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This guy reminded her of Benny. Ismette managed not to roll her eyes as Desmond outlined his big plan for roleplaying pirates. So much… enthusiasm. If only Hugo could’ve seen him, but the doddering old fool was back in his tower, busy scheming, as she knew he was wont to do.

She pushed thoughts of him aside. It was nice to be back here, in the place where she’d lived before making the trip to Ersand’Enise. It had changed a lot since the last time she’d been there, of course. Certainly, it was more… piratical than before. Probably not things that I should share, she thought. At least Desmond had ‘assigned’ her to the Mermaid’s Knees. That had been more smirk suppression. There was no way for Stubbies (humans) to know that it was common Mycormish innuendo. She walked up the steep road, hair fluttering softly in the nighttime breeze, nostrils full of the scent of this place, listening to the ambient noises of passerby, people in bars and taverns, and crickets beneath it all: chirping away with concerns so far from those of people. She decided to test the improbably tall human girl she’d been placed with. She figured that Trypano would pass a glance check as yasoi, but not much more. How about linguistically, though? Ismette thought.

“So, how much yasoi do you actually know?” she asked in the language. “What do you think of this place’s weird name?” She gestured with her chin up the hill. “How ‘bout that, eh?”

Trypano was walking whilst seemingly looking at her fingernails. In truth she was keeping just as much an eye on their surroundings as she was on what she was doing, listening just as well. Closing her hand then outstretching it the change was subtle but a thin edge of glass was formed in the edges of her nails. A subtle tool, nearly imperceptible without closer examination. The very sheen of the glass was masked by the red paint upon said nails.

“Some. Enough to carry a conversation.” She cast a glance up to the sign on the bar as they slowly made their way up the road.
“Afraid that’s an expression I haven’t run across.”

“At least you recognize it as an expression,” Ismette interrupted briefly, shrugging. “So we’ve got something to work off of.”

Trypano nodded back in acknowledgement. “I plan to let you carry the bulk of the conversation. Just in case, however, any tips I should know going in?”

The yasoi pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “Not about to lie: I’ve half a mind to play hooky. I could care less about rescuing some princess.” She sighed. “Might be worth its weight in gold, though.” She was totally playing into yasoi stereotypes now, and she knew it. Still there was a grain of truth to most of those for a reason. “Anyways, yeah,” she continued, settling onto topic and ticking points off on her fingers. “Keep your clothes loose so you can pass for yasoi-ish. Mermaid’s knees aren’t knees. ‘Means ladyparts.” She blushed a bit. “Everyone in there’s a darkhead. Be ready for a lot of weirdos and some out-of-place aggressive stuff.” She paused before listing a fourth. “Have a shiny to fit in, but don’t covet shinies or try to trade for them. It’s not human stuff. There are nuances you’ll miss.” She flashed a quick, reassuring smile. “And don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

“If my suspicions are correct I doubt the princess will necessarily need rescuing.” Trypano was listening along, stroking her chin contemplatively whilst taking in what Ismette had to say. The yasoi grinned in knowing agreement at her words.

“The mysterious captain is what we’ll need to know most about. If there’s any chance of them being a mage then we’ll need to know what their focus is and why they’ve taken the holy artifact. Odds are strong that they’re not just planning on ransoming something like that back to the kingdom they took it from. A high profile thief would likely have a buyer already in place before the theft even takes place.”

Trypano was a worldly sort despite being something of a shut in. A veritable trove of miscellaneous knowledge from various different sorts, be it from helping her father and brother with the business or during her time serving as a nurse as part of her medical studies. She’s met a fair number of people from many walks of life.

Taking note of her recommendations Trypano started sorting through her given garments, adding give to the laces and straps amidst her outfit in order to provide the ‘looseness’ that was recommended for her. Given what she had mentioned it made relatively good sense. Pirates were already a mixed pot of both sailor and convict cultures. Over at this bar they’d be throwing Yasoian customs into the blend as well.

“In any case, let’s play our part and get this done so we may both return to more important business.”

“Preach it, sis,” Ismette tossed back, also tossing some hair over a shoulder. The rambling establishment was drawing near. The usual drunks were streaming out and future drunks were trickling in. Ismette kept her guard up but paid them no further heed. “You know, we cause a big enough calamity and force people to draw their magic,” she said, twisting back to look at Trypano, “we can skip all the social junk and just smoke out any bigtime mage.”

Trypano’s eyes moved from figure to figure, taking noteworthy details down whilst listening to Ismette’s words.

“As a Binder by primary practice I am required to discourage violence as our main means of progression.”

With a subtle motion of her hand she brought something to her mouth. It was a neat trick she had picked up from her study at the secret blood magic practices, re-contextualized for a more suitable size. She slid a thin slice of sponge beneath her tongue, a slice of Sign of The Mushroom to be exact. It would be useful since the possibility of her attempting to ingest liquids that may have negative effects were strong at an establishment such as this. As long as she didn’t end up swallowing the sponge filter it’s effects on her own fluids were minor.

“From a practical standpoint if we were to initiate a conflict we’d likely be targeted by the very mages we’re looking to smoke out. Furthermore it’d likely alert every pirate on this island to our work here including The Maria Nera’s crew.”

She produced from the satchel that was lent to her by Desmond a single gold coin, passing it from finger to finger in her left hand to lend more authenticity to her disguise.

“Let us keep that option as our plan b for now. There will always remain the possibility of resorting to force if the situation worsens with few exceptions.”

A goody-good, then. Ismette was rather weary of the type. The funny thing was that she hadn’t specifically said anything about violence. There were… other ways to cause a calamity, after all. Regardless, she forced an agreeable smile. “Sure,” she relented. “We can do things the hard way.” The truth was that they probably wouldn’t find much of note here. That said, Ismette would have the chance for a bit of fun and that was always nice. She reached down, loosened a few buttons on her blouse for the men, and put on a bit of a strut. To the large, tattooed bouncer, she tossed a coin and a wink. “My friend and I would love to spend some time with a successful crew tonight,” she chirped, stopping on the spot, chest out, playing a bit with her hair. “You wouldn’t know anyone like that, wouldya?”

The doorman blinked and looked her up and down none-too-subtly. “Vyrachi’s crew’s had a few good scores lately, going after Perrench ships since all the Revidian ones are paranoid these days.”

Paranoid why? Ismette wondered for a moment, but then she remembered to thank him and traipsed on in. “You coming, Tryps?” she called, twisting as she walked. Maybe it was a lead. Maybe this wouldn’t be all play after all.

Trypano watched Ismette speak with the bouncer who watched the door, prying for info through flirtatious means. Trypano herself hadn’t oft considered her own sex appeal for she was far too concentrated on her studies to really try and make anything of it. It was not to say that she neglected her upkeep and aesthetic but in truth a life led in social isolation had made her not only socially awkward but almost shy to an extent. Her peers had always looked at her with suspicion and fear due to the superstition tied to her unusual appearance. It was only fairly recently over the last few years that men around her viewed her in a sexual capacity.

Whilst Ismette blended into the role quite naturally Trypano found herself still trying to adjust to it. As such she could only muster a modest nod as she skirted along with her partner. Though her face was cool it was only through sheer focus that she masked her awkwardness.

Perceptive as Ismette could be, she was quick to notice her partner’s poorly–masked discomfort. “It’s an acquired skill,” she whispered over her shoulder, hair flicking as she twisted back. “Stick close to me until we’re in good with them and they’re rip–roaring drunk. Then it won’t matter.” Indeed, Captain Vyrachi and his crew were not far at all, occupying a couple of large booths and amply supplied with alcohol, food, and women. The captain’s purple velvet hat with feathery plumes was unmistakable. After all, ‘Vyrachi’ meant ‘Bird of Paradise’.

Yet, as the two interlopers walked, a number of things may have been surprising. First came the numbers and disposition: there were simply fewer people in here than one might’ve expected fro, the entrance and they seemed unusually unruly. Even as they entered, Ismette and Trypano noticed at least two new fights start up. Second, was the size and layout of the place. There was a bar, of course, with the usual set of merrymakers. There was a bedraggled-looking musician being hounded to play this tune and that, and a ragged chorus that chimed in with undulating enthusiasm. There was a dance floor. There were card and dice tables. There were wenches. Yet… the inside area did not seem to match the outside and it soon became obvious why. There was a small hallway towards the back corner, obscured from view by dark curtains. People seemed to slink regularly down it and back, almost… wary of being seen. A couple of even-less-reputable-than-usual characters seemed to be hanging around nearby. Finally, it was the magic: there were copious amounts of energy in the air from a source that would’ve been unfamiliar to most humans but all-too familiar to most yasoi. The majority of it was unmistakably concentrated somewhere down that hallway.

Ismette didn’t turn to Trypano. Instead, she slowed and her eyes did all the work. “You seeing what I’m seeing?” she asked in Avincian.

Ismette certainly was perceptive, noting her discomfort. Perhaps she wasn’t concealing her outward impressions as well as she had hoped? Her companion had a plan nonetheless which was of some comfort. Not having to steer the situation was a relief as her forte wasn’t talking, especially not in a language that she might know but not have a full cultural fluency in.

The interior certainly painted a picture. Since the bar seemed to cater mainly to yasoi it made sense that there were fewer patrons to this one than most others. The yasoi were becoming more and more reclusive after all, their presence in places outside of their homelands notably scarcer.

Aside from the captain and his crew who were making good money off of attacking Perrench ships the overall mood of this area seemed fairly downcast, the sort of feel you’d get heading into a pub in the slums during a recession. This was all undercut with something different. Very different.

The air felt almost electric, saturated with energy that she could almost tangibly feel against her skin. Her blood was keen to draw magic from the surroundings after all, a trait of those of her blood type. It was all concentrated in one area, an area hidden away from outside eyes.

“I do. We should…” Answering back in Avincian she hesitated, wondering if this might be a detour from their original intent in coming here.
“- See this.”

She wasn’t about to throw away the chance to document a phenomenon and perhaps expand her own understanding in the process.

Ismette nodded slowly, pursing her lips. “We should divide and conquer. I’ll see what I can get from Vyrachi and his crew. You should check out the backroom. I… have a feeling that communication will matter less over there.”



Trypano stood by after they had resolved their planning, the fellow apparently named Desmond going out of his way to set up a majority of the details as he took most of the plan upon himself. It wasn't a great plan, it wasn't even really much of a good plan but it was a plan nonetheless. Pretty much any plan they'd make going into this would require more information and given their apparent timeframe that information would need to be taken on the go.

After returning to the room in the costume he had set aside for her she stood by and awaited transport to the mission. While she much preferred colors that blended well with the stains she often accrued she saw little point in complaining. This mission was to earn further trust from the paradigm himself, little else about it mattered really. There was slim potential for honing her binding in this scenario.

_
The tropical air mingled with her long vibrant hair, red strands dancing in the breeze which swept past. Though they had procurred a costume for her it wasn't strictly custom made. The ordinarily loose shirt was still small for her frame given her wide shoulders and generous other features. The long black skirt only hung right at her knees, revealing shin, knees and hints of thigh. The tips of her black boots were even a bit small for the ends of her feet. It wasn't great for comfort but ever still it hardly mattered. She just wanted this over and done with so she could return to what mattered: dissecting the secrets of blood.

With little more than a nod she took her supply of cash and for some reason alcohol and proceeded off towards what was most likely a Yasoian establishment. Why they were to carry alcohol when they were heading to a place which sells alcohol in the first place was a questionable decision but hardly the first one she'd been subject to so far.

There was no more need for delay. With one foot in front of the other she began en-route to The Mermaid's Knees.


Direct interactions - @Th3King0fChaos,@Force and Fury.




Quite a shame it was, truly. The idea that someone of his venerability would be set aside as one might a seasonal ornament was almost blasphemous in her eyes. Not unexpected of the leads of this school but shameful of them nonetheless. Someone of his credence should have a major voice in the decisions of what happens in this school, not be forced to sit aside as though he were a worn out beast of burden.

His talk of personal benefit on these tasks he mentioned was rather odd to her but she made little note of it. Perhaps he meant it would be a decent learning opportunity for those involved. She certainly hoped she'd be able to try out some new techniques in the binding field on living subjects as opposed to the local cadavers and lab rats they were currently afforded.

_
And thus with his speech having reached it's conclusion the die was cast. She, along with a number of others, were to go forth and solve matters that Hugo has seen fit to set them upon. Trypano was already starting to sort through the files laid out before them to get a clearer idea of what it was he wanted them to do. It was quite the odd job indeed.

Assassinate the leader? Retrieve the artifact? Rescue a princess?

It seemed like a job more fit for soldiers or spies of the court, not a bunch of students just starting out in their magic studies. While they held great potential to hurt others it didn't seem like most of them had a great deal of background in large scale battle or espionage. Then again, she had only just met a bunch of them.

"Seems like there's little known from the outside on the nature of this 'Pirate Leader'. We may need to learn more about the ship and it's captain from a local source before we can stage a rescue. Any suggestions?" She asked aloud to the group of hers which may or may not have been gathered at the details laid out. Hugo's offer on procuring supplies stood but in truth she didn't need much to do her role properly. She was a doctor, her aim was to facilitate the success of the mission while minimalizing casualties.

She was well aware of what that entailed. While she had never served as a medic in any battles prior she's worked and studied under those that have. She's been well warned of what to expect, even if she's never had the experience herself. She hoped it wouldn't come to that but alas even the best laid plans are naught but the whims of ants in the eyes of fate.

While she wasn't particularly attached to anyone present here she made special note to temper her expectations in the event any of them die. It would do none of them any good for her to be stunned at such an outcome.




Trypano was in the midst of a face-palm, ready to scold the other who had spoken so freely when they all knew the risks involved. Not even giving notice to the others that they had arrived to a conclusion! It was quite rude indeed. Not to mention foolhardy.

"Could you at least give everyone a sign next time you're about to..."

Her train of thought ran to a stop as she halted, taking in the new scenery around her. It must of been some formidable magic indeed as it seemed to have warped everyone into this particular room. She struggled to consider what possible spells could have had been at work aside from possibly temporal magic with it's use of altering space itself, a kind of magic practiced only by the highest echelons. It beggared the mind to wonder how it's basic principles even worked. Stranger still it had brought multiple other groups here, numbering twenty five in total. Considering these other groups weren't present at the time they solved the puzzle it meant either their tests were all differently located or else more strange temporal magic was at play.

With her arms back at her sides she took in the sight of the room around her with some wonder. This place was a treasure trove of knowledge, clearly the workspace of someone who placed great value in knowledge. She could only imagine the amount of progress she could make in accommodations such as these, the way it'd all benefit her research and-

Oh... My... Divines!

Her eyes widened upon realizing just who's abode they were presently a guest in. It was none other than the one and only Hugo Hunghorasz! His was a name all too familiar with her and for good reason too. He was famed as quite possibly the greatest mage who yet lived and his work was widely known in the magic community. It was hard to be a spell caster and not hear his name spoken at least once. For her however his work was well and truly memorable. At least, in regards to his progress made in the field of medicine. As far as doctors such as herself were concerned he was pretty much a super star.

Even as normally placid and reserved as she was it was difficult not to be a little star struck upon seeing a veritable pioneer in the field she aspired to lead in. As such she naturally drifted on over to him as though she were carried on a draft, arms held awkwardly by her side, uncertain of what to do with them aside from keeping them hovering at her sides, too excited to rest but nowhere to be.

"Paradigm Hunghorasz! S-Such an honor to meet you! Ever since I was young I had read your work and I must say it had a profound effect on my choice for a field of study. Your early papers are remarkable, well beyond our time and part of what inspired my research into the link between blood and the gift! I- "

She caught herself. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself by utterly gushing to him and rambling breathlessly when evidently he had a purpose for gathering them here, a purpose she would most definitely not stand in the way in.

"... We thank you for extending to us this opportunity. We shall do our very best to prove your faith in us was not in vain."

While she did not necessarily believe that she was one to speak for her group as a whole it was important to give forward a positive first impression. She certainly hoped that the idea to offer due respect to their venerable host was not lost on them.

Resuming a mask of graceful calm she tucked away the giddiness that had seized her and gave a formal curtsy to their esteemed host.


Direct interactions - @Force and Fury
Zarra & Trypano


“THEY’RE OPENING FIRE!” The Perrench captain shouts, having no composure whatsoever. The ship itself shakes, it dips noticeably as the breach in the hull starts to fill with water. People are screaming, running towards the nearest exit they find, the captain himself can barely hear his own orders as the ship continues to tossle.

Zarra Travendour, a young blonde haired boy with visibly violet eyes, hears the commotion and shaking while reading one of the ship’s poor attempts at literature. “What in the world?” he says to himself as he quickly gathers his belongings and rushes out the door. “Oh, that’s… Not good…?” He can only exclaim as there is now a giant hole down the hallway of the transport vessel. He runs towards it, careful not to get too close to the now unstable edge, looking out into the night. He sees and hears a small fireball, he looks perplexed, but his face turns to realization, he jumps towards the floor, not thinking to use his grayborn abilities on reflex.

Another cannonball destroys the wall only several feet from him. It takes him a second to really process his current fate. If he doesn’t get off this ship now, he’ll be an ocean relic. He puts his hands onto the undamaged wood of the ship floor, red energy crackles around him as the floor itself disintegrates away, the energy warping around Zarra as a perfect square of what used to be a pathway is now gone. He hears another cannonshot.

He breathes in, and then runs towards the damaged exit. Like the ground a second ago, the noble seems to just, disappear from midair. The cannonball strikes where he wants stood, that entire part of the boat exploding into a fractal of tree remains. In what looks like a different reality of some kind, where the sky is gray and everything is fog, barely to make out figures walk on air. Losing any color as well, Zarra slowly descends towards the water. With visible effort, he comes back to reality, gently plopping into the water surface. He takes the stolen wooden platform and summons it in front of him, creating a serviceable raft.

The panicked boy climbs on, using his basic understanding of kinetic energy to control the water just enough to push him away from the chaos, before the shrapnel and storm waves take him out. He watches as the ships both sink, the sound of screams fading. This is the first time at sea and this is how it goes. For every 40 men that die, a grayborn survives, as his parents used to preach. The phrase wasn’t false, he seems to be the only survivor… Atleast, until he notices someone in the water.

___
Her scarlet eyes scanned across the pages of the textbook. Diagrams of the human anatomy lay illustrated across, beside it paragraphs of text outlining the functions each organ holds. The ship sways, salty air drifting through the porthole. It was a quiet day on her trip.

Was

Wood rips as with a deafening roar distant cannons send a solid metal ball crashing through the wall directly next to her. Splinters from the boards erupt throughout the room like shrapnel, piercing her body as well as so much else. She couldn’t say she wasn’t startled, getting impaled without warning tended to throw even seasoned veterans off their cool. Still, her first instinct was not to simply cry out or panic. It was to treat the injury accordingly. She immediately opened her purse, the whole ship rocking violently as it was battered from an assault she could not spectate at the moment. Producing her knife and some bandages she begins to wrap the area around the wound where wood protruded from her torso. It was just below the ribcage, likely piercing into her stomach. Painful, likely deadly even to other sorts. For herself it was simply a matter of containing the wound until she could create a skin graft for the region naturally and let it heal.

Prying the wood free she staunched the bleeding before attempting to seal the wound. Pinching the edges of the wound shut she turned her focus inward, concentrating as she channeled her mana towards the process of binding the wound shut. Drawing mana from the sheer quantity of material surrounding her she was able to channel it into new matter, a thin seam which joined her skin together. It was a patchwork solution, hardly dealing with the internal bleeding likely already occurring but she could survive.

It was just in time for her to notice the next issue currently approaching: The water level. She was far from the lowest room on the ship, having paid good money for a decently uninterrupted voyage. This only meant that the ship was sinking fast. She had to think before the weight of the ship and the force of its continued descent threatened to drag her with. Standing up now, her body rippling with pain from the injury, she soldiered on regardless and grabbed the wardrobe that stood in the side of the room. A side was partly smashed in from the shrapnel but it was still intact enough to float however poorly. Grabbing it she shoved with great might towards the hole left by the cannonball that just recently intruded. Despite her size she was formidably strong, able to shove the wooden container through where it fell into the turbulent waters below. With her purse of belongings she seized a loose board and then dove herself for the armoire which lazily wobbled atop the water.

She landed next to the vessel, not keen on accidentally diving through the decorative wooden backing and sinking the whole wardrobe like a veritable human cannonball. Swimming back up she grasped hold of the edge, pulling herself aboard this crude vessel. It was all she could do to rapidly paddle away, driving her impromptu vessel away from the sinking vessel before it could drag her only floatation device below. Exhausted, she collapsed against the side of her vessel, watching as small holes in the side began pouring water through into her makeshift vessel of dubious quality. There was a deep sigh of irritation, the pain from her wound starting to take it’s toll.

The inexperienced mage continues to look, trying to be for sure that it’s a person and not just debris. He thinks about leaving without them, but that thought scares him just as much as the cannon that nearly turned him into pink mist. He continues to manipulate the raft with little resemblance of control, to the… Oh, her looks strike him as very odd. He thinks maybe for a second she’s some sort of fish person, but then he remembered the looks of blood children from his studies. Never got to see one up-close before…Regardless, he approaches with curiosity.

As she drifts along what was surely to be a very long day indeed she spots from the corner of her vision another survivor, one with a raft that looks more seaworthy than her tattered wreck of a wardrobe.

“Um.. You want on? That can’t be comfortable…” Zarra thinks that was a really strange thing to say, but keeps his look of worry instead grimacing at his own comment.

“Ah, yes. It looks like your vessel is more… Buoyant than mine is currently.” She attempts to stand, the wardrobe rocking under her shifting weight as she attempts to step clear from her own ship onto his, provided his offer is genuine.

Zarra watches the wardrobe struggle to stabilize under her, the image of her smacking her head into his raft quickly allows him to grab her arm and pull her fully onto the raft, which is now shaking itself as their combined weight throws its buoyancy off for a second.

Stumbling aboard the ship she makes her way to the center where her weight will tilt it the least before collapsing back down. She checks through the blood-soaked and otherwise regularly soaked bandages to see the skin seam she left. It looks discolored and bruised but she knows the truth: Subdermal bleeding.

With all that’s happened and in the dark, Zarra doesn’t notice her injury until she’s on her back messing with her bangade. “Oh, Shune! What happened to you? I’m a binder, I can attempt to heal it, but I can’t promise it’ll stop the bleeding or anything, I’m still learning how to use recreate proteins…” Zarra looks, almost disappointed, and even a little self-loathed to admit that.

She glances up from her work towards him.

“I’m a binder too. I’ve already sealed the wound. I should be able to mend the remaining flesh or at least give it enough mass to join together naturally faster. I’m just waiting for the ship to steady. Or land. Whichever comes first.”

It seems she’s been fairly focused, her expression still a cold mask of professionalism amidst this catastrophe. Before he can respond she adds: “Thank you.”

He sits down, attempting to be comfortable, a task nigh-impossible on a wave shifting raft. “So, where were you going, anyway? I assume you’re a pirate? Because your ship attacked us first, I think. Not that I care, really, you’re not in the position to threaten me, I never understood people who bite the hands that feed them, anyway…”

She casts something of a questioning glare back towards him.

“I was on transport for Ersand’Enise Academy. As I was below deck I was not aware of what took place until fire was exchanged.” It was a frank response. She didn’t bother humoring the notion of who would threaten who as it was irrelevant.

Zarra looks back out to the horizon while he listens, his mind clearly elsewhere while at the same time in the conversation. “Do you believe in fate?” There’s a solid pause… “Well, do you?”

She blinks a couple times, the only real sign of her confusion towards his sudden shift in topic.

“I… Believe in magic, the causal forces that govern this world and the entities that enforce it.”

“Well, I was asking because I was also on a ship to Ersand, Unfortunately, we’re the only ones going, apparently… I only survived because I’m a grayborn.”

“I suppose unless there were any others in transit to the academy aboard our vessels who may have survived the exchange then we may well be. Until then our main focus should remain among the living to arrive.”

“Do you know what direction the ships were going? If they crossed paths, that means they were both likely converging, we just have to guess where they were both gonna turn at. Ersand will be there”

“There’s little guesswork to it.” She answers his theory, looking up at the stars.

“If we arrived at the same point then likely odds are that we aren’t far from shore. As our ship was heading due south then…” Her seasoned eyes scan the sky before locating the tell-tale north star. “East should take us to shore.”

She points her wooden board in the direction where shore would lie, her natural experience in sailing feeding into this educated guess.

The teenage boy smirks with satisfaction as shows her that he manipulates the water to enough extent to send them in one direction, like a modern boat engine. “This should shorten our wait.”

“Sub-typing into Kinetics I gather?”

“Yep, I figured it would work on a grayborn, be both fast and dodgy, you know? I’m not excited for dawn, that’s for sure!” They sail into the setting moon towards the great Academy beyond the horizon.
Here is my CS. Hope it looks good. I only have the image to craft.

@Mintz - Ah, my apologies. I had made a mistake in reading. I do wish you the best of luck in this work however.
@Mintz This rp has my interest. Are you still accepting characters?
This idea strikes my fancy. I'll certainly keep around as I adore the idea of working against the power of chaos itself to create a character either at odds with their power set or oddly complimenting to it.
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