Abstract Proxy

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

---

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Naivara nodded, letting her courtly mask slip, and letting carefully contained concern show over her ethereal features.

"Perhaps it would not surprise you to hear that I had a most disconcerting visitor of my own? Audacious indeed, to attack a wizard within their own sanctuary, a fanatical act of self-destruction, although not completely unexpected. I do not doubt you saw to your wards as did I."

"I had wondered if I was the only one they had targeted..." The dark mage answered. "And yes, I saw to them. The next visitor to come calling to Ilmar will be in for an unpleasant surprise."

She sighed wearily,"We knew better, did we not, Eskel? What hope did we have in peace? What faith we did we have in jubilant royalty? What confidence did we place in indolent institutions? What trust did we still harbor in our hearts for the people of these realms?"

Naivara moved closer still, placing her right hand over Eskel's matching hand, squeezing gently,instinctively he pulled away."Such bitter thoughts I confess to you, old friend. This dream of politics, of great change, of great good, seems sometimes in the long hours of the night to have shifted slowly into a nightmare...But I remember much...I remember another dream."

"I remember an Eskel that could smile!" Naivara declared, leading Eskel towards a nearby set of chairs, but the grimace he wore upon his face only deepened."Come! Let us sit down, old friend. Let us face the facts. It is what she would have told us to do. We are faced with familiar cultists. We are faced with a familiar danger..."

"Don't tell me what she would have wanted." He snapped, refusing the chair that was offered to him. "We face familiar dangers, but everything else is changed. We are changed! For the worse! We barely survived the Eldritch Dragon the first time, and now, should we face it again, without Octavia!? I don't th-!"

He suddenly realized that he was shouting. The energy that animated the mage suddenly vanished. Leaving him as he was before. Tired, deflated, broken. He sighed, averting his eye from Naivara, his old friend.

"I'm sorry. I should not have come."

"Eskel Rindarium," Naivara almost shouted back, thumping the end of her staff upon the floor with a loud metallic echo,"Do not let bitterness divert you from useful intuition. You know that we must act! You can feel things shifting. It is unmistakable. I can sense it in the very laylines upon which we stand. So do not speak such words of resignation to me!"

Unfamiliar fire burned in the eyes of the moon elf as she spoke, her voice sharp ice, stern and full of tones far more foreboding than any she had commanded short years earlier,"Cowardice does not suit you, Eskel. And apathy, apathy least of all will serve us now."

"I am no coward, and I still care about this world. How could I not? Octavia gave her life for it. I just... I just know I can still make things right." The far away look in his remaining good eye returned as Eskel's mind drifted back to the work that awaited him back in his tower. The work that he had now dedicated his life to.

Behind cold will, grief and anguish flickered, and Naivara drew a slow breath, swallowing her sadness. Baleful flames of determination faded slowly as her voice returned to a softer timbre, full of renewed warmth, and unguarded kindness,"I had hoped to share more than sorrow with you. I am afraid I can do little to ease your pain. I am a poor friend...and yet I must ask still more of you, Eskel."

"We all have our scars. Mine are no worse than yours. I'm fine." Eskel spoke the lie absently. He had almost come to believe it himself sometimes.

Her free hand moved in measured gesture as she continued,"The spell we wove was not so weak as to unravel. Not now. Not so soon. Not without unwelcome interference. I see the hand of our nameless foe reaching from the shadows. We should see to our wards. We must proof our great work. The barrier may yet hold, but we must make certain of it."

"I haven't been idle these past few days. I have been trying to divine whether or not
that is the case, but the auguries have been muddled. That's part of the reason I came here. Together, I am sure we can get to the bottom of what state the barrier is in."

"However, we need not meet certain danger alone. I have received word from Gideon. It seems we were not the only ones targeted. It would be wise to seek out the others. They possess many talents that we lack. And we should not underestimate the value of their council."

"Gideon? Really?" Eskel could not keep the look of disdain off of his face. "No, no I should have expected it. Still playing the perfect hero eh? Already appointed himself leader of the getting the gang back together? Oh no no, he would only ever 'humbly accept' such a role."

Naivara was caught halfway between a frown and a smile listening to Eskel's angry comments concerning Gideon. Such angry comments concerning Gideon were nothing new. Naivara did not like them, but there was old fire in Eskel's voice when he spoke and that was something,"We need each other, Eskel. Gideon means well, he always did. Our path may not be to walk in the welcoming daylight, beheld with affection from the common people, but even in the darkness, even feared, you and I have our own roles to play."

"Well then let's play them. As you said, no point in moping around here. We have a world to save after all." A strange look passed over Eskel's face, something that could have almost been mistaken for a rueful smile, as he turned to the doors of the Guild Association and marched out into the city beyond.

---

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<sub>Collaborative Post with @Kassarock

Characters involved: Eskel Rindarium and Naivara Aamakiir</sub>

Rise of Rasalhague

MechWarrior "TOFU" - Zohra Amina Imalayen

Name: Zohra Amina Imalayen

Nickname: TOFU

This is technique only, fuck you!

Zohra's callsign dates from her time serving in the Arkab legion. Many a mercenary comrade have come to believe that this is due to her obvious love of tofu, an affection that is regularly displayed in the food that Zohra cooks.

However, in truth, Zohra acquired her callsign as a result of one of the few times she lost her composure piloting her BattleMech. As Zohra tells it, soon after being assigned to the 2nd Arkab Legion, she had been conducting a simulated battle with her new lance commander. Facing a souped up Archer in a bog standard Dragon BattleMech, Zohra had managed to win not a single engagement against the more veteran MechWarrior. Throughout the battle and indeed, after each victory, her lance commander would offer a helpful hint of "this is technique only, but you might want to try this..."

After nearly an hour and a half of sweat-drenching, muscle-aching, and skull rattling desert combat Zohra admits that she had decided she had enough. Weathering a critically damaging hit that would have taken off the left arm of her BattleMech, Zohra brought the Imperator-A Autocannon/5 of her Dragon to bear and headcapped the Archer in a shot fit for the record books. Venting her full frustrations and victory infused elation over the comms, Zohra cringes when recalling that she shouted "This is technique only, but fuck you!".

The rest of the training operation proceeded in awkward silence that bled into the company debriefing. Finally as Zohra's BattleRom was being replayed, her lance commander rose to her feet to offer the helpful feedback of "technique only, never tell your instructor to fuck off" before storming off. Left behind, drowning room full of roaring laughter, Zohra found herself being given the callsign TOFU...

Technique Only Fuck You!

Appearance:

Clocking in at a respectable five feet seven inches, Zohra has the athletic build that characterizes most professional soldiers. She has olive skin, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair kept short, reaching just below the nape of her neck. With ambitions of being punched, an observer might unwisely choose to describe her lips as generous.

A child of the desert, Zohra still favors several thin, covering layers of fabric to shield her from the elements. However, in the interest of pragmatics, she is usually dressed in clothes that would be best described as business casual, leading some to confuse her for a member of the admin staff. Her only concession to fashion is a pair of discrete earrings that she wears when not suiting up for a jaunt into combat in her BattleMech and an Azami necklace her favorite sibling gave her.

When piloting her BattleMech Zohra wears the iconic garb of a MechWarrior. Well-worn combat boots, tattered shorts, that border on dangerously short, a breezy tank top, and fire resistant gloves. Due to the cramped nature of a BattleMech cockpit, Zohra keeps her sidearm, an ancient venerable model of 9mm pistol that still works like a charm in 3044, in a chest holster attached to her Cooling Vest, and a long curved blade tucked into right boot.

Zohra's ID Picture

Age:

23

Origin:

Hailing from Algedi V, the heart of the planets controlled by the Azami Brotherhood, for much of her life Zohra owed loyalty to the Draconis Combine as part of the complex treaties that allowed the Azami Brotherhood to remain an autonomous political entity in return for various concessions offered to the Draconis Combine.

Personality:

A young, talented MechWarrior, still full of unwarranted romanticism, and bristling with a hungry desire for adventure, Zohra, is in many ways the idle candidate for a rag tag mercenary outfit.

Unhesitant in battle, she maintains a strong concern for others, especially civilians when outside of the cockpit. Exceedingly kind, Zohra possesses an intuitive sense of compassion and morality that often seems at odds with a vocation as an Inner Sphere mercenary. To quiet her conscience and occasionally lingering doubts, Zohra performs small acts of deviation, deeply personal rituals that she hides from all but her closet friends. Devout in her own way, Zohra would say that she practices her own pragmatic brand of the Islamic faith followed by the Azami. She is tolerant of the many differences found in many a military unit and holds views largely compatible with life as a mercenary. Although she is a touch more conservative in her clothing than many of her colleagues, Zohra has no qualms about drinking alcohol and cheerfully engages in discreet, always brief intimate relations during R&R, when time, professional obligations, and operational security allows it.

A social creature, Zohra is fond of music and an able musician with all manner of stringed instrument, her most cherished instrument being an exquisite steel-stringed mandole. An engaging speaker and gifted listener, Zohra flourishes under the gaze of others and happily seeks to place herself in the middle of any social functions.

Something of a free-spirit, Zohra is considerably open-minded, a trait that served her well in her time with the Arkab Legion. A product of the flexible school of battlefield tactics espoused by the Arkab Legion, Zohra has internalized the culture of mission command so cherished by her former comrades. Trained to conduct autonomous operations against local targets and raid deep behind enemy lines, often without regular contact with a centralized command, Zohra has a particular approach to warfare not often appreciated by more traditionally inclined military leaders.

Taught by her commanding officers by her commanding officers that the only truly mortal sin was to hesitate, Zohra considers seizing the initiative and acting to be her primary imperatives in combat. She firmly believes that there is no priority higher than achieving the mission objectives at hand. Frustrating many a social general, Zohra remains convinced that orders can be disobeyed, rules can be broken...as long as the mission is successful.

Thick skinned, it is apparent to the learned historian that Zohra is the descendant of a long line of people that had survived for centuries on an inhospitable desert planet without any hours of darkness. There is an inner strength to the young MechWarrior, a humble confidence, and an iron will that let's her keep going when she really, really shouldn't. Far from reckless, when convinced by situational necessity and youth in equal measure, Zohra has an occasional habit of performing brave actions that border on the excessively dangerous for her own person.

History:

Zohra Amina Imalayen was born in 3011 in the jeweled city of Algiers found on Algedi V, the capital planet of the systems controlled by the Azami Brotherhood.

Her father, Abdelkader, was a hydroponic engineer, responsible for designing, building, and operating the hydroponic systems critical to growing plants in on Algedi V. Her mother, Djamila, was a low level mining executive. The middle child of three children, Zohra has an older sister, Hadda, and younger brother, Nazim.

Growing up Zohra lived comfortably, her parents making fine salaries, and while far from rich, they were able to create an environment where Zohra and her siblings could thrive. A pleasant child, Zohra achieved high marks throughout her compulsory education. Channeling an aptitude for creative writing, Zohra won a prestigious prize in her final year of studies, securing a scholarship that allowed her to attend the Jefferson Preparatory Academy, a preparatory school traditionally reserved for only wealthiest citizens on Algiers. Despite early misgivings and concerns about her "common" background, Zohra adjusted well, thriving in her new environment, easily finding a place among the most elite Azami citizens.

Poised for a promising legal career, at the suggestion of her parents, Zohra ultimately rejected pursuing a career as an attorney-at-law following a short, but successful semester studying jurisprudence at Luthien University on Luthien IV. Instead with exceptional marks in hand and glowing recommendations from several acclaimed professors, Zohra applied to and was accepted as a student the MechWarrior training program long established at the Algedi War College.

Showing a remarkable aptitude for piloting a BattleMech, Zohra adapted quickly, in her own words "like a fish breathing water", not that she had ever seen a fish or large body of water. Graduating in 3032 at the top her class, she was assigned to the 2nd Arkab Legion, an Azami planetary militia regiment integrated into the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery (DCMS). Serving with the so-called "Defenders of the Faithful", Zohra was nominally stationed on Tannil, scant light years from the border between the Draconis Combine Federated Suns. She participated in border skirmishes and defensive operations against the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns (AFFS). Given the specialization of the 2nd Arkab Legion, Zohra gained considerable experience and participated in several unavowed DCMS raids deep into Federated Suns territory.

Finding little joy in garrison duty and the never-ending low intensity conflict that the Draconis Combine was locked in with the Federated Suns, Zohra eventually elected to resign from the DCMS, to the horror of all save a particularly eccentric uncle infamous among her relatives for a long career spent as a mercenary AeroSpace fighter pilot. Armed with glowing recommendations from her lance commander and commanding officer, but missing anything approaching a BattleMech, Zohra found herself answering a most interesting call for MechWarriors from the newly formed Rasalhague Republic.

Skills:

Gunnery: 3
Piloting: 3
Guts: 3
Tactics: 3

Abilities:

Miscellaneous:

Zohra is a native speaker of Arabic, Japanese, and English (mostly to save all of you from my terrible translation talents). Furthermore, she is oddly (some would say alarmingly) talented with melee weapons, bladed or pointy, small or large, and wielded in hand or thrown at a distance.

Mech

Type: The type and variant of your mech.

Name: The affectionate name given to the machine by your pilot.

Mass/Class: The weight and class of your mech.

Armor: How many tons and what type of armor your mech has.

Top Speed: How far can your mech run/jump.

Armaments: The amount and type of weapons that your mech carries, as well as how many tons of ammo it has available.

Heat Sinks: The amount and type of Heatsinks your mech has.

Quirk:

Rise of Rasalhague

Groovy!

Here's a character sheet, written a bit too late in the evening and with too much coffee, so will probably need some proofing tomorrow (for example, haven't really thought about stats at all, lol).

You already received BattleMech wishlist via Discord, so I'm not gonna spam it here. :p

MechWarrior Zohra

Name: Zohra Amina Imalayen

Nickname: TOFU

This is technique only, fuck you!

Zohra's callsign dates from her time serving in the Arkab legion. Many a mercenary comrade have come to believe that this is due to her obvious love of tofu, an affection that is regularly displayed in the food that Zohra cooks.

However, in truth, Zohra acquired her callsign as a result of one of the few times she lost her composure piloting her BattleMech. As Zohra tells it, soon after being assigned to the 2nd Arkab Legion, she had been conducting a simulated battle with her new lance commander. Facing a souped up Archer in a bog standard Dragon BattleMech, Zohra had managed to win not a single engagement against the more veteran MechWarrior. Throughout the battle and indeed, after each victory, her lance commander would offer a helpful hint of "this is technique only, but you might want to try this..."

After nearly an hour and a half of sweat-drenching, muscle-aching, and skull rattling desert combat Zohra admits that she had decided she had enough. Weathering a critically damaging hit that would have taken off the left arm of her BattleMech, Zohra brought the Imperator-A Autocannon/5 of her Dragon to bear and headcapped the Archer in a shot fit for the record books. Venting her full frustrations and victory infused elation over the comms, Zohra cringes when recalling that she shouted "This is technique only, but fuck you!".

The rest of the training operation proceeded in awkward silence that bled into the company debriefing. Finally as Zohra's BattleRom was being replayed, her lance commander rose to her feet to offer the helpful feedback of "technique only, never tell your instructor to fuck off" before storming off. Left behind, drowning room full of roaring laughter, Zohra found herself being given the callsign TOFU...

Technique Only Fuck You!

Appearance:

Clocking in at a respectable five feet seven inches, Zohra has the athletic build that characterizes most professional soldiers. She has olive skin, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair kept short, reaching just below the nape of her neck. With ambitions of being punched, an observer might unwisely choose to describe her lips as generous.

A child of the desert, Zohra still favors several thin, covering layers of fabric to shield her from the elements. However, in the interest of pragmatics, she is usually dressed in clothes that would be best described as business casual, leading some to confuse her for a member of the admin staff. Her only concession to fashion is a pair of discrete earrings that she wears when not suiting up for a jaunt into combat in her BattleMech and an Azami necklace her favorite sibling gave her.

When piloting her BattleMech Zohra wears the iconic garb of a MechWarrior. Well-worn combat boots, tattered shorts, that border on dangerously short, a breezy tank top, and fire resistant gloves. Due to the cramped nature of a BattleMech cockpit, Zohra keeps her sidearm, an ancient venerable model of 9mm pistol that still works like a charm in 3044, in a chest holster attached to her Cooling Vest, and a long curved blade tucked into right boot.

Zohra's ID Picture

Age:

23

Origin:

Hailing from Algedi V, the heart of the planets controlled by the Azami Brotherhood, for much of her life Zohra owed loyalty to the Draconis Combine as part of the complex treaties that allowed the Azami Brotherhood to remain an autonomous political entity in return for various concessions offered to the Draconis Combine.

Personality:

A young, talented MechWarrior, still full of unwarranted romanticism, and bristling with a hungry desire for adventure, Zohra, is in many ways the idle candidate for a rag tag mercenary outfit.

Unhesitant in battle, she maintains a strong concern for others, especially civilians when outside of the cockpit. Exceedingly kind, Zohra possesses an intuitive sense of compassion and morality that often seems at odds with a vocation as an Inner Sphere mercenary. To quiet her conscience and occasionally lingering doubts, Zohra performs small acts of deviation, deeply personal rituals that she hides from all but her closet friends. Devout in her own way, Zohra would say that she practices her own pragmatic brand of the Islamic faith followed by the Azami. She is tolerant of the many differences found in many a military unit and holds views largely compatible with life as a mercenary. Although she is a touch more conservative in her clothing than many of her colleagues, Zohra has no qualms about drinking alcohol and cheerfully engages in discreet, always brief intimate relations during R&R, when time, professional obligations, and operational security allows it.

A social creature, Zohra is fond of music and an able musician with all manner of stringed instrument, her most cherished instrument being an exquisite steel-stringed mandole. An engaging speaker and gifted listener, Zohra flourishes under the gaze of others and happily seeks to place herself in the middle of any social functions.

Something of a free-spirit, Zohra is considerably open-minded, a trait that served her well in her time with the Arkab Legion. A product of the flexible school of battlefield tactics espoused by the Arkab Legion, Zohra has internalized the culture of mission command so cherished by her former comrades. Trained to conduct autonomous operations against local targets and raid deep behind enemy lines, often without regular contact with a centralized command, Zohra has a particular approach to warfare not often appreciated by more traditionally inclined military leaders.

Taught by her commanding officers by her commanding officers that the only truly mortal sin was to hesitate, Zohra considers seizing the initiative and acting to be her primary imperatives in combat. She firmly believes that there is no priority higher than achieving the mission objectives at hand. Frustrating many a social general, Zohra remains convinced that orders can be disobeyed, rules can be broken...as long as the mission is successful.

Thick skinned, it is apparent to he learned historians that Zohra is the descendant of a long line of people that had survived for centuries on an inhospitable desert planet without any hours of darkness. There is an inner strength to the young MechWarrior, a humble confidence, and an iron will that let's her keep going when she really, really shouldn't. Far from reckless, when convinced by situational necessity and youth in equal measure, Zohra has an occasional habit of performing brave actions that border on the excessively dangerous for her own person.

History:

Zohra Amina Imalayen was born in 3021 in the jeweled city of Algiers found on Algedi V, the capital planet of the systems controlled by the Azami Brotherhood.

Her father, Abdelkader, was a hydroponic engineer, responsible for designing, building, and operating the hydroponic systems critical to growing plants in on Algedi V. Her mother, Djamila, was a low level mining executive. The middle child of three children, Zohra has an older sister, Hadda, and younger brother, Nazim.

Growing up Zohra lived comfortably, her parents making fine salaries, and while far from rich, they were able to create an environment where Zohra and her siblings could thrive. A pleasant child, Zohra achieved high marks throughout her compulsory education. Channeling an aptitude for creative writing, Zohra won a prestigious prize in her final year of studies, securing a scholarship that allowed her to attend the Jefferson Preparatory Academy, a preparatory school traditionally reserved for only wealthiest citizens on Algiers. Despite early misgivings and concerns about her "common" background, Zohra adjusted well, thriving in her new environment, easily finding a place among the most elite Azami citizens.

Poised for a promising legal career, at the suggestion of her parents, Zohra ultimately rejected pursuing a career as an attorney-at-law following a short, but successful semester studying jurisprudence at Luthien University on Luthien IV. Instead with exceptional marks in hand and glowing recommendations from several acclaimed professors, Zohra applied to and was accepted as a student the MechWarrior training program long established at the Algedi War College.

Showing a remarkable aptitude for piloting a BattleMech, Zohra adapted quickly, in her own words "like a fish breathing water", not that she had ever seen a fish or large body of water. Graduating in 3040 at the top her class, she was assigned to the 2nd Arkab Legion, an Azami planetary militia regiment integrated into the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery (DCMS). Serving with the so-called "Defenders of the Faithful", Zohra was nominally stationed on Tannil, scant light years from the border between the Draconis Combine Federated Suns. She participated in border skirmishes and defensive operations against the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns (AFFS). Given the specialization of the 2nd Arkab Legion, Zohra gained considerable experience and participated in several unavowed DCMS raids deep into Federated Suns territory.

Finding little joy in garrison duty and the never-ending low intensity conflict that the Draconis Combine was locked in with the Federated Suns, Zohra eventually elected to resign from the DCMS, to the horror of all save a particularly eccentric uncle infamous among her relatives for a long career spent as a mercenary AeroSpace fighter pilot. Armed with glowing recommendations from her lance commander and commanding officer, but missing anything approaching a BattleMech, Zohra found herself answering a most interesting call for MechWarriors from the newly formed Rasalhague Republic.

Skills:

Gunnery: 3
Piloting: 3
Guts: 3
Tactics: 3

Abilities:

Miscellaneous:

Zohra is a native speaker of Arabic, Japanese, and English (mostly to save all of you from my terrible translation talents). Furthermore, she is oddly (some would say alarmingly) talented with melee weapons, bladed or pointy, small or large, and wielded in hand or thrown at a distance.

Mech

Type: The type and variant of your mech.

Name: The affectionate name given to the machine by your pilot.

Mass/Class: The weight and class of your mech.

Armor: How many tons and what type of armor your mech has.

Top Speed: How far can your mech run/jump.

Armaments: The amount and type of weapons that your mech carries, as well as how many tons of ammo it has available.

Heat Sinks: The amount and type of Heatsinks your mech has.

Quirk:

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

I think @Kassarock and I are pretty close to wrapping up our collab, I just got a bit distracted with the end/start of the week and haven't had a chance to add a bit more, lol.

Rise of Rasalhague - A "mostly" canon BattleTech mercenary roleplay for mech enjoyers

I'm contractually obligated to join any BT RPs posted here, so I am interested.

I will almost certainly write up a wandering former member of the Arkab Legion (given the interesting relationship between the Draconis Combine and the Rasalhague Republic, I think that would be a pretty fun angle).

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

@Abstract Proxy Another Eskel post up, do you want move over the Rise Up pad to have a conversation? Or do you want to cut to black and move on to another scene?

@Kassarock

I'd love to see where this scene goes, so happy to move it to the collab pad.

---

Edit: Added a bit to the collab.

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

Also back from week stuff, will wait a bit and let people post, but excited to get the ball rolling further!

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

@Abstract Proxy I like the underdress. She's resisting not just the culture but also the genre conventions.

@Quartz

Thanks! Not gonna lie, I pretty much just went on a deep dive into medieval fashion from our own history (and I was never a big fan of the fantasy convention of "all women wear very little clothing at all times").

As far as my readings go, it was an interesting time in the sense that on the one hand the wealthy wanted to flex with their fashion (e.g,. a lots of very fancy stuff, like precious metal embroidery and jewelry), but moral/religious expectations meant that baring a lot of skin was far from acceptable, so the solution was to make stuff like deep v-necks more modest with underdresses.

That's my rambling for the night done, lol, but it was an interesting bit of reading (the intersection of culture/morality/modesty/fashion is quite neat).

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

I realized I forgot to describe anything about how Naivara is dressed, so slipped this into my post:

The Elaborate Garb of a Court Wizard

Folding her half written letter neatly into a nearby satchel, Naivara rose to her feet with a slow sigh as she straightened out her flowing dress. A decidedly impractical outfit she reflected, reflecting the obvious contempt for practicality espoused by the nobility. Cut from the finest silk dyed a deep blue that matched her enchanting palette, the floor length gown had been sewn by a collection of some of the finest dressmakers in Bradena. It had cost a small fortune, even before silver thread had been embroidered into the gown until ornamental bands of shimmering metal decorated the sleeve borders, neckline, and bottom half of the dress. The low V-neckline that ended just under her bust would have been scandalous indeed, had she not been wearing a round cut underdress beneath to avoid showing too much. Such details struck her as deeply unnecessary, bordering on painfully vain, but it was the style of fashion favored for some time now at court.

The aristocratic garb unmistakably reflected her position as Court Wizard. Naivara had changed. She had changed much since her time with Octavia and her gallant sellswords. Gone was the mousy wizard wrapped in simple robes, a gentle creature more fond of quiet places and arcane writings than the bustle of a great city or the scheming that endlessly flowed through the throne room. Naivara had learned. She had grown. She had adapted to her new station.

For all that lengthy dinners and formal social functions annoyed her, Naivara had come to believe that she could nurture change in the realms, true change, only if she continued to rise upwards. She couldn't stay the same. She couldn't bury herself in books and memories. It wasn't what Octavia would have wanted. It wasn't what she wanted. So she wore two rings forged by master craftsman, the dwarfs residing in the far away Grey Mountains, elaborate earrings, soft oaks of silver, and around her neck hung a matching necklace holding a sapphire jewel that seemed to dangle on impossibly thin leaves of silver that seemed to sway with the wind.

These were mere props, Naivara reminded herself. Tools she had to utilize. She had become an actress in the old elven tradition. And a dedicated student of the behavior and minds of those around her.

Still, she almost burst into laughter looking at herself in the full length mirror that stood in one corner of her chambers. Who would have believed it? Naivara Amakiir had turned into a proper lady after all. And it had taken several centuries less than her mother had angrily scolded her that it would take.

Decibitus

---

~1506 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

---

Things were going FUBAR rapidly, Vera considered. Civilians everywhere. More dead appearing by the minute. There was no air strike to call in. There was no 'special purpose' unit waiting in the wings.

It was her and the loudmouthed necromancer and a barely conscious Lucian. Not great, but not terrible.

Edward was right, she considered, collateral damage would be greater if they had to fight in the city. Better to reset. Better to shift position. The thought of chasing down the car was less appealing. They could hitch a ride, no?

"Wait!" She shouted, following Edward's lead and fading into corporal existence. "We are not your enemy. Let us go with you, we will keep you safe. You will not be able ot handle these gathering dead by yourself."

Many reapers could be stuffed inside of a small car, Vera reasoned, what did the undying care about cramped spaces. A job was a job. All that mattered was the mission. And she doubted Lucian could move much further under his own power. It was time to regroup.