[IC] The Hourglass Order

[pantothenic]

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Metropolis

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"...almost flew into a building, but thankfully Lady Yang was there to rescue me. May her soul find peace." Yalen was in the middle of delivering his witness statement to one of the newly arrived White Knights. "There were twelve of them in total. When they determined they couldn't shake us off, six attempted to make their escape while the others stayed behind to slow our pursuit. Rikard and I," Yalen gestured to his younger peer who was standing by his side, "gave chase, along with four of your gold cloaks. We managed to capture those two in the process." The priest pointed at the two men in restraints who now had sacks pulled over their heads. One of them was dragging his feet, earning him a swift smack to the back of the knee with a studded club.

"I tried to regroup with the gold cloaks to capture the four other runners, but it was an unwinnable battle. They had a way to nullify our magic. Only I was able to retreat unharmed, mostly thanks to Rikard's timely intervention." Yalen reached into his bag and exhibited the strange metal orb he stole from the masked woman. "This is the device they used against us... well, half of it. I've never seen anything like it."

Lieutenant Ming blinked. If his eyes did not quite light up, it was something close. "I would... very much wish to examine that," he said through Shuyuan. "You must understand we will need it for our investigation, but I can arrange for you to visit tomorrow and join us." He shook his head slowly. "To think they took out Lady Yang so easily..." He trailed off for a moment.

"I know you are not from here and you may not know, but she was no weakling. Dare I say, she was my equal. If this is but an underling of your Traveler, then he is a very dangerous force indeed." he held out his hand somewhere between expectantly and hopefully for the sphere. "And this thing only solidifies the assumption. The technology! How I love to crack it open, see how it works inside!" He nibbled his lower lip eagerly. I fear our days of hiding from outside influences are at an end, whether we are ready to accept it or not."

"Here." Yalen showed no hesitation to hand over the artifact. While it would be quite nice to keep, he wouldn't feel much grief over the theft of a device that merely imitated Command magic. "I will take you up on your offer. I am very interested in the origins and function of this... machine as well."

Ming was lost to him for an extended moment, examining it with a magnifying glass, until Shuyuan cleared her throat. "Ah yes." He tore himself away from the device for a moment before backsliding and glancing at it once more, seeming to confirm something. "Well, I can tell you one thing already: the design is not Retanese, but the manufacture... I think it is. It's in the alloy, but also - Hmmm..."

"The folding technnique!" Rikard interjected. "It's folded and pressed. That's only done that way in Retan and Nikan, isn't it?" Ming pursed his lips and nodded, businesslike. "Yes. Yes, you're exactly right. The 'Zhédié bō'." He caught himself quickly. "And there is a good deal more to unpack, I'm certain. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Castel, Rikard. I sense we are of much the same mind, and you did excellent work bringing those two in." He offered his hand to each in turn. "One way or another, we shall learn much from them. Until then..."

"I look forward to it." Yalen accepted the handshake and smiled. He imagined how lucky it would be, if they could identify the machine's origin based on its alloy and craftsmanship. He gave a shallow bow to Ming as he set off to run his experiments on the orb. As he watched the lieutenant go, he felt a chill on his neck and shivered.

"Huh?" Yalen glanced over his shoulder. There was nobody there, but his instincts were warning him that he was being watched. Was the masked woman waiting for a chance to strike back at him? Or, was it someone else? Despite his certainty, his senses were definitively telling him that no such person was nearby. They were good... or he was merely paranoid. Well, I've done all I can here. Time to follow the guards back to the inn for now.

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While the others made their plans for the latter half of the day, Yalen retired to his room. He felt it too dangerous to wander outside the inn now that he had made his presence known to the Volti. Besides, a tethered person like him could see many things without the use of his eyes. Kaureerah would be snooping around the city again just as he’d expected. His plan for the evening was to keep track of her movements and find out exactly what she was up to. Whether this thread of investigation would lead to Yalen arresting her for dissension, or rescuing her from danger, he did not yet know. The eeaiko’s presence was already moving steadily in the direction of the docks.

”Hm?“ Yalen spotted a sheet of paper lying on his table that was not there before. He scooped it up and inspected the handwriting, recognizing it as that of Sister Graziano, one of his primary affiliates within the Dark Somnian order. Had she used her temporal magic to send him a message?

“Dear Brother Castel,

I came to check on your progress today, but it seems we just missed each other. I will try to get in touch with you again tomorrow. Verus eagerly awaits your report on the Traveler’s movements within Rettan. Stay strong.

-Gloria”

”Ah…“ Yalen was not surprised. The cardinal’s information network was wide. Although he wasn’t able to inform his superiors of his location yet, they were already well on top of things. It was good to know someone would be able to recover his corpse if he ended up dying in this foreign land.

Ugh, that was in poor taste. Jocasta’s dark humor is beginning to rub off on me… Yalen threw the note into the fireplace and locked his door, then sat cross legged on his bed. Unless something important came up he would focus all of his energy on Kaureerah. He was suspicious not only of her, but of the powerful being she encountered last night. With luck, several loose ends would be tied up before the sun rose tomorrow.

[Ti]

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Event: Metropolis | Location: Wánggǎng, ReTan

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Part 1

Maura was up next to be questioned by Ming and Zihan. She mulled over on how to respond as she listened in on Yalen’s answers. There was a thought she had, and perhaps… she moved herself up to the investigators, and being female, mainly spoke to Zihan.

After taking a deep breath, she approached with a calm and measured tone, she began to make her case. “There is a truth you will never hear from the others. The enemy was severely underestimated.” She looked toward the pair as she waited for her words to be translated. “The Traveller is a menace, not only of the Twin-Continents, but also of Callanst too, and this is for good reason. This isn’t because we are not as good as ReTan, but because the Traveller is a disease which festers in the wounds and causes society to rot.”

As she spoke, Maura used her hands to gesture towards the building and the surroundings, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. “The Grey Ghosts dragged an old man out, Mr Bao, treating him as nothing more than a mouse to beat and set as a public example, all the while completely unaware of what was in front of them. If it wasn't for our intervention, the enemy would have gone unnoticed and allowed to continue.”

“Even though we held the old man, in place whilst the ghosts bound him. It was a brief moment of distraction as we healed Captain Zhu’s wounds that he easily escaped, and displayed the use of the gift far beyond what was expected of him.”

Maura continued to make her case, using her hands to emphasize her points.
“When you have seen the brutality of the traveller in action, you will realize how insidious the actions are behind it. My good friend was riding a horse, when the traveller incited a mob to attack her, to attack us. An innocent girl, whose crime was to look richer than the common folk. Her head smashed open upon the road. You want to know who the traveller sent? An orphan, indoctrinated as a martyr. The Traveller wanted us to kill a child in revenge, to turn the commoners against us, incite them into revolt. The orphan cried and begged to be killed when we refused to do it.”

“The Traveller is more than a person, it is an idea. A very dangerous and powerful one.” she explained, “It is the idea that people are equal, and those on the top are the enemy to be toppled, and that violence is the only answer. It is an idea which is supported by the weapons to create this world, the means to turn those meek like mice into roaring lions.”

Maura, concluding with a case for her own abilities and those of her companions. “We may not be as strong as your best fighters, but we have insight and perspective, we understand who our enemy is, and this knowledge is invaluable in this fight. We ask for your trust and your confidence in this matter.” She finished, looking directly at those listening.

Zihan regarded Maura steadily. Either this one was an asset or a danger. She had dealt with many politicians in the past and she was not sure yet. Regardless, one to be kept close. It did not matter that she was largely wrong.

Part of her resented these... children, to be perfectly honest: how they'd just been dropped here via a portal, given a ticket right into the heart of Retan's inner workings for the sake of politics and because their families were likely important. They hadn't had to prove anything or go through any of the rigorous tests that she had. She also had no guarantees that they were the best for the job or even qualified, or... that they were even - in truth - allies.

Yet, a case had just been presented to her. At least they brought a new perspective. They were also here with goals, or... at least this one was: determined little thing with a calculating mind in a broken body. "The Traveler is insidious," she agreed, doubting the translation would come out smoothly but not strictly caring. "A disease, but make no mistake: he is an imported one, and far more familiar to your people than mine. Retanese do not push for this self-concerned equality you Easterners are so preoccupied with. We accept our roles with grace and a sense of duty to those around us and understand that all are important in the functioning of a society, or at least we always have, until recently."

Zihan scowled. "If you are willing to be part of the cure and you have anything to offer, I would be foolish not to employ you in this struggle. However, I warn that, if the cure should prove worse than the disease, we will act to protect ourselves." She clasped her hands at the small of her back. "On the morrow, at the station. The Speaker will give you the details." With that, she was finished with this one and ready for the next.

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[YummyYummy]

_{Present: Ashon’amar’loiyang @Ti, Cal’tuuro’jaros @Suicharte, Casii’fyret’alan @Pirouette,
Dorothea Hohnstein @Jasbraq, “Ismet’ych’lahiin’dichora” @Force and Fury, Kaspar Elstrøm von Wentoft @Wolfieh,
Edyta Łaska, Manfred Hohenfelter, Qasem Laghmani @Tackytaff
Father Jacques Dubosque, Brother Baudile Dubosque, Constable Laura, Constable Stigenroth, Ines Baum,
Viktor Strauss, the Highwaymen}

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♫

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It had been five hours since investigations had begun regarding the attack on Constables Stigenroth and Laura. The rescue team was still searching for the former while also hunting down the beast, hopefully for good. The investigators, Qasem and Ashon, had conducted their interview with Laura and picked up a lead in the nearby farms, where the Yasoi was able to gain simple yet telling insight on what had culled the great majority of livestock in the town. And yet, despite coming on hard times, famine was not a big concern in the humble town of Mandelein.

The castle also held a great deal of mysteries both Sister Laska and Dorothea would come to find out. However, as dusk was looming ever closer and the staff began to make rounds within the many rooms of the castle, it was high time to leave with what they had found. On their way back, they’d come to notice that the Highwaymen had since been released, some hanging in the Tavern, including Cristophe, while some loitered at the exit of town, giving the stink eye any student they crossed. Annette was nowhere to be found.

In the midst of this dark day, Father Jacques Dubosque visited every family in Mandelein to hear their grievances and provide comfort however he could. Every citizen hurriedly welcomed him out of the rain, as if they impatiently waited for his visit, and he was always greeted with embraces and laughter. Except, of course, when he met with Heinrich Stigenroth, Anna’s husband, who appeared more nervous than the average Mandelein inhabitant. Reluctant greetings turned into hostile shouting. The good father ended up leaving, distraught and with a potential widower unable to contain his anger as he punched the wall by the doorframe.

The priest painfully limped his way back to his church, hand grasping at his cane tightly, while denying sister Eberl’s assistance. He passed by the many closed commerces, all victims of growing panic for what was occurring. A déjà-vu they thought they were over with. For it had been a month since they’ve had the last human casualty.

Attempts to reach out to the people were met with avoidance and even hostility. From dismissive to resentful, the townsfolk were beginning to see the group of students as causes for this return to fear. Gossip quickly spread even as they rarely left their homes for the rainy exterior of Northern Kerremand. Some believed the presence of outsiders was the cause of the beast’s anger, others thought it more reasonable that the strangers were the ones that orchestrated this in order to justify their inquisition. Needless to say, the group’s return to the Inn would be met with leering and unwelcoming eyes without even a greeting from Ines.

Night was quickly approaching, and the forest expedition group still hadn’t returned. In a land where the people were increasingly wary of providing the minimum of hospitality to our group, how were they going to handle this hurdle? How could they reunite with their own in such foreign land? Who could even help them in this time of need?

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Dawn of Assani 18th - 1:00 HS

_{3 Days Remain}

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♫

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Viktor withdrew his flintlock but his glare did not leave Ismette’s frame. Manfred was right, this was indeed a witch of the crazy-calibre. And yet, she seemed to be the one to get them out of the surreal mess with a red feather stuck to the Yasoi’s head as proof that the experience wasn’t just some fever dream. “Ich dachte, Sie meinten, sie wäre eine verrückte Ex-Freundin. (I thought you meant she was some crazy ex-girlfriend.)” he said as he turned to Manfred, fully uncloaked, “Verzeihung. Ich habe Sie als ein paar Kinder mit Kinderproblemen beurteilt. (Sorry. I judged you as just some kids with kid problems.)” he said as he offered his water canteen to the teen, “Aber ich sehe, du weißt, was du tust. (But I see you know what you’re doing.)” he nudged his chin toward Manfred’s rifle, “Du hast auch gekämpft? Du musst sehr jung gewesen sein. (You fought too? You must’ve been very young.)”

His brief exchange with Manfred then transitioned to him addressing the whole group, “If you haven’t noticed already,” he pointed at the sky, clearer than it ever was since they had arrived in Mandelein without a drop of rain to be found, “we’ve moved in time. I don’t know when, but the river will be a waypoint for us to return to town. I think it is time we regroup.”

As they approached the river, they could begin to sense two distinct energy signatures beyond the massive flow of energy that was the river itself. On the other side, there was something crouched over another something on top of the rocks that composed the riverbank, “Was zum Teufel?” mumbled Viktor as he squinted, activating a light amount of arcane magic to magnify what he was seeing. Without hesitation, he drew his rifle and pointed it right at the being.

He took aim at what looked to be a beige, featureless mass. A good look thanks to the gift allowed one to notice it was actually a large, beige sheet covering a crouching figure over a naked corpse. Well, it was assumed to be a corpse until a chemical and kinetic draw confirmed the person to be very much alive, but the individual above them was definitely doing something to their body.

Viktor grinned as he recognized the threat, “Da bist du ja. Endlich.” he whispered before addressing his colleagues, “Get ready. This is it. Do NOT let it escape.” there was little planning, and for good reason, as the discreet figure perked up and turned its head, revealing a bloodied mouth and a singular, brown eye looking at the group’s direction from under the bulky sheet of wool and leather. By the way it was covered, it seemed keen on having its entire body shielded with only its face barely peeking out. Its mouth, nose and eye were distinctly human too - no fur or scales - just pale and covered in congealed blood, “Go!” shouted Viktor, his body charged with energy as he leapt in the air to ready a shot. His first missed, but his second grazed the surprised entity.

This was the time for the group to strike. Although, as the cloaked, and somewhat short, being began to very swiftly retreat into the woods, they could get a better look at the unconscious being left behind. It was Anna Stigenroth! Covered in stains of blood but … Unharmed? There were light bite marks around her shoulder, arm and neck, but most appeared to have been healed.

Action Opportunities

Welcome to Chapter 4! After an extension, we will endeavour to stay on schedule this time around. Too many delays will result in little being done during the cycle.

Last cycle, the group sent to the forest met with some strange birds, and circumstances have led them to jump a day ahead (although they do not know when they are exactly). Because of this, those remaining in Mandelein will likely want to search for them. Going at night is suicide and pointless without an experienced guide like Viktor. It is important to note also of the growing animosity of the villagers toward the outsiders. Finding help might be difficult, and you might need to rely on your own skills.

Opportunities:
-For the Forest group, you have a chance to take down what Viktor has identified as a target. It doesn’t look beastlike, but he did mention an ability to blend in. There is also Stigenroth, supposedly alive and unconscious, just lying there naked.
-For those in town, you can make up a group to go search for your peers. If so, there are very few people that will help you in town. Few, but not none. You also have the option to go on your own.
-There is a third big option that is about to emerge with the post that will immediately follow this one.
-You have all gathered many leads, and so you are also free to pursue other angles based on what you’ve found. Some of you might find more urgency in figuring out the secrets of Mandelein over rescuing your peers (if they even need any). I will be less hand-holdy with where you will go, as I think the gathered clues should provide ample opportunities. Things can also be discussed on Discord, I’m always happy to answer questions.

[Ti]

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Event: Baudile and the Dame | Location: Mandelein

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The rain had stopped for the first time in eight days. Parts of the Teuffelsumpf were flooded, mirroring the not-so-far Quari’muna in its more swampy state. Mandelein was spared from the rising water levels by being in slight elevations and cleverly placed trenches to keep the streets relatively clear.

It was reaching dusk. Baudile was slouched over an old chair within a defunct tavern, dressed in a casual dark tunic that resembled nothing of his clerical gown. It hadn’t been abandoned for too long, with crates still remaining from a stalled move. It was strange to see - an empty tavern in a Kerreman town - as if the soul of this place had truly been drained by something. But what? The Monk was keen on working this curious mystery. But first, he was waiting for yet another dame, one he had actual business with.

A figure entered through the door, stepping inside. They were dressed in a long dark coat, beaked mask, a pointed hat, and carrying a sachet. The tavern was quiet, and already Baudile’s eyes were upon them. The figure paused for a moment, then started to slowly remove the mask. Striking green eyes peer back toward him searchingly as a shock of white hair flowed through the sides as the mask is pulled away. The dark figure had a sudden transformation as she greeted him in a casual tone. “Goejûn, Baudile.”. The voice was soft, and surprisingly warm. “I hope you have not waited for too long.”

“Olá to you too, Senhorita of the Dragons.” Baudile adjusted himself and leaned over the wooden table before him, elbow rested over the edge and his untied hair hiding a quarter of his face, “I got a little worried when the only girl with white hair was taller than me. You didn’t make the cut for their group?” suggested Baudile with a taunting grin as he reached for a pouch tied to his belt. Two cigarettes were taken out, freshly rolled, with one fitting into his beak. He then lit up while offering the second to the girl, “Your information was good, by the way.” he remarked after exhaling a cloud of smoke, “This is where they’re unloading the goods. Now, what that is, I’m not entirely certain yet.”

Taleja seated herself at the table as she learned forward slightly. Her green eyes focused upon the monk in front of her as she spoke in that measured and controlled tone. “They have already arrived?” Her voice displaying a hint of surprise, “It is far swifter than anticipated. Have the Zeno provided their names?” she queried, as she was attempting to recall those with white hair. “Zenos?” inquired Baudile, brow raised and grin only widening. “Tan-Zeno?” mimicking the gesture of the raised brow. “Are many Tan-Zenos sixteen-to-seventeen years old?” he crossed his arms as the cigarette passively burned away. “Biro?” her tone bordered on incredulous as she pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Biro.” chuckled the amused man, taking a generous puff to celebrate.

As Baudile offered her the cigarette, she raised her hand to politely refuse it, and instead, reached into a small leather pouch at her side. The scent of mint wafted up as she retrieved a piece of gum, and offered one to Baudile as well. “Tree resin, you chew upon it.” she explained, her voice showing a faint note of amusement.

“My information is always good.” Taleja continued, her tone firm and confident. “That has never been questioned.” She paused as her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the product. “What it is, needs to be handled delicately with care.” Her words careful. “That much is clear.”

“I wouldn’t be able to say what’s the best approach,” unlike the girl, Baudile accepted the minty delicacy, although he kept it by his hand on the table and continued to indulge in his smoke, “I’ve been here for two weeks and not even my own brother will open up, let alone the townsfolk. So,” he shrugged, “I’ve been employing a more hands-on approach.” from the same pouch, a capsule was taken out, and if opened would reveal a coded scroll, “Your correspondence led to their supply chain showing their hand. Whatever is going on here, it’s connected to these bastardos. And they expect a shipment from you.”

Taleja extended her gloved hand toward Baudile, her fingers curled expectantly as he carefully placed the small capsule within her palm, which she examined with a discerning eye. “Translated, I presume” Her voice cool. With deft fingers, she opened the capsule and extracted a scroll, scanning the words and the translated code with a practised eye. As she finished reading, she moved the candle on the table closer to them, its flickering light casting strange shadows on their faces. She held the scroll to the flame and watched as the paper curled and blackened, its contents consumed by the fire, and the air between them filled with the scent of burning parchment.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and tapping her fingers on the edge of the table. “Biro. Unpredictable, but we have little choice. This task cannot be completed alone.” She paused for a moment, deep in thought, before continuing. “The plan…” She looked up at Baudile, her green eyes meeting his gaze. “What do you suggest for our next steps?”

“Make some friends.” Baudile half-jokingly recommended, “It’s Brother Dubosque out of this room, by the way.” the finished cigarette was pressed to the ashtray and the remains discarded, “But you’ll want some that can scrap. Which I’m no good at. I’d like to keep this pretty face intact.” always the ‘charming’ man, dancing around the notion of danger and acting far too cool given the circumstances, “But there is something you should know about the forest.” his tone had lost its playful lustre as he engaged the new subject, “The group that went after the supposed ‘beast’ hasn’t returned since the early hours of Ipte. Whatever is happening in there, always have a backup plan. Like me.” he winked, ”Must-have if you’re going under the Church’s nose. Which leads me to my final bit of advice: You were among their group from the start, if anybody asks. You were just delayed in Irsburg for …” he shrugged, “Something scientific. Whatever floats your boat.” She looked toward Baudile with a straight face and a monotone voice as she responded with a single word in deadpan delivery. “Buoyancy.” Baudile furrowed his eyebrows.

Taleja tapped thoughtfully as she considered the situation, “Have you identified any of the Biro?” Baudile paused and raised his eyes in muse, “I know one by name. Una linda senhorita called Dorothea.” then, a thought crossed his mind, an unsettling one, and it reflected on his deflating features, “A nun too. Laske or something? The rest I only saw them wander the streets. They’re staying at the only functioning Tavern-Inn.” She nodded, “The Feskan is the ideal candidate for me to approach.”

She weighed the pro and cons of each potential course of action, as she took a deep breath and spoke thoughtfully. “It’s possible that those are missing are competent enough to return by themselves. In this scenario, we can save time and resources by focusing solely on the task before us and prevent this abhorrent scheme from coming to fruition.” She paused briefly, “However, if they are not capable. The ones that remain are likely to organize a rescue party to retrieve their missing classmates.” Baudile nodded as he opted to stand. A bit of stretches and a yawn later, he spoke again, “If they don’t return by nightfall, we’ve got reason to worry, but until then -” he swiped a beret he had lying on the nearby counter wore it, “Best not to get into trouble, even with the smugglers, when you do the meet. Could be wise to get some information and scout out their resources first, no?” She paused for a moment before adding with a deadpan expression. “We don’t want anyone getting lost on the way, after all.”

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[pantothenic]

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Primitive

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"Divide." Yalen chanted. The invisible link between his manas and Jocasta's was severed once more, leaving behind a vague feeling of emptiness within their flesh. He placed his hand on her scalp and let it rest there. "I would have warned you, but there was no time to think. I won't do it without your permission again." Yalen twisted his head over his shoulder conspiratorially, as if he was about to reveal some kind of forbidden secret. The priest leaned forward slightly and whispered, not through his mouth, but via his thoughts. He knew Jocasta could hear him. I've borrowed your power, and if you wish for it then you may borrow mine as well. I know how it feels for you to lose control of yourself. If there is something I can do to help, then I'll offer everything I have. Yalen reached into his bag and fished out a worn out leatherbound journal. It was the same journal his wife had seen him writing in many times over the course of his training from the church. Between its pages was a folded piece of paper. I can't do anything for you until we return home, so hold on to this. It contains all the notes I've collected thus far. It's written in cypher, but I have given you the code. He gently pushed the object into her waiting hands. Do not breathe a word of this to anyone. If my superiors find out, it is me they will put to death, not you.

There was a long pause, and the emotions that he knew Jocasta normally kept a lid on roiled beneath a blank-faced lid. She swallowed, eyes making the trip between the book and him a couple of times. "I... Huh!" She snorted with an ironic unmirthful sort of mirth. Then, she forced herself to speak in mind. I didn't think it would be that simple. Wife regarded husband, then, thoughts darting about behind her gaze. She shook her head softly. You are far too good for me, Yalen, and far to good to me, I fear. She flattened her palms against the aged leather and ran them across it both absently and reverently. She took a deep breath and smiled, gripping it dearly. "Ipte, I love you." She tucked the book beside her legs before reaching up to hug him, and she lingered in the embrace. Every time that I doubt, you remind me. I won't let you down. Jocasta eased back into her seat and reached down to adjust her legs and feet, one of which had slid off of its footrest. She placed the book back on her lap and brushed some hair from her shoulder. "I see you've just given me a puzzle, husbean. You know how much I hate puzzles. Is this only for secrecy or is this some sort of attempt to make me grow as a person?" She smiled up at him.

Yalen raised an eyebrow. "It's not much of a puzzle if I gave you the answer key now is it?" He replied with a smirk. As Jocasta was momentarily breath taken with him yet again, he stole the opportunity to circle around and grab the handles of her wheelchair. Some familiarity was just what he needed to calm his nerves after surviving that death trap. "In any case, you should give yourself more credit. The old you would have crushed my head after a stunt like that." He commented while pushing her forward. They would be reunited with the others soon. Their presences could be felt beyond the final doorway.

"I would've threatened to, Yalen." She rolled her eyes, twisting in her seat to reach up and give him a small kiss. "But I wouldn't have done it. I was sweet on you even back then." Truth be told, she didn't like being pushed unless it was an uphill or she was tired, but she recognized it for the comforting gesture and opportunity to be close that it was and she didn't fight it. You are more than your past, Jocasta. Sometimes, in her head, she was still Consuela, but less so these days. Just as they were about to emerge, she made him a promise. "I promise to study this diligently, and to check on you. Not tonight, but tomorrow, once you're in Retan, scan your surroundings and we'll find each other." She shook her head. "I want to become powerful with you: powerful enough to remove all of the limits and the dangers that hold us back, so that we can live as we want." It was seamless. There was barely a pause if any. "And make the world better for everyone in it."

"Agreed." Yalen answered back. "Together we can end this madness. No more ancient evils. No more Traveler." He closed his eyes. "When we're done rescuing the world, maybe we can go on a vacation. Visit someplace overseas? My classmates tell me that Nikan's cherry blossom season is not to be missed." Certainly, it would be nice to unwind, but even as he spoke Yalen's imagination was in a much farther place. When the two of them were done with the heroics, he hoped that they could retire quietly to the countryside and live in peace where nobody could bother them. The priest had become strong out of necessity, but being in constant danger still shaved away at his nerves. He just wanted to end the crisis and bring stability back to Sipenta.

"Djamant," Jocasta said simply, as if reading his thoughts though, in truth, she had not had to use magic.

"Fine... but our summer home will be built in Verignac." Yalen pouted. He was, as ever, a homebody.

"Though we will vacation in Torragon from time to time?"

"Warming up to Ayla at last, are we?" Yalen reached over to rub her head again.

She batted his hand away. "I am not your little doggie to pet, husbean." She paused. "Also, Blarth. I've always wanted to go somewhere arctic. Penguins are cute."

"As long as there aren't any portals to the netherworld there..." Yalen sighed. His first encounter with a demon would also be his last if he had any say about it. The trip to the south was still fresh in his mind.

"Agreed. Demons are gross. You know, I was thinking.... maybe just to learn how to get rid of them, I should learn some dark magic...?"

Jocasta’s jape was lost on Yalen’s unusually serious state of mind. "If you think that’s what it takes to win, then by all means. Maybe I can ask Sister Laska for her advice on demonology as well." He answered.

"Yalen, my love..." She trailed off, suppressing a grin.

Yalen hovered his face over Jocasta's head and smiled. "What is it dear?"

"I was joking, sweetheart. We shouldn't fuck with demons, mmmmmkay?"

"We won't fuck with demons then. In any case, I was only thinking you would be more responsible than that airheaded Yasoi."

"You thought right. I would," she replied, "If I was, you know, stupid enough to fuck with demons in the first place." She reached up to pinch his cheek.

"Well, let's leave it alone then. I'd say we're out of time to chat anyways." Yalen gestured towards the stone doorway that would soon lead them out of this chamber.

"Oh, right. I'd forgotten about that. I suppose they're all alright, right?" Somehow, from the brink of death and some truly heavy subject matter, things had turned... mirthful

"Of course they are... For now anyways. This was only the beginning. There is far more danger waiting for us beyond here." Yalen paused. "Sorry, I mean for you. I have a feeling that my role here will soon be coming to an end."

She nodded, taking hold of her wheels and pushing towards the exit. "We go on, you go to Retan. I know that was always the arrangement. I mean it, you know: search for me at night. Third hour of Dami. I'll be there. We need not let space and time separate us unless we wish it." With that, and with a final, reassuring smile, she pushed on through.

[Tackytaff]

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♫

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_{Silas Rieger@Tackytaff, Yuliya Ilyanovich Vasilieva @Suicharte, Nazih Iqbal@Ziegenkonig, Esmi’nesta’tawaar@BlackRoseSiren, Yvain de Berbignon@jasbraq, Penelope 'Penny' Pellegrin@Force and Fury, Sven Bjørnsson}

The people of Tagayungri never trusted Nikolai, despite his near decade living there. He ate with them, worked with them, and at times even laughed with them. But his true heritage was never to be forgotten: He was a foreigner forced upon them first and foremost, neighbour and comrade far behind. Not that it stopped the villagers from taking advantage of his freely-offered talent in the gift whenever a child fell ill, or their crop began showing signs of blight. It had been Nikolai’s magic that had saved the first harvest after an unexpected frost, and it was his efforts again that ensured each of the evacuees made it to the safe harbor of the mountains.

The last man out, despite being in good health, stumbled and twisted his ankle in his mad dash to safety. Nikolai lent the man his shoulder as they hurried towards the shelter of the mountains, his gift rushing through the wound with each further step until he was nearly able to bear his own weight and they’d reached safety. The tremors of the oncoming Begemot could still be perceived even in the mountains. Now and then, loose pebbles would fall tumble from the high walls; reminders of their precarious situation. Uneasy whispers echoed off back, slowly escalating to panic, forcing Nikolai to abruptly gather the group’s attention with a sharp clap.

“Friends! Remain quiet and calm. The visitors and I will ensure the threat is removed-” Any further remarks were cut short by another thundering shockwave that sent Nikolai staggering to the nearest wall for support. There was no longer time to waste. He pushed past the grasping hands and the questioning voices until he was overlooking the steppe once more.

The Constansian students might well not have existed. The full view of the Begemot lay before Nikolai; her front rearing upwards to the darkening sky, trunk and horns reaching high enough to pierce the low fogging clouds of the upper steppe. Legs wider than any tree Nikolai had ever seen kicked in the air as she drew in an enormous breath; large enough he was able to feel it from his distant position.

“Get DOWN!” He barely had time to shout to the few that had followed him so far, as the monster let out a bellowing trumpet-scream in frustration. The aftershocks, sent the dead grass of the steppe rolling outwards from te Begemot in every direction.

Nikolai was prepared, and as those around him cowered, he braced to absorb the full impact of the force and sound as it reached them. With practised efficiency the Vissoaryian mage harnessed the tremendous kinetic energy, and reversing the force, shot himself through the air towards the monster and helpless students.

The earth at his landing spot was all but destroyed; ankles sinking deep in the mud the moment he landed. Half of the young foreigners had been knocked on their backs, and the familiar probing of healing magic hummed for targets as they recovered themselves.

The Begemot’s display of frustration had only sunk her deeper into the ground, but her strength proved the greater force as she slogged forward; at least now, she was only walking. A few of the students scrambled to pull on her momentum. Stubbornly though, she pressed forward with impossibly long strides that pulled on the ground under her, threatening to turn the mess of earth into a sinkhole. So that is where Nikolai sent his energy; doing his best to convert the mud to stone. The Begemot was too strong; shattering what little rock he managed to produce between her movements. Suddenly though, she stopped entirely. The sheer impossibility of it had Nikolai searching to find the source. He saw the largest of the students mounted atop one of Dastan’s horses, turned away from the direction he was meant to be going and hand outstretched towards the Begemot. A brief tableaux, before the begemot’s student stop piled the earth around the boy enough to engulf him completely in mud.

Whatever the young man had done was enough to halt the beast, and that was enough opportunity for Nikolai. He scrambled through the mud from his position to reach the Begemot - still but very much alive. Her tusks, trunk, and most of her front torso sunken further still into the ground. He stopped as close as he dared to tread near her, and reached down to spread his magic throughout the muck in another attempt to encase the Begemot in stone.

“Get your friend out!” He shouted to the closest body; the blonde boy, dressed in fine clothes ruined well beyond repair, and gestured to the area he’d seen Sven buried as best he could with his hands in the ground.

He looked around to the rest of the group wildly. Already he could sense the slowed heartbeat of the monster quickening again. “You need to decide what to do. Now.” He demanded of the biros.

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They’d been riding less than five minutes before something went wrong. Ilvir didn’t know what the first happening was, but one of the two that were meant to follow him had turned to stay behind- or if they were really that stupid, to face the Begemot head on. She would crush him, but giving him more warning would only put the others at risk again. Not that Ilvir had a language to communicate he would understand. The dark tall one had taken the second horse, another partner that was useless as deaf. Ilvir did his best to signal Nazih to follow at a good distance using his hands, but the older boy failed to understand, or didn’t care enough to listen.

Another low thundering sound broke across the steppe. Quieter than the trumpeting of the mature begemot’s rage they’d heard from behind seconds ago. The second was fainter, almost an echo; emitted from ahead, the direction they were galloping towards at full speed.

“Ucha!” He shouted backwards, just in time to see the stupid long-foot ruining their hastily crafted lure. Half a carcass shining with ruce-seed oil broke off disappearing in the steppe grasses behind them.

Action Opportunities

Deadline for next post is Friday May 12, 12PM EST.

Your post should include:

What you did to prepare for the Begemot fight
Your reaction to the Begemot arrival, was your character one of the ones knocked down?
How you initially tried to slow/stop the Begemot
What you intend to do during these precious few seconds it is incapacitated

If you require reactions from an NPC, or intend to do something directly to the Begemot please DM or ping me on the discord, I’m always available to help.

[Ti]

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Event: An Introduction | Location: Mandelein

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"Lady Dorothea Hohnstein von Albesatz-Danzau," Taleja announced. Dorothea turned around at the sound of her name, greeted by Taleja's warm, practised smile. The woman stepped forward, taking Dorothea's hands in hers, the leather gloves squeezing slightly. "Imagine my joy and enthusiasm when I discovered that I was to be joined by yourself." she continued.

Taleja's eyes then moved to the others present in the room. "These are the others that were sent?" she asked, her gaze sweeping across the group. There was a tall, lanky red-haired Yasoi, a Sister of the cloth, a Darhannic, and a few others who may be involved as well. "Care to introduce me to them and provide an update?" Her green eyes shone in an inviting manner as she proposed this toward Dorothea.

Eyes filled with surprise when a familiar face took her hands. She wasn't informed other students would be joining. Soon enough, granting the girl a warm smile back. "Well, this is a surprise. I did not expect Lady Taleja to join us in this endeavour. "

Dorothea tried to find her words as she was tasked with giving her friend a short summary of events. "Well, I assume introductions are in order first. Some of them you might have seen around the school already." Her eyes pointed towards the Red headed Yasoi. "That Yasoi over there calls himself Jamboi, so I assume it would be safe to call him that as well." Her gaze then turned to the two servants of the divine in the group. "That is Sister Edyta Łaska and Qasem." Then turning her back to Taleja. "It truly is good to see you. Any help is a god sent."

"Ah, right. For our findings." Her mind tried to think of how to describe the things she saw. "Sister Łaska and I found the skeleton of a long gone prisoner.... It gave me the creeps. It looked humanlike but also more beastly... I've never seen anything like it." She looked towards the Yasoi. "I think Jamboi and Qasem might be best to explain their findings themselves."

Ashon was pretending to mind his own business as he was lost in thought about the described bestial human in the dungeon. A wild blood? It would match their investigations findings. He felt that something was off in his surroundings, as his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Lady Taleja, as Dorothea introduced her as. He felt a strange sensation, as his senses have become clearer and sharper, like the time he had been affected by a magical dampening device as used by the enforcers when they first arrived in Mandelein.

Likewise, he couldn’t help but notice her green eyes, those damned green eyes, and as she looked at him, he felt as if her sight was burrowing right through him. It was eerie was that when he looked within them, it was almost like he saw a reflection of himself in her eyes, her face creased into a smile like one he has worn a thousand times or more himself. Despite the eerie feeling, he beamed a welcoming smile as he jokingly introduced himself. “I? Why yes, it is like, the great Monkey-King himself, Jamboi!” He lowered his posture into a simian stance for emphasis.

Then, he turned to Qasem, giving him a nod, and discussion the discussion of their findings. “Qasem found that the beast’s blood contain manas belonging to that of a human.” allowing his colleague to explain further. “As for our findings… the beasts may be walking amongst us right now, or may have been before their transformation. Furthermore, the attacks didn’t come from the woods, but from the town itself.”

"If it was the beasts' blood and not the girl's." Qasem amended Ashon's information "They've been attacking locals indiscriminately, seems there's more than one. Whatever this beast is." He offered a hand and friendly smile to the new arrival. "Though I am curious how you knew we would be here, Lady Taleja, or just how you came to Mandelein yourself for that matter."

Edyta was seated some way from the others, and she could feel the unease of her manas. Venomhand. She had been trained to hunt monsters.

"It is just so," the Rezaindian confirmed. She made a show of being deferential in her body language, avoiding eye contact, playing to the demure stereotype of the dutiful nun as she rose scampered up. She was not much of a chemist, the one trick she'd learned to be the masking of her emotions. She employed it now. "Those were wild blood skeletons, and... I'd venture that this is a wild blood outbreak, Oraff help us." She quickly and reverently made the sign of the Pentad and executed a quick bow in front of the newcomer, hands clasped in greeting in front of her, just out of arms' reach. Your filthy hand will not touch me.

"There were some - we have been discussing - who went into the forest, tracking the 'beast' yesterday." She shook her head, clearly worried, and clenched her fists. "It... it should've been me. They haven't returned, and I was trained to hunt monsters."

Taleja listened attentively to the introductions, nodding occasionally and returning their offered gestures as they spoke. She noted their theories with a hint of amusement, but didn’t voice her thoughts.

As Qasem introduced himself, and shook her gloved hand, she returned the gesture with a firm grip and a warm smile. “Taleja, please, I am a Biro like yourselves. Yes, I was instructed to meet with your group and assist once I had followed a lead in Irsburg. I was informed to expect a familiar face.” Her faced turned to smile toward Dorothea.

Her attention then turned to Laska, her green eyes meeting hers. “They followed the Beast? Impressive. I pray that they were successful.” Taleja paused for a moment before adding, “I assume these were the best fighters amongst those that gathered here?”

Edyta did not have very much more to say, truth be told, and she had always been taught to speak worthwhile words only. She shook her head tightly. "They were... those quickest to volunteer. I was needed elsewhere."

With a goofy grin on his face, Ashon turned to Laska as she made her comment. "Our dear Sister is feeling a little envious that Manfraud, Casii, and Loonii are out there playing with the beastie. Don't worry, I'm sure they'll leave some for you too."

"We have not heard from them in a while... I'm getting a bit concerned." Dory used her knowledge of plants to recreate a relaxation substance to keep herself from getting too emotional. "Now with Taleja here, we have more eyes to investigate"

"Informed by whom?" Qasem pressed, ignoring her attempt to dodge his question.

Edyta remained quiet. She was no investigator and the venomhand's subtle avoidance had gone over her head, despite her overall unease. She did, however, glance from Qasem to the white-haired witch, allowing her eyes to linger for a moment on the second.

Taleja observed the group dynamics unfolding before her, and it was clear that the group was dysfunctional, to say the least. She glanced around at each of them, and noticed Dorothea becoming upset. In a reassuring gesture, she placed a hand on her back and offered her some gum. "Don't worry, Manfred should be able to handle it on his own," she said, offering a polite smile to Edyta and ignored Ashon. "It's a relief that all the experience of the group wasn't left behind in the woods."

As Dorothea prompted the conversation to turn to the investigation, Taleja smoothly transitioned into the next topic. "This is where I need volunteers," she said, scanning the faces of those gathered. "While in Irsburg, I came across a courier coming here who was receptive to, shall we say, persuasive methods." She made eye contact with the sister. "The courier was due to make a delivery to an outpost nearby, and based on the information you provided, it very likely that the two events are linked. The rendezvous is today, so we need to act immediately."

Taleja arched an eyebrow in response to Qasem's question, but quickly regained her composure and replied confidently, "Why, who else?" before redirecting the conversation back to the topic at hand.

The Yasoi opened his mouth and reminded those around him once more why he was an idiot. The venomhand continued to dodge the question, likely with less grace than she imagined. Edyta grew tired of it. "It is not my place to lead, but to follow the will of the Pentad." She unknitted her hands and rose, calling zamrażanie and palenie to her waiting hands. "That said, we need direction. I shall hunt down and destroy the beast. I pray that Ahn-Eshiran will spare those who left before us. Dorothea, the man who courts you is among them, so you shall accompany me." It was more than a gesture of kindness, though it was that as well. She had suspicions about the girl. This would be a good place to dispose of her should it become necessary. "Qasem and Ashon shall accompany Taleja to the rendezvous." There were truths that the venomhand was hiding and the Darhannic, despite his filthy religion, was skilled in just such an art. Ashon was... rather strong if nothing else, and perhaps he could get her composure to break, to reveal something. She twirled the scythes experimentally, blood already starting to pump faster and hotter at the prospect of combat. "That is my advice."

Taleja smiled as she observed the fierce determination in the sister's eyes. Perhaps the fool's story was not entirely without merit. "While I have no doubt that the beast would be no match for the power of the Pentad, may I offer a suggestion for the search? The Forest is vast, and two pairs of eyes may not be enough. You should consider enlisting the help of the locals to aid you in your task. The more, the merrier. Perhaps my friend Dorothea can use this to demonstrate her skills?"

"The locals have proved unhelpful and unworthy of trust." Qasem interjected before the unspoken tension between the aloof young women could boil over. "Those that may be of value should not be put at further risk. I trust the good sister's instincts," If not her modesty, he added, unspoken but to himself. "Though if another pair of eyes are truly needed, Ashon may prove valuable; who better to scout the forest than a Yasoi?" He stepped aside and motioned for Taleja to move with him. "I would be more than happy to share more of what we have learned on the way to the rendezvous."

Ashon observed as everyone wanted to rush in without much thought, shaking his head in disapproval. "Anna's husband could be convinced to search for his missing wife, and perhaps we could offer the henchman and his goons a sum of money to aid in the search," he suggested. "Not like running into the woods like headless chickens didn't cause this mess in the first place," he added with a shrug.

Dorothea looked rather confused at the direction given to her by the good sister. "Are you sure that is a good idea? I am not the strongest, after all." Her eyes tried their hardest to avoid any eye contact. "I will do my best to help with whatever I can."

Hearing her friend's words. "No, I think it might be best to not go with a full group. It would expose us rather obviously to whatever lurks within the forest." The girl tried her hardest to show a comforting smile to the other. "My skills? I can always try and see what the locals could reveal."

It was clear that nothing would get done unless someone made a move to go. It was also clear that not all was right with Dorothea. Edyta had never known the touch of a man, but she had loved, before, from a distance, and she was fairly sure that, were her beloved in imminent danger, she'd not have been so circumspect as the Feskan was now being. Lies, she thought, from liars. Social politics and manoeuvring. It disgusted her, and what made it worse was that she'd been guilty of joining. Then Ashon said perhaps the first worthwhile thing to come out of his mouth since the entire debacle had begun. "Ashon is correct. The woman's husband is likely to help us, and any of her relatives. I would not trust the mercenaries, however. Blood has been shed between us. Dorothea and I should speak with the husband before heading out of town."

Others continued, and the nun shook her head. She had hoped not to have to air it out, but she tired of these games. She turned to Taleja. "In Dami's name, I intend no offence, but I shall not mince words with you either. My trust is not given. It is earned, and I have been given no compelling reason to trust you to venture alone with the inquisitor." She regarded him, then. "You are a man of great talents and abilities, but raw strength in the Gift is not one. Should things go awry, I believe you should have Ashon's strength with you." She turned to the Yasoi. "I shall speak with candour again: I trust you more to act than to speak. Until a moment ago, nothing you had previously said revealed the slightest ability to behave with decorum or exercise social grace. If you accompany myself and Dory instead of Qasem, what guarantees do I have that you will not make a fool of yourself and us?"

"I had spoken my piece earlier and now is the time to act. I leave each of you to your own free will, for such is the gift of Ahn-Dami." With that, Sister Laska began moving, still open to receiving more input but not to wasting any more time.

Taleja smiled politely as the Sister spoke. "I share your anticipation to trust in the success of this mission, Sister." She then turned her attention to the Yasoi. "I require stealth and a tracking, and the Monkey King could be of assistance. We need to follow the contact to their hideout." She looked toward Qasem, "As for the Inquisitor, his skill set may not be suited for the task. Since you have a close relationship with him, would you be willing to take him with you to search for the others?"

This one was a worm who recognized a hook and wanted nothing to do with it. If anybody could learn more about her, it would be Qasem. Edyta was certain of it. She imagined that he would be too.

Qasem found himself too far taken aback by Laska's unexpected praise to argue with her. But Taleja's slyness was enough to set him back to the task at hand. "I think you'll find me plenty adaptable, Lady Taleja." His full toothed smile remained still firmly in place, and his voice pleasant as ever. "I am too curious to meet this contact not to insist on joining you."

Ashon moved behind Qasem, his steps silent as he approached his friend. He leaned over him, his voice low and conspiratorial as he whispered in his ear. "I think her point was that you were not meant to meet them," he said, a sly smile forming on his lips. He bopped Qasem gently on the top of his head, his hand bouncing off his friend's thick curls. "Or yet, anyway," he added with a chuckle.

Taleja let out an inward groan and raised her gloved hand to pinch her brow. She then reached into her coat pocket and retrieved a small container of pellets, swallowed one with some water, hoping it would ease her headache. She addressed the group, "The decision has been made. Let's make preparations, and you two can meet me outside the entrance to the town. You may dress in any colour you wish, as long as it's black," she said, eyeing the flamboyant clothing of her two peacock companions.

She held their gaze for a moment before continuing to the other group, "It's crucial that we find the others in one piece and quickly. We'll need all the strength we can muster for what's to come." Her green eyes narrowed as she emphasized the importance of their mission. "We don't have time. Make haste and prepare yourselves accordingly."

Qasem turned, faced Ashon with an expression of exaggerated shock. "You don't mean to imply that our fellow Biro could be purposefully concealing information from us? When we've been so forthright with what we've learned ourselves?" When he turned to their new arrival again, his mouth was set in a tight hard line, the friendliness before gone, but nodding as she listed instructions.

"It's clear you know something of the beast and what we might encounter. Sharing such knowledge would be the most valuable preparation of all."

Taleja had made it to the door when the Inquisitor's words reached her. She stopped and scowled, turning to face him with a sharp glint in her green eyes. "I wouldn't be careless with your words, Inquisitor. Some of us came here to do more than a leisurely stroll in the woods, a free lunch, and an academy commendation," she warned him. Then, placing a polite smile on her face as she spoke. "Only know as much as you have informed me, save there is one observation you left out. Your wild blood attacked during a moonless night, and you should fear what may happen when it is shortly four moons. That's in four nights," she said, emphasizing the countdown with her fingers. Her eyes then flicked to the Rezaindian. "As the good Sister should have informed you."

"We have a deadline, I don't intend to find out what happens if we fail to achieve our objectives before that night," she said, before tipping her hat to Dorothea in a personal farewell as she opened the door. "If you want to be of use, then prepare to move, or I'll leave without you." She pushed through the doorway and left.

"Our track of finding helpful friends continues" Qasem drily concluded as the newest arrival left. "That ones lies easy as she breathes. She knew we would be here, but not who we were. Someone else sent her." His furrowed brow relaxed as he looked to the others in the group. "We at least need to work as a unified team, together. If we cannot trust each-other, we have no chance against a real monster." With a nod to Ashon, he too turned to leave.

"Even if Taleja might not be completely truthful, we should not disregard her... With three people gone, we need all the help we can get." With that, Dory walked behind Laska, looking somewhat distressed. "We shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Ashon watched as the group bickered amongst themselves, some raising their voices and others quietly observing. He couldn't help but feel amused by the scene before him. His attention was drawn to Taleja as she skilfully provoked Qasem with her words. Ashon had to admit, he was impressed, even he, the great Monkey-King Jamboi, had never been able to ruffle Qasem's feathers quite like that.

Looking back at Qasem as she left, Ashon continued, "Her tongue slithered like a snake behind her teeth, but we need to look past it. My dear Qasem" He drew her hypothetical figure in the space she stood. "She's come to us for help, whether she wants to admit it or not. And it's up to us to decide if we're willing to provide it." He gestured to the rest of the group, "We're all here for a reason, and I have a feeling our interests align, at least for now."

He turned his gaze towards Laska and asked, "Do you happen to have any spare habits we can borrow? We need black clothing."

Edyta was prepared for more of Ashon's Mockery, but she managed to hold herself back and not judge... at least outwardly. "What purpose do you seek for them," she asked bluntly, narrowing her eyes. She was not entirely against offering assistance, but the nun would not abide by people besmirching the sacred vestments of the church.

It was naught but a few minutes later when Edyta moved off after Dorothea to see if they couldn't find anyone to help in their search for Manfred, the two yasoi girls, Viktor, and Anna. In truth, she noticed, Ymiico had disappeared as well, shortly after some incoherent speech in broken Avincian earlier.

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[Ti]

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Event: Drudgunzean Union Volksfest | Location: Ersand'Enise

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The Beer hall is a large, rectangular room with a high ceiling and rough wooden beams overhead. The walls are adorned with colourful banners and flags, depicting the emblems and symbols of various Drudgunzean regions and houses. The room is filled with long wooden tables and benches, all stained and worn with use, and the air is thick with the smells of roasting meat, baking bread, and, of course, the yeasty aroma of beer.

At the far end of the hall is a stage, where a band of musicians plays lively Drudgunzean folk tunes on traditional instruments such as the hurdy-gurdy, the bagpipes, and the fiddle. People are dancing and twirling to the music, their laughter and shouts of joy filling the room.
The Volksfest is a celebration of Drudgunzean culture and heritage during Rezain, with people dressed in traditional clothing such as lederhosen and dirndls, many of them sporting colourful ribbons and badges with regional symbols. There are also vendors selling various Drudgunzean specialities such as sausages, pastries, and cheeses, as well as handicrafts and souvenirs.

Overall, the Beer hall and the Volksfest is a riot of colours, sounds, and smells, a true celebration of culture and tradition.
Taleja noticed Dorothea stood alone and decided to approach her with a friendly smile. The Kressian wore a flowing dirndl, though modified with long cotton stockings, sleeves, and frilled gloves. She adorned a beautiful white wig, wearing festive ribbons, blending in well with the others attending.

“Good evening. My name is Taleja, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. She is pleasant and polite, a practised smile plastered on her face. “I thought we could share some company.”
Dorothea however did not wear anything past a true Feskan dirndl, the colours showed her status enough as is. Purple in colour and beautiful patterns sewn into the dress itself. Her collar was adorned with a washed out purple bow that seems to be rather old.

“Ah, Good evening.” It took the Feskan quite some time to readjust to the sudden greeting. Losing her composure a little. “My name is Dorothea, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.” Even after not being prepared for it, Dorothea showed a warm albeit a little awkward smile back.

Taleja's eyes fell upon the purple dress that Dorothea wore, taking note of the intricate patterns sewn into it, and drawn to the faded bow that adorned her collar, which seemed to have been passed down through generations. "I cannot help but admire your outfit" Taleja commented, her voice filled with the sound of curious appreciation. "Purple is such a regal colour, and it looks beautiful on you. Do you happen to be royalty?" she asked, taking note of the crown that sat upon Dorothea's head with a nod.
As Taleja looked around, she noticed the energetic atmosphere of the Volksfest, with people drinking and enjoying themselves. She decided to offer Dorothea a drink, picking up a few tankards filled with a frothy ale. "It is certainly lively this evening" she said, handing Dorothea a tankard. "It can be overwhelming at times, but it's a nice change from the usual formal events."

“Royalty? Oh, good heaven's no. I would never try to be able to get to such a status like that.” Dorothea laughed it off awkwardly before nodding to herself. “No, no, I am but a Count’s daughter. The only reason for the purple is our house’s old prestige and treasury.

Dory, clearly too sober for these kinds of festivities, decided it might be a good idea to take the drink and resisted the desire to empty it in one go. “It certainly is lively. If I could choose this over a formal ball, I would choose this one hundred percent of the time.

Taleja smiled and nodded in response to Dorothea. "I see, well, you still look quite regal in that beautiful dress. It is said the Avincian Imperial Family used to cloth themselves in purple as well, so your family may have a common ancestor with the line of Emperors." She brought out a spheric object, which appeared white and powdery, as she placed it within her own mouth then took a sip of her own drink before responding to Dorothea's comment about the festivities. "I agree completely. It's much more relaxed and easier to approach people than a formal ball."

Taleja leaned in closer, showing a genuine interest in Dorothea's family background. “You mentioned that you're a Count's daughter. May I ask who your father is?” her eyes continue to examine Dorothea as she signalled for a refill of their drinks. “My father is a Graf, or a Comte if you believe the Perrench.” She began to express disappointment at the lack of Kressian presence in the event, “It is unfortunate that some of my fellow Kressians choose to abandon their roots and embrace the Perrench culture and become the so-called sixth tribe of Perrence. But it is heartening to see that there are still those like us who cherish our heritage." As their drinks were refilled, Taleja took a sip and waited for Dorothea's response.

Dorothea’s expression darkened before returning to her previous warm smile. “My father is Graf Hohnstein, a minor house of Feska.” her eyes widened in surprise. “Ah, so you’re Kressian? I don’t see many of them around the beerhalle all that often.”

Her interest was further piqued upon hearing about the civil discourse in another nation. “Tell me, why do people consider turning towards the Perrench instead of their roots?”

Taleja had her head shaking in disappointment as she explained the subject, “They have chosen to align themselves with Perrence in the hopes of them lending on their power and provide opportunities. However, in doing so, they have turned their backs on their own people and sold their souls to a foreign kingdom.”

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts as she directed attention at the various colours and heralds around the hall. “But I do not believe that we should turn towards Eskand and Perrence for power and opportunities. We should instead focus on building unity among ourselves, the Drudgunzean people. We should embrace our history and culture, and work towards preserving and promoting it, to create a force that can stand on its own.” She offered a slight smile as she sipped her drink, “One can only dream.”

Dorothea followed her conversation partner by taking a sip of her tankard. “Unity would be possible if both Huulendam and Kerremand would cease their hostilities. a slight smirk appeared on her face “Be they Kressian, Helbanisch or Feskan. Without Huulendam and Kerremand we will be nothing but a medium power at best.”

Taleja nodded in agreement with Dorothea's statement. "Indeed, the hostilities between Huulendam and Kerremand hinder our progress as a people for far too long. Perhaps it is time for a new approach.” Her eyes gaze at the Feskan as she drank more of the ale. “Care to share your insight?”

The Feskan put a finger on her chin. “Let me think.” Dorothea looked rather confused. “Hostilities would only stop if they could unite under a massive threat. The only realistic one being Perrence or perhaps….” A soft chuckle escaped her. “You could say perhaps Eskand, but they’re barely able to light a candle if you combine the minds of both states.”

Dorothea let out a sigh. “But to make Perrence the main enemy is a very volatile effort, seeing as the Huulendamisch crown is currently aligned with them. Perhaps we could have both of them step away from their allies. However, Kerremand’s alliance with Revidia would give a united Drudgunzea a much more powerful stance in the world’s sphere.”

"So you would propose a rift being created between Huulendam and the Perrench to consider them to switch sides. Though this would cause Kerremand to have the advantage which they could exploit, or even the threat of it would be enough to disrupt such an effort. How would you approach this?” Taleja proposed a problem, one common in politics, where such things are always done as a delicate balance.

“That is the issue. We have to make it look like the Perrench care more about their other allies than them, perhaps the Eskandish could skirmish with Huulendam to break out a crisis between two allies of circumstance.” Her mind was rattling for ideas to solve the issue at hand. “If we had all three other Drudgunzean nations to band together, we could make it so that if either Kerremand or Huulendam takes advantage of these delicate politics, they’d attack the aggressor. It would serve as a deterrent of sorts. A rather annoyed look appeared on her expression. “Problem is, Kressia can’t do much without the Perrench consent at the moment, Helbahn has not been too active and has Eskand to deal with… And Feska as of now would remain neutral just to keep the trade going.”

Taleja pursed her lips. “The wouldn’t the simpler solution to arrange for Huulendam to be invited first to address the imbalance? Kerremand wouldn’t attack it if it was fully surrounded, then petition to join the Central Alliance and have Kerremand’s allies persuade it to join the Union.” She tapped her finger upon her tankard as well. “You appear to have written off Hendland as well. Curious.”

“That could be a simple solution, however Kerremand could take offence to not being invited, or they could see it as a conspiracy against them. I think having both at the negotiating table at once would be most advantageous in order for the hostilities to burn out.” Dorothea took a break to take another sip from her ale. “Hendland has a strict policy of armed neutrality. If you are able to convince them to join, I would truly be amazed. Enth would make a united Drudgunze a power almost beyond Perrence, but I doubt they’d be able to blend well with how they currently are.”

Taleja blinked as she considered the comment. Humour. She painted a smile upon her face and laughed. “If I were able to hold such influence, we would not simply be having a conversation on it.” She mulled for a moment. “Do you have other interests?”

“Other interests? Well, for one there is baking, hunting and firearms.” Dorothea looked at the other before smiling warmly. “How about you? Do you have any other interests?”

“Activities that require concentration, preparation, and physical involvement.” She reviewed the choices as she reduced them to their common denominators, nodding as she smiled. “I find comfort in alchemy, often finding myself absorbed in my work. Though I do like to travel when I have the opportunity, and animals appear to enjoy my company. I share your interest in firearms, and I find that Enth’s blasting powder to be my preference for shooting, though it can warp older guns.”

“You have an interest in firearms as well?” Her eyes opened wide from hearing such. “Ever got the privilege of shooting with some older models? Wheellocks feel the nicest but a nice matchlock is also fun to use! I’ve used a Huulish Haakbus before, and it truly is a work of art.” Her joy and enthusiasm on the subject was almost infectious.

Taleja’s eyes sparkled as Dorothea shared her passion for guns, and the mention of the Huulish Haakbus caught her attention. “I haven’t had the pleasure of using one myself, but I would love for you to show me.” She paused for a moment, “I was gifted a Pendragon Smoothbore Musket following some work I completed for the Pen Draig family. They used wood marquetry to create a beautiful dragon design upon the stock. It is apparently prized in the Enthish sport of Pigeon shooting, due to its power, reliability, and accuracy.”

As Dorothea continued to speak, Taleja couldn’t help but share a mischievous grin. “You know, I tend to keep a Grutte Pier Flintlock Pistol in my satchel. It is a Kressian pistol, with its design borrowed from Perrence with a few modifications. It’s a favourite of outlaws such as pirates.” She patted where the hypothetical satchel at her side would sit, “You never know when it might come in handy.”

“Oooh, a Grutte Pier? I have not heard much of those yet. You have to let me fire that Smoothbore Musket some day! I’d love to try it out.” Dorothea nodded in agreement. “You never know when magic won’t cut it. A firearm never betrays you.” She raised her tankard into the air. “The greatest invention since bread!”

Taleja arched an eyebrow inquisitively as she regarded Dorothea's latest proclamation, touting some new invention as the greatest since bread. But then again, she reminded herself, Dorothea was a baker. “And to new friendships as well” Taleja added with a small smile, hooking her arm through Dorothea's before taking a swig from her tankard of ale.

After downing their tankards of ale, Taleja and Dorothea looked at each other with wide grins on their faces. “Shall we go dancing?” Taleja asked, gesturing towards the lively music coming from the other end of the hall.

Dorothea's eyes lit up with excitement, “Yes, let's!” she replied as she took Taleja's hand and led her towards the dance floor. They laughed and twirled as they danced, the energy of the music and the crowd coursing through them.

After a few dances, they made their way back to the bar for another round of drinks. “This is just what I needed Dorothea said, raising her tankard to Taleja, as she clinked her tankard with hers.

As the night wore on, they continued to dance, drink, and enjoy each other's company. They talked about their hopes and dreams, their fears and doubts, and everything in between. It was a night that neither of them would soon forget, a moment of joy and connection in the midst of everything.

As they left the beer hall, arm in arm, they knew that they had forged a friendship. They were grateful for each other's company and knew that they could count on each other in the trials that lay ahead.

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[Ti]

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Event: Metropolis | Location: Wánggǎng, ReTan

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Part 2

Maura quickly caught up to Kaureerah and gently touched her arm. "If you don't mind, we would like to come with you to the waterfront. It's always safer to travel in pairs, and would feel much better if we were by your side," she said, smiling reassuringly.

As they began to proceed away from the others, Maura spoke up again. "Also, this will give us a chance to talk privately about our plans and strategies without worrying about anyone overhearing us." she added, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Maura paused for a moment, deep in thought, before continuing. "Oh, and if there are any errands you need to run while we're out, I'm happy to help. We do speak some basic Rettanese, so we shouldn't have any trouble communicating," she offered, eager to be of assistance to her new companion.

Kaureerah had considered herself quite good in Avincian, unavoidable and rather thick Eeaiko accent aside, but Maura always made her second-guess. "Aur yoo... saum kend auf rooyel?" she inquired sheepishly after a moment. Most of this walk's purpose was to be able to speak candidly with Maura, so the 'fish-girl' figured that she'd might as well start out that way. She glanced about, though. "Or is there someone else with us?" Even as they drew some ways away from the inn, she was hesitant to say more until she had a better idea.

Maura's lips curved into a wide smile as Kaureerah asked about her status. "Naturally, we are the Trade Princess of the Ensolin. As you are my friend, we will spare the formal introductions" she replied, her tone playful. She couldn't resist teasing the Eeiako a little, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Maura then continued, her expression turning serious. "No one looked to have followed us, but the Abdel will most likely check on me with magic to make sure things are okay. He does that now and then," she explained, her voice low. She glanced around cautiously, as if checking for any prying eyes or ears. "It looks clear."

"End aull he cen check ees where wee aur end ef wee're aukay?" Kaureerah sounded slightly anxious. "Eye doon't knoow mooch auf whaut tetheered aur cepeble auf, beyoond semplee heveeng launger renge, baut... Aubdel eesn't te oonly tetheered..."

Maura nodded enthusiastically as she explained Abdel's magical abilities, "Yes, he's quite skilled with magic. He's helped us on many occasions with his abilities." She chuckled softly as she recalled the meaning of the ear pinches, especially as he gives her three each time. "The ear pinch is his way of checking in on us, it's a sort of code we have between us. We trust him."

As Kaureerah brought up Yalen, Maura's expression became a bit more reserved. "Yalen... he's a bit of an enigma to me. I don't quite know what to make of him. He can be dismissive toward me, most likely his fiancée's doing." She paused for a moment before continuing, "But I think you're right. As long as we don't go anywhere suspicious or reveal too much with it, we should be fine. And going to the docks seems harmless enough."

Kaureerah nodded, seeming to take her peer's explanation at face value. "Eye sauppoose wee're sef," she decided. They were headed towards the docks, but more the far edge of them, where the water wasn't quite so filthy. "Especieelly eef wee speek in Auvieenceean." She shrugged somewhat nervously. "Soo, whet ees et yoo waunted too speek weth mee ebaut?"

As they walked towards a quieter and more secluded area by the docks, Maura turned to Kaureerah and asked, "I know we are both friends with Ayla, but I'm curious, why were you willing to trust me? Was it just because of our mutual friendship with her, or was there something more?" She nervously tugged at her hair as she waited for Kaureerah's response. "Or perhaps, did you want to become my friend too?" she added with a hopeful smile.

Kaureerah blinked. She had never really considered friendship a formal arrangement. It was just something that happened. "Eye doon't traust yoo eny faurther then eye cen throo yoo," she giggled, "Baut eye rautheer like yoo." She shrugged. "Yoo strike mee es smaurt, soo eye feegoored yoo hed en ideea een letteng heem goo." She twisted jauntily on the spot, smiling conspiratorially. "Ees te feesh goorl wraung aur ees shee right?"

Maura grinned at Kaureerah, pleased by the statement as she winked. "Well, thank you, Kaureerah. You can throw me very far. We'll take that as a compliment." But then her expression turned serious. "However, we have a bigger problem on our hands. I can't shake this feeling of unease about everything that's happened to us since we arrived in ReTan. It feels like we're being used as pawns in some sort of political game. Wu Long's words keep ringing in my ears - the people of ReTan like a good demonstration. What if that's all we are to them? A way to show off their power and make a point?"

She paused, waiting for Kaureerah to respond before continuing. "And that's not all. We don't even know if this Hui character that Mr. Bao works for is a real traveller agent. It could all be a false dilemma to throw us off the real trail of what is happening here. That's why we need answers. And importantly, you with me, Kaureerah. You've shown that you have a good heart, and we have the smarts. If we work together, we can make a real difference here."

Maura's eyes gleamed with determination as she looked at Kaureerah. "What do you say, partner? Are you in?" She held out her hand toward her.

"We aur a tool et best," Kaureerah agreed, "End eye doo naut like eet." They were closer to the water now, more or less walking alongside it. Kaureerah nodded along as Maura spoke, trying not to interrupt her. She was not losing her mind! She had been thinking much the same things. "Een my... faurmer line auf woork, I hev hed... deealins weth te Trauveeler." She shook her head, now. "Hee es extreeme, but naut eevel. Whaut heppened tooday shoowed noo cere faur theese peepool." She took in a breath of the dry terrestrial air and it struck her how much she missed the water and how much she hated the two-dimensional movement of the world of humans, hegelans, and yasoi. "Eet es au treeck aur e trep. Eye em soore auf et."

Truth be told, she did not fully trust Maura. Life had taught Kaureerah not to trust anybody, and this one seemed self-serving, but if their interests aligned, then... She reached out and shook the girl's hand. "Yoo saun oof e betch. Eye'm een."

Maura's smile grew wider as Kaureerah grasped her hand, and the two stood there for a moment, savouring the feeling of their newfound partnership. "Yes, an Alliance between the Beach and the Sea," she repeated, feeling a sense of excitement and determination welling up within her.

As they talked, Maura kept an eye out for anyone who might be watching them, but the coast appeared to be clear. "We sneaked out here last night to get a better look at the port situation," she said in a low voice. "We noticed a spot over there that's fairly covered and hidden. We suggested to our friend that we should meet up there tomorrow evening."

Her mind raced with possibilities as Kaureerah mentioned her experience with the Traveller. "Do you know of any code words or pass phrases?" Maura asked eagerly. "We came up with one when we were challenged, but maybe there is an older code, and that might check out."

As they approached the clearer water, Maura turned to Kaureerah with a playful grin. "Fancy a swim together?" she asked, unable to resist the temptation of inviting her new friend for a dip.

A warning prickle invaded the back of Kaureerah's mind. "Pess phreses?" she asked, "Eye waus herdly eenvoolved enaugh too bee geeven te keeys too te auperetion." She offered a weak chuckle and shook her head sadly, dodging further engagement with the idea. Maura had spoken very harshly and not particularly truthfully about the Traveler earlier. If Kaureerah was not precisely an ally of his, then she at least had mixed feelings. Maura... she would have to get a bit more of a read on, even if the girl's intentions were good. They found an area towards the end of the docks, in a sheltered lagoon. The water was not as clean as Kaureerah would have liked, but it would do. She dipped her toes in and it was cold, but not unbearably so. She took a few steps in and turned, sliding into a crouch as she did so. "Whaut doo yooo knoo ebaut te eeaiko?" she asked probingly, but friendly enough.

Maura's lips curled into a gentle smile as she addressed Kaureerah. "Asking was worth a shot. It appears the phrase 'We are a traveller, and we travel where we are needed' will continue to live on in its infamy."

Maura contemplated the question while beginning to remove her clothes, revealing her underclothes. As she thought about what she knew of the Eeaiko, a mischievous smile played on her lips. "Well, according to popular lore, the Eeaiko are the gorgeous maidens of the sea with voices sweeter than honey. Sailors are said to be lured off their ships by their beauty, only to drown in the waters." She couldn't help but smirk wider. "As for Kaureerah, it's rumoured that she's the fairest of them all and has the biggest death toll." She chuckled, clearly not taking the myth seriously, as she moved from her chair and splashed into the water before her, playfully enthralled.

"But in all seriousness, we don't know much about the Eeaiko, despite being granted a Kelp Forest in Glaskum. We've heard that they are communal and often work together for their greater good, and that they communicate in a shared song. It does sound beautiful, doesn't it?" She smiled at Kaureerah, hoping she answered somewhat correctly.

If Kaureerah smiled appreciatively at the first part of Maura's response and made some joke about being a shipwrecker, her face fell at the second. She dunked her head underwater, feeling so good, so natural, and just... thinking. These were old wounds she was going to reopen. "Eet es troo te saung of te eeaiko es beauteefaul, baut naut aul vooices aur welcem." she shook her head. "When wee beeld toogeter, wee sher aur ideeas, baut wee oonly sher soo faur. Eef peepool thenk yoo stoole en ideea, yoo are autcest." She smoothed her hair back in the cool night air, breathing in and out. "Naut joost yoo baut yoor entire femely, foor tree geeneritions. Yoo leev autside auf soociety. Yoo may naut veeset the hoomes auf yoor betters. Yoo mey naut cauvet or merry yoor betters. Yoo may naut sher yoor ideeas. Yoo mey naut seeng in te saungs."

She dipped below the surface again for a second, only her eyes and the top of her head peeking out, before emerging. "Eye ren fraum thet end eye cennaut reetoorn. Eye em autcest end my cheeldren weell bee faur te nex tree geeneretions. Te oonly waun too cere, too try too aupleeft aus waus te Trauveeler." She let out a long sigh, wishing that the memories could both dissipate with it and that she could keep them forever and only the moments of pain when she realized she would never see home again would disappear. "Eye em naut hees egent," she assured Maura, "Baut hee ees naut my enemy end eye well naut betreey heem aunless eye heve e very good reesoon too."

Maura paid close attention to Kaureerah's words, but she felt lost and out of her depth. The customs of Eeaiko culture were completely foreign to her, and she struggled to grasp the implications of half of the things being discussed. However, what she could understand was the hurt and sadness etched on Kaureerah's face. So she instinctively moved over to the girl, wrapped her arms around her, and hugged her tightly.

"We may not understand these customs," she whispered softly, "but we are here for you, and we care too. Whatever you're going through, we want to help you in any way we can." She held Kaureerah tightly, hoping to offer comfort and support.

Kaureerah... blinked. She was not sure why Maura cared so much about her suddenly, but maybe it was just... sapient decency. She thought of all the little conversations she'd had with humans over the past few years as she'd traveled their lands and learn their language. She thought of some of the Johns she'd known, and those who had come back repeatedly. Some had just been there for a good fuck and there was nothing to do about it but... her job, such as it had been. Others had been looking for more. They'd told her all sorts of little stories from their lives: their triumphs, their fears and their woes. They'd wanted her to care: someone to care, and a few had probably even loved her, or at least thought that they did.

Most people were self-concerned, but they were essentially good at the end of the day, Kaureerah had concluded, or at least wanted to consider themselves such. That's why Maura was hugging her. She returned the embrace and it felt good: different than the random men, some good, some bad, and most as lonely as she tried to tell herself she wasn't. The Swirl had been a sisterhood to the point there money became involved. then, they'd tried to sabotage her. Then, they'd decided they wouldn't part with a big earner. They didn't really care. Kaureerah was as she had always been: the entertainment. Everybody loved what she created, or the pleasure she could bring them, but she was no more than the vessel for it.

The Eeaiko's arms wrapped around her, Maura felt a sense of warmth and happiness. She was grateful to have a new friend and excited to learn more about Kaureerah and her customs. She is also glad to find someone who she can continue to trust and confide in.

As the two girls had their moment, they suddenly heard some commotion nearby. A group of Rettannese strangers were walking by and instead of leaving the girls alone, continuing along their way, they went towards their clothing on the shore and started picking it up while the girls were still in the water. Maura's voice rang out towards the group, "放下他们! - Put them down!" she exclaimed firmly.

That was when there was noise. Some creeps were stealing their clothes. The eeaiko whirled and gathered magic, releasing Maura. She began to undo the buttons on their clothes, pull their shirts up over their heads, and toss one's hat aside in a Kinetic grip. "Two can play your game or you can leave us alone!" she suggested.

The men thrashed and struggled and dropped their clothes. "腥婊子!" (fishy bitch!) one shouted. The other flailed about, kicking Maura's rollerchair in the process, right towards the water.

As Kaureerah warned the approaching group, Maura translated for her, "你玩你的，我玩我的，或者就别来烦我们" She found amusement in the retaliatory magic that caused the men to undress. When they replied with something about fish, Maura turned mischievous, offering her friend a sly smile. "He called us fish."

She used her gift as she wiggled her fingers to attract the attention of a nearby gulbi. "你想吃鱼吗 - Hungry for fish, are you?" Once the unsuspecting creature came close, she used her kinetic magic to splash. The gulbi shot out of the water and slapped the man across the face before bouncing back into the water to swim away. "There's your fish," she said with a giggle.

As the other kicked Maura's rollerchair, she drew from it with kinetic, and made a stopper to prevent it from rolling into the water.

Kaureerah leapt out of the water, then, in more or less a single bound. She picked some of the downed clothes from the ground with magic. The others... she pinched the men's hands so they'd reflexively let go. They took flight almost immediately. "巫婆!!!" (witch!!!) they shrieked as they retreated, among a rich tapestry of other insults. "监护人会听到这件事的！" (The guardians will hear about this!) Then, they were gone, and Kaureerah stuck out her tongue in their wake, twisting to regard Maura and giggling. "Eye guess they doo naut like feesh efter aull?" she questioned aloud, with a mischievous smirk. In truth, she had concerns about what they'd said. What if they went to the guardians and told their own version of the story? Could it actually cause trouble, or were they all hot air?

After the creeps had fled, Maura couldn't help but giggle with Kaureerah, despite the potential trouble they could get in for their actions. "Maybe they're not fans of Yusheng," she quipped, noticing the worry on her friend's face. "But if you trust me, I have a cunning plan." Maura's face lit up with radiant glee. "Perhaps they're fans of... Turtles."

Using her binding magic, Maura began constructing an oval-shaped shell with rudimentary markings, with Kaureerah lending a hand. Together, they completed a hollow shell with the words "王八 - Freshwater Turtle" written on it. Maura then stuffed the creeps' clothing inside the shell, positioning it so that it appeared as though a turtle's long neck and head were poking out, with little feet along the sides. She set the shell upon the water, just off the shore. The 'turtle' now given life as it is bobbing on the water.

"Let them explain that to the guardians," Maura said, pleased with their little act of mischief. Though now hinting to her friend for them now to get out of here quickly.

FWEET! FWEET! FWEET!

The whistle blew repeatedly, signalling the approach of a converging group of Blue Guard. They were being directed by the creeps, who were covered in makeshift sheets and robes to hide their immodesty. One of the angry individuals even claimed to have been hit by a fish.

Upon arriving at the scene, the group searched for clues but found nothing unusual until they noticed an object floating on the water. It turned out to be a basket with garments protruding from it, and shaped it like a turtle. Poles were used to bring the basket closer and upon closer inspection, the Hanzi 王八 were visible, and one helpfully identified the clothes as theirs. The creeps tried to explain, but it was becoming clear what had happened.

When one of the Blue Guards asked if the creeps had approached two women in this isolated area of the docks. The creeps stumbled with their explanation, but the evidence spoke for itself: they tried to prey upon the women, who held them off, then had taken their undergarments and left them in the turtle basket as evidence of their crime.

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[Force and Fury]

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M A R C E L I N E || ♫

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_{Present: Ayla Arslan @Ti, Evander Fino Synesti @RezonanceV, Tku Pictor @dragonpiece, Fiske Flachstrauch @jasbraq, Zarina Al-Nader @YummyYummy, and Desmond Catulus @Th3King0fChaos}

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It was a long moment and it stretched out after the ranger had left with Jocasta. Desmond began to look around. Everyone seemed to be thinking, but that wasn't the test, this was about their instincts, not some puzzle. Desmond yelled out, "Orange!" Starting to force people to get the ball rolling.

“Purple.” announced a cross-armed Zarina with her helm removed.

Marceline wasn't completely sure what to do, but she was feeling daring, and so she followed Desmond's and Zarina's lead. The former's shout had grabbed her attention so, without any further thought, she shouted: "orange!" looking around guiltily immediately afterward.

Ayla watched everyone shout out their favourite colour, and decided to join them. "Blue!"

"Red!" Tku exclaimed and, after tending to the last of Zarina's injuries, he made quick work of the scorched duo's wounds, offering a single nod in their direction to reassure them that it was him doing it.

Desmond nodded to Tku as he looked expectantly at the others who had yet to speak.

"Yellow.." Fiske groaned from the burn wounds' sting even if it was somewhat fading.

"Um... red? Yalen shrugged, not really understanding the point of this exercise.

"Yellow again!" said Benny, more or less trying to mess things up for the others. He crossed his arms and grinned malevolently.

A Sirrahi?! Evander felt a compulsion to ask questions, to ask about Disska. To identify the reason why a Sirrahi had lured them here and put them through trials that could have killed them. He didn't. Evander refrained. Nobody else had questioned why they were engaging a snake person, and everyone, to his surprise, bought in. Each called out a color. It seemed... foolish, but they were in this large room with nowhere to go except forward... "Blue," he said reluctantly.

It was not long before Jocasta returned with the ranger. "I have my misgivings, but have been convinced of the… necessity of this," she admitted. Her eyes darted about the clearing before seizing on Yalen. She offered a supportive smile and let them drift again. "Stay safe everyone." Expelling a nervous breath, she let out one more word: "purple".

With that, the sirrahi nodded. "Thank y'all, and I mean it. Whatcher doin' could save every one of us." Then, he flickered and disappeared as if he'd never even been there. A sudden, massive surge of temporal energy replaced him.

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T E M P E S T || ♫

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Ayla, Benedetto, Desmond, Evander, Fiske, Marceline, Tku, and Zarina blinked and opened their eyes. They were in a desert, again. The blazing sun beat down upon them and the hot sand scratched at their eyes. In fact, the only thing that they could see for miles around, aside from sand, was a series of distant structures - almost sail-like - spinning slowly in the wind.

Marci turned on the spot, three hundred sixty degrees, taking in the vast nothingness that surrounded the group. The sun reflected off of the burning red-white wastes and she blinked. The air around them was distorted by the heat. There was plenty of wind to alleviate it, but this was hot and blustery, prone to whipping up sand and dust at unpredictable intervals, and it only made the heat worse, if possible.

“Well, that was fuckin’ productive,” grumbled Benny, casting about. He seemed about to spit in the sand, but then thought better of it. He glanced Marci’s way. “You got range, Gimpy, right?” he crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. Then, he seemed to soften. “I mean… how ‘bout you sweep the area, Marce?”

She glared at him for a moment, moving a bit closer to Ayla and Zarina, who bristled at the insult to their friend. “How about you go fuck yourself, bud?” the latter snapped back. Marceline held up a hand to stop them, shooting Zarina a thankful, apologetic look. Then, she focused and energies swelled around her. Her face turned grim as the sun and wind continued their twin assaults and she brushed some hair from her face with her dominant hand, her left. “Nothing,” she announced, straining in the opposite direction of the sail-like structures. “Nothing as far as I can sense. A few critters buried deep in the sand. Maybe some ruins about seven klicks away. Fuckin’ desolate” She shook her head as another hot gust of wind whipped her hair about and made her gasp. Marceline, like her grandfather, was of the desert. She knew it. She could feel its moods and survive its periodic furies. This was different, though, in a way that she couldn’t place. She could feel herself drying out, like a sponge left outside on a Dorrad day and a deep unease began to take root in her gut. It started to remind her of…

The tethered shook her head and refocused and, dimly, she sensed a second set of ruins, much closer than the first, but mere moments passed before it hit her - it overwhelmed her. Marci’s eyes bugged out. “Now!” she shouted, pointing about ninety degrees from where she’d started. The sun occupied a completely different position in the sky and she’d struggled to get her bearings. “That way!” If one squinted into the distance, the horizon looked strange and hazy. “SANDSTORM!!!”

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Action Opportunities

S U R V I V E

Welcome to the fifth chapter of Primitive. This is a two-parter which will lead quickly into a potential encounter, depending on your choices. To keep things dynamic and fast moving, the opening part will be played out in the discord thread over this weekend. Please see the map in the hider below this one for reference.

❖ You find yourself in a bleak and lifeless desert. Already, people are bickering.
❖ Your supplies consist of the clothes on your back and whatever you were carrying with you.
❖ Marci’s scan was interrupted and you don’t know what lies in the direction of the structures.
❖ There is a sandstorm bearing down upon you from due west. It’s traveling at about 40 km/h.
❖ The leading edge of the storm is about 2 kilometers to the west. You’re in the thick of it at 2.5 kilometers.
❖ The mysterious structures are in a rough continuous line about 3.5 kilometers to the north, barely visible.
❖ There are ruins just inside the current leading edge of the storm. If asked, Marci will reveal them.
❖ Marci has not sensed any active animals, but that does not mean they’re not there. They may be hiding.
❖ These storms have internal winds of 100 km/h, a height of 1000m, and scouring quartzite sand.
❖ However, they seldom last long. If you can run from it fast enough for long enough, you should escape.
❖ The danger is that you’re headed toward nothing and nowhere and you must worry about survival afterward.
❖ Basically, you have four choices: west into the storm and the ruins, north towards the unknown structures, east away from the storm, and south towards the much more distant ruins. You could go bigbrain and try to burrow or fly, but can everyone do that? Some are… more right than others.
❖ You may discuss, but you should act. Time is short both IC and OOC and the deadline is Monday. How will you survive? What will you do?

The Scenario Map

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[YummyYummy]

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Assani 16th

^{Location: Wánggǎng, ReTan
Day of the week: Late Taldes
Time: Night
Characters: Abdel, Maura @Ti, Ingrid @dragonpiece, Niallus @McKennaJ71,
Yalen @Pantothenic, Trypano @A Lowly Wretch, Reekar @Force and Fury,
Kaureerah, Xiulan, Peng, Ming, Zihan}

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♫

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It was Abdel’s turn to be questioned. He felt his stomach sink when he realized the possibilities ahead if he or his Skuggvars were deemed a threat. His nervousness was palpable and his body language said it all. Ming had likely expected as much given the boy’s age and the intelligence he had on hand regarding Varga’s case. The interrogator gestured for the Virangish teen to sit, “Do not be worried, Abdel Varga.” he began, “No charges are being held against you. Our current testimonies clearly show an attempt to help diffuse the situation.” Ming looked Abdel right at the eyes, “The building was not secured, correct?”

Abdel swallowed and nodded, “Yes, there were peo- hostels that I could not sense initially.” he explained, and then quickly added another remark, “They did not hide all traces. My beasts found them.”

Ming took note of the details, especially regarding the beasts, before nodding, “I’ve been told you’re a -” he peered at the little bit of notes he had on Abdel, even if Ming fully knew it all already, he tried not make Abdel feel like he had been a thoroughly scrutinized special case, “Bounty hunter? Investigator?” to which Abdel nodded, “I see, and they caught you off-guard.” he concluded without a tone that could give away his true thoughts on the matter, much to Abdel’s anxiety.

“And your beasts - Skuggvars? - What use are they to you?” Abdel gulped and scratched his cheek at the question, feeling as though he and his girls’ fate could be hanging on this answer, “U-uhm. They’re excellent trackers. Especially if they taste the blood their prey.” Ming furrowed his eyebrows at that detail, nonverbally demanding an elaboration, “Anywhere. They can track someone almost anywhere with a few drops of blood. They, uh,” he knitted his hands together over his thighs, “used to hunt Skuggvars if someone got injured by them, because they’d always be found.”

Ming nodded, “Do you believe yourself capable of using these animals to find those responsible for this evening’s events?” Abdel nodded too with increased enthusiasm, “Yes! I’ve already given one of them a sample. Unless they’ve left the continent, there’s no running from the Skuggs.”

Ming smiled, “Good.”

---

Red Light District Lads

Rikard went briefly to his room, grabbing a knapsack full of... things. They weren't being chaperoned and he was not about to waste the opportunity. Besides, after what he'd seen today, and what he'd done, he was not about to be able to sleep... for a long time. He gripped the straps of his bag tightly, maybe too tightly, but it distracted him.

He'd... killed people, and it had been so easy. He'd felt cool for a second, like some sort of hero of legend, descending from the clouds on pillars of lightning. It was the horribly burned and maimed woman whose image stuck with him. In the middle of his thoughts, she just appeared there again, unbidden and unwelcome. He could still smell the stench of burnt human flesh. But she healed herself. She was fine. She was also the badguy, he remembered.

He ran a last check of his room in the candlelit gloom and turned towards the door. 'Badguy' from our perspective, he reminded himself. That was what Jochem, his tutor, had always said: "everyone's the hero in their own mind." The thing was, Rikard wasn't sure. He needed the fresh air. He needed to be somewhere nice. He needed... maybe to run this experiment. He'd see later. He opened his door into the courtyard and... he wasn't alone.

Abdel didn't fare too much better than Rikard. The guilt wasn't as heavy, however, as it was his Skuggvars that administered punishment rather than himself. But he had hurt his own friends and colleagues. It truly made him doubt if we was cut out for any of it, and if the arrogant thought of ever taming such beasts was going to get people killed. Maura wasn't too far from the house too. A quill could've hit her. The thought was pure agony to even remotely ponder.

The beasts were put in a pen, fed and administered with a sedative to help them sleep. The stable connected to the courtyard where he found himself taking in the fresh air at his lonesome. Sometimes he missed night like these - the silence of the desert under the clear Torragonese sky. Perched from the grand Naranja, he had his happy place. The cool nightly air of Rettan made of acceptable substitute.

“Hey, Ricky.” greeted the taller teen with a wave. He stood from the decorative rock and stepped closer to the baby of the group, “Can't sleep too?”

Rikard shook his head. "Hah! Not even close. Never actually... fought people like that... you know, in real life, and like..." he rolled his eyes in a non-mirthful manner, not quite sure what to say next. "it was a shit show, right?" He shook his head but lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "I don't think these people know what they're doing anymore than we do."

Niallus tried to gather his thoughts inside his and Ingrids room. However he was unsuccessful. First it was how much of a disaster when they tried to help Abdel only to get caught in a trap then attacked by his Skugvars. He was kinda relieved that himself and Ingrid walked out of it with minor injuries and Abdel got to keep both of his Skugvars. Then there was what Ming and Zihan informed him, about one member of his group being a traveller agent.

Just the thought of it made his stomach twist. At first he wondered if it was something to do with his mother since she is an agent herself, but it doesn't seem that is the reason. He wanted to ask Ingrid or even Maura for assistance on this matter, but he was against it, in case it went wrong. Could that be why they told him not to tell anyone, incase it put them in danger perhaps. He needed some air, needed some time to process this.

He left the room still keeping hold of the flare that they gave him, as a precaution. There are two people that he doesn't really know that well, while another he's not very fond of. "How do I go about this thing..." he mumbles to himself, however he notices both Rikard and Abdel. He smiles and waves at them. "Seems I'm not the only one." he says to both of them.

“It was a first for me too, in a way.” Abdel shoved his hands in his pockets, as the cool air of night was getting to him and he tried to play it cool overall, especially as the older kid, “But yeah, a shitshow. Kind of feel like I had a hand in this.” an awkward titter escaped him as her scratched the back of his head.

Then came Niallus, an adult and dethroner of Abdel's ivory tower of being the older kid for once. “Hey.” he briefly waved his hand out of his pocket before getting it nice and snug back in there, “So ... You guys want to raid those fancy gardens in town? Or do you have better ideas in mind?”

Rikard shrugged. "Seems like we've all had a day, hey guys?" He swung over the balustrade and floated gently down into the courtyard. He grinned up at them. "And, if you're up for a bit of an adventure that doesn't involve literal life or death, there's a place I been scoping out. Huge pagoda in one of the parks. Vendor who sold me some stuff told me it has a view of..." he paused, trying to get the pronunciation right. "BaiLong Shan, whatever that means."

"Seems like it." Niallus didn't really care, but it'd be nice to hang out with others, also get a chance to have a look around, without someone breathing down their necks like some crazy babysitter. "I'm down." He says, nodding his head.

Abdel bend over a little as Rikard shared his mark with the two others. The prospect of a fun but relaxed adventure brought a childish grin to the Virangish's face, “I'm in.” he stood straight once more and pondered for a moment, “BaiLong Shan ...” he repeated the term a couple more times, “A natural landmark maybe?”

"Only one way to find out," the baby of the group said with a grin though, if anyone called him such he'd have instantly gone into conniptions over it. They made their way through the city, then, hoods up to avoid drawing attention as random foreigners. Before long, the trio of youths found themselves passing through an area of the city with narrow winding streets. There were still lights on over here and people about. Many lanterns hung from windows, as well, virtually all of them red, and there were a good number of pretty women inside, some with dressed that exposed all of their shoulders and the tops of their breasts. Rikard was better than that. He didn't need to stare. That said, they'd been walking for some time and popping inside one of these bars for a quick drink might not have been a bad idea…

Niallus looked at the pretty women, some even gave a subtle wave to the group. "I wonder why you scouted out this place." he says with a touch of sarcasm.

"I-it's just on the way!" stammered Rikard, nonplussed. "You can't seriously think I knew everything on the way. I mean, I've never even been here before," he added defensively. "We can just keep going," he concluded, "though we'll need to stop for a drink at some point. I'm kind of thirsty, to be honest."

Niallus squinted, finding it a little difficult to believe him. "Sure..." he said with a smile. Looking back to the bar, then back to Rikard. "Actually, I could go for a drink. So I don't mind going in for a quick drink."

Abdel didn't even try to look away as they passed through the red light district. Old habits die hard. “Just a drink, okay? I kind of want to,” his eyes were taken by a nearly topless dancer he could barely see through a half-opened door, “see that Pagoda view. What if we miss the right timing to see that thingie-ma-bob?”

Rikard assured the others that it would be quick. He found what looked like a bar and walked in, a mysterious hooded figure flanked by two smaller mysterious hooded figures. He imagined he looked pretty cool, actually. He imagined walking up to the bar and ordering a... Wait a second, do they even drink beer here? Do I even really like beer?

He paused in wonder. It was... not a bar as he was accustomed to. Sure, it was dim and hazy inside, filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and conversation, but there were numerous small lounge areas. Men of many stripes lounged about in them, as one might expect, drinking and smoking...it wasn't bakeleaf, but something else. What caught his eye the most, however were the women.

There were just... boobs. Just there and freely on display and he had never seen them before like this. He felt fascinated. He felt like a dirty pervert and momentarily averted his eyes. He blinked, unsure what to do, any aura of 'cool' deserting him like cake from a fat man's plate. The women walked around in various states of clothedness. The men, as well, were sometimes half-naked. He most certainly averted his eyes as a couple turned to glance his way.

Right... drinks. There was a bar of a sort at one end. Rikard quickly made his way there, trying for 'purposeful' over 'hurried'. He remembered the word for 'drink': Yǐnliào, and the one for 'water': Shuǐ. He started to slide into a stool and opened his mouth to catch the bartender's attention, but he happened to glance at the stool beside him. Seated in it, unmistakable, was one of Captain Zhu's men: Peng.

Walking through the crowd of patrons and exotic dancers. Some of the girls greeted him with a smile and a little dance. The boobs didn't seem to have the same hypnotic effect that they had on him, since he sees naked boobs and more on a regular basis. His friend, who was one small step away from drooling. It was kinda funny actually. Niallus did wonder what his girlfriend would look like in one of these sexy outfits.

Sitting down at one of the stools next Rikard, who eyes just darted from one lovely lady to another. "You seem to be enjoying the view." he said to him with mischievous smirk. He noticed that Rikard stopped looking around and was just staring in one general person. "Isn't that Peng, the one who almost died? You think we can let him join us?" he whispers to Rikard

So. Many. Tiddies.

Especially the big ones, oh did Abdel stare at those. Very little self-awareness on his part, and the girls likely took notice of this foreigner ogling far too much for his own good. And yes, he did have a girlfriend, but how could he fight instinct? It was just looking, after all. No harm, right?

When they took a seat, and he too had a notion of drinks, albeit perhaps not what he'd want, “Shaojiu, guys?” he whispered, unknowingly requesting some of the strongest drinks out there, and the Baijiu in this establishment likely was pretty strong by how dank it was. Then, Peng came to his attention. He recognized that body all too well, and the still sore neck he had reconstructed just a few hours ago, “Could be a good way to make friends among the guys with authority.” and so the next time gazes between Abdel and Peng crossed, he'd raise a thumbs up.

Peng Tao had already enjoyed some of this place's female company. He was also already well into his cups by the time that the three hooded figures took seats surrounding him. The guardian tensed up. He couldn't see their faces and he was about to reach out with his magic sense when he noticed that one was unusually tall. He saw a wispy little bit of peach fuzz poking out from the hood of another, and then darker skin on the third. These were his charges! He looked over at the last and received a thumbs-up in return. Tao glanced their way. "Hall-lo," he began, with one of only two Avincian words that he knew. "你在这里做什么？" (What are you doing here?) he muttered bemusedly afterwards.

Taking one of the glasses of booze that was offered to him and his two companions. Niallus took a little sip, it tasted a bit bitter, other than that it was good. When Peng spoke, he had a bit of a drunken slur on his words. "Hello. You trying to unwind after today?" he asks him, to try to be a bit friendly to him.

Peng blinked and smiled tentatively, even nervously. "对不起。我不明白。" (Sorry, I don't understand you.) he replied. He glanced about, taking in the other two as well. "你们有人会说中文吗？" (Do any of you speak Retanese?)

Feeling like there is a language barrier, still it was worth a try. Niallus grabs another one of the drinks, gently sliding it across the table towards Peng.

Abdel tightened his facial features in light second-hand embarrassment for Niallus. The Virangish teen raised his hand to drawn the attention toward him, “我们不睡觉，所以我们呼吸新鲜空气。(We not sleep, so we get fresh air.)” and then, at a brief loss for the right words, also waved the beverage they were drinking to indicate they were also enjoying the drinks, “Do we ask about the Pagoda, guys?” he asked the fellow Constantians in a non-conspiratorial or conspicuous manner.

Between the drink offered and finding that he could - kind of - communicate with Abdel, Peng suddenly became very talkative. The words came tumbling out and it was all that Abdel could do to somewhat keep up. Things like, 'very good day' and 'no sleep' and 'fucking rebels' could be heard, but he seemed to pause and narrow his eyes in recognition at Abdel. "是你。你治好了我的脖子，是吗？" (It was you. You fixed my neck, didn't you?) he shook his head, still reaching back a bit tentatively and rubbing it. "我欠你一杯酒... 或者一个人情," (I owe you a drink or a favour.) he offered, holding out his hand.

Abdel could only nod and hum a few uh-huh's at the verbal diarrhea, all with a very forced smile. Given that he was getting the most attention, he scooted closer to Peng, arms crossed over his knees as he leaned forward. “Ah.” Abdel nodded when he realized the transition to gratefulness from the young soldier, “这是一个人会做的。(It is what one would do.)” he replied, a little flustered with nervous cheek scratches. He had half a mind to wave his hand in dismissal over the over, but then again, he truthfully wasn't sure if that'd be seen as rude. Abdel was by no means an expert of the local culture, “我的朋友里卡德说那里有美丽的塔楼。(My friend Rikard says theres beautiful tower building.)” the term pagoda, even in Avincian, had escaped him briefly, snapping his fingers as he gave vague variants of what could possibly illustrate a Pagoda. “Pagoda ... Bǎotǎ?”

Rikard leaned in right then, hearing the work 'pagoda', and decided to try some Retanese of his own. "我们看...白龙山?" (We can see... White Dragon Mountain?)

Peng just sort of narrowed his eyes at first, as the others spoke and gestured, his drunken mind trying and not strictly succeeding at processing what they were attempting to communicate. Then, it clicked all at once. "对对对对对对!" he exclaimed. "这里是观赏那座山的最佳位置。有些晚上，运气好的话，还能看到白龙。" (This is the best place to see that mountain. Some nights, if you are lucky, you can see the white dragon.) He shook his head. "如果你想去那里，你应该现在就离开。最好在月亮高的时候去。(If you want to go, you should leave now. It is best to go when the moon is high." he paused and hiccupped drunkenly. "真的，你不应该去，但我不会说什么……这次。" (really, you shouldn't, but I won't say anything... this time.)

Abdel did his best to translate what he was getting from the young survivor. Things like 'Long' for dragon were pretty obvious, and Yueliang for moon. “Xiexie.” Abdel lowered his head in a light bow as he got the favour Peng was making them. Then, he raised his glass and spoke Avincian, “One more for the road?” he made the intention of a final, celebratory drink before they would leave.

“I won't lie, guys, I'm pretty stoked to see a special white dragon.” said Abdel, pumped and maybe a tad tipsy from the strong drinks, “Let's quickly slip by before we encounter some other, less grateful duder.”

Between sipping his drink, listening to the others have their conversation and looking at the dancers. Niallus didn't know what his company were saying.

"I kind of want to see it too. Also I agree with you about another encounter." he responds to Abdel.

Rikard had tried to keep his eyes under control. It had been a weird mix of terror and arousal until Peng had shaken Abdel's hand and the former had faded. The youngest member of the group was starting to feel considerably out of his depth, however. It was just... they were so pretty. He could just pay a little bit of money and touch them and... He felt kind of dirty. Something about that just didn't seem right. but then was he judging the people who did unfairly? If these women were making money for themselves in return, then wasn't it a win-win? But what if they were being coerced or exploited? What if...

“Let's quickly slip by before we encounter some other, less grateful duder.”

That cut through Rikard's haze of thought and spared him any further cognitive dissonance. He shook his head to clear it. He looked around. People had noticed that they were foreign now. A few whispered among themselves but, even if he amplified their speech, he still wouldn't be able to understand it. With unusual bravery, the boy drained his foul-tasting drink and rose. "Agreed. Let's get to the pagoda!"

There was little to prevent them from reaching their destination or delay them along the way, except for their own navigation. Rikard proved next to useless in this regard, but they had the light of five partial moons to navigate by and the songs of crickets. A cool late rezain wind cut through their clothing occasionally to chill the three youths, but they had arcane magic to solve the issue. After a journey of some twenty minutes more - the pagoda had turned out to be much further and much larger than initial estimates - they found themselves at the foot of a walled garden. All five of the great wooden gates were closed. The inside was silent and serene. Lit with only a handful of lanterns, the great pagoda rose over a mirrorlike surface of a small lake.

The park was clearly closed, but even Peng, a guardian, had known of the spot. He'd... tacitly given them permission, right? The question now became: to slip in or respect the closed gates after all that journey?

Abdel himself wasn't the most coordinated after chugging two strong alcohols, when normally he'd be the one to show the way. At least Niallus could still walk straight. When they arrived at the sealed off garden, Abdel leaned forward and brushed the tip of his pointer finger onto the wooden gate. Then, he shrugged and began to bind the wood into something pliable enough to just sneak through, “Let's goooo! I don't want to miss the fancy dragon.” he would then restore the gate behind them once they all trespassed.

Making sure that the other two didn't get lost Niallus had to keep a constant eye on both of them, he felt a little like a babysitter. Once at the wall Niallus couldn't help but ask this. "So Rikard did enjoy the sights in that little club you can always sneak back on another day." he says with a smirk.

"'Bout as much as you did," the scrawny boy shot back, walking through the door. Within seconds, all three were inside, and Rikard drunkenly remembered to sweep the surrounding area for energies, picking up some small animals and a single human signature walking up and down another path in a clear patrol pattern. "VCareful," he warned, "I think there's a guard down that way." He pointed, but couldn't see anything.

Then, he sensed it coming from behind and above: a whole swarm of tiny chemical signatures, and a bit of arcane too. He turned, already starting to draw, but there was no need for panic. In various hues of orange, red, purple, and pink, a flight of 火梅 - Huǒ méi, or Fireplum - moths drifted overhead, their bioluminescent wings fluttering gently under the light of the moons. For a good while, Rikard was enraptured, following their flight with his eyes as they faded into the distance by the great pagoda, becoming little more than specks.

Two more minutes of walking and they were there. A handful of human energies were waiting at the top already, some three hundred feet above them, and the door seemed to be unlocked. Rikard reached out with what little sonic magic he knew to amplify their voices for the others. "看：红色闪烁！开始了！" (Look: red flashing! Here we go!)

A three-hundred foot tower and maybe thirty seconds to reach the top. This, then, was Rikard's challenge.

“Pretty.” Abdel whispered as he saw the moths dance in the air, “But no legendary dragon.” his sights were set on the Pagoda. Now, to scale it from inside, or from above? He reached out with the gift to stakeout the innards of the tall edifice, only to detect the same people Rikard had, “Red light?” Abdel interpreted the words, curious as to what they might mean, “Whatever it is, it's happening now. Shit!” it was up high, and the Tethered power had foolishly thought himself good enough to pass on Kinetic for now. All he really had was Magnetic, and a confident Rikard!

Niallus looking up to where they need to be, they don't have long, seems Rikard and Abdel have their own way of getting up. "We better hurry, we don't have long."

Niallus will have to rely on his his Kinetic Magic in order to rapidly climb up.

As Niallus climbed, Rikard could've floated, but that would've meant leaving Abdel behind, and you just don't do that to your crew. "I've got this." He smirked and drew in all of the energy that he could, imbuing both his shoes and a stretch of the pagoda walls with magnetic charges. "You know the rest, right?" His grin grew even larger and sloppier. "Race you to the top! Last one there has to tell their girlfriend they went to a tiddy bar!" With that, he took off at a sprint.

“Wait.” Abdel realized as he fine-tuned the charged choose with his own thunderchild-touch, and even gave Rikard a courtesy adjustment and prevent potential shoe damage, “You don't have a girlfriend!” whisper-shouted Abdel as he sprinted behind Rikard. Bless the white aberration for the functional feet!

Rikard grinned back at him. "I know! Isn't it great?" The little shit even stuck his tongue out.

Niallus couldn't help but pitch in. "He could, if he asked Ayla since they are quite close" he smirked

Maybe the comment distracted Rikard. Maybe it didn't. Regardless, he finished last by a hair to Abdel and nearly threw up on the way. Keep it down. Keep it in, he counseled himself. "Well, it ain't gonna happen now!" he crowed in response to Niallus, though he secretly thought about Ayla and wondered... Maybe, actually... maybe! She was kind of cool and they'd seen a lot of each other and... well, he decided that maybe he should ask someone older how to actually recognize if a girl likes you. She was the daughter of a duke, after all, and way above a lowly baron like his father was.

♫

Then, they were there. The people at the top were just four young Retanese. After initially startling them, a few words of excited chatter, and mutual nods and waves of greeting, they all turned their eyes to what could only be Bailong Shan: a vast snowcapped mountain that rose from the rocky highlands north of the city, singular, mighty, and pristine.

"这每月只发生一次," (This only happens once a month,) said one of the other observers, as reddish lights began to flash and Rikard recognized them as dozens of small explosions. "什么?" Rikard offered, pointing to the strange phenomenon and using one of the roughly dozen Retanese words he'd learned over the past two days. "那些是法术力生物，被称为红色杀手," (Those are mana slimes, known as red killers,) offered a smallish girl with oversized glasses, perhaps skeptical that he'd understand. "他们住在那座山上，成长很快。当龙醒来并喷火时，它们都会爆炸," (They live on that mountain and grow very fast. When the dragon wakes up and breathes fire, they all explode,) offered a second, eagerly. "当有东西挤压它们时，它们也会爆炸。" (They also explode when something squishes them.)

Then, there was only the show. A colossal jet of flame burst through the glacier and its remains sloughed away down the mountainside, triggering further brilliant red explosions as more mana slimes detonated. A long, low, groan echoed from the distance, miles away, only now reaching the group, and it seemed like the entire summit of the mountain moved. A massive head emerged and, then a long, serpentine body, not too dissimilar from a Royal Sand Wyrm's and, to Abdel's shock, every bit as large. The immense creature coiled around the mountaintop for a moment, as white as the snow that remained there. Then, with a mighty surge of momentum, it launched itself into the sky like an arrow and, without wings, continued to fly, shooting up through the clouds and disappearing. For the next minute of so, the clouds flashed and rumbled with lightning, and rain lashed at the mountain.

Then, the show was over, and the White Dragon King had gone wherever it had gone to do whatever it was that dragons did. The other four began clapping and speaking excitedly, in rapid short bursts. "舅舅估计已经在上山的路上了," (my uncle is probably already on his way up the mountain) Abdel was somewhat able to catch, or at least something about an uncle, up, and a mountain. "有风险..." (Risky...) chided another. "如果他不被抓到，他就会发财," (If he doesn't get caught, he'll be rich,) countered a third. Just how much Abdel understood was unclear to the others but, as the display ended and the other group departed with small waves and friendly calls of "再见" (Zàijiàn - goodbye), Rikard turned to him in eager expectance.

Abdel needed to catch his breath. He hadn't run like this since ... He never did, actually. And it was exhilarating! At the peak ,of the Pagoda, he needed a moment to sit onto the large tiles nearby, barely noticing the youths that greeted them. He felt like his guts were going to spill, more out of exertion than the drink. However, the role of scuffed translator never ended and so he stood again and approached the second group with a continuous, stifled pant.

His brown eyes were the completely fixed on the mountain and the lightshow to come. The sheer volume gave him vertigo, and the massive dragon blasting through the landmark nearly had the slightly disoriented Abdel fall over from his sitting position. “Woah ...” hypnotized by the grand show before him, he needed a little pinch to actually catch some of what the Rettanese youths were saying. It was one hell of a challenge for Abdel, but he managed to get something.

“Zaijian!” Abdel waved back, and looked at his Constantian peers, hinting for them to do as he did. Once they were gone, he'd offer his summary, “They said something about an uncle going to the mountain, and getting rich.” he crossed his arms and looked at the recently 'attacked' mountain, “Although it might be dangerous.” and then he paused for a moment as he tried to recall unique words, “There were mana somethings that exploded from fire and crushing them. Like mana soups or something?” he shrugged, the word 'slime' being a bit out there for him, “But yeah, kaboom the things!”

Niallus made it to the top first. He waited for the other two to climb up. "That was fun." he said catching his breath.

Looking at the view, Niallus couldn't help but marvel at the amazing view. "Wow...This view is amazing." he says in awe. This is one of those moments that you will would remember for the years to come. However it seemed that they weren't alone up there. Some Retannese kids were there too, both Abdel and Rikard seemed to discuss with them. "This was great." he said to Abdel and Rikard. Abdel mentioned that Zaijian was goodbye in Retannese, so Niallus said it to the other kids.

[Echotech71]

Niallus Saberhagen

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Event: Metropolis | Location: Wanggang, ReTan

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Part II

---

It was Niallus's turn to be questioned by Ming and Zihan. However, to him there wasn't really much he could tell them since he was in a burning building. "You want my statement of course." he cleared his throat then continued. "Nothing really much to say really. When we sensed the Manas around Abdel we decided to break in a try to help him, however me and Ingrid were trapped inside as the building burst in flame while most of them escaped. I don't think they expected us, I think they were expecting you. Considering how fast they left that building." his tone was calm while explaining.

"Only two stayed behind to try to deal with us, but they were immediately immobilized by the Abdels Skugvars. Even myself and Ingrid were injured by them".

"Ingrid wanted to freeze the place to keep most of it intact, so I helped with that, we froze the two people, as well as a Skugvar, by accident Then again we were even attacked by them. It seems they used something on them to make them more aggressive. We tried to subdue it without killing it, but it was tough. Even Abdel couldn't calm it down."

"Anyway the two we managed to capture were killed by this flash of light. Not sure what type of magic that caused it. Apart from that, that's pretty much all I have to offer."

Niallus had to be questioned by both Ming and Zihan, and so he waited to be last among the group, but he was not so special as he thought and there was a method to things in Retan, unlike the chaotic lands he had come from.

"A flash of light, you say?" Ming stroked his chin. "Interesting. I'd not heard anything about there being something visual to the attack." The lieutenant knew some words of Avincian himself, but they were not enough, and so he was left to rely on a translator. "Perhaps there was more than one..." He trailed off. Aside from the light - perhaps an artifact of his perception due to the stunning nature and intense energy - there was nothing new in this one's report. A follower, Ming decided. The sort to make Old Guard and perhaps even lieutenant, for he is certainly strong, but the sort who takes orders instead of giving them. Perhaps he would be useful. "Niallus," the lieutenant began, "I would like nothing more than to catch these people who so willingly endanger others for their misbegotten crusade." He pursed his lips as the translator did her work. "However, we must first know who we can trust, and the reason that your group is being held at... arm's length, so to speak, is that we have been given cause to believe there is a double agent among you." His eyes narrowed. "I would like you to find out who this is for me." He extracted something from a small bag that had been slung over his shoulder this entire time. It appeared to be... some sort of firework. "Once you have, at 20:00 in the evening on any night, light this off at your location and I will come. In addition to saving lives, you may count on a rich reward of a more... concrete nature." He smiled professionally. "I need not remind you, of course, that this conversation is to be kept strictly confidential."

Niallus eyes widen with shock. "A Traitor?"
He shook his head, at the idea at first, plus would he really have what it takes to turn them in? "I'll... I'll try." He says softly taking the flare that was given to him, then puts it away. "One question, what if I can't find anything that proves any of them to be a spy? " he asks them.

Ming leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Zen you are fail." He started to pull back but paused, thinking. "Look for some way zey to contact zeir boss. He that have zis, I sink, is ze traitor." He shook his head. "Zis sing zat happen here is not luck. We look zis place many monthes. Someone to cause zis fight on purpose, I sink. To let you to be part of it on purpose. It was a trap. Zere is a traitor."

---

Later that night after the little adventure Pagoda and our three people Niallus, Abdel and Rikard.

Ingrid was in her room waiting for Niallus to come home from whatever he was going out for. Maybe he had a nice time or gained something from his time, Ingrid thought as she wrote some very improper Eskandish. She threw out her senses every few minutes to check for him. Once he appeared she traced his collarbone with her kinetic magic to let him know she was still up.

Feeling Ingrid's magic, this made Niallus smile. "I guess she's still awake.". Upon arrival back at the Inn, Niallus said farewell to both Rikard and Abdel for the night, hopefully they aren't too hungover, from the alcohol. He opened the door to his and Ingrid's room, where she was there to greet him. "Hi Hun, I'm sorry if I made you worry."

"Maybe a little," Ingrid teased, she was already in bed and in her nightwear. She told him to come over with a finger. "So..." Ingrid paused as she smelt alcohol and perfume, "How was your time out?"Niallus walked over to the bed, to sit down on it. "It's been, interesting." he began taking off his boots. "I went on an adventure around with Rikard and Abdel. Rikard decided to take us to a strip club.""A strip club?" Ingrid questioned as she helped him get ready for bed.

Niallus nodded, "It was only for a quick drink. Don't worry, you are way more sexy in my eyes." he said with a smile. "There is more but I'd like to know what you got up to?" he asked as she helped him get ready.Ingrid blushed slightly, "Well, I guess that's okay then. And for me?" Ingrid seemed to get lost in some thought, "A lot of stuff," Ingrid held him from behind, "Lay down with me."

As they laid Ingrid cuddled into him, kissing him as they settled in. Half because she wanted to feel him, half because it would hopefully deter onlookers. "What's your thought on all this, what happened today, searching to snuff out the traveler agent."While laid there hold her close to him, he lets out a sigh. "I think we haven't really been doing that much at all when it comes to looking for this agent. The only chance that we get and we got, and we get injured in the chaos." he holds her tighter. "Honestly, I kinda wished it was going better."Niallus seemed more focused on the mission and she couldn't fault him on that. In the last fight they floundered and could have been killed. "I'm just not as sure about things. I learnt some of the plights that people face here to have this place." She seemed unsure, "... I think Y knows more but whether to press it I'm not sure." Ingrid was deeply uncomfortable with the decision.

She weakly smiled, "was there anything of interest on your end? Maybe something for us to do tomorrow."He kisses her forehead, to make her feel better, "Don't worry my love, hopefully we'll have better luck in future. But we can ask Y more about it, I'll be there with you." he smiles while he holds her close. In an attempt to make her feel better.
"The other thing that happened was something that we were supposed to see and that was something known as The White Dragon King. From what we saw it was a giant dragon, breathing streams of fire. That lit up the night sky, it was awesome. It only lasted for a short moment then the dragon took off."
"That might be something to check tomorrow. You never know in Retan, the greater the public appeal the deeper the roots seem to go," Ingrid said somewhat conspiratorially. She was starting to get in her head more and eventually just placed her head on Niallus's, "You mind helping me asleep?"
Niallus wondered what she meant by that. "Seems you've had a pretty rough night here." but he didn't want to push her, since she looked completely drained, nervous from talking about it. When she asked to help her get to sleep. Placing the cover over both of them. His fingers run through her hair, to comfort her. "Let's get some sleep, then we can discuss this, sometime tomorrow."

[dragonpiece]

Event: Metropolis

---

Aftermath of the Fight

What a disaster, Ingrid sighed as the last of the Skugvars quills were removed. She overestimated her own ability and underestimated Abdel's skill as a tamer. Luckily they didn't do enough much harm to warrant them being put down. Either way, Ingrid's efforts bore little results. The captives were silenced, most likely temporal or a deal with some demon. The building was burned and all she had to show for this was a burnt letter confirming their intentions and giving hints that the person who fought on toe with Lu Wong was the help they asked for. Not that she could be sure. For all they know, they could have been the vanguard, making way for more.

Ingrid felt pain prick her as she gave the interview, apparently not getting rid of all the irritant. "I followed Brother Yalen's lead on this," Ingrid told Zihan, "Our companion Abdel was in there when the inn burst into flame. I rushed in to get him out of there. In the confusion his animals must have been manipulated and attacked me and Niallus." gesturing to the needles she had removed. "I attempted to freeze the things in the building to hopefully preserve the building and put a quick end to the situation, but I failed," Ingrid sighed, "My other objective was to preserve the evidence that may lay there," Ingrid offered the burnt letter she found, "It's not much but I think person who fought the Exemplar is the help they were looking for. Other than that, their might be some ties to other groups that question the government based on the what can be read."

"Some of your peers are under the impression that this was a chance find - that we'd not have known had your leader not taken action." Zihan shook her head, not bothering to look up to meet Ingrid's eyes. "I will tell you this, though: it wasn't. It was a trap, purposely set, and one that you were led into." She accepted the paper and rolled it up, shooting a glare at the translator as the mousy girl hesitated. "This is evidence." She held it up and shook her head a second time, tightly. "The only thing you could've done differently - the only count on which you failed - was getting involved in the first place."

Now, Zihan met the much taller woman's gaze, and she did not seem small in comparison. "Our enemies are trying to use you - wildcard that you newcomers are - to foul up an investigation months in the making." She clasped her hands. "There is a vast conspiracy here and we have only probed at the very edges of it. Simply put, it is incumbent upon us to use you first and use you better, before they can." The lieutenant tucked the rolled-up paper into a satchel that she carried. "The only other option is eliminate you, and that is also something they would like, so I've no intention of doing it." Her eyes narrowed, however, and she dismissed the translator now that they were finished. She turned on a heel and made to walk away, before tapping Ingrid on the shoulder. "Ze problem is zat you has the traitor in you group," she whispered. Her Avincian was passable enough for this purpose. She pulled out a signal flare from her back. "You use zis when you to find him. Hour twenty in ze night. We work togezer and stop zis bad man. You do you's job. I do my. You get much ze good sings."

Ingrid took the flare, thinking about who the traitor could be. She had a few ideas but nothing solid enough to act on. She nodded her head.

Zihan nodded in return and offered a supportive smile. "Sank you," she whispered, and there they parted.

She returned to the inn and started with cleaning herself. Of course it was a trap, how set up could it get, Ingrid shook her head as she unwound. The Exemplar, the gray guard, the location, they wanted to show us. We intervened and it caused the carefully created facade of safety to turn into pure chaos and the government didn’t even get much out of it. I’m sure the mess will be pinned fully on us. Ingrid rolled her eyes at the thought but it was whatever at this point. She knew that any mistakes were on us. And in truth we were over zealous to help and solve this.

But now there is a supposed traitor. It made her uncomfortable to think of her teammates like that so soon but it was undeniably a chance though it seemed slim to Ingrid. I trust Niallus isn’t. He’s a bleeding heart but he wouldn’t put me in danger without some warning. Yalen feels like he could be with his condition but I can’t be sure, most likely not though. Trypano is hard, we saw the gods could change form at will, and I know the traveler can. If the offer was made to advance her studies to great heights I could see her doing it though I don’t even think the gods knew what to do with her so most likely not, Ingrid chuckled even considering her. I don’t even know if the Traveler has that level of weird tolerance.

Ingrid now started to seriously consider people. Maura. She is low RAS and disabled. Though she certainly isn’t underprivileged. She seems trusted by her family, has family and personal wealth, and has land in Retan that I’m sure she wouldn’t want to lose. But above all that, she is more than willing to partake in subterfuge and there is no one here other than Abdel she would care to lose, some she may actively want gone. Ingrid felt uncomfortable because she knew that she could be on that list if it was her and with how she acted, Ingrid felt increasingly wary. Ingrid moved on, no need to keep on it, The rest don’t seem of note. Abdel is not cowardly but I don’t think he would have worked so hard to keep people alive if it was him. Rikard is suspicious for his resemblance and how the Violet Enclave reacted to him, otherwise nothing on him. Kaureerah was the most unknown to Ingrid, she seemed friendly to Ayla so there is a real chance that she may be a sympathizer like Ayla comes off as. Apparently she ran off as well so she is very suspicious but nothing akin to real evidence. Eaiko seems to really like water, at the trials some slept in a fountain so maybe it was something like that. Ingrid wasn’t fully on board with the I just wanted water idea. She isn’t even sure anybody is a traitor and this could just get people to fight against each other. She sighed as if she was done thinking about it for now.

Unsightly Revelations

Everyone had gone off, but Ingrid decided to snoop around the inn. No one is here after all. Plus there is Yin to talk to with her magical Speaktrout. There even seems to be a little one following her. Ingrid takes the action figure just in case she needs a child distractor.

As she wound her way toward the energy figure that had to be Yin, there was the unmistakable signature of Chemical Magic being used on the child who was with her. Then, there were sonic traces - quiet, whispered ones - and the small person scampering off to another room, seeming to pause and blunder a good few times along the way. Yin rushed over to guide them momentarily before rushing back, closer to Ingrid, seeming to resume her 'normal' task of dishwashing.

Seems there was a little child running around. It was odd that chemical magic was being used. Ingrid walked up to Yin, "Hello Yin," Ingrid smiled, "Child keeping you busy?"

Yin's eyes widened and she all-but recoiled from Ingrid. "I... uh..." Her eyes went to the... talking fish!? She stared at it, unbelieving before blinking a couple of times and gathering herself. "Um, child?" she asked. "Oh, yes. You mean Yong. He is my little brother. Very small, very shy."

Ingrid can't help but giggle at Yin's reaction, "It is quite the remarkable fish. Try speaking into it, it can turn your speech into any language!" Ingrid excitedly offered. A little embarrassed that she failed to determine the size of the kid. "I'm sorry, your brother. Where I come from people get big real quick. Do you want to call him over? I'm sure he would want to see the fish," Ingrid offered, ever curious why she seemed so startled. The kid seemed to enjoy running around, not exactly shy.

Yin regarded her cautiously and took her offer of the speaktrout. "I, umm... it is well past his bedtime anyhow." The magical fish translated it all after a moment. Yin's words were Retanese to herself and their closest equivalent in... Eskandish to Ingrid. The Eskandr's Avincian, in turn, became Retanese to Yin. "This is... pretty amazing, though, if I have to be honest." An almost childish sort of curiosity came over her then. "Where did you get it?" she asked. "How does it work? Magic, right?"

Meanwhile, from behind the door, there were small footsteps: stealthy, but not as stealthy as they perhaps thought they were.

Ingrid nodded in agreed excitement, "In the magic city of Ersand'Ernise, there is an auction where items from across the world are sold! You can find anything there. For how it works!" Ingrid picks it up like she was showing it off, pressing in places, "Originally I thought it was crafted by a group of master mages, ones who had learned all the languages in the world and binded it together to make it. But I don't think that's it! If you feel around when it is speaking it is like moving internally!" Ingrid gestured for her to feel it. Maybe all this exciting talk will lure in the sneaky child. Come young one, can you resist the awesome talking fish?!

Yin was... not so excited to carefully feel over the fish, in truth, preferring to simply admire its ingenuity and perhaps speak into it. "You know, I can speak some Nikanese into it," she chirped, and it worked even for this foreign tongue and with her rather thick accent. "Hey, do you know any other languages?" Yin prodded, holding a smile at bay.

Then, came the sound of small footsteps, and she froze. "勇，该睡觉了！已经过了你的就寝时间。" The fish, however, translated it all: Yong, it's time to sleep! it's past your bedtime.

"I'll be right back," Yin promised. "Yong needs to be in bed. He has school in the morning." There was a small voice from the other side of the door, however, and the fish picked that up too. "Yin, can I come see? Pleeeease? It sounds really fun."

Ingrid lured out the kid and couldn't help but enjoy the current situation. "Alright," Ingrid initially agreed but upon hearing the little ones request, "You know Yin, this may be Yong's only chance to see it, maybe a few more minutes wouldn't be that bad." Ingrid was no mother but a few missing some sleep for a new experience seemed worth it, so she merely offered it.

Before Yin could say (yes or) no, the door opened of its own volition. A boy of perhaps eight or nine years old burst through, wearing what appeared to be some sort of festival mask, only... it looked somewhat... feminine. It took Ingrid a moment to remember the small toy she'd been sold by one of the hucksters in the market today. It was the Black Guard Lucky Dragon!

"Huah! Ha! Hand over that fish, giant lady, for I am Lucky Dragon, Black Guard, and I demand to see it!"

Yin looked at the boy, looked at Ingrid, and seemed at once relieved and absolutely horrified, somehow.

How adorable, and the Lucky Dragon mask to boot. The Giant Lady comment irked her but he's just a kid, I'm sure Yin will scold him later for that. Ingrid did a respectful, if not played up, bow to Lucky Dragon. "But of course mighty Black Guard," Ingrid handed it over to him with both hands, "With this one can speak in the tongue of Yasoi to even the great Mountain Hegelans!" Ingrid kept an eye on it after handing it over, kids were notoriously clumsy and she had felt this one pumping into all sorts of things. She gave a look to Yin that she didn't mind the little one.

Yong grabbed the speaktrout with both hands and seemed to almost... be feeling it with his fingers, investigating its shape and contours. Then, he giggled. "Ugh.... eeeewww! It's slimy!" He didn't let go, however. If anything he seemed more amused.

"Yong, you should sit!" warned Yin. "I think the fish is very valuable. Think about how it makes us hear things in languages we understand." In truth, she had noticed that it was quite indiscriminate. It had translated virtually everything within hearing range. It had even reproduced a tiny fart that the boy had let out. Regardless, its little fishy lips kept flapping and it kept speaking in the voices of the people around it. "I am a hegelan and hegelans don't sit!" retorted Yong, and Yin slapped her palm against her forehead in frustration, letting out a hissed sigh. "You know you can't see anything in that mask. You're going to drop it!"

Yong stopped then, and turned vaguely in her direction. For a moment, the air prickled with warning, but nothing happened except for the boy sitting down. "Hey miss, ready to catch a fish?" he joked. Gently but rather suddenly, he lobbed it through the air in Ingrid's direction.

Ingrid spoke in the various languages she knew and some of the phrases she had picked up from the multi-lingual hub that was Ersand'Ernise. It was overall a fun time, watching a kid play with something oh so magical. She noticed that there was some tension and was ever so curious why. Then suddenly the little rebellious boy decided to lob the fish at her! "Wha-" Ingrid face was of pure terror as she threw her hands out to clutch it with telekinesis and pull it to herself.

"Yong! Why?" Ingrid asked in a raised voice, not outwardly furious but concerned about what kind of kid just throws someone's stuff like that. Something has to be going on here.

He looked at her defiantly and then at his older sister. "I can't see anything in this mask," he growled, paraphrasing her words from moments ago, and her face turned ashen. Ingrid could sense Yin's heartrate rising. He turned to Ingrid. "Sorry for throwing your fish. It's really cool." Then, suddenly, he appeared to tense up in pain, sitting on the edge of a chair, fists clenching. Yin rushed over. "Come, Yong. We need to get you to your room. I'll give you some of the medicine." She began to usher him out before rising briefly and twisting Ingrid's way. "He will not admit it," she whispered, "and just speaking of it can make him... irritable, but Yong is quite sick these days." The issue was that the fish translated, and the fish did not know how to whisper…

Ingrid's concern seemed justified, Yong seemed increasingly upset and with Yin seeming terrified Ingrid had a few suspicions. She rose from her seat, setting the fish down, to get closer to Yong. "Please Yin, let me help. The school trained me as a healer." Ingrid seemed adamant on this. If Yin would allow, she would help them to the room and sense through his body for aliments in attempt to fix them then finally asking, "Can I remove his mask?"

Why did Yin's heart increase like that? Was it just fear or was it chemical magic? Ingrid questioned as she racked her brain for the various things she had read up on.

"Maybe we give him something else to distract him?" Yin tried, bleeding anxiety out into the room, "If you have anything else we could use?"

Then, it was too late. Yong, who had heard it all and had enough - who'd had enough of being hidden and in pain and told to lie - ripped off his mask at Ingrid's words, before his siter could stop him. There was a small surge of magic from her direction, immediately tamped down upon, but it was secondary.

The boy's eyes were closed and the lids swollen. There were stains of dried blood below them, hastily wiped clean at some recent juncture in the past. Weakly, he blinked, and his eyes were bloodshot and dark. "This is what we're hiding," he announced, voice more strident than it should have been. Then, however, it went soft and frightened. "And it hurts, too."

Ingrid initially cringed at the sight, it was grotesque and to see it on a child made it even worse. But with his age and the magic that came from his sister, she had an idea of what it was. Ingrid looked at him more softly, "It's alright Yong," Ingrid tried to reassure, "Come here so I can get a better look," Ingrid getured for him to come close.

As he got closer, she could see the eyes more clearly and it was what she thought. "He's a powergazer," Ingrid stated clearly as she cleaned and healed what she could. Ingrid looked at Yin, "Did you go to a doctor?" Ingrid asked, most likely knowing the answer with how much Yin wanted to hide it.

Yin's face fell, horrified at the suggestion. She backed away, her voice at once somehow raised and quieter. "Nooo!" she wailed. "Nononono no!" She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Ingrid, you don't understand. I don't mean it in a bad way, but you really don't!" Her hands grabbed at her dress, balling up. "This is Retan." She shook her head some more, slumping, defeated, against a wall. "This is Retan..." She began to cry, burying her face in her hands. "I am sorry, Yong. I'm sorry your big sister can't be strong. I'm sorry things can't change."

The boy was anxious now. He stumbled towards her and wrapped her up in a hug. "Don't cwy, big sis. I know you're trying. I know you help me."

She looked up, wiping some tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "I love you, little brother." she hugged him tightly and glanced Ingrid's way, eyes red-rimmed. "Here is the truth of this place: all of us in this family have the ability to use magic, but we did not pass the state licensing test and..." Her voice sunk. "We are not the type of people they want to have magic anyhow."

"Don't worry, Yin. I'll pass it. You'll see."

She stroked the back of her little brother's head, and then down his neck and back, patting him as much for her own comfort as his, perhaps more. "I believe in you, Yong." She gave him one last squeeze. Then, she rose and regarded Ingrid. "Yong will pass because he has no other option. People like myself and..." she paused for just a bit too long. "others who have it can hide by not using it. He can't, though. His only option is to pass or..." she trailed off, closing her eyes again, and began to cry.

Ingrid gulped as she realized she had uncovered something very uncomfortable, something wrong. They were suffering for just... existing. Retan might have their own laws on magic users and that's fine. But Yong? He was just born different. He's no more menace than any other untrained mage in her eyes yet he might be disposed of by the peace keepers.

Ingrid was nauseous from the thought of it. She tried to speak but it was obvious to Yin that her words have affected her. She didn't disagree with the Traveler's broad message but she was on the side that would loose a lot. They had attacked her and her family, destroy some of their history. But so what? I'm sure that the hundreds in debt or enslaved by her own blood would say she did the same to them.

One thing is for certain, Yong doesn't deserve a fate like this. She composed herself, "Yin, I'm not sure what to say but I at least want to help Yong," Ingrid looked earnestly at her, "I know you said there was a test, maybe I can answer questions and tutor him tonight and we can talk. Yong deserves a long life." Ingrid offered. She would push the issue later but right now she wanted to earn some trust with someone who had to open up a door they did not want to.

Ingrid's resolve to handle this quickly and cleanly was shaken. Yin obviously knows more but how could she root out what could be their only chance at a safe life for her brother? She needed to discuss this with some of the other people but who to let know.

Yin dried her tears, but she still regarded Ingrid a bit warily. "I... the best thing that you can do right now is tell nobody," she replied quickly and adamantly. "If you really want to help us, you will keep this secret."

Then, there was another sound: a door opening some ways distant within the inn.

Ingrid heard Yin's words but there wasn't time for her to consider them. As the person came in, Ingrid held up a hand and scanned whoever came in. Yin had been crying and Ingrid was sure Yong needed her at the moment.

It was four people, all of them men, and moving in a tight formation towards the courtyard. "Zhu Kai," whispered Yin, "and half of his men." Quickly, she began to usher Yong towards the door and the rear rooms beyond. "I know them by their footsteps," she clarified.

Ingrid tilted her head, Oh so wonderful that our keepers have come back and I'm literally the only one here. she waved goodbye to Yong as he was escorted away. "Should we go greet them?" Ingrid asked, offering Yin a hand towel. She didn't want to come off as suspicious to them so she trusted Yin on this one.

Yin accepted it with a small mew of 'thanks' and dabbed at her face where her makeup had run. She took a little bit longer than she perhaps strictly needed to compose herself. Then, she nodded. "We should go greet them, and... don't be angry at them, please. Kai is a good man, and so are his soldiers. They're just doing their job." She began to lead Ingrid towards the courtyard and her voice sunk into a whisper. "In fact, they must know that Yong is here. They can use their magic to sense him but, as long as they don't see anything obvious, they can pretend not to know."

The speaktrout, however, did not translate particularly quietly, and her face went ashen for at least the fourth time that night. She cursed softly beneath her breath in Retanese and, thankfully the fish didn't pick that up as well.

Ingrid went to shut off the magical trout. For all its power, it was damn annoying at times. She looked over to Yin, worried if telling Yin about what happened to them would change her acting. She weighed it and went in for a whisper to Yin, using her own retanesse, "We were attacked today, they may be less friendly." Ingrid didn't say anymore and let Yin do with that information what she saw fit but from Ingrid's experiences, friendliness ends when blood is drawn. She headed over to greet them as she normally would, walking tall and confident. "Captain Zhu," she gave a wave and then a nod to the other guards.
For what it was worth, they pulled it off. The captain held himself together well, but anyone with some abilities in Chemical magic would be able to tell that he was both exhausted and a sea of boiling emotions. "Ah, Ing-ri, Yin," he greeted them, and the two Retanese exchanged a bit of fast dialogue. "看到你漂亮的脸蛋，这糟糕的一天会好一点。" (Seeing your pretty face makes this terrible day a little better.) He turned to Ingrid and smiled... conspiratorially? "你只是像你理解的那样看着我，就在刚才。" (You looked at me like you understood, just now.) In truth, Ingrid's understanding of Retanese was far from fluent, but she could get along in it as long as people spoke clearly and no advanced vocabulary was used. "Well, maybe you know what kind of day I've had," he said, consciously trying to make things easy for her to follow. Dai, Zheng, and Zhang nodded along in agreement, each looking haggard and grateful to be alive. "I think yours was probably the same." The captain shook his head, tired, suddenly. "Don't get into any trouble, okay? Keep my job easy." He exchanged a few more words with Yin that were almost... flirtatious in tone and then the four guardians headed off towards their rooms.

"Oh wait, Caprain Zhu!" called Yin. "I haven't turned up your sheets yet. Let me just do it quickly!" She scurried after him.

Ingrid spent the rest of the night waiting for Niallus, still conflicted on the revelations that she had learned. She hoped that Niallus would give her the normal comfort she finds in him but it seemed the conflict in her couldn’t be explored with Ingrid constantly worrying about being overheard. Still him being there at the end of the night brought up its own easement for her to sleep soundly.

Ingrid awoke still wanting to talk to someone about this but had a hard time thinking who she should reach out to. Maybe she would keep open and listen to other people and try to get a feel. Everyone went out last night so I’m sure there are things to share and things said if they don’t.

Lastly she went to Yalen to try and procure some topical pain medicine for supposed aches and pains. Hopefully getting some time to speak on his perspective on all of this. Ingrid found some trust in his words since he was a man of the cloth.

[YummyYummy]

---

---

Assani 15th

_{Location: The Desert, Somewhere
Day of the week: Victendes
Time: Unknown
Present: Zarina, Ayla @Ti, Jocasta @Force and Fury, Yalen @Pantothenic,
Benedetto, Desmond, Tku, Evander, Fiske, Silent Ranger, Riesco, Nibbler, Classa, Sand Bat.}

---

Don’t go.

Zarina internally begged for Jocasta and Yalen to stay among them as she was being healed. Arms crossed, posture too cool for school and her expression hardened, one would never know what she was truly thinking.

We need you.

She looked at both of them, first to Jocasta, the almighty being she had grown so close to. And then to Yalen, the moral compass and ray of light of the group. Both of them were so integral to the first group she was in, and now they were leaving.

I can’t keep them alive all alone.

Zarina clenched her armoured bicep and nearly gritted her teeth. But just as she was about to say something, the pair was just about to leave. All she could muster up was a wave and a look that very briefly communicated the distress she tried hard to keep bottled up.

The Virangish sighed as the Silent Ranger spoke once more, announcing the departure of the group to lands yet unknown. Zarina took this time to look at her group. None, other than the brutish Benedetto, could use temporal magic that she knew of. The weight of responsibility, true responsibility, had never been more overwhelming as it was now. This wasn’t just financial decisions and risky expansion efforts, people she cared about now had their lives depend on her. She knew it would, at some point, come down to such magics for survival, as it had been against the Sand Wyrm. The helm was put back on - a means to feel safe and hidden amidst the agoraphobia she was starting to feel - and she readied herself for what was to come.

Fighting the Storm

Marci turned on the spot, three hundred sixty degrees, taking in the vast nothingness that surrounded the group. The sun reflected off of the burning red-white sand and she blinked. The air around them was distorted by the heat. There was plenty of wind to alleviate it, but this was hot and blustery, prone to whipping up sand and dust at unpredictable intervals, and it only made the heat worse, if possible.

“Well, that was fuckin’ productive,” grumbled Benny, casting about. He seemed about to spit in the sand, but then thought better of it. He glanced Marci’s way. “You got range, Gimpy, right?” he crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. Then, he seemed to soften. “I mean… how ‘bout you sweep the area, Marce?”

She glared at him for a moment, moving a bit closer to Ayla and Zarina, who bristled at the insult to their friend. “How about you go fuck yourself, bud?” the latter snapped back. Marceline held up a hand to stop them, shooting Zarina a thankful, apologetic look. Then, she focused and energies swelled around her. Her face turned grim as the sun and wind continued their twin assaults and she brushed some hair from her face with her dominant hand, her left. “Nothing,” she announced, straining in the opposite direction of the sail-like structures. “Nothing as far as I can sense. A few critters buried deep in the sand. Maybe some ruins about seven klicks away. Fuckin’ desolate” She shook her head as another hot gust of wind whipped her hair about and made her gasp. Marceline, like her grandfather, was of the desert. She knew it. She could feel its moods and survive its periodic furies. This was different, though, in a way that she couldn’t place. She could feel herself drying out, like a sponge left outside on a Dorrad day and a deep unease began to take root in her gut. It started to remind her of…

The tethered shook her head and refocused and, dimly, she sensed a second set of ruins, much closer than the first, but mere moments passed before it hit her - it overwhelmed her. Marci’s eyes bugged out. “Now!” she shouted, pointing about ninety degrees from where she’d started. The sun occupied a completely different position in the sky and she’d struggled to get her bearings. “That way!” If one squinted into the distance, the horizon looked strange and hazy. “SANDSTORM!!!”

Benny could feel it too. “Eshi-fucking-dammit!" he shouted into the wind, “Are you kidding me!?" He could see the storm on the horizon now, more or less. “Fuck this. I'm gonna disrupt the storm. I ain't moving an inch!" He began to draw in energy - massive amounts of it - and there was certainly plenty to draw...

More desert. Good grief, Zarina was truly condemned to the sand dunes. And it did not feel like Torragon, somehow. It just didn't feel like her spiritual home. Her helm came back on as the sun mercilessly hit the group, and she then directed her attention to Marci, “Shelter, have you noticed any?” was her first instinct, but then something else perturbed the Virangish. The spatial anchor she had set on Riesco had been disturbed and she could immediately tell he had been moved as well despite being far too remote to warp back. Had he been attacked? Doubtful, one of the rangers would have at least brought him away. Which was the ideal situation. But ...

“Keep looking for other lifeforms. One that has metal, in particular.” she practically ordered Marci, given she had a magnetic specialty, “Riesco might be out there.” she began to draw from space and time, which a select few in the group could even feel. The moment Marci pinged something, Zarina was keen on mimicking Jocasta's technique she had used almost exactly a year ago.

Tku's eyes had adjusted to what was in the ruins and now they were in the desert once more. Honestly this was much better than whatever wicked test that snake salesman had. Upon hearing sandstorm Tku looked over. It was a big one but overall you could survive it with some know how.

However, this may not be the case as Benny had decided to disrupt it? A storm of that size and intensity change the very landscape. "If people are so determined to keep put, how about I make some shelter? Especially with us needing to save the horse." Tku approached the side of a dune and started to change the sand, hardening it and compacting it into walls and domes. It would take some time but a sand storm of this magnitude could swallow people alive, "I'll leave room for Riesco."

"Nothing within three klicks!" Marci shouted back, getting a mouthful of hot wind and sand. She paused. "Except for... there's ruins, right in the storm itself, and more way south of here. We'll never make those. It's either north for those weird whatever-they-are or east and we hope to outrun it 'til it dies!"

Then, it was like herding cats. Zarina was demanding that she look for Riesco. Benny was crowing about how he'd punch a fucking storm in the face. Tku was making people-sized sandcastles with careful, loving precision and he would never finish on time. Then, Desmond more or less just accosted Fiske and took off running in the direction of the bizarre structures. Shit. Shiiiiiit. Fuck. Godsdamn. Marci began to panic and shut down.

Zarina placed her hand onto Marceline's shoulder. A subtle injection of chemical magic to relax her was performed before Zazzy spoke up, “Grab onto me, you can't run anyway.” she said, her voice muffled slightly by the growing winds and the helm she wore, “I trust you can do it, Marci. Only you can.” Zarina peered toward the storm and was just about ready to zip further away. But before then, she shot a look at Tku, “If you can run, do it. If not ...” she exhaled from her nose, “Fuck, not a lot of you can run fast, huh?”

Ayla's immediate concern was her own appearance, as she was covered in burnt clothing and her once-beautiful hair was almost completely charred. But her hopes for a respite were dashed yet again as they were thrown into yet another disaster.

As she gazed up at the approaching storm, Ayla listened intently to everyone's ideas. A storm like this could last for days, and without any supplies, building a shelter would be a death sentence. Running was an option, but the ruins or strange buildings they had seen could provide some relief and possibly even contain supplies.

Lost in thought, Ayla turned to Benny as he proposed an idea, "What if we do try to disrupt the storm? We have chemical mages who can turn the sand into salt, which would clump the sand together and make it heavier. Arcane mages can turn the sand into glass, and Binding can create barriers that act like brakes by turning the sand into stone. It might take a lot of strength, but it could be worth a shot."

Marci whirled on the spot. "Ayla? Are you crazy!?" She didn't bother address Benny, for she knew he already was. "That thing is way too big to have more than a local effect on!"

"Maybe for a weakling like you, Gimpy!" taunted Benny. "I like to live with nor regrets."

Marci ignored him. He might live with no regrets, but he would die with plenty. Meanwhile, Zarina was exhorting her to 'grab on' to her. To what end, the tethered wasn't quite sure, but she suspected Zarina wanted to run. Marci... did not. It was... inadvisable to run. She began moving to the top of a nearby dune, scanning for Riesco as she went. "Tku!" she shouted over the blustery wind. The temperature had suddenly plummeted, too. "Tku, we should build on high ground!" She was splitting her focus. Dammit, Zarina. She knew that horse meant a lot to her. He was a sweet horse, but dammit!

She scanned in the direction opposite the storm and... there were indeed some larger animals running from it. She switched to the unknown buildings, keeping her sweep quick and cursory for it was all that she could manage. There was nothing there, save the buildings and... some curious buildups of elastic and other mechanical energies. A good ways beyond were the energy signatures of living things: sapients, probably humans or... hegelans? She didn't know. There were... Yes! Horses! she thought. It was a hurried scan. They were weird in some way, probably because they were panicked, but there was metallic content on... "Zarina, I have horses, up to the north there! Past those strange whatever-they-ares." She pointed, already focusing on magic. Tku was building his shelter. She was searching for weaknesses and shoring them up. "A few more animals that way, stuff like horses, too. They're trying to outrun the storm or find shelter." Her hand changed direction.

The sandstorm was well and truly racing towards them now. Ayla had convinced Benny to use heat to turn the sand to glass once she found out that he had no Binding knowledge and only minimal Chemical. Sure, they could take some of the strain off of their structure by creating a localized weakness in the storm around it, but there was no way to punch a clean hole right through a sandstorm. Marci was sure of that. "You need a mask," she called, finished sealing up one part of Tku's structure. It was certainly ambitious, and they were the only two Binders. "Or at least a cloth: cover the lower part of your face! Glasses for your eyes, or close them tight!"

“Got it.” Zarina immediately took flight, “I owe you, love.” and then she blasted off, continuously moving North while warping as far as she could whenever she could. She continued until she could zero-in on the energy signature of other beings, or when her highground provided a view of the creatures. Riesco and his dark armor were standouts, luckily. As she continued North, however, she'd come to notice the peculiar edifices along the way, and she couldn't help but be curious of them, even taking some time to actually acknowledge what they were.

Zarina bolted with Ayla on her back to search for the lost horse. The storm was coming in quickly, but between her flight, temporal magic and Ayla's help, very little could stand in their way. Not even stray sandbats.

As they got close to the peculiar structure up North, the storm had caught up to them. But they were so close! And with a last ditch effort, Ayla's beautiful use of magic made it appear as though wings sprouted out of Zarina's back, allowing them to gain the speed they needed and perform a final teleport to have them reach shelter.

“I'll keep going!” shouted Zarina as she combated the endlessly loud winds, “Stay here! I have the armor for it!” she ordered Ayla as she turned to face the storm.

She walked alone, with Ayla doing her best to help her friend brave the merciless sands. And as she got deeper, Ayla could sense Zarina anymore. But was she truly alone? When it felt like she was getting lost, the big rodent that had been hiding in her chestplate began to squeak and cuddle up closer to her chest. The bit of chemical magic he blessed her with gave the Virangish the vigour she needed to soldier on. And bravely so, as she smashed through the winds, and eventually started to meet the energy signatures she had just barely detected.

Except, it didn't feel like Riesco, and the silhouette was far too small …

The Master of Sandstorms

In the distance, through the lashing wind and whipping sand, Zarina perceives something: something... horse shaped.

She strains, calling out for Riesco.

Zarina keeps calling for her horse, believing that horse shaped things to be, well, a horse. Her shield is kept limited to a smaller size as a superior width made her susceptible to being blown away. She resists the best she can, approaching the figure while fighting the elements.

The shape gets closer, its silhouette emerging in the far distance from the haze. It's... small - smaller than it should be: not her beloved Riesco.

“Riesco?” she squints behind her helm, “... Gina?” she stops her approach for a moment, but then continues her jog.

The small horse draws closer still, a couple hundred meters distant now in the fast-fading haze, at full sloppy gallop. She can hear the thunder of its hooves as they kick up pebbles and dust. It isn't coming straight towards her, but it appears to have noticed her. It gives off an air of panic.

Zarina picks up the pace, drawing from the excessive energy around her to close the gap. She is still hoping to find her precious steed.

It begins to resolve itself, and... it appears to be a young colt or filly, ridden by a similarly young girl. She calls out. "Uinza?" and again: UUUIIIIINNNNNZAAAAA! Oast lix statu?"

Zarina stops and blinks, “Uu-Een-Zah?” she repeats, utterly confused. How is a kid and a small horse handling the storm so well? Then, the girl began to shout! “Woah woah woah!” she waves her idle hand in a pacifying manner, “Uinza, hello?” the storm really doesn't help, as it gets in her helm and armour and the winds made her voice carry much smaller weight than normal, “Uhm, help ...?”

The storm has thinned noticeably and then Zarina can hear small coughs. The girl appears to be hacking up dust. "Yooo speek the high -" She coughs some more, starting to slow as the dust clears and the winds still bluster. "The high tongue." the little voice was full of wonder.

“Uhhh,” with the storm thinning, Zarina's sense of urgency drops, though only just a little as her horse is still missing, “yeah, I guess.” her attention then shifts to the surroundings, “Have you seen a horse? White-grey, has black armor, very handsome.”

The last of the dust clears and the girl on the horse is trotting toward Zarina now. "I did!" she chirps, eyes and voice full or wonder. "And he was a really beautiful guy." She pauses for a moment and comes to a stop. "Wow, you're really one of the high ones!" She is quite young and the horse is quite small and...

Zarina blinks. What she is seeing makes no sense:
The girl.
and the horse.
They aren't... separate.

"I'm Classa!" she chirps, looking up at Zarina admiringly and rocking side to side excitedly on her four feet. "I can help you find your pretty horse."

A wave of relief, “Ah! Thank the Dreamer-” she is about to make the gesture to wipe non-existent sweat off her helm, until she notices.

Zarina freezes there. The monstrous Horrifer Wildblood that fought rapid Sand Wyrms and was ready to die fighting waves of Froabases without fear.
She is utterly terrified at what she sees. The uncanny valley had been crossed during her trek in this desert. Surely, she had died in the storm and ended up in some dreadful limbo.

Luckily, Zazzy still has her helm on, so it mostly looks like the Virangish is just standing there, silent and probably surprised by something.
“Wh-” she gulps, “S-sure. I'd like that.” deep breaths. She's nice. She can help find Riesco. “I'm Zarina.” did she just tell her name to a hellspawn?

The child-horse smiles up at her. "I'm almost as tall as you, you know." She bites her lower lip and smirks like a little shit. "And I have super great agility! Look!" She begins trotting, leaping, and rearing up, putting on some kind of show. "I outrunned the storm," she says proudly.

Zaz is still reluctant. But then again, snake people weren't all that much better. However, she also looks /so/ human.

“Nuh-huh.” Zazzy placed her hand over her helm, cheating a little, and hovered her hand toward the centaur-girl, purposely stopping before it got too close. The cuteness didn't distract from the surprising and somewhat disconcerting experience, “Totally shorter.”

Classa comes to a stop. She blinks. "Yeah, well I'm only eight and you're like..." She pauses, considering. "Wait... are you a golem?" For a moment, she seems a little nervous.

“Huh?” Zarina flinches, “A golem? What's that?” although to reassure the nervous horse-creature, Zarina seizes both sides of her helmet and slowly tugs it off, revealing some damp hair with quite a lot of sand mixed in, lips dry with the stuff too. “Blah! I don't like sand.”

"Yaaaah," the child agrees, finger in her mouth as she picks some sand out from between her teeth. She turns and spits, grinning, a couple of half-grown incisors leaving gaps in her smile. "Sand is yuck as..." She doesn't say the word. She suppresses a mischievous smile instead. "And I guess you're not a golem. My owner's is bigger and all rocky. You're like... thirty?" the kid asks, bouncing antsily from foot to foot to foot. She half turns, looking back in the direction that she came from.

Owners and rock things, interesting. It definitely does not help Zarina pinpoint where they are. But then the age comment came, “Eh?!” she crossed her arms and pouted, “Excuse you little lady!” her hand tapping on her shield reveals just how much sand had lodged into her armor, “Rah shit.” she taps some of the scale-like plates to dust them off, “I'll forgive that, kiddo, if you help me find my Riesco. Deal?”

Classa nodded. "Deal!" she exclaimed, offering a thumbs-up. She reared up and turned rapidly. "Follow me, and uh..." She grinned again, challengingly. "Try to keep up, two-feet!" With that, she took off at a fast canter.

Zarina chuckles, already charmed by what she had initially seen as disturbing. It is, after all, just a kid fused with her favorite animal.

With a light hop, Zarina ascends and takes flight, helm off so she could take in some air after being confined for a while, “Can you do this, four-legs?!”

"I'm only eight!" Classa protested, tucking her arms in as she accelerated to a full gallop, and she was fast. DAMN, she was fast. She actually managed to pass Zarina. A low, squat sandstone building hove into view and, finally, she began to slow, panting despite being possessed of a child's boundless energy. "I didn't get my first magic yet. Anyway, Riesco's just in here," Classa breathed, greedily sucking in mouthfuls of air. "I found him wandering in the desert." She shook her head. "It's not good to wander in the desert. Trust me. Things die there."

Finally, they came to an outright stop and the girl spun on her rear hooves and gestured a welcome. "Anyway, what was he doing there, and how about you? I think his armour's a little dirty, but it's really nice..."

When Zarina could sense and see her horse - the familiar shape and the the armor he wore were so hard to miss for her - she zeros in and makes a quick check if anything is wrong. Supposedly nothing beyond loads of sand. She then peers down at the galloping half-horse girl, and in her deep softness, she actually let Classa arrive at the horse first, only for Zazzy to teleport just a few seconds later by the horses. The actual horse is a bit jumpy, definitely recovering from the storm's assault, but he is quickly calmed when her rider gets close.

“There you are ...” Zarina says in a hushed tone, reaching her arms out to take her horse's head into a light embrace, “You got bored all alone, didn't you?” she whispers to his perked up ears before turning to her centaur guide, “I -” she looked over at the SOuth where her friends where, “We got brought here, right when the storm came.” she beamed at the little one, “Thanks for watching out for him.” she then whips out a carrot from a pouch and feeds it right to the still a bit agitated Riesco.

Classa eyes the carrot.

The carrot is consumed entirely. No trace of its existence remains.

Zarina whips out another carrot a few seconds later after the inevitable pout, and offers it to Classa.

!!!However!!!

Riesco makes a move! He wants seconds.

Classa's face falls as Riesco shamelessly and ruthlessly gobbles up the carrot. She could swear that he gives her a horse-side eye, and she pouts and paws at the ground with one of her front hooves.

Then, Zarina pulls out a second carrot and the child's face lights up. She starts to reach for it excitedly - "I heawd they're good for your eyes!" - but the horse swoops in again and defeat is snatched from the jaws of victory. She sticks her tongue out at Riesco, and maybe he's just licking his lips, but she could swear that he sticks his tongue out right back. Classa turns. "Are you gonna ride him now?" She seems to be brimming with nervous anticipation and she glances a little further northeast. "Oh yeah. Did you come all alone?" she inquires, not even giving Zarina the chance to answer her first question.

With both horses at war now over stolen produce, Zarina answers the first question by just doing it. Up on the saddle, she dusts the seat and whips the reins to make them somewhat presentable, “Yeah, we're quite a few.” she points her gauntlet to the South, “My friend Ayla, you'll like her, is by those strange things. The others are further down, some made a shelter, others ...” she clicks her tongue, “Some ran. May need to wrangle them, if they're even alive.”

Zarina's greaves tapped the sides of her horse, prompting him into a trot, “Wanna meet them?” she asked with a playful grin, “So, actually, where are you from, Classa?” small talk, but essential, “... Why were you in the desert during a storm, actually?”

"Hey Zawina..." She trailed off. "Are you hot in that awmour?"

“It's not too bad.” Zarina answers with a shrug, “I wish I made it better for hot days.”

"Yeah, doofus. I think that woulda been smarter." The girl snorted and shook her head, but she seemed to catch herself, realizing that she hadn't answered the questions put to her. "Oh, and I can't wait to meet your friends!" She sprung out ahead, hopping to the side a bit and continuing at a quick trot. She pressed a finger to her lips, seeming to consider. "I'm sure they're alive. This was a bad one." She looked up at the lingering reddish-yellow in the sky before turning back. "But it was over quick. Don't worry. We'll find them."

They continued on for a bit more, the eight-year-old full of antsy little movements, constantly nagging at and annoying Riesco in little ways. "I like horses," she decided. "They're kinda like centaurs, but cute n' dumb."

“Careful girl,” warned Zarina with a stern voice but she kept a subtle hint of a smile as she looked at the young centaur, “I enjoy you but be careful.” her grin got a little toothy, “I might just be a big bad dragon, just like the armor.”

Riesco grunted from time to time, and even twitched his hoof a little in a halfhearted kick to the side, “Centaurs? Is that what you're called?” eyes were back forward as they got closer to the odd edifices, “I've never met someone like you where I come from, Classa.” a carefully eye looked out for Ayla at this point, “But I think we were brought here to meet you and the people you're with. Maybe to help, or get help.” meanwhile, as Classa got to annoy the horse a bit more, the moment she got a bit too close to his rear, she'd be greeted with a few high-pitched horsey-farts.

Classa made a show of staggering back, her lanky little legs splaying out. "Eeeeewww!" she squealed, scrunching up her nose, pressing her hands to her heart, and staggering almost to the point of keeling over. "I am slain!" Quickly, she sprung back, grinning, and trotted alongside Zarina as the Virangishwoman spoke. For a moment, the girl looked over at her new acquaintance evaluatively and a silence built. Then, her voice became smaller.

"I was born here, but a lot of us weren't. We were saved from the void, where we were... demons." She seemed hesitant. "Don't worry. I'm not bad and I'd never hurt anyone..." The sound of eight hooves in the dirt was all that could be heard above the whistle of the wind. "And my owners aren't bad. I pwomise. They bought me from a auction and they're really nice to me. They don't have a lot of money. Just this old sweetwater farm."

She seemed to perk up and be eager to change subjects. "Oh yeah! That's what I was doing when I found Riesco here! We could tell a storm was coming, and since I'm the fastest obviously, they sent me to go make sure all the rainsails closed alright."

“Hmmm.” Demons and the VOID, things Zarina wasn't too keen on encountering again. And yet this one wasn't nearly as obscene as what Ayla, Yuliya or Nibbler had become. “I've seen demons before.” said Zarina, voice still stern and her face hard to evaluate as she stared forward again, “You're definitely not like them. Cheeky little filly, to be sure, but not the real deal.”

The subject of ownership, however, hit Zarina harder than it normally would. She had avoided slavery back in Gandakar due to her essentially staying in the capital, and the majority of slaves being in the coffee fields nowadays. But now she couldn't just dodge the promise anymore, “I'd love to meet them. Your owners.” she plainly said, shooting a smile to the girl that wasn't quite as genuine as the others.

“Rainsails-” they were so close to the strange structures, “that's what they are? Do they, like, gather water or something?”

"Oh yeah!" exclaimed Classa. "But like... different: better!" She started skipping. All the cazenax love it. They put it in their dwinks and the ones the city people have in their big evening gwiddle feasts, especially Mr. Jascuan, though he doesn't have a griddle, exactly." She waved dismissively, talking a mile a minute. "He's not a city pewson anyway. He's nice. Kind of like a dad, I guess, since I don't know mine, but he's old, so many more like a Gwandpa..." She trailed off, thinking.

Before the girl could elucidate further, however, Zarina sensed them: three human energies, about three hundred meters away, hunkering in the lee of a folded up sweetwater sail. Ayla, Fiske, and Desmond - it had to be them.

“Cazenax?” was the only thing Zarina really questioned among all of it. But she took note of everything else. From the feasts to this Mr. Jascuan. “He sounds like a good man, that Mr. Jascuan.” Zarina reached for her pouch, and revealed a third carrot before chucking it over to the centaur, “I have a grandpa that was kind of like a dad too. Taught me how to ride horses. I'm sure he'd love to meet you, actually.”

When they got close to the small group, Zarina didn't miss out on sniffing out their energy signatures, “There they are.” she gave a new kick to Riesco's side and got him to enter a canter, “Don't wanna miss the new friends, now!”

Classa nearly bobbled the catch, but her 'super great agility' came through in the end. She snagged it and took a bite, talking as she chewed. "Awwwww did I eawn a widdle pwesent fwom being a good howsie!" she teased, sticking out her tongue and skipping along after quickly swallowing.

Then, however, they were there, and she could see people in the distance. They started waving and moving toward them.

[dragonpiece]

Event: Primitive
People: Tku, Marci, Squatter Sandbat, Greedy Kite Tusker

---

Meanwhile, some ways away, the storm had come to Marceline and Tku, hunkering in a shelter large enough to fit everyone, but that... nobody but them had used.

"Quite a storm Marci? Are you from the desert?" Tku asked as the sandstorm finally hit the impromptu shelter.

"One could say that..."

"Maybe we can talk later, I traveled through it for a few years myself," Tku offered as he kept repairing the shelter, the storm was quite strong.

"Wunderbar. Now um... don't we have a job to do?"

Tku agreed just a hole cracked open followed by a clunky rolling sound, "Oh, I think that was a rock that just broke through."

"I always wanted a pet rock."

Tku let out a hearty laugh, "Hard to take care of I hear."

"Needy, even."

Tku had been bending the sand to repair the holes and the sand just feel odd. The sand, the storm, just small things seem off, "These seem different than normal."

"Small... and nasty."

Tku shook it off as he couldn't describe it in any actionable way, "It just feels different, I can't explain it otherwise"

"Tku! Watch out!"

A sandbat emerges from below them, hunkering inside their shelter. It hisses.

Tku dodged thinking another rock rocketed in to see a creature he never seen in Torragon, "Hmm? Ahh!!!"

"What the fuck is that thing!?"

The storm had finally passed and they were left with this odd bat creature. He looked to Marci, hoping to deal with it peacefully, "You know any chemical spells for bats?"

The sandbat hissed and Tku held his spear in case it lunged.

"Yeah, it's called killitwithfire."
Just then, however, there came a... trumpeting sound!?

"Wait hold on now, it could be entertainment," Tku took a look at it, trying to see if it picked up some injuries from the storm or them trying to build on it.

Marci and Tku emerged from the shelter, digging their way out with binding magic and, floating over the dunes on the still-strong winds was... an elephant!? A tiny....flying elephant.

"Well then," Tku tilted his head at the odd sight, "Our roommates are doubling."

The small elephant seized upon the sandbat and immediately dived in to pursue it and the chittering menace took off quickly, flapping away as the pachyderm landed and let out another snort.
Then, immediately, the tusker began digging near where the bat had been. It dug ferociously with feet and tusks, paying the two humans little mind.

Tku decided to use some binding magic to help it out, "It's the least I can do for getting rid of the squatter." He looks over at Marci to more or less let her know he didn't go insane and was just having some momentary fun with an elephant.

The little elephant flicked its ears about and let out an annoyed little trumpet, defensive over its find.
It didn't turn down the help, however, digging deeper and with increasing urgency, letting out little snuffling snorts along the way.

Then, finally, it hit pay dirt.

Digging in with its tusks, they came up covered in what looked to be blood at first, but was actually sweet melon juice.

"Oh!" Tku was surprised to find an underground melon

For the next couple of minutes, Marci and Tku would watch the Kite Tusker gorge itself on Wazingui Melon that had been buried in the storm. It it grew here, however, that must've mean that water was close by.

The rather cute, odd-looking little beast occasionally let out satisfied snuffles and grunts, glancing warily over its shoulder at them.

Finally, full to the max, it sat back and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
Plodding a little ways away, it hunkered down in the shade cast by the two humans' improvised shelter.

"Water would be nice. Shall we try to figure out where it is?" he looked at the strange pachyderm chow down.

"Would be ideal," Marci agreed, reaching out with her senses.
With the elephant having abandoned its dig, she moved over to investigate the hole, and her eyes widened.

Tku tried to peer down if any seeds or melon was left, in a pinch he could grow them.

Then, he saw it too.
Tangled among the vines was... some sort of wand.
It was not like anything they had seen before and, as Marci scanned it, she recognized those energies. They were the same ones that occasionally surrounded her brother's girlfriend, Dory.
"Sooooo...." she began, "What do we uh, do with it?"

"What in the world?" Tku went ot start freeing it with his spear. "Get it out safely for now, I'll touch it sense you can call for help better, something weird about a wand out of nowhwere."

Marci eyed the wand and eyed him. She glanced at the tusker. It seemed to be watching them idly.
"Should we?" she questioned, "on our own?"

The animal was up and moving again, and it began lumbering over to the hole it had made earlier. While it was tiny by elephant standards, it was still the size of a large dog, and its ear-wings - currently folded and resting along its back - were probably at least eight feet in span.

Tku questioned, "I mean it is odd for sure but it could just be a lost treasure of someone who failed to cross the desert." Tku was nervous with it moving over, "I should grab it before it goes back in," Tku looks at Marci like confirmation that he will do it now, giving her one last chance to say something.

Marci stepped out of the way. "Um...be careful. I think it's... a dark magic item." Better him than her, she supposed, but Tku was kind of nice. She'd rather he not die.

Tku stopped, "Dark magic?" He didn't even need to know to be worried. He attempted to lift it with some telekinesis onto a cloth instead of grabbing it now.

Then, the tusker made a final dash and grab for it.
Tku had it in his kinetic grasp.
The elephant had it in its trunk.
Its greedy little eyes glared at him.

"Oh no you don't!" Tku tried to rip it towards him, "I will make you a melon! Give it to me!! Marci can you grow these?"

The elephant pulled back obstinately, refusing to let go. It stamped and unfurled its massive ears in a threat display. They hadn't gotten a good look at the colours before. They were eyes: giant eyes, or at least mimics of those.

Then, Marci had crafted the most sickeningly sweet thing she could manage. Spratz, albeit fake spratz
a terrible knockoff of the real thing. It was enough. The tusker released the wand all at once and went charging for the fake plant. The girl happily tossed it into the air and as far as she could. Within moments, the little pest was gone, chasing after it.

That left... the wand. However, before they could do much of anything with it, Marci perked up. She pointed. "There, in the distance: it's them!"

Tku now held it in his hand, not originally wanting too but just catching it after launching it towards him, "You're a blood mage Marci?" Tku asked.

Marci nodded. The others were still a good half a kilometer away. "Don't go telling everyone though, huh?"

Indeed, there appeared to be... three or four people, two on a large horse and... was there a little juvenile horse as well?

Tku nods and remakes some of his clothes, repairing them and refills his water pouch, "Same to you," Tku smiles, "Let's great them, hopefully that means Riesco is okay."

Marci began walking. Tku began walking. They waved.

Somewhere, not too far away, the kite tusker decided to follow them.

"Do you know where the angry child went?" Tku asked remembering that Marci may not want to search for him.

[Th3King0fChaos]

Primitive: Survive

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Thrown from one situation to another, from hell to high waters Desmond has been through the wringer, yet there was still more. As the moment they came through to the other side after a teleport, he only had a few moments to recompose himself before he heard the cries of Marceline as she screamed out,"SADNSTORM!!".

Desmond's head whipped around to see the massive wall of wind and tiny stones and seemed to nod to himself as he put some strange face mask over his mouth. Quickly following Desmond set his signature hat on his head which changed his clothing into that of long flowing cloths similar to what many Torragonese men would wear.

He then gave one more nod to himself and then turned to Fiske as he gave one last nod, after which he swooped Fiske up under his arm and began to run in the direction of the strange structures he noticed from his quick look around while yelling, "Time to leave!"

Whilst being carried was quite troublesome, Fiske was however too exhausted to make any kind of snarky remark or joke.... Although a bit of a snarky question was not too much of a burden. "How in the hells have you survived with people like them around? It looks like trouble follows them around."

"What are those?" He tried to sharpen his sight to get a better look on the strange structures up ahead.

Fiske began asking Desmond questions, ones he could not answer well, all he could yell out was, "Survive with them? By doing this!" Desmond continued to run with Fiske for a bit longer before he began setting Fiske down and saying, "You need to run! I can't carry you and run fast enough!"

The moment Fiske's feet touched the ground Desmond and him began to run at full force. Desmond had a strange speed about him, as he seemed to almost began to glide across the sands. His feet kicked hard yet the sand did not move. And when he needed to head down the dune they were on, he seemed to almost glide across the sand.

For Fiske, he struggled, such difficult terrains were already a hard one to cross with no training, including with his exhaustion? He couldn't keep up with Desmond, even with his superior magical power.

The distance between them grew more and more as it took Desmond a full minute to finally see his smaller compatriot was lagging far behind and became concerning as the storm was raging forward.

Desmond did a full heel turn and began to slow to a near halt as he began to try and boost Fiske forward. Yet the distance seemed to only grow as Fiske seemed to have lost all momentum. Closer and closer the sand storm came, and Desmond was slowly making the distance between himself and the strange structure shorter, yet Fiske was still struggling.

Once Desmond made it to the structures he began calling to Fiske as he said, "Follow the light I'm making!" As he began to produce a white flame that once the sandstorm hit, began to burn strong and bright even in the darkness.

Fiske however needed to cover another near 1 mile of ground. His eyes were now being bombarded by wind, sand, and darkness, making even this strong flame nearly impossible to see. His mouth began to fill with sand, his nose began to be almost stuffed full of sand from the wind, and all he could do was walk. His mind was being dulled, as he began to use his magics to dull the pain he is feeling, his sense of smell, his taste, anything to make this pain bearable, as all he could do was follow a white flame in this near darkness.

His feet began to drag as he was moments from collapse, but he needed to press on, he wasn't too far, he hoped, as he looked up, the flame was gone. In that same moment his feet nearly failed him, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him as he blacked out.

Upon waking up some moments later, Fiske found himself breathing through a strange mask, being held close by Desmond as they are in some quickly made cover being supported by the strange structures they ran for.

Desmond noticed and said with a smile, "Look what the cat dragged in. You hungry?" as Desmond shows in his other hand a burrito.

Fiske took the burrito and began to eat it greedily, only stopping when Desmond tells him not to eat the whole thing, and was shown it had the amazing ability to replenish itself, and provided the 2 starving boys plenty of food.

[Force and Fury]

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T H E M E E T U P || ♫

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Present: Ayla Arslan @Ti, Evander Fino Synesti @RezonanceV, Tku Pictor @dragonpiece, Fiske Flachstrauch @jasbraq, and Zarina Al-Nader @YummyYummy, Desmond Catulus @Th3King0fChaos

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“But they’re always hungry,” Classa was assuring Tku, trotting along near the head of the group. She was glancing back so often, at the gaggle of humans and their little pachyderm shadow, that she wasn’t strictly looking where she was going and Riesco was forced to gently nudge her back on course more than once. Each time she started and leapt to the side, glancing around guiltily. “If you can keep a tusker fed, it’ll love you, but not many people can.” She rolled her eyes. “He is kind of a cute lil’ guy though,” she giggled, cantering back towards the small elephant, who hastily took off and glided away from her. Within moments, the girl was back, and once more pestering Tku. Before, it had been Ayla, and she’d even tried convincing the petite human to ride her briefly. Desmond, she’d shown a healthy fear and respect for, glancing a couple of times at his weapon, and Fiske and her had made faces at each other a bit. Marceline, the centaur had barely noticed.

Tku was her shiny new toy, clearly. “You find anything else out there?” Classa prodded, eyes going to his bag. It wasn’t long before he was spinning slightly embellished tales about the sandbat and the hidden melon and… when he had a moment, he extracted the wand and showed it to her.

The child froze in place, eyes snapping to it. Immediately, she bowed her head. “I will serve.” she said, voice solemn. She swallowed nervously.

Tku was startled by the girl's reaction. "This is no game is it?" He looked at the wand, worried for what it signified. Might not be the best thing to brandish this right away. He smiled at her reassuringly. "How about I grow you a nice juicy melon. he offered in exchange for her silence, ”and we can keep this secret between us for now?" He tucked the wand deeply in his bag, binding cloth around it to obfuscate it further from view.

Classa seemed… unsure. She blinked a couple of times and nodded. “That’s a control wand,” she replied quietly, watching him put it away. “Masters use it to punish bad demons.” She shook her head. “Though not Mr. Jascuan. He treats me and the others well. You’ll see. We’re going to meet him.” For a moment, she regarded Tku evaluatively, eventually seeming to satisfy herself that he was not, actually, one of the masters and was no threat to her.

“I got something!” Marci suddenly called. She’d been quiet - focused - searching for Evander and Benny. She turned, reaching up to hold her hat to her head in the blustery desert wind. “That way!” She pointed with her free hand. “In the old ruins, I think, but like…” She trailed off and scrunched up her face in thought. “under them, somehow.”

This brought the group of seven to a halt, and the discussion that followed split them into two groups. While one, consisting of Zarina, Ayla, Tku, and Classa, continued onward to the farmstead, the other, with Marci, Desmond, and Fiske, detoured to the ruins, with the tethered promising to keep in touch via pinch language. There was, Marci assured them, a city to the northwest of the farmstead where they could perhaps find some supplies and get their bearings later. Classa introduced it as ‘An Zenui’, city of the ‘cazenax’, whatever that meant…

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A N Z E N U I

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It was inching toward midday in An Zenui and all of the shit was drifting in from the desert. Some were peddlers, but there was little need for their wares. Some were hunters, but why would one need to hunt but for sport? Some were water sellers and, for them, there was still some use, though less, these days. Others, still, were beggars, and they were the worst of all. Could they not just learn the new arts and beg no longer?

Following the slow, muddy flow of the Zuna Hagui, they arrived at the Bristling Gate. There, they waited, under makeshift shelters of wood and canvas or their own cloaks, stretched over their heads. Mostly they were still, exchanging the occasional banter, their animals stinking and baying by the gate. Pathetically enough, it wasn’t long before some started trying to peddle to each other, in addition to other, more reputable, travelers.

“Any new faces?” asked Zugan-Alguo boredly. He was, perhaps, not so efficient today as his name might imply. There had been a dust storm in the morning and he’d lost hours and all motivation after sweeping. Stupid Zix-Shama had grabbed the Stuzé Paca first for her side of the gate and he’d had to do his without assistance.

She ursed her lips and scowled for a moment, scanning, and he looked up from his rifle-cleaning. “Neh. Just the usual donkey-riders and some of the countryfolk. Probably coming into town to buy stuff for repairs.”

Zugan-Alguo heaved himself out of his seat, trying not to strain anything. He was past middle age now and feeling it. Indifferently, he peered down at the group gathered below. There was Muto-Nogen, the drunk, with his scraggly beard and bad breath, getting right up in the faces of some of the others. Zugan shouted down at him to back off, as he sometimes did, halfheartedly gesturing with his rifle. Jupai-Malma was wearing her usual revealing attire, turning on her charms. She had some tourists from - it looked like they were from one of the northern cities - in her sights. Urzax-Cilo was shambling around, begging while trying not to look like it, hiding his disgusting mouth. That was when Zix noticed a mop of shaggy, shoulder-length black hair bobbing about well below everyone else’s head level. She pointed it out. "Potés-Palix?”

Sure enough, it was. The boy with no legs had dismounted from the tired old donkey he always rode and was making his way toward the gate, scooting about on his hands and his ass. “Sweetwater!” he called in his squeaky, pre-pubescent voice. “Fresh from the dewsail! Get your sweetwater!” With a grunt, he hustled forward, a satchel full of bottles slung across his chest. “Sweetwater! Cheaper than in town!” He glanced hopefully up at the gatehouse and waved. Zugan could’ve sworn he hadn’t grown a smidge in the two years he’d been coming here: one of those kids destined to be a runt until a sudden late growth spurt, the gate guard supposed, not that it’d much matter in his case. “Mr. Zugan-Alguo!” he chirped. “Mrs. Zix-Shama!”

Zix twisted to regard her partner. “Kinda feel bad for the kid,” she opined. “We let him in today?”

“Market vendors won’t like it.” Zugan grumbled. Potés-Palix had disappeared into the crowd, but he was never far from the donkey that carried him everywhere and pulled his little cart of sweetwater jugs. Sure enough, he reappeared moments later, clambering onto its back in his baggy, ill-fitting clothes. He got the animal moving and, moments later, he was knocking vigorously on the gate and smiling up at them.

“Yeah, but it’s the real stuff, unlike that vo zin swill,” Zix prodded. “Honestly, I could go for some. How ‘bout we make that the price of entry?”

Zugan made a sour face. “You shouldn’t speak of the vozas like that.” All of the youngsters did it now, or at least most of them. He hadn’t raised his own son and daughter that way. “Yeah, okay, gramps, and I guess we should all go back to living underground too.”

Zugan sighed.

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” Zix relented. “The vozas is great. Honestly, it’s our source of almost everything and our ticket to the bigtime. How can we not appreciate it? It’s just… sometimes, real stuff is better. So,” she remembered, “What say we get a sweetwater and relax a bit? I’ll treat you.”

The senior guard tried to look like he was unconvinced, but he’d already given in, to be honest. “How much for a two-copel?” he shouted down at Potés-Palix.

“Ten pix!” the scrawny youth replied, counting on his fingers for a moment. He paused and grinned. “But uhh… five if you buy it from the other side of the gate?”

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T H E F A R M S T E A D

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“We’re almost there!” chirped Classa, still casting about for the tusker. Sure enough, it had stopped towards the perimeter of the farm, not daring to come any closer to an inhabited area. She noticed Tku glance back in its direction as well. “Trust me. It’s a good thing. If it came too close, Zox would have to cwush it.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t like cwushing things, but it’s his job..”

The house was low, squat, and sprawling, made of sandstone and streamlined in the direction of the prevailing winds so that they might be channeled around it. A large patio wrapped around the other three sides and, on it, they could see a stone golem, easily eight feet tall, rumbling about with an oversized broom, sweeping sand away. An imp of some sort hung from the spandrels, huffing out massive breaths that sent the sand swirling off and away into the desert wind. Finally, in a rocking chair on the patio, was an old man with a wide-brimmed hat. At the sound of approaching hooves, he perked up. Grabbing the armrests, he heaved himself to his feet and felt about for the cane he’d left leaning against a small table nearby. “Classa? Né lix?” (Classa, is that you?) he called, grasping hold of it. He paused, making his way slowly there, cane held out in front. “...ni sen,” (and more,) he decided.

“Sol Jascuan!” she exclaimed, breaking into a light gallop. “Cé lix! Cé’x paté. Ax zobar.” (It’s me. I’m safe. Don’t worry.) After that, they spoke rapidly and none of the three biros could understand any of it as they approached. The huge golem placed its broom delicately aside and began to head their way somewhat threateningly until Mr. Jascuan raised his cane and called out some instructions in a tremulous old voice. With that, the construct bowed and back up a couple of steps. “Oh, ah… ahem. My apologies. I’m Zox and I umm… certainly didn’t mean to make you… uncomfortable,” it apologized, “Or anything of… of the sort.” It tapped its head with a large stony finger. “It’s my programming, you know, haha. I um… I’m built to crush things, though… sometimes I wonder if there’s more to life than -”

“Aaaaaahahahaaa!” came a laugh, high-pitched and mocking from the imp. “You’re a golem, rockhead! Your whole job is to scare people. Sheeeeeesh. Wouldya look at this palooka? Not even twenty seconds after meeting people - and high types to boot - and he’s already waxing philosophical.” The imp snorted and leapt down from the roof. “Naxos,” he said, his black, beady little eyes darting between the group’s members.

Last was Mr. Jascuan. He was clearly not human, and not of a race any of them had seen before. His skin was tanned and reddish along the back, though not in a sunburnt way. His ears were large - larger than those of a yasoi - and his nose great and pointed. He was… somewhere in the height range of a hegelan, though not nearly as stout. His eyes, quite clearly, were blind, whether by age or some other ravage, they could not quite be sure. After shaking their hands, he spoke in a voice gravelly and aged, and Naxos translated… somewhat reliably. “The boss says thank you for bringin’ Classa back to him. She’s always gettin’ lost and he worries about her.” The imp hopped from foot to foot, as if pathologically unable to keep still. “He offers yuh his hospitality, though don’t you go freeloading or I’m gonna have something to say about that.”

“He didn’t say that!” Classa protested, and Naxos waved her off. Meanwhile, Zox returned to sweeping, his big stony head turning curiously in the direction of the new arrivals every so often.

“Yeah yeah, I know. It’s called paraphrasing, yuh stupid ‘orse!” He seemed to soften after a moment, especially when Classa started to pout. He sighed. “You ain’t stupid, Classa. Just… you don’t know everything. Let the grownups talk, alright?” He turned to face the three visitors. “Listen, that was my addition. I’m gonna be honest with youse guys. We don’t refuse anyone here, but we’re a small operation. Just old man Jas, his kid Maxi - who’s in town right now - and the three of us demons.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Not much uh… overhead, y’know?”

The old blind cazenax sniffed the wind. He smiled in the three humans’ direction and spoke some more, gesturing them into the sprawling house. It certainly looked rather large, though those perceptive enough would see signs of disrepair, neglect, and hasty, low-quality patch jobs all about the place. For all of his blindness, though, Mr. Jascuan navigated the space effortlessly, explaining things as he went. This time, Classa translated, seeming quite proud of herself. “This farm has been in the family for almost five hundred years - since even before the Vozas was found - and is one of the cwosest big sweetwater fawms to An Zenui. That makes it cheap and easy to sell there, and lots of people have offewed to buy it, but Mr. Jascuan isn’t selling. When he walks into the darkness, it’s gonna go to his owdest son, Wazuo.”

He kept speaking and she kept translating. All about the ceiling were four-leafed fans, creaking and squeaking as they turned. An elaborate series of ropes seemed to connect them all and connect them to some sort of power source. Classa saw them looking. “Oh, the fans are all connected to a great big windmill outside. Mr. Jascuan’s great-great grandfather built it, but it didn’t work for a long time until Maxi fixed it. Anyways,” she continued, “There are four types of sweetwater we fawm here, and each uses a diffewent type of cactus and a diffewent size of dewsail. Some’s for sauces, some’s for drinking, some’s for cleaning, and some’s for healing. People even have baths in it!” She turned on the spot, smiling nervously, her hooves very loud on the floor. “You’re welcome to twy it!” She paused. “All except the sauce. We save that for the evening cook, when Samaxi’s back.” She couldn’t resist stamping with happy hooves “It’s sooooo good! I pwomise!”

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A N Z E N U I || ♫

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Two bored and sweaty guards sipped on sweetwater from their perch above the Bristling Gate. The doors opened briefly, groaning on their metal hinges, and just enough to let a single donkey with its half-sized rider and a wagon full of sweetwater jugs through.
Inside, the city of An Zenui was a hive of activity in the wake of the morning’s sandstorm. The sounds of hammers and saws at work cut through the sea of voices and bustle of other activity, and the smells - the sheer miasma of them was overwhelming, especially as one reached the spice market. Ever were the outriders galloping off into the wide world these days, and returning with things to be reproduced from the bounty of the Vozas. Ever were the vozcrafters at work.

“Sweetwater!” came the squeaky voice of Potés-Palix, cutting through the swirl of sounds and colours. “Locally produced: the real deal!” A large wagon paused in the middle of a street as a litter made its way through, mounted on the backs of four centaurs. From inside peered an old woman with a hard, wrinkly face thick with makeup and eyeliner, and enough jewelry to start her own shop. She was not, of course, a mere peddler, and so she released the curtain and sat back on her cushions.

Potés-Palix did a brisk business in the Bantarsca District, whose expensive high cliff residences had been hard hit by the storm and were already filled with thirsty labourers - mostly stuzé-upéts. The snakelike people paid what little they were given as stipends and lazed around for the next few minutes, chattering in their hissing tongue and sunning themselves as they drank. They were always a sure source of revenue, and the boy usually cut them a deal and used magic to cool their drinks. There was a mutual sympathy that helped: them as slaves and he with no legs. Taking a few moments to count his coins, he flashed them a smile and climbed up onto Nuro, riding away to the next set of houses before another independent seller made it there. Today was going to be a good day. He could feel it.

“You’ve got until she’s out of sight,” said Sazan-Betai, finishing the last of his bottle and setting it on a workbench. The no-legs kid would return for it later and they’d get back some of their money if they gave her the bottles. He consulted his task list and sighed. Talo-Tecazan-Mostix-Cazui insisted on building large trellises for his wife’s garden since it was the ambition of her married idleness to become a grillmaster. Shame that she wasn’t much good at cooking. Bigger shame that nearly every passing storm wreaked havoc with her plants. In what had become the fashion among some who could afford it, she had wanted ‘authentic’ ingredients and set out to grow them herself. Come to think of it, she wasn’t much good at gardening either.

The workers set their bottles down in various places and Sazan continued his rounds, ensuring quality and compliance, as he always did. A couple gave him stink-eyes when he told them to make modifications, but there was no backtalk, at least. Only that one they called Egosto-Alguo really unnerved him. He could feel the man’s seething. In his youth, he had shared it. Now, he could not be bothered. He had a small house of his own on the master’s property, a wife, and a brood. He smiled just thinking of them: Matzic, Juja, Cili, Walan, Loci, Zanca, and Lelix. All adorable in their childhood precociousness and innocence. All the creation of he and his beloved Stela. Next year, they would be given their first duties. He scowled. Poto-Mits had let a beam fall again and was now protesting her innocence. Why she was given hard labour when she was clearly a house-stuzé was beyond him. He began scribbling notes on his scroll. There would have to be a report. He would have to account for this. He consulted his task list and sighed.

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T H E T U N N E L S

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What he lacked in range, Desmond made up for in tracking. Evander swept for energies as he started to enter the tunnel behind the door marked number five and he noticed the approach of three individuals. After a tense but momentary standoff, they recognized each other and had a decision to make. Both Fiske and Evander seemed keen to continue exploring, and Marci decided to follow the tunnel as far as she could with her tethered mana sense. For a good minute or so, she went almost eerily still and silent, while the three men watched, quietly discussing their next course of action and what they had seen and found.

Then, as she was wont to do, Marci returned to them all at once. “You know that city I sensed earlier?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, what about it?” asked Desmond, already gaining some idea of what would come next. “It leads there.” She nodded, eyes taking in the others’. “I mean, it’s a bit of a maze, but I’m a human sensing device, and I can get us through. I can tell the others with pinch language so they don’t worry, and we can get to the city, unless anyone here’s claustrophobic.” She regarded them evaluatively. “It’s a good five miles, all underground. She shrugged. “At least we won’t be hot.”

To write about their adventures in the tunnels would be to spill the secrets of the tunnels, for what happens there, truly, stays there. However, the quartet made good time, even with Marceline flagging towards the end. She’d had nearly a year to rebuild the strength in her feet and calves, but long and strenuous walks such as this one still revealed a weakness that she might never entirely be rid of. Still, as they approached, she gave ever more regular updates: the movements, the smells, the sounds. She had learned how to interpret the traces she felt through energy, translate them into concrete things that others could understand and conceptualize.

The people, she could now be sure, were not human, and she described them as a cross between hegelans and yasoi, were such a thing possible. They moved about in their multitudes, but there were others, as well: more centaurs, like Classa, and sirrahi, to be certain, and still more that she could only describe in terms of features and not as known quantities. Yet, when Evander inquired about technologies far outstripping the students’ own, she could only shake her head. “They seem innovative,” she admitted, “Inventive and industrious, but I don’t feel veins of electricity.” Then, they were there and the other three were in range, pausing to sense the sheer activity of what lay above. The entire trip had taken some two hours and thirst scratched at more than one throat. Cautiously, Evander opened the door in front of them, and there was another large room, similar to the one they had entered from, only its banner was yellow. Above and outside, there was a large group of people. Faintly, they could hear the sounds of speech in an unfamiliar tongue. Some twenty feet above, they could sense a sirrahi! With that, Marci reached up to the trapdoor and pushed it open.

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A N Z E N U I

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Of course, Sazan wasn’t the only hard-working stuzé-upé in the city. Some ways distant, his sister, Cazelui, had finally finished clearing the sand from atop the walls by the Bristling Gate. Letting out a long breath, she slumped back against the battlements and just slouched there for a time, keeping one eye open for the guards. In truth, she’d worked slowly, letting her mind wander, for such work would numb it anyhow. Zix and Zugan weren’t bad, all things considered. She could count on one hand the number of times they’d ever used the control wand. They gave her jobs like this where she could just lose herself for hours on end, doing what her name suggested she was best at and daydreaming.

There were still the griddles to clean and, eventually, the stuzé uncoiled, heaved herself up, and stretched. There was sand caked all over them and, at this rate, they wouldn’t have enough heat for the evening cook. Coiling around the spars that held them out into the sun, she held the thick cloth in one hand and her water bucket in the other. Rinse and repeat. She sighed. Literally. The water steamed as soon as it hit the metal surface, and the heat began to emanate through the bunched cloth after some twenty seconds of scrubbing. Then, she was onto the next.

It was when she was on the final one, the least desirable one right by the bare section of canyon wall that was considered too unstable to build on, that she noticed it. His majesty! She stiffened. The king himself! He was walking among the people, no litter, as was his custom, regaling those coming through the gate with his plans in an ‘impromptu’ manner. Urzax-Cilo was trying to get close enough to flatter him, though the plain-clothes guards were not letting it happen, and Potés-Palix was trying to sell sweetwater within the crowd. She rolled her eyes. Stazen was a dreamer, young, and a man of the people, with big plans for the future that would benefit not just cazenax, but stuzé and centaur as well. Sometimes, she liked to listen to him speak. Sometimes, she wondered if a word of it was true. Yet, there was the money, coming from his own hand to feed the poor. There was the expansion of the Wola training mandate and the repeal of the outdated and onerous guiding laws around it. There were the Sirui Hé stuzé who could own themselves, their families, and even conduct business. Of course, their name had been stolen by the rebels, something nobody liked to acknowledge.

Entranced by the king’s speech, she leaned forward a bit further, slithering right to the end of the spar. It was at that very moment that a trapdoor opened below and a quartet of strange, non-cazenax faces peered up. Cazelui started and her tail may have flicked. It may have knocked free the bucket of hot water that she had been using, and it may have fallen straight towards those four curious heads that peeked out into a brave new world.

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Action Opportunities

A C T I O N O P P O R T U N I T I E S

Farmstead Group:

1) Feel free to heal, recover, bathe, and socialize.
2) Get to know your hosts and their world. This is an opportunity to gather information. Just... be careful what you ask.
3) Wanna investigate the farm? Assist with repairs? Learn about sweetwater and dewsails?
4) Finally, Marci will give you a couple of pinches to indicate where she is and what she's doing. Maybe you can go to An Zenui. Who will you take with you? What are your goals there?

City Group:

1) This will mostly play out in a thread on discord.
2) How did you get to An Zenui? Anything interesting happen along the way?
3) Roll for dodging the bucket and water. Highest roll escapes completely. Lowest roll gets conked in the head unless saved.
4) We'll interact with Cazelui and, depending on how that goes, possibly others nearby, like the King, Potés-Palix, and another, as yet to be revealed.

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Resources

R E S O U R C E S

Hex Codes

Base Tan: FFE4B5
Base Grey: 848484
“Classa: C71585”
“Zugan-Alguo: fdc68a”
“Zix-Shama: f9ad81”
“Potés-Palix: 32cd32”
“Jascuan: 808000”
“Zox: B0C4DE”
“Naxos: ADFF2F”
“Maxi: ??????”
“Sazan-Betai: 7B68EE”
“Cazelui: FFF0F5”

The Cazenax Language

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[Wolfieh]

[ Webers-Tappisserie, Town Square ] | [ Lark Weber @Wolfieh, Ehren Weber @Wolfieh, Lyra Weber @Wolfieh, Baudile Dubosque @YummyYummy ]

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Dusty-Ink Memories

Kaspar pushed the door open, something racing through his veins though he looked as stoic as ever. Was it fear? Or was he beyond that?

A small bell above the door chimed as the boy stepped in. The sound was like ice sliding down his spine. He knew that quiet song. It was the same one from his childhood. It was a memory, and it was a lance through the chest.

Unable to help it, his mind wandered the space, thinking of the life that may have been his. Perhaps he’d be standing behind the counter now, trusted with managing the business and the coin. Or would he be crafting alongside one of his parents?

Thin, dexterous fingers weaving thread to and fro on a large loom, laughing with his father as the picture came together. Or muscled wrists and forearms crushing ingredients, mixing pigments and oils and stirring large stews of coloring fabric. His red eyes looked down, hands flexing. He’d always taken more after his father, but muscle for dyemaking could be built.

Could have been built.

There were footsteps from the back. Sharp and quick. A woman with disheveled, dark hair and gaunt features walked through a doorway, eyes cast down as she wiped dye-stained fingers onto an equally dye-stained apron. She looked up, something of a permanent scowl etched below auburn eyes.

Only for the scowl to deepen, and the eyes to burn.

---

What's Lost

Lark reached for the nearest object, an old piece of loom frame that stayed tucked behind the counter.

“Aussteigen.” (Get out.)

The words felt like they tore out of her throat as she held the wood out, hoping that its shaking came across more as a threat than as fear.

Red eyes flickered down toward it, then back to her. They seared into her. His face was so much like Ehren’s—if her husband had only hair dark as hers, and eyes of the devil. And none of the laughter or joy that softened those features. She knew who he was, was sure the whole village would if they didn’t think he was dead.

“Diesmal werde ich ihn nicht wehtun.” (I won’t hurt him this time.)

The way he spoke the words would seem boyish, if not for the utter emotionless of them. The words themselves comforting, if not for the way he glared at her. No happiness, no sorrow, no regret in his eyes. They looked empty. Devoid of everything but a cold Helbahn winter. He looked like a predator, like a wolf telling the lamb it meant her no harm.

“Diesmal wirst du niemanden verletzen,” (You won’t hurt anyone this time,) she retorted before swinging the stick at him. His arms came up just in time to block as it crashed into him, cracking loudly and sending one half of the stick spinning to the ground.

“Scheiße!” The boy backed away as she swung again, the broken weapon meaning it only whistled violently through the air before smacking loudly against the counter. He kept moving down the length of the surface, but not towards the door—and she chased him, swinging blows that only occasionally caught him.

Hurried footsteps announced that Ehren had overheard the commotion, and he burst into the room. Ever the mediator, he immediately pulled Lark back, grabbing for the stick she was still swinging. He pulled it from her hands, more because she willingly let it go than because he strong-armed her, and backed the two of them away from the target of her anger.

The boy looked up, wiping a trickle of blood from his chin. Lark was satisfied to see a scrape along his cheekbone and a split in his lip. Then his crimson eyes switched from her face to Ehren’s, and…

And the boy froze. He was so still Lark was sure he wasn’t even breathing, only the steady drip of blood there to assure he’d not turned to stone. Behind her, hands still tight on her biceps, she felt Ehren jolt and then start shaking. “Es tut mir Leid—“ (I’m sorry—)

“Alaric?”

The boy seemed to flinch at the name, but Ehren was already walking toward him, gathering the teenager into his arms. To Lark’s surprise, the boy seemed almost frightened of his father’s embrace, sliding his hands away from Ehren and casting wild-eyed looks between the two of them. It was strange, that he faced her pointed violence without shaking, but now—in the arms of his too-loving father—he seemed truly afraid.

“Du warst tot… Du—dachte ich…” (You were dead… You—I thought…) He glanced back towards his wife, nothing but anguish in his eyes. “Du sagtest, er sei tot.” (You said he was dead.)

Lark gaped, suddenly unsure how to answer. Ehren had never been meant to know. And now, he didn’t even seem accusing. He only seemed agonized. Her eyes met the boy’s, and she was sure there was something pleading on her face. But if she thought he had been cold before… She realized that was only a baseline. What she saw before was nothing compared to the frigidness she saw now in that horrible crimson gaze. He would offer no help. “Du musst büßen...” (You must atone…) she stammered, voice soft in her too-dry throat.

His mouth opened, a spark of anger in his eyes, but before the boy could speak, a new voice piped up from the doorway, and Lark shivered in horror.

“Mama?”

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Is Not Always Found

Kaspar trembled violently, still tucked into the arms of the man (Of his father), at the child-like word, a near-plea. At the same time Lark turned around, his eyes flitted to the face peeking out from the edge of the doorway. Young, no more than six or seven, with rounded child features and mousy brown hair. Eyes like Lark’s, though—

Is that a reddish tint? Or a trick of the light?

“Is she—?” he blurted out as Lark scooped the girl into her arms.

“No.” The word was harsh as Lark snapped at him. But after a few seconds, after a prolonged look to the child she held, she murmured, “We… don’t know yet.”

Kaspar let out a ragged breath. Shyly, the girl glanced at him, chewing on the edges of her fingernails and staring prolongedly at her father before, once again, turning her eyes to him.

It reminded him so much of his last visit to Helbahn, of meeting Jesper Arvid Elstrøm von Wentoft.

---

His crimson eyes did not leave the sleeping child as he gently rocked the crib to and fro. Kaspar dared not touch such a delicate being, but it was clear in the boy’s usually-stoic face that he felt adoration for this false brother of his.

Kaspar had never wanted lands or status or titles. At eight years old, he had only wanted to go home—back to Kerremand, to see the mother who had so willfully abandoned him and the father he had so grievously wounded.

When that impossibility became apparent, there had been but one thing left for the boy to seek: knowledge, and control. That had been his driving force for years, all he had desired and everything he worked toward.

Perhaps, then, he had fallen into the trap of self-illusionment. The boy had convinced himself he wanted nothing more than to understand, because he saw his other hope as a mere impossibility.

Just as he wanted to understand, the boy had wanted to be understood. To be enough for someone—and he wasn’t picky on who—to care about him. It was Willa who had picked up on this, who had tried to treat him like a child rather than a pawn.

He stepped softly out of the room, closing the door and turning to face the Marquis and his wife.

“You want me to abdicate all rights to inherit and join the Order of Shune,” he stated matter-of-factly. Neither of his caretakers responded, though both stiffened as if expecting an impending challenge.

“I have no interest in holding lands or titles tainted by you,” he continued, nothing but sincerity in the words, “But what I choose to do instead will suffer no interference from either of you. Know that the secret of my identity has been shared. There are those beyond this room—those with positions much greater than your own—who know what you have done, and who I am not. They will not share it.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Unless you force my hand.”

Katka glared at him, anger plain on her features. But after a tense silence, it was she who finally spoke, voice cutting. “Very well. Be sure you are out of the way.”

Kaspar’s crimson eyes settled on them weightily, as if truly examining the nobles for the first time. The Marquis swallowed thickly, eyes darting away for the barest of seconds under the piercing stare.

“I hope, for the sake of your newest heir, that you will find something resembling bare decency. I hold no hope for your ability to care, but would like to see this child receive something fairer than either Kaspar or I ever got.”

He began pulling his gloves off as he continued, seeming near absent-minded but nevertheless precisely calculated. “If you choose to throw this one away as well… I will find him, and I will be his keeper. I will make sure he is properly raised and educated in every aspect he might possibly need.”

His eyes darkened, face turning colder than the hellish winter. “I will protect him, and I will personally ensure that neither one of you are in the way when he comes of age to inherit. I do not hold such frail beliefs as good and evil. If you do not support him and I must… I will not care what other men may deign to call it. I will be exactly what he needs me to be, regardless of who must pay that price.”

---

“If she ever—” He swallowed, trying not to stutter. “If she needs… Support, or tutelage… I can help. I will help.”

Lark didn’t respond, eyes searching his face. Finally, turning her back towards him and bouncing the little girl, she nodded, sharp and unsure.

Ehren finally pulled his arms from around his son, fingers pressing into Kaspar’s shoulders as he seemed to just look. Unable to meet the eyes of the man he almost killed, the biro lowered his gaze. Yet, unbidden, it flickered toward the wrist he had injured so long ago, searching for that silvery stretch of scar tissue—

But found only smooth, healthy skin.

Something settled in his chest, soothing against the agitation and pain this place had brought him. The buzzing in his ears—one he hadn’t even noticed until now—abated, and he caught the words Ehren was speaking softly to him.

“Alaric? Do you want to have a seat in the kitchen?”

“I…” He choked on the words, reality cascading over him in waves. He was in the home of his childhood, the one he’d spent so long wishing to return to. He had been taken, joyously, into the arms of the father he was so sure must fear him, if not hate him. He had a sister. Not a sibling by choice like Felix, or happenstance like Jesper—but of blood.

She would grow up in his childhood home, running through the same rooms and streets. As Jesper would grow up in the home of his adolescence—and like he and Felix shared the experience of pain. She was the last key to his life, being understood in pieces. The thought warmed him.

He realized Ehren was gently tugging his elbow, and they were crossing through a hallway to the rickety staircase up to the kitchen. Kaspar went willingly, knowing he had not even done what he meant to do here—it had been one shock after another.

First, his mother’s assault—That, he mused wryly, is not very surprising. Then, the realization that his father was not only happy to see him, but thought he was dead. He’d wondered, for years, what Ehren had said when Lark had admitted to sending their child away. But it seemed she never had.

And then, of course, his sister. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d become a permanent fixture in his life—it was all too likely he would leave here unwelcome to return, and not only because of his past—but, having been granted the chance to know her once… It was uplifting. If it came to pass that she was like him, perhaps Lark would entrust her to his guardianship. He could, at least, do right by her. By both of his younger siblings.

Ehren guided him into a seat, and Kaspar shook himself back to the moment at hand. He was here with a purpose—there were people who might desperately need the information he sought. He’d come to the Webers because they, of all people in Mandelein, might be willing to answer his questions—if only out of guilt.

”I need your help.”

The words cut off a hushed conversation between Ehren and his wife, who seemed displeased that Kaspar had been brought here—and who glared sharply at the interruption. ”Of course,” Ehren replied, ignoring the way his wife’s accusatory gaze turned his way.

”After the attack, some of my companions hoped to find a victim deeper in the woods. They haven’t come back.” His crimson eyes search them, and found they shifted uncomfortably. ”I remember the stories, from my childhood. Of the—“

He was hushed, softly. Like a parent soothing a frightened child. Ehren patted his hand and Kaspar tried not to blanch at the contact, at the violent memories it dredged. He opened his mouth to continue, but the shushing grew more firm and Ehren shook his head, eyes imploring.

Hoarsely, Kaspar whispered, ”What happened to the Lord of Mandelein?”

Lark winced like she’d been struck, attention suddenly turning to the child on her lap as she began bouncing her daughter, distanced from the conversation. Ehren’s eyes were the closest Kaspar had seen them to anger. ”The lord has been gone a long time. We talk to Father Dubosque.”

Kaspar tried to remember if the priest had been here in his childhood, but so many memories of that time were shrouded. He focused his eyes on Ehren’s face, forcing his own expression into one of pleading. ”Papa, please,” he murmured, seeing the words take root as Ehren’s eyes began to mist.

His head shook back and forth slowly, and Kaspar’s father looked pained. ”No. Do not ask this of me,” he whispered wretchedly. ”You are my son, but you… You are not one of us.” He choked on the words, swallowing thickly. Lark reached out a hand to press firmly on his shoulder, and leveled a harsh glare at Kaspar. He could feel it, but didn’t bother to glance her way.

Instead, frustrated, he cast his eyes about the room. There was little here that could offer answers. The fireplace where they cooked food, stacked assortments of pots, various ingredients hanging from the ceiling and giving the room a heady herbal smell. Boxes and baskets for vegetables, and what fruits they might be able to get—and a pair of crutches leaned in that corner, dusty with disuse.

“When did you hurt your leg?” he asked without thinking, glancing between Lark and Ehren to see who responded. Had this injury had something to do with the Beast?

“It’s better now,” Lark snapped, and his gaze settled on her.

“Is there any lingering pain or weakness?” He paused momentarily, wondering if mentioning his Gift was a good idea in front of her, but decided to continue, “I’m a Binder. I could look at it, if it’s not fully healed.”

It was Ehren who spoke. “No. No pain or weakness. It’s been healed for months.” Lark shot him a warning look, and Kaspar realized with amusement that she’d simply been trying to keep him from answering.

He glanced back and the crutches. Were they tiring of his conversation? These reminded him of Felix’s—they were clearly intended to be permanent. Had the crafter only known how to make one kind?

“Are you certain?”

“It’s my leg! I lived long enough with the pain, I think I’d know if I still felt it!” Ehren snapped. Lark looked shocked, and the child on her lap buried her face in her mother’s chest. Kaspar simply leveled his eyes on the man, expression unaffected.

“How long did it take to heal?” he asked, after a moment of tense silence.

“A few years.”
“Quickly.”

Ehren and Lark shot glares at each other, and Kaspar watched with interest sparking in his eyes. But neither one spoke, and eventually Lark’s angry gaze returned to him. He leaned back slightly, shrugging.

“I am only trying to help, Papa,” he murmured, letting something like hurt leak into his voice. His eyes fell to the floor, corners of his mouth falling as his eyebrows knitted together.

“It… It lingered, for years. But when it finally healed, it did so quickly,” Ehren admitted quietly.

Kaspar studied his face. He seemed uncomfortable, and clearly there was more to the story. “Did you see someone to heal it?” he asked, dropping the prior intensity to sound simply curious.

Lark opened her mouth—to object to Kaspar’s question or Ehren’s answer, he did not know—but could not speak before her husband. “No. I… I don’t think so.”

The curiosity took over as Kaspar replied, “You don’t know?”

“I was asleep!”

Silence hung heavy in the room. Kaspar was trying to parse these words, to figure out what they meant specifically, and his parents seemed to be uncomfortable that it had gotten this far. “It healed overnight?” he asked, trying not to sound too incredulous.

“You should leave,” was the murmured response. Lark handed the girl in her arms to her clearly frustrated husband, and stood to face Kaspar.

“Get out,” she ordered, waving her hands like she was shooing a dog.

Almost apologetically, Ehren piped up, “If you want to talk again, you will be welcome. Just… Not about this. Never about this.” But Lark was already herding him through the doorway, back to the staircase.

They descended in silence, until they’d made it back to the front room. “You should be ashamed,” she snapped.

With a sigh, Kaspar retorted, “Do not blame me for the lies you told. It seems a theme, with mothers. Pretending their unwanted sons are dead.” He turned, locking eyes with her, and smirked. “It did not work well for the Marchioness, either.”

This seemed to give Lark pause, as she tried to grasp his meaning. He simply continued to stare into her eyes, unwilling to offer any assistance. Finally, almost seeming guilty, his mother whispered, “At least they could take care of you. At least they wanted you.”

“Ehren wanted me. The Elstrøms wanted an heir,” he clarified, seeing the angry blush rise to her cheeks again. “And with the birth of my younger brother, Jesper, they finally have one.”

Kaspar opened the door, stepping into the street. It was growing dim, and night would fall on the town soon. He turned, facing Lark once more. “If she turns out like me, if you choose to abandon her too… Send for me. I can and will care for her.” He hesitated, but the open hostility in Lark’s eyes pushed him further. “Even if you don’t, I will find her. And I’ll make sure she knows exactly who threw her away.”

Lark tried to shut the door in his face, but Kaspar stuck the toe of his boot in, keeping it open just enough to see the burning eyes of his mother. Tilting his head, he asked softly, “What is her name?”

Lark glared harshly at him for what seemed to be a long time. The pressure on his foot increased, and it was clear she wanted the door shut. The square was still emptying—she could’ve called for help if she’d wanted—but both remained silent, staring fearlessly into the other’s eyes.

“Lyra.”

His foot pulled free, and the slam of the door echoed harshly into the falling night.

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And What's Found is Better Off Lost

“Tough love, eh? Almost reminds me of my mother.”

A thin man had been smoking by the large cannon put on display by the square, and just a few meters from the Webers’. From the look of things, he had been waiting for Kaspar and he had been eavesdropping at least a little bit. Something about his slightly accented, but definitely not local, voice sounded slimy. His Stresian monk attire hardly helped the shady approach he had opted for, “I thought you would all be scrambling in the woods looking for your friends. But I guess there’s always time for family.” he smiled, “I’m Brother Baudile Dubosque. It is a pleasure to meet you, Alaric!” he took a few steps forward and offered his hand for a shake. The sides of his index and major fingers were blackened by the smoke he had been inhaling all day.

The voice jolted Kaspar out of whatever thoughts he had been lost in. His eyes moved up and down, taking in the stranger who seemed to have been waiting for him. His mind flitted through comments he could make, denying the assumed parentage or driving a spike through what reputation Lark Weber might have here. But he swallowed them all, deciding they might provide too much information. Instead, he replied reservedly, “I thought they might be capable of helping. I have not lived here in a long time, Brother Dubosque.” He did not correct the name, wanting to get a feel for this man before offering more information. He stared at the offered hand for several seconds before taking it in his own, fingers trembling only slightly and not unusually at the touch. “Were you waiting to speak with me?”

“I was.” he confirmed as he proceeded to give a brief but firm shake. Then, he offered one of his recently rolled cigarettes, “I initially wanted to meet with a gorgeous senhorita called Dorothea. Alas, it did not come to pass.” Baudile took a puff from his cigarette and leaned to the side, eyes trained on the home Kaspar had just left, “Strange, isn’t it? A man that could hardly walk a couple of months ago is now at the top of his game.” with a brow raised, he shot an expectant look at Kaspar, “Ever notice how … Healthy everybody is here despite all their livestock disappearing and the weather being as inhospitable as it gets? I can’t be the only one finding that even a little odd.” he awkwardly chuckled, clearly hoping to prompt a discussion with Kaspar that would likely be taboo with any other native.

Kaspar took the offered cigarette as a polite gesture, but simply held it as Baudile began to speak. “Then it was a serious injury,” he said, half to himself, as he listened to the man go on. The boy cast his mind back, finding that he had no memories of sick or injured individuals. Save for—“Father Dubosque limps, does he not?” the boy asked, though his tone wasn’t accusatory so much as curious. “But he is the only one I have seen or heard of.” He sighed, eyes narrowing as they cast about the square in thought. “Do you suspect this is related to the recent attacks? Or is it something else entirely?”

Baudile then lit the tip of his thumb with a small, quivering flame, expecting Kaspar to actually smoke. “He does.” nodded the monk, “It’s an injury he’s had for … Vinte - Twenty years or so? It still hurts. But it never stopped him from doing his job. Both as a priest and protector.” he sighed a cloud of smoke, “I wouldn’t be able to tell you exactly, as I’m as stonewalled as you kids. But-” he looked over he shoulder, just as a precaution, “I can say for sure that the smuggling operation that recently came back after decades is very much involved with their supply needs being met, and probably this as well.”

Then, the monk gestured for Kaspar to follow him, “I will be frank with you, Alaric,” he kept his voice down, wary of any eyes that could be on them. Although, if one were to sense with the gift, they’d notice that most homes were vacant, and most were concentrating around the Inn - where they were headed, “I had been hoping to track a ghastly figure that’s been roaming the streets at dusk every few days. They’re due for a visit.” passing through the square, they could get a better view of the gathering of citizens prying gossip from Ines, “Oh. Your friends may have returned.” remarked brother Dubosque as they passed by the permanently inactive fountain in the town’s square.

Kaspar soaked in his information, holding up the cigarette to Dubosque’s thumb and taking a breath from it—trying not to cough at the acrid taste and slight burning in his lungs. “Then you are investigating as well?” the boy asked, listening as more information fell from the mouth of the monk, nodding as the man spoke of the smugglers. “Correct. I gave a quick summary to your crowned friend.” replied Baudile. He cast a glance toward the crowd when they neared, humming in acknowledgment as his interest piqued—but heard no one shouting for help. Instead, Kaspar’s attention returned to Baudile’s statement. “You expect this ghastly figure tonight, I presume. Is this a request for help, or a warning?”

“More like …” the monk reached his hand out to Kaspar’s abdomen to stop him in his tracks. They were behind a stand that hadn’t be closed up yet, but the owner had joined the gathering, “volunteering you. I’m not a good runner, even worse a fighter.” from behind the beam of wood, he shot a glance at the rest of the square, “And with everyone distracted …” the tense and dramatic moment dragged on for about a minute. There was nothing. And the monk was getting frustrated, “Porra! They were by the barracks just an hour ago too …” he clicked his tongue and turned to Kaspar, “I promise, this place hasn’t robbed me of my mind just yet.”

As Baudile was complaining and growing frustrated with his predicament, Kaspar could notice a figure over the lanky man’s shoulder. Inconspicuous and with a mundane gait, this hooded individual would be hard to discern from every other villager with a hood if one wasn’t actively looking for suspicious activity. They had just walked into view and stopped by the town’s well, a half-minute away from the fountain. They had their back turned on two snooping individuals, and what exactly they were doing would be impossible to discern from their point of view.

Kaspar pondered whether he could be considered a good runner. He had the advantage of youth, though that was it. Fighting, he was certainly capable of—though, perhaps not in a sense most would consider legally or morally correct. Certainly not a particular priestess among his companions. He listened to Baudile’s frustration, glancing out at the crowd himself, but spotted the distant movement. Crimson eyes watched in curiosity, and in a moment of silence between the monk’s rambling the student asked, “Is your ghastly figure the subtle type?” He nodded in the direction of the person he’d spotted, the question asked casually despite the situation at hand.

Baudile turned around, and so did the figure’s head turn sideways. Both acknowledged one-another and froze for a moment, “... Alaric?” he gestured to his left, “It’s them, go!” he shouted just as the concealed figure made a break for it. Baudile, with all his unathletic might, ran to the right to try and corral the figure into a straight line, where he predicted a deadend. The nimble suspect was fast, but ran straight so far as they definitely noticed both men.

Kaspar ran, darting in the direction Baudile had indicated. A burst of kinetic energy could’ve certainly helped, but the boy was still early into his classes. Their target seemed to easily outpace Baudile, keeping from being boxed in. Noticing that the figure seemed to be gaining ground despite a shorter stature, Kaspar relied on what was familiar. He drew, pulling at the stone beneath him, and produced his cherrywood wand. A barrier erupted from the street just in front of his quarry, stalling them to a near stop.

He came close enough to tell the figure appeared to be feminine, locking this information into his mind as he propelled forward. She vaulted over the barrier, skimming across the rough top of the stone. Something fell on the near side, glinting in the dim light, but Kaspar ignored it. She darted into an alley he hadn’t even noticed as the student dismantled the wall, sprinting through the gap he created. He skidded into the alleyway and came to a halt, panting. It looked like a dead end, but the figure was nowhere to be seen.

Casting his awareness out, Kaspar searched for her, but was stunned to find nothing. He seemed to be the only person here, Baudile the closest as he approached. It was like she had disappeared entirely. Swearing with frustration, he stalked out of the alley—and his mind focused on what he had seen. What had been left behind. He approached the barrier, eyes locking on the small object that rested just beyond it. Kneeling, his crimson gaze took in every detail he could.

An overexerted Baudile eventually caught up to Kaspar well after the disappearance of the target. “Oh Porra …!” hands on his knees and looking about ready to vomit, the man’s fitness levels were displayed in all their glory, “D-did you find something?” the monk shot a look at the metal object that had been dropped and approached. It looked to be a sort of vial of capsule of sorts with the lid gone. For the most part it was empty barring a few drops of a transparent liquid. The fluid itself smelled like iron, which Baudile would confirm after picking it up, “Ever seen anything like this, here or wherever?” the metal container did not look like anything one would usually find. The steel used for it looked to be of good quality, and the leylines carved onto it would lead one to think it was meant to be fit into a bigger container, potentially for transport, “Who uses good steel to carry such a small amount of … Whatever’s in there? Best I’ve seen were glass vials with preservation seals.” the puzzled Baudile passed the object to Kaspar.

Kaspar took it, observing the vial and its contents from several angles. Finally, with a sigh, he acquiesced, “I don’t know. Perhaps it’s something that could cause harm if dropped?” That might explain a metal vial instead of a glass one. Glancing back toward the direction they came, he hummed in thought. “Do you think she was putting it in the well?”

Baudile gulped, “Only one way to find out, I suppose.” he looked at the direction of the square.

Kaspar stood, slipping the vial into a pocket to be examined later. He began walking toward the well, one eye kept on the gathering of people, trying to reassure himself that no one had taken the water yet. He didn’t wait to see if Baudile followed, assuming the man would do something to solve the situation.

They still had the square for themselves, although the milling of townsfolk had since greatly reduced. When the water was examined through a sample gathered by a bucket, there was … A whole lot of nothing to notice. It smelled like any normal water that had been recently exposed to rain, but otherwise there wasn’t much else to remark on, “Then again …” began Baudile as he scratched his chin in muse, “Not a whole lot can be contained in that bottle. It may have since been diluted. But the water doesn’t seem to have changed whatsoever.”

Kaspar agreed. The water seemed fine to the eye and the nose. “There is, I suppose, a concrete method to make sure it’s safe to drink,” he finally offered, glancing up to Baudile with an eyebrow raised. Would it be worth risking? Baudile stared at Kaspar, lips pursed, but he did not protest.

Kaspar assumed, by Baudile’s expression, that the monk would certainly not be the one to test it. This wasn’t the boy’s favorite solution, but it was fast and would have the clearest results. Taking a deep breath, he cupped a small amount in his hand and sipped the water.

Nothing happened. It didn’t even taste good, or bad.

But it didn’t mean something wasn’t going to happen.

Kaspar waited a few seconds, trying to take note of anything unusual he felt. But there was nothing. Finally, he said, “I don’t feel differently. It tasted like well water. Perhaps the few drops in the vial are all there ever were?” He glanced to Baudile to see if he had another suggestion.

“Bit big for a few drops, don’t you think?” shrugged the man, looking rather relieved that nothing crazy had happened, for once. As dusk was slowly turning to night and the two were about ready to call it there, Baudile set his hand onto Kaspar’s shoulder, “Hey, Alaric.” he leaned in to whisper by the teen’s ear, “My brother will suggest your group leaves when the whole beast and smuggler deal is concluded. But-” he looked nervously to his side, “if these people mean anything to you, I strongly urge you to stay until Victendes morning.” and with that, the monk took a couple of steps back and began to walk his own way.

[Ti]

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Event: Castle Mandelein | Location: Mandelein, Kerremand

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The Journey

Qasem arrived early enough to be the first at the meeting-place instructed by Taleja. Even at the late hour, eyes lingered on his tall frame and darkened complexion as they passed in returning to their homes. He had quickly become accustomed to such suspicion ever since moving south from the Darhannic lands, and had long since decided to ignore it. A truth seeker had nothing to hide, after all. His actions and results would speak for themselves in due time.

He reached two his hip, and one by one three thin vials of dark solution fastened there emptied into his throat, until only a fourth, containing a transparent liquid, remained fixed to the belt. His manas made no effort to accelerate the reaction processes within his body; there was no telling what the night might yet entail, and he wouldn't want to burn through his reserves too quickly. But some things needed no rush at all. Qasem's already dark eyes became darker still as his pupils fully dilated, despite the overhanging streetlamps. His heart rate slowed too, and a faint but familiar tingling warmth began to grow from the tips of his extremities. He shifted his weight as he swallowed back the bitter after-taste, looking up and down the street for the arrival of his companions.

Soon after, an unexpected visitor arrived at the meeting point, catching everyone's attention. A black habit adorned the figure as they walked up to Qasem and greeted him. The newcomer was a tall and slender person, their face concealed by the hood of the habit.

Taleja emerged from the woods, holding her Pendragon smooth bore musket in her hands. She surveyed the meeting spot, taking note of the two figures waiting there. "Thought it would be wise to scout ahead while waiting," she stated. Peering through her mask, her green eyes assessed the pair. "Sister Laska, have you taken the place of the Monkey King?"

The figure in the black habit made the sign of the pentad in front of them, their head bowed in apparent humility. The habit draped their figure entirely, concealing their identity from view. In a faux-feminine voice, they began to speak, “Forgive me, Sister, for we have sinned." Qasem and the others exchanged puzzled glances, wondering who this stranger might be.

Without warning, the figure spun around, revealing themselves to be none other than the Monkey King. Ashon beamed a wide and goofy smile, clearly pleased with his clever disguise. He was now adorned in one of Sister Laska's fine black habits, which seemed to fit him quite well despite his lanky frame. “You thought it was the good sister, but it was me, Jamboi!”

Taleja observed Ashon in Laska's habit in silence. After a moment, she spoke, "You're dressed in black, good." She then turned to walk towards the tree line and motioned for Ashon to follow. "I will explain as we walk," she added.

Qasem's face distorted as he reconciled his sense of humour with that of sanctity. The result was him starting silently at the Yasoi man for far too long.

"It is good to know we have Eshiran's eyes on us at the least." He finally said after Taleja already began ushering them along. "As with the dreamers." He added as silent prayer to himself in his mother tongue before following with silent obedience.

Taleja led the duo through the dense woods, weaving through the underbrush and avoiding muddy banks on either side of a trickling creek. As they continued along the creek, she explained the plan for their mission.

"I’ll need to pose as a courier and meet the smugglers," Taleja said, her voice low. "Then, we track them back to their base and scout it out. Once we have the location, we return to Mandelein and bring the others tomorrow." The plan was relatively straightforward, though bound to be more difficult than anticipated.

As they approached a large, moss-covered rock at the base of a towering oak tree, Taleja pointed out it out as one of the many landmarks they needed to follow. "There are certain points where we could potentially be ambushed or seen, so we need to be careful," she cautioned. "One of you is a Yasoi, so I suggest you climb into the higher branches and follow me there."

Turning to Qasem, Taleja added, "For now, our goal is to remain unseen. You can have your fun tomorrow, Inquisitor. I won't hold you back." Her green eyes glinted mischievously as he could have sworn she gave him a playful smile under the mask

From there, she turned left, and walked up a steep incline as she led them. She had to duck and dodge the low-hanging branches that obscured her path as she followed the incline, eventually coming to a clearing where a cluster of wildflowers grew. In the centre of the clearing stood an unusually large banana tree which appeared to have purple fruit, with thick roots that protruded from the ground like fingers.

"As for the next direction, I need to head towards that gnarled tree over there," Taleja said, gesturing towards a twisted and gnarled tree in the distance. "But we should be careful." She scanned the tree line cautiously. "I suggest you two keep a low profile and take the long way around to avoid being seen."

Qasem only nodded in agreement. He'd decided not to argue with his mysterious fellow student; he'd only receive more lies in return. She'd inevitably spin herself into a mess only the truth could untangle, but in the meantime there were more than enough dangers and mysterious to investigate.

The drugs had worked well into Qasem's system, causing his slow but deep heartbeat to pound loudly in his own ears. He was eager for action, and leapt with astonishing speed towards the indicated direction. Only to be brought up short by a tap on the shoulder, his habit-donned companion indicated a strange shadow a few feet ahead in his path; a passing guard.

Qasem smiled in thanks, and moved further into the covering of trees in order to give the unexpected watcher a wide berth. Only once they were part-way did it occur to the Darhannic brother that his enhanced senses had not heard or felt another being from the direction at all. Sure enough, once their detoured path was complete, the pair were able to turn and see the shadow's source; completely unmoved. As any normal tree ought to have been.

Taleja's eyes narrowed as she examined the unusually out of place purple banana tree, searching for the sign that would indicate the next direction. After circling around it, she disappeared briefly before reappearing on the other side, her musket now aimed in a new direction. She began striding confidently toward a dense thicket of brambles, using her gloved hand to clear a path as she made her way through the tangled undergrowth. As she passed through the thicket, the plants seemed to wither and die at her touch, revealing a clearer path ahead. Her use of magic was evident as she drew power from the surrounding vegetation.

Taleja stood by the small pond, flanked by cattails and reeds, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the duo. "Glad to see you both made it," she said as she gestured to the left, revealing a narrow path, leading them down it in a hurried manner.

As they walked, the path was bordered with an array of toadstools, varying in colour and shape. Taleja couldn't resist the opportunity to collect some samples. "While I waited, I examined them already. If you want to take some with you, pick the ones that are brown and shaped like teats."

"Yourself as well," Qasem courteously replied before reaching for the indicated specimens and adding them to the emptied vials on his belt.
"Do they have particular effects?" He asked casually, curious as to the girl's horticultural knowledge.

“Those are Psilocybin mushrooms. Often used within religious rituals, or enjoyed re-creating a religious like experience.” She smiled toward the Inquisitor. “Eat enough of those, and you will feel you have personally met even the Darhannic god.”

"In the heat of its bitter brew was found the truest sleep
Where within the dreamer wanders and seeks."

He smiled at her. "We do have... Similar practices within my home." He confirmed before suddenly remembering the third in their party, Qasem's head snapped towards Ashon, giving the Yasoi a warning look before he could do anything too rash. Ashon looked as if got caught red-handed. "But we'll have to leave practical experiments for another time."

They continued down the path until it led to a rocky outcropping overlooking a clearing, the meeting spot in the distance. With a burst of energy, Taleja climbed up onto the outcropping and surveyed the area, keeping low to avoid being seen. She gestured for the others to join her and pointed out the figures waiting in the clearing. "They're waiting for me. I'll go down alone. You two try to get to the other side of the clearing. I'll buy you some time, but when they leave, you need to tail them."

"She seems remarkably capable for someone in need of our help" Qasem stated once sure they were safely out of earshot of Taleja. "Don't suppose she let you in on what it is exactly she's delivering?"

Ashon beamed a smile at Qasem, watching as Taleja moved out of earshot. “Did you notice that? Even when we're not casting, you can feel it as soon as she comes into range," he remarked. He gestured towards the three figures gathered together. “Imagine being followed by her. If she got too close, any mage worth their salt would notice her easily. That's why she needs us.” As for the package, Ashon shrugged. “She hasn't been very forthcoming.”

The Meet

Taleja descended from the outcrop and followed the path that led to the clearing, where three figures were waiting for her. The first was a woman in her forties, accompanied by a tall Yasoi cut-throat pirate, typical of Dami's eye, and a younger androgynous figure with a bandana covering their face.

“Halt! Drop your weapon and show yourself!” The woman shouted, and the three of them brought their guns to bear as they aimed them to the girl, spreading out as if expecting an attack.

Taleja sighed as she cursed under her breath. Maits. She dropped her musket upon the floor, and removed her mask and hat, revealing her braided bright white hair.

The Yasoi leered at her and whistled, “Looks like we’ve been sent a luuntai little thing to keep us company. Maybe we should have her take off the rest of her clothes, have myself a luush’elar”

As the third approached closer, they shook as the androgynous figure sharply pointed their rifle at Taleja and exclaimed “Sumplfhexe! - Swamp Witch!” The Yasoii spat out his bakeleaf in response and followed suit “daxtoil!”.

The woman just laughed at their reactions. “It seems someone sent the Perrench witch our way” she said, grinning evilly at Taleja who returned an intense glare. “Why have they sent you, girl. Do you have the package, or did they want someone to put you in your place as a reminder of what happens to little girls who don’t deliver.”

Taleja stood her ground, not intimidated by their threats. “I have the package, but it won’t be handed over until you lower those guns. You know the terms.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, “You’re pushing your luck, witch. Do you know any idea who we are?” The woman tapped her gun with her finger. “I've been shooting longer than you've been alive. Chad here has been sailing ships through Kerreman patrols since before your dad was even born. And Nyx? Well, they've killed more people in cold blood than you have toes and fingers.”

Taleja rolled her eyes, “Well, congratulations on your impressive resumes. Now, let's get down to business, I know that you wouldn't want to risk the wrath of your employer by not fulfilling your end of the deal. So let's make this quick and painless, shall we?”

The Yasoi stepped forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You're in no position to make demands, witch.”

Taleja didn't flinch. “Oh, but I am. You see, I have something that you want. And if you don't agree to my terms, I'll just take the package and leave.”

The woman stepped forward, holding up a hand to stop the Yasoi. “Fine. Put the guns down. But if you try anything funny, we won’t hesitate.”

Taleja nodded as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a small wooden box, setting it on the ground between them. “You can inspect it if you'd like.”

The woman motioned for Nyx to check the package, who opened the box to inspect its contents. Removing what appeared to be some kind of solution in a sealed jar, and nodded. “Seems legit.”

“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way,” Taleja sad, holding out her hand. The woman chuckled as she reached into her coat and pulled out a small pouch, tossing it to her. She caught the pouched, open it to inspect it, before nodding in satisfaction. “Then all is concluded.” She moved to collect her belongings before leaving.

But before she could take a step, the Yasoi grabbed her arm roughly. “Not so fast, witch. We have some unfinished business to take care of.”

Taleja's arm was roughly grabbed by the Yasoi, but she remained composed. She slowly removed her glove as she twirled around and grabbed a hold of the Yasoi's hand, making direct skin contact. Instantly, the Yasoi's eyes started to bulge as he felt a sharp sensation travel through his being. He could feel his connection with the gift paralysed as his manas began to tremble violently, repulsed by the contact, becoming unstable as they began to draw from themselves. The veins in Chad’s body began to bulge and protrude as he fell upon his knees, shivering, sweating profusely, and on the verge of losing consciousness.

She released her grip, and with her other hand, she drew her flintlock pistol from her bag and pointed it at the Yasoi's head. “How far can you go without your helmsman?” she asked in a firm voice. His companions looked on in shock and fear, realizing that they were dealing with someone who was not to be underestimated.

The woman set down her gun on the ground and signalled for Nyx to follow suit. “Our business is finished. This was just a misunderstanding. We require his services.” She let out a sigh as she saw Taleja lower the pistol. “I wouldn’t stay around by the twenty-first if I were you.”

Taleja gave a small smile, “I’ll keep that in mind.” And with that, she shot the pistol beside the Yasoi in front of her. She turned around, and disappeared down the path. The sound of the women behind her moving to check on their colleague.

The Chase

Ashon and Qasem quietly followed the three smugglers, being bought ample time for them to navigate through the dense woods to get to the other side of the clearing. The river behind them running loud as it covered the sound they made. They watched the woman walking out in front, followed by the Yasoi male, who is being supported by the one known as Nyx. “Next time I see that bitch, she is dead.”, his cursing drawing the woman’s ire. “What ever possessed you Chad to grab her is beyond reason.”

The woman continued to be on lookout as the other two made their way onto the small craft, following them on board after pushing it into the water as it started to drift down the river. The Yasoi starting to use the gift to empower the movements, causing it to that travelling at some speed.

“I’ll take the tree tops to stay ahead, you follow up from behind. Try not to attract any attention.”

As the pair made their way through the woods, the two sharpshooters proved to be quite the challenge, especially the woman. She was skilled, and her aim was deadly, taking down any tempting wildlife targets for game. Ashon and Qasem had to be extra careful not to get caught.

Ashon relied on his dervisher skills and swung through the branches of the trees to keep up with the smugglers. There were one or two close calls, when a disturbed bird proved target practise.

During the journey, there was a fearsome roar, like the one they witnessed when they first came into Mandelein. The individuals on the boat slowed down as they spent a moment surveying the surroundings, appearing to look concerned. It was the second one, louder and clearer than the first, that sent shivers down the spines of those present. The Yasoi on the boat immediately reacted and sped down the river faster.

Ahead on the river were a chain of rocks which appeared to bar the way for any boats. They questioned if this was the destination, though with the use of powerful advanced magic, they were able to twisted and morphed the terrain, creating a path to allow them to pass through.

As they approached the destination, they soon caught sight of a small galleon docked at the shore. The ship looked surprisingly well-maintained for a smuggler’s vessel, with fresh paint and a study-looking hull. They can notice several smaller ships nearby, each loaded up with cargo, and it was clear they had access to a wide variety of resources. The ship was guarded by a small army of over three dozen people, consisting of both humans and Yasoi. They were armed to the teeth, with swords, muskets and magic at their disposal.

The base was a hive of activity, with workers loading and unloading cargo, and soldiers patrolling the perimeter. Despite the bustling atmosphere, there was an underlying tension in the air, as if the smugglers were always on the lookout for trouble. It was clear that this was like a well-oiled machine, with advanced magic being used to bypass the river’s natural defences.

Ashon let out a low whistle as he spoke to Qasem, “Well, now we know why she needed our help.” He examined the smuggler's operation with a mixture of admiration and suspicion. They had succeeded in their mission and found the location, but Ashon could sense that Qasem was still hungry for answers. “I don't think you want to turn back now, do you?” Ashon fixed Qasem with an intense gaze, waiting for his response. He knew that they had come this far, and turning back now would mean leaving their investigation incomplete.

"Not until we find something useful."

Nodding simply, he sighed and replied, “There are several Yasoi in that area. It should not be too difficult for me to slip in unnoticed.” He removed the black habit from his head and handed it over to Qasem. “Take care of that for me. The smugglers won't be my only concern. With a big grin, he threw his dervisher knife at high into a nearby tree before running and swinging up into the upper branches, to then diving from a branch to swing across the other side through the thick foliage that obscured him high within the trees, using the rope to guide his movements.

The Inquisitor

For one so large and equipped, Qasem moved with quiet speed on the low ground. While the flora might have been different, the Kerremand swamps were not all so different from the tropical forests of his home. His body's reflexes and senses increased as they were, the boy was overly-aware of every sound he made, down to his own heartbeat; and any of those that might spot him. He prioritized caution over all else; whatever info he found would be useless if it landed him killed. Or worse, needing rescue from the Yasoi or Kressian.

He counted the bodies he could, but there were more still further in. Instead, he lingered outside, close to where the water met the treeline and an excellent position to survey the delivery taking place.

A pair were arguing while unloading the crates, preparing them for land transportation. The language they used was jumbled, half the human Kerremand language, parts in the Yasoi dialect of the same region, and even the odd Perrench phrase thrown in when the other two proved insufficient. It wasn't until the latter showed up that Qasem's attention was drawn away from the crates, the sight of more unusual purple banana’s, and the wafting of an alluring smell of food to his sensitive nose.

"Sewers don't go further than the graveyard." The first of the set continued the argument. "Rotting corpses along with the rats and whatever else might be there..."

"Years ago," The other snapped back. "They've opened up the tunnels under the castle; we'll move easy through there."

Then their footsteps grew closer still, and Qasem moved on. Thankfully, the low growling from a rather large crate distracted the men. Whatever it was contained within, it was bigger than a human, for sure.

The Monkey

Swiftly moving through the trees, the Hyparian deftly clung to branches and swung from one to another, living up to his name as the Monkey King. Unlike in his homeland, where extra precautions are made to counter individuals such as himself, these smugglers had grown used to a linear form of combat typical in human territory, so he enjoyed greater freedom. As he made his way past idle lookouts chatting amongst themselves, he listened to the sound of fluttering birds that provided the perfect distraction. Spotting an overhanging branch that led to the ship, he quickly tight-roped along it and landed on the deck with a flourish.

There, he wasted no time and immediately started to pluck items of clothing from a nearby washing line, using them to blend in with the crew. Taking a nearby box to look more inconspicuous, he began walking into the thick of it, navigating the ship with ease.

He approached the ship's authorities, a stern-looking human male who appeared to be the captain, and an overweight individual who seemed to relish the sound of his own voice. Despite the thick Perrench accent, Ashon was able to pick up on some of their conversation thanks to Penny's language lessons. They seemed to be discussing operational security, and Ashon mentally noted a whistle signal, the call of the Mockingjay. It seemed that the operation was waiting for all six cargo crafts to arrive before setting sail further up the river toward the Yasoi lands. They appeared to be on a tight deadline, hoping to make the delivery before Victendes. He was about to leave as his ears pricked up about a discussion of someone working within Mandelein, to pass along information and help secure the efforts there, a traitor?

He cautiously made his way across the deck, attempting to descend into the lower levels of the ship, but the overwhelming stench stopped him in his tracks. Ashon recognized that smell all too well, and a shiver ran down his spine. Clutching his chest, he quickly backed away and moved behind a crate on the far side of the ship to steady his breathing and calm his nerves. As he surveyed his surroundings, he saw an opportunity to use his knife to abseil down the side of the vessel and gain access to the interior through a porthole.

What he saw confirmed his fears: Yasoi cargo, his own kin, and a few humans kept in chains and bondage. Was this a slave ship? The question tormented him as he carefully made his way around the patrols and back onto the deck, edging closer to the captain's quarters. Peering inside, he saw expensive furniture and trinkets, and a large set of keys on the desk. His attention was drawn to a crate on the table, containing a very dark metal that appeared to be moulded into a cube shape from his vantage point.

As Ashon pretended to be a crew member, he carefully placed down a crate and took a moment to catch his breath. The languages upon the ship were a eccentric mix of Kerreman, Perrench, and Yasoi, in no particular preference. He overheard a conversation between three well-dressed individuals, possibly captains of smaller ships around the galleon. One of them complained about having to deliver another large package from up north to the Yasoi, suggesting that they should refuse the task by offering to shove it up their arses. The other individual, who happened to be Yasoi, rolled his eyes in response. The first individual continued his crass remarks, stating that at least the Tarlonese women were more cooperative and attractive, willing to spread their legs to make it worthwhile, even suggesting that they look so alike, he could fantasize about them being sisters. The second human captain disagreed and expressed frustration with Retannese women on the last voyage, who considered themselves too cultured and superior for such things. He even joked that he had a better chance of seducing a Rezaindian Nun than a Retannese girl. Ashon couldn’t resist as he walked past, “Wouldn’t make a habit of that.” to the chortle of the other two. As he walked away, he overheard about witnessing some giant white dragon whilst he was up there.

As things were winding down, Ashon gathered as much information as he could and made his way toward the back of the main ship. He hooked a branch to create a path for himself back into the trees when he was approached by a young boy who had been watching him.

"You've just been walking around with that same box. You're not one of us, are you?" The boy looked up at him, growing frightened.

Ashon put on a charming smile and moved his hand in front of his face, “Oh? We Yasoi just love our trees! Nothing to be scared about.”

The boy began to step back, but suddenly felt his back hit against something hard. He jumped in shock, caught off guard as Ashon swiftly hit him with a well-placed chemical chop to knock him out. Ashon weighed the pros and cons of leaving the boy there, and ultimately decided to take him with him. “I'll leave this one for the Inquisitor to handle,” he thought to himself.

The Return

He found Qasem pacing in wait for him, a frown of displeasure only deepening when Ashon fully delivered his request along with the boy.

"Vashdal preserve and forgive." He whispered before placing hands on either side of the smuggler's head and ceasing the chemical reactions needed to produce long term memories. It wasn't a terribly invasive process as far as internal chemical magic went, but that didn't stop Qasem's face from turning pinched and haunted.

"They're keeping something here, one of the monsters, maybe. I'm not so sure if they are wildbloods." He informed his companion once the boy had passed out from his magic.

Ashon quietly placed him among some crates at the rear of the ship, covering him with a sheet. Their presence would go unnoticed.

Ashon turned to Qasem and said, “We should report back our findings." He retrieved the habit from the Inquisitor and put it back on. “Let's find out what Milady de Winter makes of what we have been doing.” They set out on the journey back to Mandelein, taking a more direct route to their destination, spotting a recognizable figure in the distance.

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[BlackRoseSiren]

Esmii'nesta'tawaar

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Event: Cold Comfort

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While the others went off to plan on what to do about the Begemot. Esmii, along with her boyfriend Sven decided to see if they could find some tracks to see it would give them some sort of clues of what they were dealing with. Along the way they found some waste that seemed to belong to the Begemot, however, something was different. Using their Binding magic, they were both able to come to the conclusion that there were TWO types of waste.

With both waste being similar apart from the size. Both the Eskand and the Yasoi, came to the conclusion that there was not just one, but two Begemots. A mother and her newborn baby. To Esmii and Sven it made sense why it was attacking, well it wasn't technically, it was trying to find food for its baby. After a little celebration of hugging and kissing, the two made a mad dash back to the rest of the group of this groundbreaking discovery.

Sven was among the first to return, and he bounded up eagerly with Esmii in tow. "We have found out shomeshing!" he announced, "Shomeshing big!" He glanced at his girlfriend, wanting to giver her the honours. Esmii smiled at her boyfriend " Aww your so sweet thank you." Esmii waited for the group to gather round both her & Sven. Once they were all gathered she began to explain, what they had both found." Sven and I have managed to find out some important information, SOMETHING BIG !!! She clears her throat & continues. " Using our tracking skills, we have found the nest of the Begemot, however using our Binding skills we discovered that there are TWO Begemot's, one is much smaller and the other was recently PREGNANT!!, which means they are Mother and Baby, and she is searching for food for her newly born child"

This seemed to shock the group, as some of them wanted to kill it, hopefully this would have helped them change their mind. It seemed the group were about to discuss more on the topic. A series of ground tremors began, getting louder and more intense, it only meant one thing, the Begemot is here. While everyone was getting ready with the plan, Esmii was helping Nikolai evacuate the villagers. Nikolai informed Esmii that Esmii should go meet up with the group, he has the evacuation in hand, he also informed her that to try to keep the Begemot away from the mountains, as that's where the citizens were going. So she chased after the group.

It seemed that trying to stall it was working. As Esmii was making her way towards the others she lost her footing in the muddy terrain and belly flopped into it, because of this she was able to avoid the Begemot ear shattering roar. After some frustration and yasoi swearing, Esmii finally managed to get herself free from the mud. She then made her way towards Yvain & Yuliya as she noticed that they were both holding their hands to their ears, and she saw some blood coming from them. Not wasting any time she began to heal their eardrums, from the Begemot's scream. While she was healing them, she was talking to them the whole time so that she knew when their ears were fully healed.

After hearing what Nikolai said about Sven been stuck in the mud, Esmii quickly runs to Sven's side to help him out of the mud, already knowing how hard it is to get out of, as she was just stuck in it too. "Sven I'm coming to help you, don't struggle, it will make it harder for you to get out." however Sven was not struggling, per se. Well, he sort of was. He drew. He drew massive amounts as a blood mage Binder and the ground immediately around him evaporated, all of its stored potential energy filling him. Woozy from drawing right up to his capacity, he leapt free, stumbling upon landing.

While Esmii was running to help, and because she was so focused on getting to him she tripped and slipped a few times being covered in more mud. However she managed to get to Sven just as he stumbled, she tried to catch him, so that he didn't hurt himself too much. " Sven are you ok, do you need me to heal you. "Sven somehow found time for a small kiss in the middle of a life-threatening situation, because he would. He smiled at Esmii's question. "Looksh like you do too." With all that energy he'd drawn needing to be used, he reached out to heal her scrapes and bruises, as she did the same for him. They were in the shadow of a massive, raging beast, and it needed to go down, but they also needed to be out of the squish zone. Sven picked Esmii up like a doll and filled himself with the last of the energy he'd drawn, casting a chemical enhancement to give himself a bit more speed. "Let'sh get outta here."

As Esmii is carried by Sven she becomes a little flustered, and blushes. She try's to calm down as this isn't the time as there is a giant monster that needs to be delt with. " Thank you Sven for healing me, I was that focused on healing everyone else I forgot to heal myself, I do that a lot."

After Esmii had been safely moved out of the Begemots way. Esmii ran over to Penny, shouting " I'm coming to help you encase the Begemot.". When she reached Penny, she quickly started to help with her binding magic to help Penny with hers, to encase the Begemot, before it tried to escape the mud again.