatever it was, I felt like a tigress before the kill. I sped down the hallway and unbuckled the case. It looked just like an arcade gun. My god. My stomach churned, erasing all previous feelings of confidence. It really just looks like a toy. The only difference, was that the black metal part did not light up or have a score screen with my name on it.

"Just a little longer..." I jump off the board and go tumbling with momentum while it speeds off to it's own accord and crashes into a door. Soundproof. Fuck. My first visit I had been grateful for it, (Damien's roar. A fetish? Sue me.) but now it killed me. Had they caught him while he was still sleeping? Selene, had she noticed? I'm about to double-tap someone in the head. Why am I okay with this?

When I opened the door, I raised the weapon with practiced aim. This isn't some arcade Helen... this is real. The room was silent. Blood streaked across the floor. "Damien...?" I whispered. Though I couldn't manage much more. My ability to form words had stopped.

I might have been the only woman in western hemisphere relieved to see a 900 pound tiger step from the around the corner "Jeeze... I wasn't sure... Are you bleeding?". The jungle cat growled a low, dangerous growl. It advanced on me and raised one paw to the front of my torso. Hardly flexing, it collapsed me and I watched nervously as the feline's claws slowly extended...

In the next moment it became a hand, gripping my shirt. "You're here," his face was carved out stone, "they didn't take you." A statement of the obvious. His face hovered over mine with a look of eerie calmness. Damien motioned to something by the wall. A silver sphere.

"The Blue Lion...?"

"Now how do we open it?"

"Good question."

I gave him another moment until he moved away and I sat up and felt privileged that he had allowed me to live. Where are the bodies? Who were the guys posing as hotel staff? And...Why is the window open?

I lift my hands up high for another night
Cause I lost my wings and I need to fly

It was horrible. A gut wrenching, terrifying experience that would shake Damien to his core. Nothing would be the same moving forward, and the worst effects were yet to be felt. Fucking Boston, I swear. You never swing on a 3-1 pitch, it's just common sense and the series which had come to a head was over in a meager 6-4-3 double play, what a shame, what a damn shame. The Bronx Bombers would lose their first place spot in the division to Boston moving forward. Like a general in deep war room pondering, Damien's mind flustered at what it would mean in the post season. If the Yankees had to face Baltimore in the first series, Damien's day would be ruined. The young Tiger did his best to pace around the room and try and get a grip on what was going on and what the day would bring, but he was still very much in the dark. Not to mention, the thought of the Yankees losing to the Orioles in the post was a darkening cloud over his head.

In the grand scheme of things, there was no point to being flustered over baseball while trying to rescue your brother, clearly, but you try telling that to anyone from the Bronx. Where the fuck was Helen? What was the point of staying at the Ritz? She always liked to let Damien sleep and would disappear in the morning, maybe for a walk or something since she always wined about his snoring. It didn't seem so bad to him. Suddenly, an ominous knock on the door. Damien approached the door casually until another knock shook the door. Someone huge was on the other side and he approached cautiously, quietly, listening for any chatter in the hallway but there was nothing, just silence before more jolting knocks. Damien slowly approached the peephole and peered through. Letting out a deep breath, Damien rolled his eyes and opened the door. Dirk stood naively, chewing on a breakfast roll.

"Morning! Yanks lost, too bad huh?" Dirk exclaimed, mouth full and smiling. Damien stared at Dirk with indifference, offering nothing in return but chilling silence. The sound of Dirk's chewing sprinkling plenty of awkwardness between the two, Damien finally reached out and slapped the roll right out of Dirk's hand, trying not to crack a smile as the roll humorously thudded on the carpet and Dirk stood like a shocked old lady. The two stood staring at each other, Dirk's jaw dropped in offended shock, his integrity was surely assaulted, yeah right. Damien gave him a playful slap on the cheek and pointed back to his room before Dirk could say anything else. Shutting the door on the weirdo, Damien focused on the intricacies of the room, waving the TV over and ordering the room to "clear windows, city view with light tint, non polarized." the windows beeped in accordance and the rain forest flashed away as skyscrapers and traffic became visible, warm sun beaming through and revitalizing him with it's warmth, Gaia was kind in the morning.

Suddenly, another knock on the door, this one slower and more gentle. Dirk was probably crying and wanted to apologize for interrupting or something, whatever. Damien was determined to ignore the knocks until he decided to kick rocks back to his door, at least until Helen came back because he really wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Knocking again, this time with more urgency, Damien stood stubbornly at the window, looking out at the cars and people that walked to their office jobs and train stations and what not, what a mesmerizing sight. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Damien couldn't help his serene moment ruined by the obnoxious knocks. Shaking his head frustrated, he beamed to the door, muttering under his breath "fucking Boston wins and I have to baby sit this fuckin-" and as he opened the door he was greeted with a fist straight to his face, sending him flying back through a table.

Two hulking bellmen walk inside and shut the door behind them, silent and stoic, one of them ceremoniously cracking his knuckles as the other walks over to Damien and lifts him back on his feet with ease. Damien, still seeing stars from the blow tried to grab the guys wrist and twist it but the guy was just too damn huge and strong. With one hand, bellman 1 lifted Damien off of his feet while the other walked over and delivered a haymaker to his stomach. The power blows were a familiar feeling, bionic limbs, synthetically engineered to be stronger and more durable. Surgically attached and highly effective (clearly) they were popular among career tough guys and thugs. The two silently nodded to each other before giving Damien a few more blows and tossing him against the window, it's button being pressed on impact and hissing open. The lightbulb over their heads was almost visible as they walked over to his limp body, figuring they could just toss him out of the window and call it a day.

Two days, two proper beatings. Damien hoped this wouldn't become a habit as he began to change forms. Across the way, Tyrus prepared the care package the scout drone brought back from camp, watching from a nearby rooftop after determining his location in the hotel the night before. The bellman rushed Damien, jumping on top of him. Thoughts of Helen in danger hastened the process and Tiger Damien threw the thugs off of him, his hulking form springing to it's feet as he was rushed again by the both of them. Damien crouched low and launched one of the thugs clear through the open window, sending him flying in the distance where he would eventually land on MTA tracks, getting splattered between two trains shooting in opposite directions. Meanwhile, the other was subdued in a submission hold, Damien's wrestling prowess on display as he held the bellman in position and pulled with everything he had until one of his metal arms began to give, slowly tearing from his body.

Damien stopped at the sight of blood, knowing that if he ripped of the entire arm it would surely kill the guy, who had passed out from the pain. The hulking tiger form carried the large body over his shoulder and plopped him on the bathroom floor, his ears picking up the sound of the door opening and Helen's heavy breathing. He turned the corner and calmed himself, his heartbeat slowing enough for him to trigger his transformation back. It was something Liara taught him. The two exchanged words but were interrupted when Tyrus' scout drone buzzed in through the window, Tryus hanging on firmly before letting go and rolling safely into the room, tossing a duffel bag onto the bed and walking in between Damien and the armed Helen.

"Damien, care package from Tigerland on the bed, step aside I got this." he barked, drawing his sword, which was actually just the size of a large kitchen knife, maybe a machete. He pointed it at Helen's gun, ready to take a bullet for his leader, "Why don't you put the shooter down, me duckie. You might get hurt, eh?" he spoke in his thick Gnomish accent. Damien stood, hands on his hips as he caught his breath, pointing a confused yet angry finger at Helen.

"You have 2 minutes to tell me what the fuck is going on, or I'm out of here to find UIrich on my own, my way. Leaving you and yours to deal with anyone you might have pissed off. You understand me, Helen?"

Dirk walks in and then instantly regrets doing so. Damien is pissed-- and okay, that wasn't something new-- he points angrily at Helen, who is brandishing a toy gun and staring blankly at Tyrus who has his sword impaled into a young boy.

Something about that last part...

"It's going to take more than a few minutes Damien- who the hell is he? Tell him to put away that butter knife--"
"Put down the gun, first."
"You don't trust me? Fine, it's not like I was rushing back here to save you or anything--"
"You are a kidnapping, lying, maniup--"
"You. Damien. YOU. Are a cheating, insensitive, holier-than-thou-- "
"Tyrus, we're back to base. Looks like she's high as fuck--"
"Trust me, asshole. I have never been this sober in my entire life."
"I'm the asshole?"

The three of them are slowly starting to get louder as they exchange some dicey shots about things far beyond his scope; all of them seemingly completely oblivious to the gutted kid on the end of Tyrus' sword. Which means...The boy is busy staring at Damien with a thoughtful expression and then seems bemused when he looks at his own hands. He waves a palm right in front of O'Shalna's face and then frowns as Damien flat out ignores him. Dirk watches him a moment too long and as the boy turns his head to meet his stare. He blinks in surprise and then smiles, parting his lips to speak. But before the boy can get a word out, Dirk exasperated, says "Nope." spins and trips over the chaise lounge; Helen, Damien, and Tyrus pause for a moment, casting him an annoyed look as he runs out of the room leaving his second roll behind. His mumbles 'shit' a bunch of times as his fingers fumble trying to unlock the door to his own room.

"Wait!"

A voice calls out to him. But in the next moment the door is open and he shoves it closed and twists the lock. Not that any of it would help...He knocks frantically on the bathroom door. Selen isn't out yet? How long could it take to have a shower? A large, toothless old woman answers "You want in, sonny? Come wash granny's back, young buck."

"Eeeuuurgh. You even added liver spots?" he covers his eyes, momentarily thrown off by her choice in form. Last night, things got pretty weird with them staying up late, playing Guess Who and pooling bets on how long it would take for Helen or Damien to come begging to swap rooms. They got slightly buzzed off the last of her stash. "Listen, Helen's is down two against one in there arguing and I'm hung over seeing things again-- too tired to break it up, myself. Get in there and calm things down before things get messy." The door bursts open and old lady sprints nude for a pair of slacks. Selen's form melts and shivers as she chooses a the guise of a dark, dangerous looking hulk-type.

"Good thing I went for back up last night, right?" he-she replies while rushing over to the fridge and scooping up several plastic bags of groceries. "I'm pretty sure everyone's just really hungry... and it's either this or a can of whoop-ass, for breakfast," Selene adds darkly.

The door opens and slams as he is left alone. Alone... at last.. Dirk sighs and then jumps at a voice in the room.


"You can see me, can't you?"

Dirk hisses, "No, I can't!" It always started out this way. Gods. Demons. Whatever else he accidentally made eye contact with.
"I realize you must get this a lot, but I need your help..." says the boy, "...it's about that guy in there."
"Who, Damien?"
The boy's face lights up "That's his name?"
"Unless you mean Tyrus?"
"The tall one."
"You mean Damien, yeah. Wait. No. What the hell. I'm not suppose to be talking to you."
"Why, not?"
"Because you're about to tell me something that I probably don't want to know."
"Maybe... but it's important. I'm not going to be around much longer..."

Dirk watched the spirit's form flicker under the florescent lighting. It was strange, he didn't see very many normal spirits these days. Especially ones that didn't bleed from the eyes or crawl up walls and shit. He leaned in closer, "You seem familiar, did you pass away recently?"

"I hope not." the boy says seriously, "I haven't even been born yet."

"Oh." The tips of Dirk's ears redden with realization. He'd met unborn souls before. But never actually spoke to any directly. It was a big part of the reason he was uncomfortable dating. Try courting a girl while finding out mid-way through she's about to bake bread with another fella. Disturbing as fuck, is what it is. But why now? As far as he knew the only two that seem to get any action around here are-- he sinks lower in his chair-- eyeing the boy's squared, structured jaw and broad shoulders. In response, the boy grins unsure of himself, and then in a movement Dirk is convinced is genetic, the boy rakes his hand through the front of his hair....Sweet berries and cream... "I'll never be able to look him in the eye again...never..." the elf groans miserably into his palms.

The boy shrugged "Avan told me it'd be alright to ask you a favor."
"Avan? Yeah. Nice try." Dirk clicked his tongue nervously and then began to whistle furiously in order to block out anything else the boy might say.
"Avan-sol" the boy said.
Dirk paused a moment, and then shrugged. "Don't use words you don't know the meaning of..."
"Right because I might not exist." the boy's mouth, Dirk notices, is a little too full to be Damien's exact copy, "-- my mother's life is in danger. I might not get to be born. Avan sent me to warn you about an underground lake?"

"No! I don't want to know. If Avan wanted me to be warned he would have shown up himself. But he hasn't. All this time... I'm the only person I know who sees things. All this time and I haven't seen Avan, once. Is he too busy? The O'Shalna brothers weren't his only family. All of us were like his family. Everyone in Central Forest knew him. Why'd he have to sent Damien-goddamn-O'Shalna's unborn kid to tell me a message? Oh sure, I've got a message for tiger-boy. Shtah' Lem' Vesht. Meaning, Wrap it before you tap it. I'm done." The elf stands and heads back in the direction of the hallway, "This situation is officially, janked." he was rearing and ready to be anywhere else but alone with something that only he could see. He doesn't give the boy a chance to speak anymore as he marches with hands over his ears back across the hall and braces himself for more yelling-- probably aimed at him for barging in.

Instead, the smell of coffee and pancakes hits him full force. Helen is asking Tyrus:
"Did you wash your hands?"
"Yes ma'am"
"Damien leave some bacon for the rest of us-- Tyrus before you pick up that fork-- swear on The Scripture you washed your hands."
"I swear it."
"Selene, bring Dirk and come help me with the spread-- they're eating faster than I can make them."
"Oi! Steal my bacon will ye'?"
"I'm pulling rank" Damien barks. But as he tips his head back to make a show of his leadership, Tyrus nicks a sausage link from his plate. Stealth as fuck.

"What's going on?"
"Helen's been filling everyone in," Selene says to him and then extends out a pipping mug of black coffee. He accepts it bewildered and she adds, "Still a little tense. But I was right about the breakfast. I'm sure you remember how it was in training..."

He did. And that was perhaps the singular thing the Sea Tigers needed. Better food. Most of them were college boys in their prime with unsurpassed knowledge in swordsmanship and dedication strong enough to create the most efficient grassroots army Central Forest had ever seen...Absolutely, zero cooking skills though. Smart move working up a man from the gut. Selene had probably anticipated this peace offering as soon as she knew Sea Tigers would be involved. Dirk would wonder briefly, what else these girls had up their sleeves. "Hey... Leave me some-- I like pecans in my hotcakes..." he mumbled and took the only open seat next to Tyrus.

Helen and Selene worked methodically together, flipping, frying, whisking. There was something about being full enough to relax, yet still hungry enough to enjoy food with plenty of it still to come, that just mellowed the hell out of a man. For about an hour, it almost felt like there was no rebellion or missing Ulrich. They were just young and hungry.



When Dirk looked over, he spotted Damien and thought maybe he was a little too interested into his conversation with Helen. His expression had softened considerably since this morning but still gravely serious as she pressed a washcloth into his scraped forehead. Helen's cheeks were flushed pinkish with heat of cooking...Smug as hell. The guy was clearly posturing a full belly. Dirk maybe wasn't book smart. But he knew a thing or two about the effects of a plate of eggs done to perfection, what it could do to tame the beast within.

Dirk choked on his last sip of coffee as the spirit-boy poked his head from behind her shoulder. He eyed Helen's ears and then touched his own as if somehow making a comparison, watching his parents converse with utter captivation. Most unborn souls were like that though. Dirk almost felt sorry for him, though. Had he arrived on any other recent day, he'd be seeing a whole different side of things. "I'm running out of time. I'll need to manifest soon...keep her away from the lake, okay?" the boy says sadly, eyeing the way Helen snickers and then nibbles at her bottom lip in a way that seems to make O'Shalna sit up a little straighter. Good food makes everyone soft... by dinner they'll be at each other's throats.

The boy's outline shimmers, and then becomes white ray of light unseen and sucked into pinpoint in her lower abdominal region through the channel of Helen's navel. By the end of it she shudders, and Dirk knows what she'll say next before she makes the excuse.

"I think maybe I ate too fast?" Helen gets up and then makes her way to the bathroom.

Dirk wondered if he should say anything. He looks at Damien and is about to speak when:

"What?" O'Shalna scowls.



"Nothing." Dirk whispers into his plate. "Nothing at all, slim."

She had a hard time getting it, and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps she was just too caught up in finding Ulrich, but Damien wouldn't be able to help as much as he could if she kept on keeping him in the dark the way she was. Even after he was jumped in the room, they had to butt heads and argue like always. It wasn't about that though, because if you watched them, you could see the tired looks in their eyes. Their fierce gazes were emotionally exhausted and all of the disagreeing really began to take it's toll on the both of them. They didn't like arguing, but the history, the emotions. They weren't in sync with each other anymore, at least not gracefully. The air was tense, I mean, she had a freaking gun in her hand and as they shouted back and forth she waved it around a few times causing Tyrus to flinch and move about the space in between them. Even Dirk got tired of all the shouting and left the room. Tyrus cocked an eyebrow and prepared his retort to the butter knife remark, but was instantly cut off. These two were going at it, and it was only going to get worse and worse and that was very visible.

Tyrus, not knowing what else to do, sheathed his sword and walked over to the duffle bag, ready to grab it and leave as soon as Damien got the go ahead. Moments later Selene walked in with a bags of groceries right into the ensuing verbal chaos. Letting out a deep sigh, she calmly walked over to the kitchen area, stopping by the bathroom and seeing the unconscious, one armed goon that Damien had disposed of and letting out a drawn out sigh. Tyrus recognized her right away, Selene and he were initiated in the same group and were she not a traitor. Tyrus's brow lowered in anger as he walked over to Selene, ready to address the traitor that turned her back on the Tigers but before he could spout a word, Selene effortlessly drew a small knife from her waistline and threw it down at his feet, stopping him in his tracks. Tyrus flinched slightly, but kicked it away from him as he reached for his sword. Selene gave him a calm look of 'now is not the fucking time'.

"Tyrus, I know how you feel, but no, just don't, ok?" she spoke, taking out all of the fixings for a hearty breakfast as Damien and Helen continued to have it out, going over things that happened in the past, Lua, Ulrich, kidnapping him. They were all over the place, it wasn't pretty. Selene finally got in between the two of them and put her foot down, calmly taking a deep breath before unleashing hell. "Give it a fucking rest already you two!" she shouted, throwing her hands up in annoyance, instantly shutting them the both up. Tyrus's eyes widened at her bravery, "By the Gods above and below it's like listening to an old couple on the stoops of Brooklyn the way you two are! It's way too early for this so spare the rest of us would you?" She snatched the gun from Helen and turned the safety on before tossing it aside, "Now have some fucking respect for Gaia, both of you, sit the fuck down and wait for breakfast!" she ordered,

"As a matter of fact, Helen, give me a hand so you two don't claw at each other at the fucking table." she finished, before turning her form to match Helen's perfectly, turning over to face her. "Oh look at me! I hate my ex but I need his help! Let me make this hard for everyone so they can't get any peace and quiet around here!" she yelled at Helen before turning back to herself and then into Damien, turning to face him, making a dopey face and prancing around him like an idiot, "Is someone trying to go on with their life without feeling eternal guilt? Well herdy gerdy gerr I better fucking do something about that shouldn't I? My brother's missing but I just wanna argue and look cool and shit!" she finished, returning to her true form as she caught her breath from all of the yelling, looking back and forth between the both of them. Damien opened his mouth but Selene immediately stopped him, "Don't even think about it tough guy, if you wanna be difficult I can hit you with the sleepy stuff we got you with earlier, okay?" There was silence, a lot of looking around and finally compliance.

Damien sat down at the decadent small table and cooled off while Tyrus took the seat across from him and they sat their patiently. As breakfast came into fruition, Tyrus and Damien looked at each other with guilty eagerness, they knew it would be the best meal they had in a while. Sure they had decent food, gnome's were expert butchers, Orcs were masters of open pit grilling and elves were the best bakers in the city, but they never had the resources for such a thing, at least not in a long time. Damien and the guys used to go all over the city, picking up meat and fruit and bread and such for huge cookouts they had every few weeks, but recently, they were too busy for anything like that. Four meals a day wasn't bad, and the food was decent, but c'mon, if you caught a smell of that breakfast after what they'd been eating for the last couple of months and you would understand. Their stomachs rumbled in anticipation and the overall mood in the room mellowed out. It was time to get to work and that's what they all wanted, for Ulrich's sake. They were becoming a team, finally.

"I'm just saying, how do you explain what happened earlier if you have someone in the government keeping tabs on you? If she wants something from you, she has to protect you to a certain extent, and those goons weren't here to protect you, that's fact." he explained, rolling a waffle up and dipping it in maple syrup, letting out an audible 'mmmh' as he bit into it and chewed.

"Damien, do not trust these fockin' politicians. They'll stab you in the back, sell the knife to the highest bitta', fock, this is delicious." Tyrus exclaimed, talking while he chewed on pancakes and berries. Damien snatched another piece of bacon from his plate, prompting Tyrus to set his utensils down and stand up out of his seat. Puffing his chest up, Tryus raised a fist at his leader, "You are a good man O'Shalna, but I'll not stand by whilst you snatch me fockin' bacon again! You wanna go, little duckie? I'll have you feeding me bacon in no toime!" he threatened to no avail, before Damien could respond, Selene placed a new plate of bacon on the table and threw a soft biscuit at his head to get his attention. Tyrus sat back down, he and Damien reaching out to see who could grab the most. Breaking the tension with laughter, the two continued enjoying their feast and conversing until Damien caught Dirk's gaze in the corner of his eye.

"What?"
"Nothing...nothing at all, slim."

Tyrus bubbled up with laughter, bits of bacon shooting from his mouth onto his plate, getting up again and walking over to Dirk's seat, grabbing Dirk's upper arm and giving it a wiggle, a large smirk on his face the whole time. "Slim eh? You're not so built yourself, duckie. Fockin' pile of twigs eh? I've seen bigger pixies! Fockin' Selene's got better arms than you lad, and she's been liftin' waffles all mornin'!" Selene threw another biscuit to shut him up, but he caught this one and took a big bite out of it. Dirk looked down at his plate, trying to do his best to ignore the little gnome, but it was proving very difficult. "Look at you, fockin' dainty little-"

"Tyrus." Damien barked. The gnome stopped and looked at his captain, "Give it a rest man, he's had enough."

Tyrus shrugged and laughed, walking back to his seat as he spotted the Blue Lion on the floor, biting his lip and punting it across the room like a damn bullet. The orb thudded into the wall and slammed onto the floor, still. It suddenly hissed opened, a panel lifting out of the smooth orb's surface and shooting a projection to the far wall. Damien got up, "Dim lights, windows at full tint, no light." he ordered, the room complied in an instant. He walked over to the orb and rotated it so the projection would display clearly on the nearby wall. One by one, the messages played, things were about to get real serious, very fast.