dragonpiece

The Hourglass Order

An Unexpected Guest

Tku wandered around with purposeful aimlessness, dropping things from his bag from place to place. What they were was hard to tell but he did drop something that contained some mana. He shouldn't, no couldn't stay around the palace with Zarina around. Seeing how his friend had hardened without him noticing hurt his heart. Such a tragic failure. But all was not lost. No, no, no, for what Tku saw was a bright side to his week. He felt a certain mage on a ship entering port. One of enough strength to bring strength to the Virangish forces. But his senses also told him that this one's constitution was something similar to a tethered. He wouldn't dare just approach after interacting with the likes of Marci, Maura, Abdel, Jocasta... "Why do I know so many tethered? I thought they weren't that common? Another lie of the Quentics perhaps." Then he remembered Dalisay and honestly the list was starting to be longer than his family. He waved his thoughts from it and continued to spy on who the tethered was and it was... "Marci?" he said out loud, as he started his approach. What a spectacular person to see after so long, truly he was blessed at times.

Marceline started, back straightening and little hairs standing on end at the familiar voice in this foreign place. Tku, she thought, the 'enemy'. Marci was not stupid. She'd been able to pick up on that cue from Zarina. Her enemy, the tethered thought. My.... ally? She turned on the spot, cobbles jostling her as she did, and found herself facing Tku through a partially-parted crowd. Both were clearly foreign, both distinct. He... was wearing an eyepatch. "Tku..." She trailed off, setting hands to wheels and rolling a push forward. She looked him up and down. "It's good to see you." A smile bloomed on her face and she held out her arms for an embrace, motioning him inwards.

Tku made note of her newfound wheelchair but made no gesture to its presence. He was merely glad to see her smiling after what she had been through and his smile held all the warmth he could muster nowadays. He bent down and embraced Marci firmly like an old friend. "It is good to see you smiling Marci," he whispered as he let go. "Just-" Tku seemed to have many questions but settled on one, "How have you been Marci?" he asked as he went to her side, signaling they should continue moving in the crowd.

Marceline squeezed back with most of what she could muster. It had been two months but, with the aid of her mother's metabolic spell, she'd packed on a year's worth of muscle in her upper body while losing about that much below. She didn't want to hurt him, and so she just held on for a bit. "It is so good to see you." When they finally parted, she adjusted her seating a little and smiled, brushing some hair from her face. "The answer isn't exactly straightforward, but I'm here and..." She trailed off and sighed as she settled in to his left. "It's Zarina." Her eyes flicked his way before she had to return them to the diabolical cobblestones. "I came for her." She shook her head in frustration. "Not to dump this on you, but I sense you might've had something similar happen?" She blew some hair from her eyes. "The world's going mad and she's hopped so eagerly on board." There was a vulnerable shrug. "I'm worried she's gonna ride it right off the edge and self-destruct."

Tku was forced to notice how Marci, the Torragonese rat has arms like an Eskandish lumberjack. "Quite the marvelous arms you've grown," he flexed his arms and laughed at how insignificant his arms were. Tku listened, nodding very attentively when she spoke. He wasn't even phased; instead, he used his binding and 'fixed' the cobblestone for his friend. "It warms me that you came to see her and I think she could use a friend right now." Tku nodded. He seemed saddened for a moment, "I may have experienced something similar. Something embittering. I worry the same Marci, worry that she is holding on to it so that things make sense." Tku said. "But it isn't good to speak like this so publicly, she's still my most precious friend." Tku shook his head. "Would you care to join me for some tea where I am staying? Or do you prefer coffee?" he laughed light heartedly.

Despite herself, Marceline smirked. "I've had more than enough coffee for five lifetimes." She shook her head, flashing a small smile of thanks Tku's way as she noticed his work with the stones. "You lead, and I'll follow." She furrowed her brow for a moment. "and I'd like to pick your brain, too, if I can." She shook her head, coasting quickly forward, body language betraying some of the youth and restlessness that had always characterized her. "Things seem to be really... hot over here." She wasn't referring to the weather, either. "What, in Dami's name, happened?"

Tku let out a small laugh through his smirk, "It's a little far but I know you're capable." he said as he guided her, "Pick away Marci, I doubt I could lie to you if I wanted to," Tku waved them a direction. The question she asked was rather... complicated. But he sighed, "Well, let's start with why I'm impersonating Tojarra..." As they walked, Tku livened up the streets, putting things randomly, growing flowers, fixing a scraped knee when he could. It was all very random but he kept his story to her rambling from when she was injured. From the raid on the violent enclave, trading an angel feather to a crow, almost dying to an aberration, becoming a Tan-Zeno of all people, him meeting some interesting Islanders, and losing an eye to Ren, his new roommate with an old hegelan man. Not even to mention the classes he has taken up with managing Zeno Bucks and what an absolute "joy" that had been. By the time they got there, Marci was exasperated by how Tku could seemingly babble forever. "Tku," she politely interrupted, "I mean what has been happening in Palapar." Tku opened the door to his flat, "You know I was just about to get there," he rolled his eyes. The flat was filled with paintings, a very typical studio for an artist like himself. Though the art was odd, it was more akin to capturing a moment rather than a scene. What portraits were here made no effort to hide how poor the conditions in Palapar were. "A lot and a little has happened in Palapar," Tku finally answered. "Some riots, revolts, and massacres. Sadly, just another occurrence for the natives in Palapar." He rolled over a tea cart to the couch.

Capable Marceline, though. Always the focus on that now. Tku was a good man, though, and he meant well, so she smiled through it and responded with something humourous, mundane, and noncommittal. In truth, she found herself so engrossed by the scenes around her, so busy immersing herself in this new place, that she simply let him speak. It only occurred to her, after nearly ten minutes had passed, that he'd been going on for quite a while. Some of it was new to her. Some of it an insight - into the situation themselves or his thinking on it. It stood out to Marceline, at least, that Ren was a monster, plain and simple: something as bad as Juulet, in his own way. Then, they were there, and Marceline floated up the stairs - a skill she'd worked hard to master in Torragon. Once she'd settled at the top, she cast about. The space was so perfectly Tku that she couldn't help but smile briefly. Then came the part about riots, revolts, and massacres. She pursed her lips and grimaced distastefully. "See, but I don't think they are just another occurrence." The teenager shook her head. "There was something else this time - some special element - or something like this would've happened before." She tilted her head inquisitively. "What was it?"

Tku steeped the tea as he waited for the dense ball to relax and bloom."My opinion? Just as Virang sees Palapar as a necessity for the war financially, Palapar has also realized this. It's common to try something when the defenses when the masters are busy." He mainly pulled this from the way Zarina spoke at the Idasque. No doubt that someone has distinctly pointed that out to her many times. A sonic bubble formed around them as the tea finished its first steep,"That and people can't look away anymore. Not Torragon, not Revidia, not any group with a heart." Tku poured them both a glass bursting with citrus.

Marci quietly accepted the tea, and held out her hand for Tku's cup, taking it as well. He had a tea pet, sitting there forlorn and unused, and so both cups were quietly poured out into it. She poured seconds for the two of them with her kinetic abilities and set these down on the small table between them. "We don't drink the first steep, Tku," she said with tender admonishment, but it was merely a distraction from the heavier subject matter at hand. She considered how to broach it. "But are they doing it out of the goodness of their hearts?" Marceline questioned, her opinion clear in her tone. She shrugged. "Perhaps individuals within the greater body are, but I fear they're merely using these people's fight to..." She quieted for a moment and shrugged again. "...be their own people and make their own decisions to their strategic advantage." She took her first sip and flashed a smile of thanks. "I pray to Dami there's some other party working genuinely on their behalf."

Tku held the tea just inches from his lips when Marci educated him. If he had not been wearing such thick makeup, you could see him blush. "You think someone would have told me by now," his voice seemed as embarrassed as amused. He took a sip of the 2nd steep, "I will say that it is much more refreshing." Tku was rather even as she spoke, treating her with warm respect. However, there was a part of him that felt some hesitance to engage with her. He knew her only for the better part of a year and even that most of that time she was gone, taking care of herself while those who loved and cared for her carried heavy stones. Even Tku wasn't so mindful that her absence didn't sting when he saw how much damage it created. He sat still, no fidgeting with his brushes or things in front of him. It was an expression one does not associate with Tku, quiet contemplation. He met Marci's eyes, But she is here now, Tku allowed himself. "Dami has a way of giving those who are chained a path to seek their own self-determination," Tku nodded at Marci. And back to fidgeting with what he now knew was a tea pet.

The Gods are not real. It was a stray thought that rose, unbidden, to the fore of Marceline's mind, and she quickly corrected it. They are real. Perhaps they're just not truly Gods. When she spoke, however, she went with something considerably different. "Maybe she does, but she gives opportunities to all, and not all use those for the good of others." She shook her head. "Zarina and I quarreled - I'll be frank - but one of her concerns, even if it was self-serving in the end, was that they'd just be trading one tyrannical master for another. I couldn't entirely dismiss it." She took a sip of the tea, and there was a wonderful fruitiness to it. much like its owner, she thought. "I'm a believer in making your own way. You know something of me. You know that I come from a refuge, that my grand name is a sham. I was an illegitimate daughter thrown away when they found out what I was. I don't remember them." She nodded slowly, considering, and took a second sip. The tea was lovely - perhaps a recipe for Zenobucks. "I've had friends and even family who've helped me along the way, especially in these last few months." Awkwardly, she set the teacup and coaster on her lap. "It isn't easy being half a person." She shook her head and smiled tightly, as if to apologize for the moment of wallowing. "My point is that I am a product of my own free will, but also that of others." She regarded Tku evenly. "I'd not have founded Zenobucks were it not for a conversation with Zarina. I'd not have escaped that refuge if she and Ayla, Yalen and Jocasta, and the others hadn't come. I'd not have ended up a cripple had Juulet simply lain down and accepted her just comeuppance." The tea sat there on her lap. A bit had tricked over the rim of the coaster when Marci had shifted, but she did not feel its burn. "These people are not strong enough to succeed on their own against Virang, and so they will have help as Dami sends it." Marceline shook her head. "But those who help have the same free will and their own reasons for helping. They will call in their debts or, at the very least, expect certain outcomes." She lifted the coaster and the cup to her lips, noting the stain on her dress, and sipped. "I won't pretend to have no ulterior motive," the tethered admitted. "Zenobucks is how I unchain myself and I want to guarantee the stability of its supply chain, no matter who wins, but..." Gently, she set the cup back down. "Fuck anyone who keeps another in inescapable servitude." Her eyes flashed. "Fuck anyone who betrays those who trust them." She shook her head. "I know I've been called cutthroat and impulsive and selfish." She waved a hand as if to bat it all away. "I've had plenty of time lately for soul-searching, trust me." She regarded him, eye to eye, and furrowed her brow. "Thing is, I do have a side here. Virang is wrong. Zarina is wrong. But Revidia, and Torragon, and Tarlon?" She tilted her head, allowing the question to linger for a moment. "They're not in it for anything better. You seem to be, though." Her gaze searched his. "Please tell me you're not in it alone, that there's some kind of plan."

Tku had some thoughts about what Zarina said to Marci, it was not how she expressed it to himself, Imam, and the very Queen of this nation. But he would let that go, for now, he wasn't here to argue specifics of what one zesty woman says. Tku was merely here to listen to her. He learned that she was from a tethered refuge and an illegitimate child. Is that why there are so many tethered at Ersand'Ernise? Whatever the case, she seems to be selling what she is and why she can be trusted. A central conceit, her resume, and her question. How very straightforward. She laid out her reasonings quite convincingly. Maybe not well enough to disclose information normally but Marci held great power and Tku could no longer think of this as a mission of a few. Alad, Kidlat, Dalisay, the people who have already died. They relied on this to succeed. "A traveler never comes alone." As their gaze met each other, Tku's eyes wandered to a simple mask on the far table. "I respect that you must seek things for your own freedom, I have done quite a stellar job running it in your absence. Your honesty is refreshing compared to others and for that, I can try to achieve a stable line. But I need your word if you want to know more Marci." Tku simply offered. He had the information she wanted but he needed her word, that would be enough for Tku.

"My word?" Marceline inquired, arching an eyebrow. "That my intentions are genuine?" She blinked. "You already have that." She pursed her lips, lifting the cup again and draining the last of the tea. "I am loyal to those who are loyal to me. I'm selfish only to the point where it could hurt them." She shook her head. "One thing that I will not do is harm Zarina." She peered right into him as best she could, or maybe it was just the idea that she might have some sort of piercing gaze. "I assume we're on the same page with that, though."

Tku sighed, "I apologize Marci, to be honest, Zarina's coldness has shaken me at times on who I could trust. Even with what has happened between us, I would never hurt Zarina, I care for her far to greatly to do so." Tku smiled weakly, it was tiring to think of Zarina right now for him. "I promise I will not try to wrong you Marci." He poured a second glass for them. "It seems we will have much to discuss."

That, indeed, they did. Just what the nature of those discussions were, however, was known only to the two of them. When Marci poked her head out the door some two hours later, rolling down the quiet streets by night, she twisted to watch Virangish guards taking down the bodies from earlier. They, like the curfew that had pressed so strongly upon this place for the past few weeks, were gone. The tethered did not linger long, making her way towards an inn in the upper city with the help of some kinetic and chemical magic. She seemed at once more relaxed than she had been upon her arrival and more determined than she had been since a certain fateful night two and a half months ago.

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Morning, Mr. Salvatore

Knock knock

Tku headed to his front door, throwing a robe over himself, "Just a moment," Tku finished his makeup as it was far more important than any guest that could be at the door. "Yes?" he opened the door, leaning on the railing. In front of him was a boy, maybe only 12 years old, with a satchel of letters and other small packages.

"Ah, Ramil do you have more letters for me?" Tku asked as he stood up and turned his head to snatch his coin purse.

The young boy nodded and just said "yesh," with a small lisp stemming from his lack of confidence.

"Since you came all the way here, I should pay you for your troubles," He pulled out 5 coins and handed it to him as Ramil handed a bundle of letters. Ramil took off quickly, running back to the streets, "Don't spend it all in one place!" Tku shook his head, That child could slow down some, enjoy his childhood a little more, Tku thought with some guilt.

He read through the letters and requests as he finished getting ready for the day, humming all the while. One portrait was chosen from them, someone named Salvatore and he could be found... here He grabbed his supplies and put his tea pet at the door. His art station was set and ready, all that was left was to make a few phone calls.

"Ring ring, Marco Salvatore," Tku said with a pleasant tone, "I heard you are looking for a portrait, yes? If so let me fill you in on how to get to me. I'm sure you can manage." After that was a somewhat convoluted direction that ended with asking a child at a bakery for a coin to get some pastries, simply pointing to the 'Coin man'. Why it needed to be so confusing was worthy of many questions

Left at the fruit stand… left, no, right at the jeweler… fuck, which alleyway was it again? Marco was slowly making his way through the city one stop at a time, while constantly reciting the directions given to him by the strange voice in his head. It was a deeply uncomfortable sensation at first, as the words felt like they were coming from his own internal dialogue. It was like having thoughts that weren’t yours. Although Pictor had repeatedly assured the Century that he could only hear thoughts that were directly addressed to him, Marco was not entirely convinced. However, the usefulness of this ability of the artist’s could not be denied, especially to a covert operation such as theirs.

To avoid trouble on his way to the Obenjan, Marco once again stalked the streets in disguise, this time as a traveling musician. He was raised as a Rezaindian through and through, but while church children were educated according to the principles of their chief deity, almost all were expected to take electives and hobbies in order to satisfy more than one member of the Pentad. To please Ipte, Marco had taken up various creative pursuits to fill the time where he wasn’t fighting or training his swordsmanship. Although he had become a good sculptor, his musical skills were actually quite mediocre. Still, the wooden harp he hastily slapped together with binding magic would serve as a pretext. Nobody would spare a second glance at a musician walking the streets so close to the palace, as more than one noble kept a bard in their retinue for their personal amusement.

By the time he made it to the bakery, Marco had gotten himself lost three times already. Thoroughly exasperated by the tediously long list of instructions he had been forced to follow, he tried not to let his annoyance color his inner voice as he reached out to Pictor.

Okay, I’m approaching the, uh… the coin man? What do I do next?

Tku enjoyed his odd routine, it was random and set by some random dice. Still, maybe it was a little cruel to send him on an elaborate tour of the city, Tku let out a devilish smile. "All you need is to walk through the door and I'll be there." Inside the 'Coin Man's' house was none other than the Obenjan. "Please, shut the door on the way in," Tku pulled a seat out for Marco's portrait, "Do you prefer coffee or tea?" Tku offered.

”Coffee, thank you.“ Marco nudged the door closed with his foot and invited himself in. He took every sarcastic remark that threatened to spill out of his mouth and buried them deep inside. As stupid as this entire errand was, there was no point questioning the painter’s motives. He was offering to help, and if he wanted to play jokes on people along the way then that was his business. As long as it sped up the revolution Marco was prepared to drink mud. At least the furniture in this house was nice. Being able to sit after such a long walk felt good.

Tku prepared coffee with some flair, almost exactly as Zarina had taught him months ago. "Here you are Mr. Salvatore, help yourself to the cream and sugar on the table." Tku sat behind his canvas and a sonic bubble dropped down on them, giving them some privacy. "Mr. Salvatore, is there any specific portrait you want me to make?" Tku began to sketch Marco as he was.

Marco skipped the sugar and stirred in just enough cream to cut through the bitterness and heat of the coffee. After taking a big gulp to quench his thirst, he set the cup on its saucer and left it on the table before addressing the painter. ”Well, there are a couple of things to consider. I am obviously a Revidian, and a young looking one at that. I tend to draw attention around here, even when I don’t intend to. I’d like a portrait that doesn’t make me look out of place, even if I were to walk into the palace to present it to the queen herself.“

"I see, something low profile, a casual portrait." Tku started to choose the colors he wanted, "Good, you know that you stand out. I can make you a portrait where you won't but why don't you give me some ideas." He peered past his canvas to Marco, "Any people or professional caught your eye on your trip here?" Tku structured his face, how would I have do his makeup to match the people here? His features are rather soft so molding him is simple. But his tones are rather light. He layered things with a pasty light color and applied layers to get to a darker complexion. Well enough.

"You know, there is this kitchen I've always wanted to work at inside the palace." Marco suggested. "Therefore, how about you paint me as a porter?"

"A most noble job," Tku nodded as he took it into his painting, the clean hands that had been soaked in water, the grease on the face from working in the kitchen. It was coming to him how he should look. The painting came fast as silence took over for a good hour or 2.

Just before the final brush stroke, Tku showed him Marco's new identity. "Is this to your liking?" It looked to be a Kitchen Porter of mixed heritage between Virangish and Palapareese. The hair on the arms was thick but was near hairless near the hand and wrists from constant abrasion. It looked simply like a porter that you would pass without much thought.

The painting sent chills up Marco's spine. Even after growing up in the future, he was never THAT hairy. He almost wanted to request a do-over, but the artist likely made him look like that for a reason. In any case, he would just have to put up with it for one night. "I don't know if this will make me pass as a native, but at least it doesn't look like me. Even if I were to bump into someone from the academy, it would be impossible for them to make the connection. I think we can make this work."

The shock at the hair was quite hilarious to Tku,"Splendid," Tku performed the last brush stroke as the portrait sucked in some energy. "When the time comes, all you have to do is look at your portrait and say its name." Tku handed him a note with the name 'Atay Sabbagh'.

"Now will you be paying in magus or kurush?" he asked.

"Magus." Marco reached for his coin purse and counted out the agreed upon sum without trying to haggle. It was rare for him to have need of the stipend given to Centuries by the Quentic church, so the money had just been piling up with nowhere to go. "Thank you again for your services. I will make good use of this." Marco wrapped the painting in a piece of cloth and stuffed the note into his pocket. Before departing, he also made sure to finish the rest of his coffee. It was more delicious than he had expected.

"Please excuse my rudeness, but I must take my leave. I have other errands that require my attention today." Marco gave a respectful bow before heading for the door with his precious cargo in hand.

"of course, everyone is so busy nowadays," making no huff about it and followed him to the door. "It was a pleasure to do this Portrait with you, live well Mr. Salvatore," Tku waved him off as he began to finish his own plans. Tomorrow will be quite tiring but I cannot slow now. No, I must stay steady until the end.

The Hourglass Order

Crossroad

Crossroad

It was late in the darkness, the rain that lay over Ceboyan and Arangal only now starting to make its way to neighbouring Kalingnan. Dogs, left out in it, howled in protest, and drops pattered against thatched roofs. In the great manor house that roosted on the hill, servants were bustling about, bringing furniture and plants in, locking up sheds, and closing shutters. In rapid succession, the lights winked out. The great evil eye that gazed over Aziz Mesud was closed.

"Dali?" whispered a voice. A moment passed. "Dalisay!?" It came back louder.

"Yesss, Bato. I'm here. Are you trying to wake the whole farm?"

"Well, you could answer the first time and I wouldn't have to be louder." A teenage boy could be seen slipping into a large hut. He was wearing a wide straw hat and loose canvas pants patched a few times.

"This takes focus, you know." A girl, perhaps a year or two older, could be seen sitting cross-legged on a bed made of planks and some hay. Presently, she opened an eye to glare at the boy.

"Can you sense them yet?"

She nodded. "But only one," she admitted, with some consternation. "Gani said we'd have real help." Dalisay opened both eyes and leaned back, posting her weight on her arms. Long greasy black hair was draped over one shoulder. The boy bore a striking resemblance to her as he joined her sitting on the bed, though his hair had a slight wave to it.

"Maybe he's just that good," Bato suggested, pausing for a moment. "Or 'she'." He tried a hopeful smile.

"It's a man," Dali corrected. She furrowed her brow. "A mage, I think." She nodded after a second.

"He must be some mage!" Bato enthused, only to be shushed by his older sister. "Oraf only gave you loud and mute, didn't she?" the girl chided, and the younger of the pair grimaced by way of apology.

Dalisay glanced about warily and her eyelids fluttered shut for a second. "Well, I sure hope he is. It's a mad idea."

Bato was already rising, but some of the simple cheer faded from his face for a moment. "If you ask me, doing what they did to Alad was the mad thing." He began to walk away.

Dali's eyes opened. "I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and glanced down. "We all wish it hadn't happened. We all wish that things could be different." She shrugged.

"And they will be, Ate, once this man comes and shows us what we need." He turned on his heel and crouched down before where she sat on the bed. "Then we can do the rest ourselves."

"Would a healer not be better for Alad?"

"How long until the next Alad?"

Dalisay sighed and nodded glumly, but she made sure to flash a smile for her little brother. They were but a year and a half apart, though sometimes it felt like more and, other times, she felt the younger of the two. "As usual, wisdom from the mouth of babes."

Bato winked and she blew a raspberry. "I meant his head, as well." She shook hers. "You know he's never been quite right. Anyway, go now," she urged him. "Tell Gani and Kidlat that he's coming along the west road. He's tall and has a pack and some... kites." She estimated his walking speed. "He's about two miles away. Hurry and you three can pull him into the old shed."

For a moment, Bato's eyes flicked to the wheelbarrow in the middle of the hut. "Do you..."

Dalisay smiled and shook her head. "Go, totò!"

Hiking through strange land comforted Tku. He had much to do in Ceboyan but traveling like this reminded him of going through Sakenga as a young boy. He was scared to death of every moving shadow and the rain only chilled his body.

He was no longer scared of the shadows but scared of the duties he set upon himself. He was Tku, and to them, his is a mage to help. He was now a mage. The rain tried to stick to him but it slid off him and his clothes, walking in the rain but never getting wet. Soon he would be upon his location and was already feeling around with his kites. He couldn't be seen.

The lights of the manor house were not visible in the storm. Its shutters had been closed and lanterns snuffed for the night. Thunder rumbled in the clouds above and rain hammered the muddy ground, but there was never much of any wind.

Almost inaudible above the din was a voice. "Here!" it called. "Here, biyahero! You shoul' not be out in tiss storm. Come wit me." There was a young man, just off of the path, behind a stand of tall bushes. He was glancing about nervously but welcomingly and waving Tku over.

Without light, Tku relied on his senses to guide him but they were still futile in a foreign land’s storm. So when he met another young man, Tku was relieved. He waved back to the man, "Ah! Thank you, friend. The storm snuck up on me." Tku approached with a smile but he still scanned around for matters that shouldn't be here things like a blade or many hearts hiding in the tall grass.

There were two other energy signatures - human, hegelan, eeaiko, or yasoi - within a shed about thirty meters off of the road. It was hard to read them well given all of the storm's ambient energy. That was, incidentally, in the direction where Tku was being led.

His tusker kites blowing in the wind's lines were pulled taught and brought closer to Tku. It is very onerous for a guard to spot them in this storm but he wouldn't give an opportunity to catch him through simple sight.

After making it off the main path, Tku offered his name, "My name is Tku." He placed his hand over his own heart to show his sincerity. "Are the others further ahead?"

The man nodded. He was only a few years Tku's senior. "Kidlat," he replied, tapping his chest. "You are young tan we expec'," he remarked, leading the way. "Other persons..." He trailed off for a moment, perhaps struggling to find the word he needed in a language he was less than fluent in, and pointed ahead, down a narrow path. "Gani an' Bato. In te shed." He twisted about for a moment. "Dali no comin'. She teter. Hard movin' in rain like tiss." He scowled briefly, before turning back. A sheet of lightning lit up the sky momentarily, and they could feel the resulting thunder, a few seconds later, in their chests. "Good par' is it makin' lotta noise an'..." A conspiratorial grin replaced a face of consideration. "Energe? Hide us pretty good I tink."

Tku was led to a small shed, where a candle flickered inside. He saw the two other faces - both native Palaparese - only in twisting shadows. One was very young, no older than Abdel or Rikard. He introduced himself in a voice that still cracked as Bato. The other was a good deal older - perhaps in his late thirties. That was Gani. "Maybe you are preezing," he remarked, in accented but more fluent Avincian than Kidlat, "But you are also a mage, so maybe not." He had a short black beard shot through with streaks of silver, and maintained a serious bearing. This was likely his attempt at humour upon meeting someone new. "In any case, you are here and that is what matters. When we spoke with the Masked One, we did not know what to expect. We hear things sometimes, especially me, since I work at the house, but many people are more talk than action." He hesitated for a moment and the three Palaparese exchanged glances. "Even us, until recently."
Tku slowly deciphered what Kidlat was saying through what he said about 'Dali'. Either she was tethered or off balance. Either would make it difficult to move on a stormy night.

"It does," Tku complimented Kidlat. "Rain holds much energy, separating us from the rains is not an easy feat."

As they approached the shed, he dried himself and Kidlat using binding. It was delicate but well within Tku's mastery. He stepped in and removed his cowl. "I'm warm enough knowing you met with me." he offered a smile and nod to Bato and Gani.

Tku leaned himself against the wall. "And you would be right, most of the time. Which is why I would like to ask, what can I do to help you right now? I'm sure that there are those who hold that this is just talk." Tku felt a need to gain the trust of these people.

"That... is the thing," Gani allowed, stroking the stubble on his chin. "We..."

"Do not know," interjected Kidlat.

"Too long with masters makes a man less able to think for himself," the oldest of the three men admitted, "But something has to change."

Outside, a particularly loud crash of thunder shook the landscape and a couple of heads turned. It was the youngest, Bato, who spoke, rapidly and in his native tongue, shooting nervous and pleading glances Tku's and Gani's way.

What followed was a rapid exchange between the three until, finally, Bato addressed Tku directly. "Dey..." He held up a hand and motioned chopping it off. "do tis Alad." He shook his head. "No, I say." He shook it more adamantly. "No more for me." His eyes were intense. "Alad no..." He tapped the side of his head gently and grimaced. "Bad head." His eyes searched Tku's. "Good man. Bad head. He is me priend." He all-but implored the foreigner to understand his very broken Virangish.

"A healer," said Kidlat. "That is best." He shook his head as Gani and Bato addressed him once more in Palaparese and they exchanged rapid-fire words. Then, they paused: all three of them. "That is Dali," explained Gani, filling Tku in. "She has been watching us prom the cabins." He furrowed his brow. "She says you are a healer by your magics, but you would need to be a very good one, por they cut Alad's hand opp and ped it to the crocodiles."

"I understand," Tku nodded. It was an issue he read about from some of the older generation in Joru. "But just as your mind has atrophied from their rule, it can be invigorated by breaking from it."

Tku thought to himself how to help and more importantly, stir their minds so they may create the conditions for their emancipation. But his thoughts were slashed at the loud crash of thunder. He patted his chest and tried to understand what was going on. Ah, Dali is tethered! Why would a slave master keep a tethered?

They made it obvious what he needed to do next, "We can plan things more in full but I believe returning Alad's hand requires some urgency. Just know that we must be ready for when they notice."

"He is at the huts," Gani warned. "We will have to travel there." He did not ask if Tku was willing to or could make it. He simply assumed the competence that was presented to him. "I promise it is much more beautiful in the morning, despite what happens here."

Bato, meanwhile, seemed to be clinging to Tku's every word, partially just for the effort of trying to understand an only semi-familiar language, and partially because they seemed to resonate with him. "You come, Master Tku." He nodded. "I take you."

"I tink we all go," Kidlat recommended, consciously using Virangish for Tku's benefit. "I watch. Gani help. Bato scout." The three men had an extra cloak that they offered Tku. Then, with little hesitation, even as a sheet of lightning split the sky and thunder crackled across the jungle, they pushed the door open and slinked out into the night.

Tku shook his head no to Bato, "Thank you for the kind phrase but I am no master, I am but a friend." Maybe he would understand, maybe he would not. Either way, it held great importance for him to set the boundary there.

Tku took up the cloak and started to move with them. He had scanned the area thoroughly before entering the shed and he had not forgotten. Binding was an odd school of magic, being able to sense more than just energy was a blessing for the blood child.

He could feel the goma cats stalking him and his entourage and all Tku had to do was create a writhing snake to throw them off. Nothing, and I mean nothing, likes snakes. He treaded over the wet and rooted ground, parting the plants while dispersing any track behind them. He was no expert in Arcane but anyone could sparsely draw on light to dim an area.

Everything went smoothly and steadily, quickly reaching the outside of the huts. There was a gap they were going to have between the foliage that he used thus far to make it here and the hut. He reached out to people, marking those he could. With no one to observe him, he turned the thick mud dry and hard to move quickly with his companions. He let Gani go in before him as a stranger rushing into a hut could scare them.

Bato was a good two hundred yards ahead of the others, and he disappeared into one of the huts. Gani and Kidlat followed, with the help of Tku's magics. Inside was a boy about Bato's age - or slightly older - sitting up in bed. A girl perhaps Tku's age sat beside him, and a wheelbarrow waited close to the bed. The boy's left arm was truncated just above the wrist, its end enclosed in bandages. He was a lanky twitchy youth with oily hair and large eyes with bags beneath them. He regarded Tku with a wary curiosity after he entered behind the others.

"I... sorry we could nah' meet imperson," said the girl, not bothering to ask if and how he knew about her. Like Gani, she assumed competence. "I'm Dalisay. He is Alad."

"Dali..." The rest of Gani's words were in Palaparese, as was her quick response. She ushered the scared-looking Alad to his feet, even as he began to speak. "He says that he didn't know they had to give it to him," Gani translated. "He took the beans because it was his birthday. He didn't mean to break any rules. He didn't mean to make trouble."

"Don't think slave," said Bato, leaning in towards his friend, and Alad's eyes widened. They exchanged words in Palaparese and both nodded, but the maimed boy's remaining fist was clenched.

"He is angry," Dalisay interpreted, "because they change the rules and now he has to trouble for you. He only wanted to make coffee for his lola... uh... grandmother." She shook her head. "Alad's anger can be very great."

"On birthdays, they used to let pield workers - slave or pree peasant - take a handful of coppee beans por temselves, back when we had Master Gorkan," Gani explained. "Master Hakan makes them go to him and pledge their loyalty bepore they can. Alad didn't know of the change and when then caught him he defended his actions as following the rules. Things escalated and he struck an overseer and..."

"He is lucky to be alive," said Dali. "We had to beg por it and some had to work extra shipts to cover the loss." She snorted bitterly and her eyes caught Tku's. there was more to this that she wasn't saying right now, but perhaps she might say it later.

"Pive minute," warned Kidlat, sticking his head inside from the doorway. "Patro' come."

"Fas'!" urged Bato, "Fas', healer!" He looked apologetically at Tku, probably not meaning to rush him but concerned. Dali, meanwhile, unwrapped the bandages around the boy's severed hand, revealing the ragged stump, while Gani reassured him and gave him instructions in his native tongue.

Now, before anything could happen to derail it, came time for Tku to take up his craft and heal.

Tku's eyes bounced from place to place, listening to the information and feelings given to him. His time here was limited, Tku knew this. So while they filled him in on how and why, he paid close attention to Alad's clenched fist. The muscles, arteries, and veins were so much clearer than when relaxed.

He approached Alad with a careful step. "Dali, can you have Alad set his good hand next to the stump?" He looked at them and used them to mirror how they should look. He began to reconstruct Alad's hand.

Tku kneeled next to Alad as he started to compare the hands. The boy must of picked up on the panic in the room, Tku thought as he gently held his hand and started to take deep breaths. People are quick to copy those in front of them when in a panic. Slowly the breathing slowed and Tku was able to begin.

He took in the intricacies of Alad's hand. The callouses from repeated abrasion, well developed muscle to help grip his tools. A dozen or so fractures and imperfections came with doing hard labor at a young age. It wasn't hands to be envious, unlike the privileged life Tku had lived. Recreating some imperfections so he could use his hand would be more difficult than Tku could imagine.

With no time to waste, Tku began forming the spongy red marrow and the outer white layers of bone. The hand was intricate, consisting of seven central bones. They were all oddly shaped and important to stave off anemia in the future. It took much longer than he imagined and he carved out each bone to make sure they were strong enough to withstand use. With time running thin, he nearly instantly formed the fingers, tingling Alad. His eyes say his very bones sticking out of a stump and he was quick to panic. He thrashed and screamed as his friends tried to keep his calm but Tku lost control and carved into the bone, removing the small pinholes that the nerves use to enter on the metacarpals.

Tku grimaced at the wound. He understood that he would suffer from mild numbing but he had to continue, this time without Alad being conscious. His wound was open and slipping in some anesthetic along with some 'Slumber Juice' his chemical Zeno told him. "Quick, someone catch him, he can't be awake for the rest of this." Bato caught him with ease, seemingly inheriting Alad's anxiety, looking at Tku to reassure him if he would be okay. All he could do was smile and nod, he couldn't tell them that the next part was the worst.

Quickly he started to lay out loose fibers in the directions they needed, slowly sheathing them and then sheathing again and again. The Tendons were pulled taut and he prepared the circulatory system. Hundreds of feet of veins and arteries of varying sizes needed to be laid out. It was the most intricate and... Tku failed. The small veins couldn't pull away the blood. It would pool and cause it to go septic in a few hours.

He couldn't leave his hand in such a state. He drew away from his previous work and started to draw from Alad and himself to create a better system. Alad was young and would recover and Tku knew his body better than anyone, what he didn't need was obvious to him. The webbing of nerves started to fill out the gaps in Tku's creations. Linking things and solidifying its structure in Tku's mind. The skin was barely an afterthought, merely relying on the excellent regeneration of natural skin and speeding it up immensely to cover the hands and then nails.

The relief overtook him as he looked to the hand with some contemplation. It wasn't perfect, it may be his worst work and it pained him to give something so meager to someone who deserves so much more. But it would have to be good enough as it was the only gift he could prepare. This moment was only cut with Dali yelling at him that he needed to leave.

"They are just around the bend!" she shouted. "You can't be here!"

Tku wasn't quite quick enough. By the time that he reached the door, just behind Bato, he could sense that the patrol was within visual range, and he pulled back. "Hide!" Dalisay hissed. "He can be sleeping -" She pointed at Alad, "- but you must hide!"

Gani doused the lamp and flung himself onto the rough plank and hay that was his bed while Dali tucked Alad in. For herself or Tku, there was nothing she could do. That was Bato's and Kidlat's job.

The pair of teens must've known what was coming, but they did it anyway. Standing in the doorway, Kidlat pushed Bato and Bato pushed him back and they were shouting and hurling insults at each other in their native tongue. One need not have understood all of the words to recognize the performance.

The others waited in stillness and darkness, Tku ensconced among some canvas sacks beneath Alad's bed. The tethered girl's feet dangled limply over the edge, her toes just brushing the dirt. Rain hammered at the thatch of the roof and, in a couple of places, drops of water glimmered as they slipped through and fell.

Then, a new voice: "Hey!" it shouted, "You! What are you doing out!?"

"I, uh... he was say I want a'..." He trailed off, perhaps unsure of the word he needed.

"He want a' puck me sistah!" Bato announced, and there was a rapid angry exchange between him and Kidlat.

"Ung, hum, muk, gaiy," mocked the other guard. There were violent sounds and then momentary silence. "Will you speak a goddamned language people can understand!?"

The first guard laughed. "This one's sister's the cripple, right?"

Bato said something quietly, and there was a crash against the wall. Above Tku, the planks shifted, and he could practically feel Dali's distress.

"You should be thanking him. Girl could use a good fucking, and who else is gonna touch her?"

Dalisay's hands gripped the edge of the bed. Tku could see her knuckles grow white. He could feel her drawing. It was clumsy and unpracticed and she likely didn't even know that she was doing it.

Bato began to shout, but quickly, he was silenced. Instead, it was Kidlat's voice next. "Please, sir. No hurt he, okay? He a stupi' boy. Big head. Big mout'. Li'l brain. I take him back he huh' now. Okay?"

"Oh yeeeeaah," remarked the first guard. "What are you doing away from your hut after curfew anyway?"

There was no response from either Kidlat or Bato but, in one smooth motion Gani rose from his bunk. and hurried up to the door, feigning rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Master Dursun, Master Heves," he called, "I apologize por the stupidity ob these boys. I called them together to discuss their argumen', and I thought they had settled it, but it appears they are pighting again." He bowed very deeply and stiffly. "Please allow me to show them the rod and dispense Mistress Çalişkan's justice!"

There was a pause, and a wavering brightness as a lantern swung briefly into the bunkhouse. "'M afraid it's gone beyond that point now," remarked one of the guards. "An' we all know you'll just go easy on 'em anyway," snorted the other. "You fuckin' gooks are all a little cabal."

"Please, sirs, I will do right. I will do it right here and now with you watching ip you wish!"

There was a long pause and some whispered interaction that Tku could not quite make out. Then: "Hey, saaay, why are you all coming to the door?" The light swung inside again momentarily. "What don't you want us to see inside?"

"No matter wha' happens," came Dali's urgent whisper, "do not let them pind you."

"Out of the way!" barked the second guard. When Gani was slow to move, he was shoved roughly into the middle of the floor. He skidded into the wheelbarrow with a clunk and the light swept over Dalisay, illuminating her sandy-coloured legs where they dangled over the edge of the bed.

Tku could merely watch as he slowly drew in mass to sink himself, building the canvas bags around him to obscure his presence. You were slow and now they suffer, Tku swallowed his remorse and set himself to follow Dali's words. But how tempting it was. He could make them vanish amongst the storm and no one would know where they went. They would be safe.

Tku was a man now scarred by a virangish slaver and how he saw so much of that man in Dursun and Heves. But Dali, Kidlat, Bato, and Gani knew more than him. A foreign world was Palapar and little moved right now. Ridding them of 2 would only bring more pain onto all the slaves here. So he stayed quiet. He hid. He watched.

Dali, meanwhile, had no such option. Caught in the beam of the lantern, she shielded her eyes. "Figured we'd find something juicy inside," growled one of the guards, either Dursun or Heves. "You shouldn't be here," added the other ominously.

"Alad need to be comported!" Dali protested. "I'm sorry! He is sleepin' now!"

The devil was in them, though, and one could tell from their eyes. "You broke the rules, Dali," scolded the taller of the two: a man with beady eyes and a thick mustache. The second one darted in toward her. He had lighter hair and a mournful face that might've looked friendly were it not for his eerily large eyes and resting pout. "That has consequences," he taunted.

The tethered cried out and tried to throw her hands up in instinctual self-defense, but the patrolman caught her on the cheek and sent her tumbling roughly to the ground. For a moment, she was gazing under the bed, eyes wide in fear as they met Tku's. Tku could also see Bato's feet moving toward the patrol from behind. Gani's came after and restrained the youth.

Then, a hand reached down and yanked Dalisay roughly by her hair. "On your feet!" bellowed her tormenter, which was a command she couldn't follow. Instead, he released her and she tumbled to the ground. "I'd say that constitutes a second disobeyed order," scoffed the other member of the pair, "wouldn't you?"

"And, you know, Alad sure does seem out like the dead..." said the man who'd dropped her, stalking up to the bed where the healing boy lay. He began to reach for the covers.

"Leave him out of it," pleaded Dali's voice, broken and weepy. "He's simple and good and Pashdal has bless him with sleep."

"This is too much!" protested Gani, "Surely there is a better way to handle this."

"Do shut up, you old woman, or your next word costs a hand."

"Please. It's me who done bad," Dali insisted. "Wha'ever punishment you make, it's not them."

There was an extended pause where, perhaps, the pair of tyrants seemed to be considering, coming down from their cruel power trip. Then: "You know, your brother's story was that he was protecting your dignity against this other shit-eater," declared one. The light swung, perhaps to illuminate the cowering Kidlat. "but, ya know, I don't believe him," he added darkly, resting a hand on his belt buckle.

With that, Bato shouted at the top of his lungs, hurling insults and vitriol at the patrolmen, and Gani either could not or did not wish to restrain him. He hurtled towards them with all of his force and fury, only to be sent crashing into the flimsy wall and right through it with bonebreaking force.

They had the Gift.

A Crossroad

Tku shook in his hiding spot as Dali hit the ground. He hid further back, heeding her words. He grew more and more scared as the two slavers started to revel in their own brutality. The slavers were truly cut from the same cloth as Ren, but in a way, he hoped that their cruelty would mimic his and deliver a quick punishment.

But it never was enough. They show they had the power to dominate by crashing Bato through the wall. They had the gift, a blessing from the gods. They did not need to beat Kidlat, shove Gani, and strike Dalisay to the ground. They had the power to tend to this without harm but they wanted to do this.

They were not needlessly cruel. They were purposeful in their hate and derived pleasure and satisfaction. I believed in the love of man, in their ability to empathize with another and to feel their pain. Tku called upon the void and drank from its strength.

But I was wrong. I will send these Hetraxa spawn to hell myself. He drew them as he rose from his hiding spot.

It might've been satisfying, or perhaps grim, how quickly the slavers unraveled: skin from flesh and flesh from bone. They tried to fling ineffectual magics in Tku's direction, but the effort was for naught. Both perished with garbled screams.

Now, the healer had laid bare his full power and intent. Bato lay unconscious through the wall, with his body twisted at a weird angle. Gani had picked Dali up and carried her back to the bed, and Kidlat stood on, wide-eyed. Alad, finally, was beginning to stir. Now, the question invariably arose: 'what next?' Clearly, an event horizon had been passed. Could there be any turning back?

He breathed in, and then out before going to work on Bato. "I'm sorry Dalisay," he said rather loudly, "But I could not stay hidden while they unleashed the gift for the sake of brutality." Tku's words apologized but his voice showed no regret. He kneeled next to Bato and began to weave his binding through him. He had plenty of usable material around him now.

"How long until their absence is felt?" he began to stich the broken wall back together after bringing Bato inside.

In addition to a half-dozen lesser injuries, Bato had suffered a broken back that, were it not for Tku's presence, would've rendered him more disabled than his sister. Fortunately, it took a mere couple of minutes for the skilled binder to restore him.

Dalisay, seated on the bed again, was now somewhat less circumspect. She furrowed her brow, but nodded. "You did wha' you had to." She paused. "And I say thank por it."

Gani was action now. "They check in every hour." He replied, leaning over Alad, who was stirring. "On a night like this, some delay could be porgiven." He shook his head. "They were small pish. Bad ones looking to use what little power they had to hurt others and make themselves peel powerpul, but small nonetheless."

Kidlat approached hesitantly, his conspiratorial good cheer from earlier long gone. "We say Alad or no?" he asked, eyes darting from the stirring youth to Tku and the others.

"So an hour or so," Tku pondered on the situation that he had created. I acted too rashly, Tku admitted to himself, The goal was to create the foundation for a change but now that they're dead, the others will spread word and be more weary. The options for them were limited but they could still strike some sort of victory, "Dalisay, how many slavers do they have on this plantation?" he asked the tethered girl.

He tapped his foot as Kidlat approached him, What the in the 5 heavens is he saying? No, he is trying. Tku allowed himself a moment of incompetence, turning to Kidlat, "Apologies Kidlat, but I'm struggling with your words," he looked towards Gani for assistance.

There was a quick exchange between Gani and Kidlat. "Ah!" said the former, "He is asking ip we should tell Alad or leave him out of it."

Dalisay, meanwhile considered. "There is the master, his wipe, and his four brats. Only Ilkhan is old enough to be trouble, but he is in Ersand'Enise." She shook her head. "There are eight permanent overseers." Gani added.

Kidlat looked about to say something, but held back this time. "Pour magic," added Bato instead. "Two are lie dead," Dalisay added, gesturing with her chin at the dead patrolmen. "A dozen more with no Gipt," Gani concluded.

Just then, there was a precipitous cooling in the room. Dali let out a yelp and Tku turned. "Two down," said Alad, "twenty-three lept." He was drawing in arcane energy from the ambient heat, and lots of it. "They can all die."

Tku looked at them strangely for a moment before nodding, Why wouldn't we let him know? He is a part of this, isn't he? Before he could answer, Dalisay kindly informed him of the arms they faced here. Tku merely nodded, trusting in his own skills and strength to overcome the gifted.

"Gani, you work in the house, how often do the overseers and guards leave or communicate with other plantations this time of year?" If they were mostly quiet with each other, they could simply capture the regular guards and deal with the older people of the family. His foot kept tapping as he thought, working through himself and the plan. But before the conversation could flourish, Alad began to draw. It was more than he imagined of a slave but less than the Arch-Zeno's and demons he had faced before.

His mouth opened as to refute him but no words came out. Tku had only seen a small glimpse of the brutality the overseers held and he couldn't withhold his indignation for them. He condemned them to death on his own, against the wishes of Dalisay and the others here. What reason, no standing, do I have to reject his rage?

But Tku still turned to face Alad fully, "Please Alad, stay your anger for now as drawing without purpose only makes you easier to find." he raised a hand gently to him. "There will be more bloodshed, but there isn't a reason to kill those without the gift," Tku spoke firmly though he felt the stings of hypocrisy.

Gani grimaced as Alad drew, but he managed to grate out an answer to Tku's query. "A good amount during harvest season," he admitted. "They would..." He flinched as if nauseous. "They'd... notice apter a couple -"

All at once, Gani lurched to the side and retched on the floor, followed by Kidlat and Bato. Dalisay grimaced. Alad merely glared, roiling with unstable and barely-contained energies. "No Gipt, still bad," he growled. He clenched his fists and began moving for the door. "They all die."

Tku could hold his own but he watched as the others began to bend under the immense weight of his draw. So this was the 'great anger' they have danced around. So strong but with no restraint or control, Tku pitied the boy and could see how he could have flourished if in better conditions. He watched the others fall to their side in sickness.

Tku reached for his side, wearing a sympathetic frown, "But Alad," he moved to his side, revealing Bato. "Your anger hurts more than the deserving. Your friends, brothers in chain, your lola," he hoped to shock and have him empathize with his actions. "Release your magic to the rain Alad," he opened his blind eye, "I know your rage but you can't let it burn those you love, my friend." Tku smiled lightly at Alad. He had more he wanted to say but he wanted to have Alad on his side and he needed to see what rage brought when unchecked.

The youth was silent and obstinate, at first, but then he stared into Tku's blind eye with a sort of gallows curiosity and, after a few moments he blinked and glanced over at his friends writhing and vomiting. "I -" He struggled to find the words in an only semi-familiar tongue. "I nope know wha' do," he replied. He froze in the doorway for an extended period. "Hot in me. How make go?"

Dalisay, finally, seemed to steady herself. She grimaced. "Abou' two days," she finally managed. "You will need to be past." She shook her head. 'Fast', she'd likely meant. Tku had already picked up on some of the quirks of the local accent. "For now, maybe halp an hour." She hesitated, swallowing nervously. "Be carepul. They are stron'. I will help you prom par away."

It was the time for a decision and it could not be put off any further, it appeared.

Tku rubbed his shoulder, "It's alright, you're new to this." Tku demonstrated the basics of Arcane, "I am no master but this I know you can do, feel the cold rain." Tku reached out as it wetted his hand, "Your hand is cold, Let out heat onto the cold rain. Slowly."

"As for your rage, it will quell in time. Once we have made things better," he squeezed his shoulder, "You can make it better, Alad."

Tku turned to Dalisay, "2 days is enough to add to the defenses and ready ourselves but it's not great. I can contact allies far and wide to inform them of what happens here." The time for rooting ourselves and overturning passed the moment Tku acted. "We will need to remove the ones with the gift, some may surrender but we don't have a proper way of restraining them." Tku said with some grimace.

"As for the non-gifted," Tku mulched dirt and gravel into spears, "If they surrender, we can tie them up and keep them as prisoners, because we are not them. But if they fight then they leave little choice for themselves." his words hardened with his heart knowing what he set himself to.

The arts were good for so much but only the art of war will set them free here, I pray to Eshiran-Zept that we might prevail and to Dami, Ahn and Zept, that my judgment may free them.

"I cannot do this alone, nor should I.” Tku announced to the others as he continued constructing Joruban steel spears. "No man can free another from the chains of a nation without the help of those in chains, I ask you to find those that would help with this. Find your spirit and I will arm it.” he tossed spears at Kidlat, Bato, and Gani.

He looked to the sky, the rain grew a heavy fog that would not dissipate in the moonlight, A gift from the gods on such a terrible night. His mind wandered to dark corners that Tku never considered before. Never once did he set himself to silencing another in advance. As short notice as this revolt was, Tku had time to plan for its trials and traps that such an event would hold. The first was obvious to him, those scared of change or those who believe they benefit from the servitude. Gani warned of another house servant, one of mixed lineage who saw himself as better than his fellow servant for he had a drop of the gift and even more Virangish blood. But Tku saw past that, seeing a man simply wanting to preserve what he had managed for his own. Tku spoke of the nation where old men like him rose for their children and grandchildren, and they lived in a place that he would be proud to call home. The man had fire in him and he chose to stop for the sake of it.

Another was someone Dalisay spoke of, the half-brother of the master. He, unlike the last, did truly gain some benefit from the establishment here, though he was still less than anyone from Virang. It was a delusion held closer to himself than the gods he was ever pious to and that is what made him so dangerous. The former master’s gift was as potent as his son’s and the half child carried some of it with him. Tku tried to stop him with words, obstacles, with calls to something greater than himself. But none of his pleas were heard, instead, he was met with resistance and magic. Tku had no room for convincing, he sealed the man’s throat, cutting off his air. He wouldn’t be allowed to speak any longer. Once he had passed out, Tku bound him in rope and unsealed his throat, "Just be silent for long enough."

That was all he needed to handle for the traitors, the rest were to be handled by the trusted hands here and he believed in them. But piercing through the fog was a scream, the ground shifted with Tku’s movement as he quickly caught up to the girl. She was already far too close to the main house so Tku bound the women’s clothes into wrappings to bring her to the ground. He had done this a hundred times and instructed many others on how to do this. It was a safe way to restrain without too much force.

But when he went to retrieve her, she was not moving, she did not breathe. Her head had hit a rock unseen in the fog. Tku fixed her but her brain had bled too much. "You know what you must do, you can still bring her back," he said to himself as he began to run his manas through her body. "After this, all you need to do is go to the house…"

Tku’s healing halted. He had a cold realization as he felt his depleted stamina. "I’ve healed so much today, the hand, the bones, the spears…" A binder was an unending source of Oraff’s grace, they had limits. His manas deteriorated with every hand he gave, every spear crafted, and every bone he healed. If he were to revive her, undo his mistake, he may not be strong enough to face the masters of the house. He had already made his choice. He set the young, naive woman to the side, fixing her clothes to not shame her any more than he needed. He couldn’t watch over her, he had to keep moving.

The rest of the fieldhands who rose with him on this mission handled their parts expertly, not killing any innocent in the process. He made no effort to hide his sin from them as it would only deepen his guilt. Some were angry, some understood, and some simply couldn’t care in the moment. Whether driven by fear or guilt, Tku called upon old powers of blood to create a minion from a cone mushroom. It stood 8 feet tall and carried only a set of legs and a thick body. It was a hideous creature born out of wicked powers none have seen. Tku simply believes it was the darkness that spread across his mind. With its rise, Tku saw its strength for what it was, "Leave one of the overseers Cankut to it." The beast disappeared into the fog to apprehend or kill the overseer, which it did was up to the beast.

"Kidlat, Alad, I leave Frezya to you, try your best to not kill, they aren’t very strong. Dalisay, I want you with me in the house. Figuratively, I mean," he clarified. Alad was strong but he was unfiltered right now, someone weak and easy to capture for him and Kidlat would be good to start teaching him restraint.

Getting into the house was no issue with the skills of the local drunkard on the plantation. Of course, Tku didn’t ask him to come in with him. The artist knew that this final battle could get messy. He calmly walked through the house, silencing his steps with Dali leading him at range Just how did I end up here? This was supposed to be a slow infiltration, but now here I am, acting on my own, murdering people. These few moments as he walked through the empty halls of someone’s home were the first time he was alone. He was a shell of the verve he had before. But now I’m hollow. I know there is purpose in my actions and in my thoughts. My life is the one I am permitted to give by the gods but what of taking another? How does Eshiran set aside the feeling of guilt when she sees his brothers and sisters? Can I find a way to justify, to forgive what I have done? Can I even let myself forgive?

Even with his mind a mess, Tku found no struggle knocking out the children with basic blood and chemical magic. He was guided to the older children’s rooms the ones most likely to bring issues to him before he confronts the parents together. The storm had grown loud and the ghostly wail of a Fog Kracken hung through it. It was such a dreadful night and it only grew more dreadful when a small girl, no older than 6 stumbled out of her room, scared of the storm and kraken. Their eyes met and the girls bolted off to her parents, Tku reached out with his gift to capture her but all her saw was the dozen ways she could hit her head, he hesitated and turned the corner. He gave chase, nearly catching her but she made it to her parent’s room.

His breath stilled, Hakan Arap was no weak mage and he was rested, unlike the broken binder. He made a solemn prayer to himself, knowing that should he fail, those behind him would die after him. His heart pounded as Tku came into the room, walls creaking and melding into something Tku could use. But what he saw was no strong mage, ready to fight for his family one desperately trying to remove his terrified daughter from himself.

They had no magic.

Whether it was the gods giving him a sign or merely the luck of Reshta, Tku put them into stasis. He would not allow them to move. He had them at his mercy and Hakan knew that. He pleaded and offered so many things that would move a man but Tku had no need for it. "I’m sorry Hakan but there is nothing that can dissuade me, I’m just sorry that it is so horrifying for your child." Tku silenced the child with some light chemical magic, "She doesn’t need to see this," he made the sign of the Pentad. "If you have any final things to say to each other or last words to relay, I will honor them." Tku wasn’t a trained killer he had no idea if he was lessening their suffering or prolonging it. Hakan was spiteful and hateful to the end while his wife faced their fate with dignity Tku could not understand. He promised to deliver their words, one way or another before wiping them from this world with Blood magic. No clothes, no blood, no bones. It was done.

"I’m done."

The Hourglass Order

Bog

Bog

This is the part of the scene where Ingrid goes to the bog and has a fight with the bog monster. She tries to greed but ends up playing the good guy, stopping people from being poisoned, saving Niallus, and acting as a potential Guardian for Desmond and Esmii. Then as Ingrid is about to launch the final attack to kill, she gets taken to Bog Gaiden

From the east, Ingrid came riding in on Ökeneld, her dune-sea Frobase. From her viewpoint, she spotted a Yasoi man in what remains of the town. She came here in search of treasure but all that lay here was filth and ruins. But there was possibly something to grab even if it was damaged. She told Ökeneld to stay overhead as Ingrid plunged from the sky. Only when breaking through the tree line did Ingrid feel the stares of something? She levitated above the statue and glanced about for what was watching her.

Either way, she cautiously tried to sweep away the muck with kinetic magic to pull the statue out.

The statue was heavy, heavier than it seemed. Like it was resisting her. Or, maybe, it was bound to the bedrock quite firmly. Still, it budged, and with that came an upset to the bog itself. Little waves reverberated throughout and air bubbles rapidly pooled around the stony masterpiece. The energy and concentration required were immense, to the point of taxing Ingrid's levitation spell, but it was working.

“Wow, you actually made it budge!” A deep voice of Kerreman origin called out to Ingrid. It was the muscular blonde man with all his equipment on him. “I never thought I would find someone with the RAS before their place either completely floods or the real vultures arrive!” he flashed a confident grin at the sanguinaire endeavoring to dig out the mysteries behind the sunken statue. “Let me help.”

Out of his bag was an iron crowbar, or at least it looked like one. Once placed in the fissure, and with a single push, the statue budged again, falling even more diagonally and progressively exposing a hole under it. “You know, the big Don was staking out this statue before biting it, they say.” he remarked, eyeing Ingrid once more with a face half-smeared in swamp water. “Come here for the final push, you need all the energy.”

Sooner or later, they would uproot the statue. The rock itself had very little of value and was far too damaged. What was under it, however, writhed. A massive accumulation of vines and roots coiled there, wrapped around something that stood out. Something not as "organic" as the rest of the unnatural pond they were investigating.

The man drew his large hunting knife. “The honor's yours, dear.”

"If you want," Ingrid accepted the help and focused on removing the statue from the swamp. She soon lowered herself closer to the water as it rose, "Is Don his name or a moniker? And what of yours?" Ingrid asked him as she binded away the filth to look closer at the statue. "It really is a shame what happened here,"

As she looked at the weird wad of vines, she accepted knife after equipping some leather gloves, "Thank you~" Ingrid heated the blade so she could slice through with ease.

“Felix.” answered the Kerreman, arms crossed as he gave the honors to the dame with the big RAS. “And, personally?” he leaned in conspiratorially before she went to chopping. “I don't even think he was Torragonese.” a bellowing laugh soon escaped him as a couple of steps back were taken to let Ingrid work.

Ease she certainly had. The vines were like butter and the excessive steam sizzled almost satisfyingly. All went well. Until, of course, it didn't. Perhaps it was a specific vine or a pocket of gas, but as Ingrid cut just enough to notice quite the oddity - something metal-like that stood out from the waters, plants and rocks - a spray of dark-green acid jetted her way. The liquid came with a noxious gas.

Luckily, the Eskandish had the reflexes and the chemical basics to neutralize the acidic agent, but the gas it? Its oily consistency latched onto the skin and just enough of it was inhaled to prompt a coughing fit.

Felix rushed in to help, giving pats on her back and attempting to cleanse her with his, admittedly, better chemical magic. The results were middling, with Ingrid's lungs burning up still. But she was fine.

The pain wasn't for nothing, however, as the tightly bound treasure within the bag of vines revealed itself. With a little bit of Kinetic magic, the prize was theirs to claim.

Ingrid giggled along with Felix as she set to freeing whatever was in the mass. Maybe she was distracted or careless but Ingrid could only manage to offset what could've happened. She focused on protecting her eyes and mouth, as taught by Zeno Durdovin earlier in the year. Still, some found its way in and it burned like lye and stuck like glue.

She coughed and spattered trying to get it out but it was of little use. The intense pain was gone and now a burning tingle remained. "Not... my brightest moment," Ingrid wheezed out as she patted Felix on the shoulder, "I should be fine."

She tried to take some deep breathes and hoped that whatever got in would leave in due time. Until then, she took her prize carefully, using a stick to prod it to avoid repeat incident, "I've never seen this before," Ingrid glanced up at Felix to see his take of it. No matter what though, Ingrid didn't dare to touch it and instead lowered it into a leaded bag for safe keeping using a touch of kinesis.

Felix proceeded to douse both of them with a cleansing agent, although there was little he could do about the lungs. Gently, after taking the pat, he pressed his palm upon the young woman’s shoulder blade and took a deep breath. “Your lungs should be fine, but I would see a professional soon if I were you. I’ve seen bad things to those exposed to this place for too long.” he explained, a tad grim.

His eyes then drifted to the foul piece of metal. “Ah, scheisse!” he growled, taking a quick step back as he recognized the darbonite. “Foul Metal, we call it. And-” with Ingrid holding it, he squinted. “You’re not sick.” he remarked, looking surprised but also not that surprised. “The …” he leaned in just a little and brushed his gloved finger over the peculiar chunk. “Swamp has changed it. It’s has a coat of sorts. Maybe you should store it safely a-”

Immediately cut off, a shriek captured both of their attention. It felt pretty close, too.

The high pitched scream of a voice they would barely recognize. As more eyes lay upon the imminently gruesome sight, they would discover it belonged to none other than Cawuio Zast. Dangling high in the hair with a thick and long vine-like appendage impaled through his abdomen. The thing stemmed from the pile he had been diving in, lured in by a stone, and now he in turn dangled as bait.

Tremendous pain was in his screams. Endless. But the auditory horror would very quickly come with a visual one: The pile of rot shifted and churned until ripples in the water became waves that splashed onto all those within its area. Appearing first as a large, muddy lump that pushed out, they would soon see where all the organic matter had gone - where the bodies were taken.

The unholy monster of the Bog emerged with its many red eyes lined inside its multi-layered maw. A single swing of its tree-sized right arm, its only arm of such a size, prompted a second tremor that awoke its dormant appendages. It stood at the same height as its appendages, although its width was prodigious, to say the least. Most of its features remained veiled by the vegetation and mud, but more and more limbs could be seen protruding from the monstrosity.

The fight was a vicious mixture of horrific decisions and terrible outcomes. The weak were killed despite the attempts of the strong. All Ingrid could manage is keeping Niallus, Sven, and Desmond alive through it. All sorts of wicked magics kept the beast alive but they were making slow progress to its destruction.

Unfortunately for the creature, Ingrid found her rhythm and she was allowed to build a nuclear cannon to destroy the beast. It was all going to be over. They were going to live. They were-!

Bog Gaiden

Bog Gaiden

As Ingrid charged up her attack, suddenly there was a portal—and just as abruptly, complete darkness in all directions, an empty expanse of nothing as far as the energies she wielded could illuminate. There was nothing and no one, and no monster. The attack that would have surely found its mark no longer had any mark to hit.

Then, there was a singular voice: a gruff, gravelly, masculine voice that Ingrid could've swore she'd heard at least once before.

*Hi-hooo, hi-hooo...*

*...straight to hell we gooo...*

It came from every direction, especially the ones where Ingrid wasn't looking. Then, it came from directly behind her.

*You know what happens when you die, right?*

***Miss B l o o d s u c k e r?***

Another portal opened up beneath her, and blue flames aggressively poured forth from it. Then, however, she was dropped, not into the hell of Dami, but back into the hell of the bog, into shallow water and some rocks. The illusory flames dispersed and sound returned, first in the form of maniacal laughter—then, Ingrid could faintly hear the sound of her comrades still fighting a few miles downriver.

The figure who teleported her—ostensibly Xiuyang—stood at the edge of the river. The mask was removed, and what remained in its place was an eerie, too-wide, sharp-toothed grin. The tomboyish girl's visage had been used as a disguise for whatever kind of demon this thing was.

"I'd feel bad for ya—really, I would!—but setting aside the disguise, trusting a Solari to begin with is pretty stupid, yeah? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all..." The smiling demon leaned on Xiuyang's lance—which seemed to be the genuine article—and swayed back and forth mockingly. <@235903628630687744>

Her calm had held when fighting the monster but now broke as the darkness consumed her. It was eerily similar to her last time in the void except now she was alone. It teased and pulled at her mind, making a simple darkness feel so much more.

She drew at the flames but found nothing of substance as she dropped onto the rocks. She could not say if this really was her world or just another trick. All that mattered not as she faced her attacker.

There was no feeling as the monster presented itself, only mild interest on how it obtained Xuiyang's staff. "Trust? Maybe you have trusted a Solari but I just like Xuiyang, I don't trust her." she chuckled, as she used what binding and chemical she had to mend her aliment.

"Does the demon that faces me have a name?" Ingrid asked.

"Riiight, right. 'Course ya don't! Nobody who associates with the Twin Emperors could ever be a sucker. I knew ya was built different." He tilted his head both ways, cracking his neck. "I doubt it'd mean much to ya, since humans don't read their history an' all. But since you asked! I'm of the Smiling persuasion, as ya can see." He pointed to his most obvious feature.

He narrowed his eyes, leering. "Ya wanna know how I got my paws on this, don'cha?" he accused. "Might jog my memory if we go a few rounds. 'Course, ya could try ta get away and save Shvenny, but I'd get there first, and, gosh, that'd just be a darn shame, I reckon. Khhk-khhk-khhk-khhhhhk!"

She knew well that returning was not an option. Its proficiency with dark magic made her weary to return. One dark bolt is all it would take to end her or her allies. "A few rounds? I don't think I have it in me, mind if we do rain check?" she felt her connection with the gift manifesting again.

"Rain check?!" the Smiling Demon replied incredulously. Feigning confusion, he put his hand out and looked up at the sky. "Rain check!"

...

"...Nope!"

He then teleported behind Ingrid and swiped at her with the lance, cackling like the madman he was.

"Worth a shot," Ingrid mumbled as she shattered the earth around her and reformed it to a weak barrier. It crumbled from the swipe but gave a crucial moment to move away.

She backpedaled, exploding the water into a fine mist before freezing it around the demon.Great, more teleporting, Ingrid's jaw clenched with worry.

The demon's smirk remained a permanent feature as the rest of him was encased in frost. In short order, it was melting and crackling as his muscles bulged grotesquely from a combo of arcane and internal chem. In the loosening slush, his head began to thrash around, as if it had no neck. If it were possible, his smile got wider.

"Always so cold. Just like that white-walled tomb you maggots fester in. Hey, have you seen your friend lately? Or did she run away crying and quit your magic preschool because of a little chaos and dark magic?" He threw a dark bolt to emphasize the point. "Actually, is she even alive?" he pretended to ponder.

Ingrid started to swell energy, pumping herself full of stimulants to dash out of the way of anti-reality. "No clue, I assumed she was still stuck in Ciro's bed," She fired a light beam at its legs. She tried to play it off as if it did not alarm her but the real staff lent credence to its stabs.

Her RAS recovered with every moment it took to speak with her, "Why are you here anyway? Just a Demon that hates Sanguinaires or are you related to the demon monkeys at Ersand'Ernise?"

The demon hopped back and howled with laughter. "Heyyy, you ain't bad, kid! By which I mean you're horrible, which is terrific." He twirled the lance that held Ingrid's attention. "Ciro's still entertaining her, huh? Then again, her ancestors were well-practiced Jiang cocksuckers. I'm sure she's a natural."

He stalked forward tauntingly, pace less than urgent. "Nah. I don't hate sanguinaires. Why would I? You guys are the best, actually. It's the one thing we and the gods agree on: humans are most useful when they're suffering!"

"pfft," Ingrid let the smallest of chuckles go. "Apologies, but at least they built a name from cock sucking, unlike the shit you choke on," a small rock in her back started to heat up and glow a sickly green.

She remembered the illusions it made when she was coming out of the portal, there was little doubt that it was trying to pull the same stunt. Radiation rolled off and away from her, outlining her area.

"Losersayswhat." blurted the maniacal creature that inched closer to the Eskandr. Simultaneous to his fake out were its dark, beady eyes looking right above Ingrid. Was something there? It could be a trick.

It wasn't. A portal had suddenly opened with a Xiuyang-like inflatable befalling her. The dummy looked like a pillow and inflated in size every inch closer to the ground. It was about to blow!

And from the front came a brazen assault from the demon. Its wicked grin salivating for the suffering it reveled in. Except he wasn't moving forward - it had a Xiuyang piñata about to pop after all - and instead his spear seemed to extend. Indefinitely. "Staaaaaaand still! I need you dead real quick!"

She directed the radiation around her into a field of fire above her, dashing further away. "What the-" it popped before she could fully make out the deception it had laid and the spear made contact with her side.

It cut deeper than she wanted but she couldn't let the moment escape her. The radiation grew and gathered, pulling from the surroundings and the energy she wasted moments ago. Forming a thick, potent shell of radiation around her hand. She grabbed the spear in attempt to burn, fracture, and break it. The less tools it had, the better her chances Ingrid believed.

The spear snapped a bit too easily. A keen observer would notice that the Xiuyang doppelganger had yanked the metal weapon in a manner that faciliated its severing. And then, with the jagged, broken new tip it extended it once more right into Ingrid's abdomen. "KHKHKHKHKHKH! Stupid fucking human making my job easier!" that massive grin suddenly turned into a gigantic frown. "A bit too easy."

His idle hand swung toward the heavens, and with that motion the many clouds that obscured the sun had been split. From that thin fissure came the afternoon light of the sun angled right for the clearing Ingrid was in. "Oh well. If you intend to have me melt, I may as well return the favour, **bloodsucker.**" a long, mucus-covered tongue whipped out of the unnatural grin and licked not just the lips but cheeks, neck and even parts of its torso.

The spear slipped from her hand and stabbed into her once more. As the sunbeam came down, Ingrid moved away from it with her skill in enhancement and supernatural speed. Whatever light managed to reach her, she tried to absorb and refract it into a blinding light at it.

"Nyeh. Quit iiiiit." his idle hand shielded the eyes from the beam of light while the other twisted the speak that had impaled the Eskandr's stomach. "Hey, hey, tell you what sucky succ!" Ingid wasn't the only one drawing, though, and the light beam was also being repurposed into a counter - a counter to the counter, though it remained mere light. "Lemme have my way with you, and I'll save those poor sods from what's coming! Mmkay?" suddenly, the demon's form unleashed a burst of light as if he was a flashbang, minus the loud sound. Light from the sun, one might add.

Ingrid smashed the water up to weaken the light but the sunlight still grabbed her. It flared her sanguine blood, inflaming her body and slowing her. The pain was manageable on its own but it only added to the growing list of injuries she had.

"Parting the skies is like asking for divine punishment," while it was directing the sun she brought forth a heavenly lance enveloped in sunlight towards it.

The demon wiggled his fingers and flashed an exaggerated face of dread. "Ohhh noooo. I'll be double damned." and with that came a simple thrust of the spear, not quick enough to extend to the Sanguinaire but just swift enough to fire a discombobulating air-shot, one akin to the ability it used to split the clouds.

It was important to note that the demon, while powerful, was not perfect. And in his hubris had done a miscalculation. Ingrid's aim was tripped up, but she was both a Sanguinaire and seasoned. Her shot wasn't entirely misfired. With that mistake came the lower left of his face completely scorched off, completely mangling the smile the smile he was proud of.

The demon froze for a moment, head lowered spear still firmly held. "You little shit." said the creature shorter than her. "H̷̊̎o̷͌͝w̶͛̚.̴͂̍ ̷͍͂Ď̸͋a̷͐re. Y̸͑́Ó̷͘U̶?!"

"Ooh, damned by Ipte for sure." She grinned through the pain at its disfigurement. Meanwhile Ingrid weakly sealed the hole in her abdomen and tried to create some distance, creating fog to cover her movement. Last time she pissed off a demon she became well acquainted with the fine masonry of Ersand'Ernise

"And you still blurt out quips." as Ingrid faded into the mist, she could still see the hateful, red eyes glaring at her through the fog. Then, they were gone. He had lost her.

Or rather, she lost him.

From above her emerged the malformed face of the demon, emerging out of guttural roar. This scream came with a spew of black substance that, upon seeing its effects on nearby matter, was a potent acid. "Y̴̒̎O̵̽͒Ü̷͋ ̴̛̈S̸͌͆H̵́͝Ȏ̴͌U̸LD HAVE LI͚͠S̶̠̈́T̶̏ENED TO ̵̀̌T̴̛H͂Ĕ̸͊ ̴̆̍C̶ROWN!"

She hid and slithered in the fog as long as she could but it was not long until her sensing failed her. Its energy had dissipated and the scent of its blood was obscured. Out it came with anger and vitriol, acid spewing about. Luckily she had some very recent experience stopping acid. "I just said no!" Ingrid yelled at it. Turned the fog around her into a blizzard of icy razors. She had to keep moving, find a way to escape and survive.

Running was an option, but how effective it was came into question when one's pursuer had portals under its employ. As Ingrid retreated back, the moment she turned around to see where she was going, there stood the demon. It still kept some of Xiuyang's likeness, most notably the clothes, but its features were stretched. Especially the limbs, making it taller than the Eskandr.

Its face was still mangled but that hardly seemed to limit it. The smile was contorted into something truly uncanny. "You're done." he growled, its arm stretching out as Ingrid recuperated from downright crashing into the adamant monster. It went for her neck and did not hol back for the sake of playing with its food anymore. "L̵͆̆a̸͑͒s̷͙͌t̸͗͆ ̶̋͑w̵̒͐o̶̓rds."

She was faced with an overwhelming opponent, over and over she had faced it. Too many demon, dragons, knowers, and foes have spilled her blood from here to Xochi. It was quicker and stronger than her, harboring magical arts that she could rarely fathom. She has existed by luck and fortune since her first time meeting Hugo. And now there was a Demon at her throat and she was on her own.

It came close. Salivating to watch her life go dark but she still fought, "I will revel in Videl's failure." The stone to her side fractured and dissipated into a spell taught to her by a demonic tome, Infernal Majesty. "Wither and die Demon."

The good half of the demon's face formed what looked like a smirk. And yet, it started to wither. That smirk didn't have time to turn into a frown as the demon quickly melted and had essentially been killed after being lured into Ingrid's range.

All signs pointed to this not being an illusion. But this certainly felt too easy. Of course it was.

"Surprise bitch!" right in front of her, over the leftovers of the body. It had done a simple temporal anchor, a trick Ingrid was familiar with during the Quantum Upta fight, and this time the monster made its opening by sucker punching Ingrid into submission. "You really thought for a second, didn't you?" he cackled like a hyena, stretched arms binding Ingrid's neck and ready to slaughter in less than a second. "It's been fun, but the hourglass' running low, sooooooooo!"

With a simple squeeze, it could crush that neck into nothing. And it was about to do that. Except, as it was busy gloating, it did not notice the observer in the air. Ingrid did, if her vision hadn't fully faded. It was her partner, the dragon that had been seeking her out. And just as the demon noticed, a stream of flame descended upon the demon. On Ingrid too, but at the very least she could do something about it. The attack would, even if brief, offer the Eskandr a final chance at escape.

She had hoped so desperately that it was the actual demon that died but those feelings were misplaced, she should have been preparing for the waypoint to take place. She was not learned nor skilled enough to counter temporal magic. She merely played with the energies of the past and future.

Ingrid's legs burned from exertion, she couldn't protect herself from its slick punch. She weakly grasped at its arms, doing little more than feebly resisting.

She was alone, her comrades having died or given up on looking for her. But through her fading vision, she saw Ökeneld, still trying to save her like Sven and she had taught it. She had to use this moment.

She focused her drake's fire, pulling from the waste and fueling it with the decay of the bog. She didn't need a stream but an impact. She layered them over with precision though she believed it not to be enough. the next thing she could do was temporally accelerate it, taking from the future what she could use now.

It's all she had left and if it were to fail, she would die here. Her last moment at an escape.

Infuriated, the demon had lost his prey as he needed to dedicate a considerable portion for a last-second reaction to the aerial bombardment. Ingrid slipped, and ...

"F̶̊̑ȯ̴̼r̵̐͝e̷̊͛s̷̘̒t̴̀̔ä̶́́l̴̫͑l̶̾͆.̴̽ ̶͋Forestall. FORESTALL!"

It swelled with dark energies. And, once again, it appeared as though there was no real exit. The Eskandr could feel its evil gaze on top of her.

And here it was, in front of her again. No more smiles. A dark bolt was being conjured and the dragon couldn't get there on time. "Bye."

But then it stopped. Its head trained toward the direction of the main bog. "Time's up." it remarked without a shred of emotion. "How disappointing. Oh well." a portal opened behind the demon, and once again it smiled at Ingrid as if taunting her.

Her body nearly collapsed as its attention changed. She slumped back and began to heal her body. If she could think, she could heal herself. The sense of relief that she was given from its ire turn from her to the bog was immense. Her life was saved.

But the moment she closed her eyes, she saw the two people. Sven and Desmond. They were still there. They could be dead and she could leave to mourn them. She could finish Desmond's business and personally deliver the news to Sven’s family before. Tend to what they loved and pursued in memory of them.

But when her eyes opened, But they could still be alive. She couldn’t close a portal but what she could do was send a dark bolt to tear at the portal and the demon. She stood strong and upright, ”Come on, scared I’ll take a bite out of you?" She grinned oh so wide and sharpened her teeth with illusions.

https://youtu.be/hlrKL7m8gi0

A sanguinaire throwing its life away for others? A preposterous proposition. Especially this one, the 'apology tour' girl with a reputation that made the chronic smiler cackle in delight. A perfect example on why humans deserved everything it inflicted upon them.

And yet, its smile once again contorted into a baleful scowl. The insect did not run and instead suppressed the sadistic horror. It was so unexpected that its reflexes nearly let it get struck once more. It wasn't, but it was forced to retreat. There was no portal-forming either, as the distance it had to cross was considerable enough to require a focused cast. And each time it tried, the Eskandr shot back.

"W̵̄̎ ̶͌̚H̴͑̚ ̵̩͂Ó̵̈́ ̵̓̂R̶̽̀ ̶̕E"

There was no more Xiuyang resemblance, the creature was an accumulation of black sludge, not too different to the Bog monster in some ways, with its wicked red eyes and massive row of teeth flashed in an exaggerated frown. A horror that would burn in the minds of the weak willed, but Ingrid had proven to be anything but.

"Ñ̶͝O̶̓̆ ̴̾̓N̵̉͆O̷̔̀ ̴̈́̈N̵̽O NO NO NO!"

It looked panicked. Suddenly, it appeared right before Ingrid, emerging right out of her shadow. Its power was disgustingly massive, the drawing nauseating even to a powerhouse like the sanguinaire. With a rapid, near sonic-speed thrust of its long arm, it jabbed right into the injured girl's chest. A stab empowered by a dark bolt of its own, seeking to leave a heart-sized hole right where her cold pulse still beat.

No more sadism. No more control. Desperation was in its inhuman expression. Desperation to be rid of something it had constantly regarded as lesser. It fretted over a bug. Pathetic.

Ingrid seemed to revel in the demon's anger and frustration. Shrugging off the insults because it was not not true. It was when the frustration turned to panic that she prepared for the worst, all people either shut down or turn to violence when stressed.

She launched herself back like a rock on a trebuchet, rolling through the air, creating illusions of herself to distract the angry monster. A broken bone or two was a greater price than a dark bolt to the chest. She needed to build herself for just a moment longer. She whistled for her dragon to blow fire at the forest. The more energy flowing, the better she could hide among it. It had proved it wasn't infallible and she hoped that it prove that again.

The demon did not entertain all these illusory theatrics and ploys. When Ingrid made the slip, she was immediately shot with an insidiously high dose of venom via internal magic. No more games, the Sanguinaire's veins were going to burn as if she had been under the sun for hours.

Then came the 'shots'. Its elongated fingers pointed in her direction and unleashed thin beams of black energy - a variant of the dark bolt, a tad more precise like a laser but also thinner. Sadism was put aside in favor of fatal wounds. Except for the head, it remained partial to pretty faces, oddly enough.

Her veins filled with an unknown venom, she could irradiate and turn it to waste but that would only slow her. Little did the demon know that Ingrid still had a trick up her sleeve. Sven's talents used against the contagion were held within her Scepter of Ahn-Shune and she released it now, curing her of the venom.

She dove and swished out of the way of the laser, launching a blinding light mixed with another heavenly lance at it. She started to curve, trying to stay within the fiery forest.
"A̷̳͋n̵͋̈́n̵̊̚o̴͛́y̸̍͊ȋ̵̕n̵̓g.."

The flames provided ample energy for the demon and seemed hardly bothered. What concerned it more was the injured girl's swift dodges and preparation for another big spell. Soon it molded into something familiar - the same strike that harmed it. The Smiler had learned and just opened its mouth. Jaw unhinged made to drop like a boa's. The lance entered into the abyss that was its gullet.

And reappeared right behind Ingrid. A wormhole within the flames of the forest, another abuse of the space-time and the VOID by this hateful menace. If its own death shots weren't going to do the job quickly, then the atomic mages would be the coup de grace.

Her own light hid what the demon had done and before she could predict another attack, a hole had taken her from knee to rib.

She crashed down into the ground as she lost the power pushing her forward. Tumbling forward until she eventually ran into a tree. Her dragon kept trying to burn the demon as it had no master and no more forest to burn.

The demon cackled. "Now wither and die." it uttered with a voice almost identical to Ingrid's.

With the Eskandr struck and down in the midst of flames, it trained its eyes to the heavens where flames descended upon it. Aggressive drawing shielded it briefly, then came a wall of stone to cover the demon's retreat. Killing the dragon was a waste of time - time it had run out of. A large portal was once again conjured and a hurried Smiler abandoned its mark, believed to be dead, for its true objective.

Leaves and vines went up in flames with the rest of the bog. Slowly they fell upon Ingrid’s corpse, singing what remained of her and soon the branches and trunks would follow suit. But she felt none of it. The heavenly lance ripped through her spine and left side, cutting just below her diaphragm. The wound was singed shut but as her body kept trying to pump, and reconnect with itself, blood found a way through the horrid cauterization.

It was a slow, withering death. Ingrid’s body was dying and even if she could heal this, it would be malformed from all the radiation she now had leaking from her blood. So deathly even if the tree she laid under were to survive the fire, it would not survive her corpse.

The blood poured from her now. Some pooled near her back and some trickled into the water. But a small volume held tight to her arm towards the weapon she held even in death. Ingrid claimed it from the Star of Yarsoc after besting him in battle. It was only right to carry something of someone so strong. The history of the weapon always alluded her but the strength it lent her to defeat Upta and demons was ever strong.

Her wayward manas reached out to it, trying to sync up with it as they had in battle, the manas inside were trusted and resilient while hers were quickly dying. As the dyeing mana called out to it, the great staff shot back into her hand and a great deal of energy flooded out of it to Ingrid’s wounds.

Insects, trees, moss, algae, stone, and water turned gray and amorphous. It slumped over her body, warming and taking over her faculties. Her heart was pumped and her lungs filled with air. It cleaned her body of toxins and recycled the damaged cells. Then the amorphous blob started to take form, slowly growing denser and more complicated. It became her, creating new organs bones, muscles, and skin. Ingrid’s mind revived and started to come back into a deep haze.

The burning vines crackled and curled above her hazy head. Flames danced and formed into endless halls and stairways. Ingrid floated through them one by one, hurling her through distant memories. The bitter and sweet, the romantic and tragic. Every proud moment was doubled by embarrassment and struggle. It felt ever so close but so distant, passing through her fingers like a flower in the wind. She longed to make more of these memories.

But that was not in the cards for Ingrid, rooms and memories snuffed out with a hideous smile. Laughter bellowed out and consumed each memory, bitter and sweet. She ran up the stairs and it gave chase. It gorged and stuffed its toothy mouth until it overran with glutton. It ate until there was nothing but spent ambers. There was nothing but herself and the laughter; Ingrid and her leg.

The Return

The Return

She shot up in a panic, feeling for her side and leg. They were there. She was still in the bog. The demon was gone and she was alive. She breathed in and out, crying as she could only be thankful that she was alive, ”Thank the gods I’m alive!” The euphoria fled from her as she came sinking back into the bog. ”Gods, I’m alive.” She was still in the bog and her friends she had died for were still in danger. She stood and whistled for her dragon, expecting no response. But much to her surprise Okenald was still flying, seemingly spared by the demon. ”It’s me Okenald, I’m okay.” She petted the side of its face to soothe it. She mounted Okenald, ”Just a little longer, okay?” Her hand trembled at the reigns, thoughts filled with facing the demon again. Scared wouldn’t do for how she felt. She could simply run and, and… ”No, they could still need you,” she said to herself as she took off from her grave.

Ingrid had come as strong as she could, reaching levels that she had only fathomed when viewing Benny and the time she had raided the Forked Tower. But none of that lent her even an ounce of resistance as that 'thing' was summoned, sacrificing Sven with it.

A deep throbbing pain took her as Okenald fell to the ground. It grumbled pained chirps and clicks, asking for release. But she had no comfort for it, she tried to keep her eyes on whatever it was. That fucking crooked mouth cocksucker was lapping up its entrance and she hated it. She couldn't kill it nor could she stop its plan.

Another step to resurrecting Vedil.

She had been robbed of her agency like a dozen times before but this was different, there was no futile resistance to be had while under the demon’s influence. He was much stronger than any demon she had faced. There was no hope from her end but Desmond and Laska seemed to create a moment where what little she could do allowed her to run through a tear in space. She managed to launch an arcane lance at the demon, not that it mattered.

She landed on the floor, skidding on the muck she dragged in from the bog. She tried to rise quickly in case they gave chase somehow but she was overtaken with nausea from the jump in space. She held to the floor for longer than she wished and could only sense Laska's cold presence and the near nothing of Desmond's mana. No one else made it through.

She came back to try and she didn't even have the chance. She just had hatred for that fucking demon. It toyed with her, killed her, and then still fucking won. It had its victory and all she could do was watch. It wasn't like her other failures people she cared for died.

She sat up, finally making eyes with the other two. They truly were the only people that had made it through. She wanted to mourn for her 2 kinsmen but she couldn't. Her voice was hollow and light, "Are you two alright." Ingrid rose to offer assistance to either of them. Right now Laska wasn't a Rezaindian, but a survivor like her. She looked around the room.

The interior was utterly rich and well traveled. It would almost raise her curiosity but danger still lingered in her mind. But the curios and distinctive eclectic collection of furniture lent itself to the conclusion that they were in Don Cojones hideaway. Where it was she could not say but maybe there was something to gain here for a potentially long journey.

Desmond came flying out of the portal like a bullet. He rolled across the floor for a moment as he dispersed the force of his fall. He looked around for a moment before he took Ingrid's hand, "Mostly".

He sighed as he was hoisted up. His eyes glanced around as he began to inspect the place. "So this is Don Cojones' place hu?"

Desmond nodded his head, taking in the area around him, "Not bad".

Edyta felt the breath fill her lungs. She felt the warmth of a nearby fire on her skin. Still, she thought, you have need for me, sinner that I am. She curled her fingers and took a moment to become reacquainted with herself. Ingrid was speaking After a moment, there was Desmond as well.

A devil has come into the world. She wasn't certain who had been there at the end. She'd known she was outmatched. She'd known that she'd failed. Had it been Mother Madrona herself? Had Bartek been with her? All at once, Edyta sat up. "I'm better than dead," she told Ingrid after a brief pause, glancing about her surroundings as Desmond remarked on them.

This place was a testament to the worldly vanity of one man and was both charming and forbidding at once. She wasn't sure how to feel about it. But a devil has come into this world. She didn't have the luxury of exploring. People needed to know. She needed to get out of here, wherever 'here' was. She got to her feet, perhaps a bit less gracefully than she usually did. "Not bad at all," she agreed, stretching briefly and checking her weapons, "but I don't intend on staying. Belthagor has come into the world."

From the other room, she could hear muted voices: Roslyn and... the second set her nerves on edge. It was Sven, but he'd been taken by the grand demon. She'd hoped against hope that Niallus and Esmii had made it, but she couldn't hear them. Certainly, there were treasures here - rich ones - but she made first for the direction of her fellow students. Unless there was something useful among them, Don Cojones' items were mere baubles. Dimly she registered a pretty dress, an ugly doll, and some form of book. She brushed past, though, in a hurry to see who else had made it.

Knowing the demon’s names was helpful if not utterly terrifying. Ingrid's failure to stop that bastard weighed heavier on her mind. She died trying and she couldn't even slow him down. "I tried to stop the demon that showed up, but I wasn't enough on my own." There was a hint of self-pity in her voice but Laska was right, they needed to get out of here.

Before Ingrid could follow Laska, she needed to change her clothes and that pretty blue dress was the only bit of fabric around. She grabbed it and would change into it when they needed to leave. She followed behind Laska as she seemed to pick something up, It was Sven. Ingrid rushed towards the voice, ignoring what she saw in a desperate hope that he was okay.

The moment Ingrid's digit met with the dazzlingly blue fabric, the dress disassembled itself into a myriad of ribbons. They all latched onto the Eskandish's form, constricting rapidly, leaving her head and the very end of her extremities untouched. But just as it seemed danger was afoot, the tightness loosened like a sudden exhale of relief. The royal blue color had deluded into an unremarkable beige. Or was it brown? No, it was greener, actually. The coloration was changing and so was the form of the "dress".

All un-enchanted clothing worn by Ingrid had been drawn upon and devoured by the dress, making way for a dark-green, baroque-style ball gown, although with less volume from the waist-down. The textile it simulated glimmered in the light of the hideout's lanterns. It felt easy to move in. In fact, it felt easier than usual to do the most mundane of movements and tasks.
Desmond nodded to himself as he began to look around, "Let's see if we can find a way out of here".

'Gods know we got work to do', Desmond thought dimly for a moment as began to move around the place. He saw in a room there were trophies. Heads of great beasts, yet more so there were decorative weapons. Blades, guns, and other things. While none were magically enhanced. Desmond knew he needed to replace what he had. And a man who had gone above or below would worry not for his mortal tools. Desmond knew this enough.

Desmond began to drop multiple belts of blades, guns, and other instruments of warfare. Each instrument was on belts placed in areas and ways that if hit would act as small pieces of armor. And in exactly that they served their purpose.

He saw multiple of his blades were shattered in their sheathes and scabbards. guns jammed, damaged, or otherwise inoperable. Desmond sighed to himself as he began to look around. Taking replacements for things he had, leaving what he had taken off, and doing his best to not leave a mess.

In the center of the room was a single item that seemed of some interest, a book.

Desmond couldn't think of really any use it could give in this situation. Yet if anything, it could have some information on creatures.

And if Desmond knew anything about the magic he has and possibly what a Grand Demon could have, creatures becoming monsters is not outside of possibility.

He took Don Cojones' Guide, and placed it into his bag before heading out. Seeing Laska and Ingrid had rushed towards a door.

When Ingrid saw Sven, all she could muster was a quick embrace. "Good gods, you’re alive," she said, trying to process why or how he was here but couldn’t. Her eyes welled with tears on the mention of Esmii and Niallus, "I don’t think they are with us anymore." she cried to herself before coming too, "But we have to keep moving Sven, we can cry together when we’re home." Her words continued to betray her actions as some loose tears still fell from her. This was unlike her, this was all too much for the young woman.

"4 Wyverns," Ingrid corrected Roslyn, wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks. "Okenald is waiting in the other room still. You can ride on Okenald with me, don’t worry, he can handle it if it’s just us." Roslyn’s anxiety almost felt palpable and Ingrid could certainly understand why. "We’re not leaving anyone behind." she said solemnly.

Roslyn relaxed when Ingrid eased her inner fears. It must've been easy to see her on her expression causing to reply quickly. "Thank you. When we get back, I owe you a mug of beer. I am just hoping Niallus and Esmii made it out."

Rubbing her tattered dress, hoping this nightmare was over once and for all.

Unsavory Proposition

Unsavory Proposition

Ingrid was walking past by Lowenbrandt Place, the least used of all campus buildings, brought here for her Orredes afternoon class on Cartography, which had just concluded. It was automatic, at this point, to use some chemical magic to stifle her sense of smell as she passed the lavatories, which were the oldest in Ersand'Enise and smelt like it.

From her pace to her body language to the general lack of her usual effervescence, it was clear that something was weighing on the unusually tall Eskandishwoman. Then, into her near-somnambulance, a voice: "Hey!" it whispered loudly. "Ingrid, I'm so sorry to bug you."

She twisted to regard a yasoi girl - Tyrel, or was it Miret? - peering out of the doorway with a distinctly uncomfortable expression on her face. If she could not see their legs, the cousins were near-impossible to tell apart and, though they were not students, they were fairly common visitors to the school.

"Ugh. Damy, this is so creepy to just like... solicit you like this, but I had an idea and I thought we could help each other." She regarded the staff that her human counterpart carried meaningfully. "Has to be done quietly," she added at the end.

Now to go wrap up my business in the workman's quarter, one less mess, Ingrid planned the end of her day around her failing to find a leg. It consumed her mind and energy, leaving her going through the motions. Looking at her fellow students 'potential' and questioning her own life. No room to even process the death of her closest friend and old lover.

She barely turned to Miret, forcing a smile, "Hello Miret, good to see you return from your campaign," Ingrid gave a cordial greeting. She readied herself for a short, hopefully sweet, conversation. She let off a little laugh, glanced at her staff, and then back to Miret, "I don't mind, where are we going or are we meeting somewhere?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Is she here to claim the staff for Tarlon or herself? Either way, there was no harm in going along.

"Right here, friendo." The yasoi's eyes darted about suspiciously. "Where it smells awful and nobody will snoop." She beckoned Ingrid inside. "I know what that thing is and, unless I've lost my touch with reading body language, I know what you have to do. Now come. No more out here!"

Ingrid seemed genuinely surprised when Miret just openly said what was on her mind. Normally, Ingrid's suspicions would take over but there was a part of her that was comforted that someone knew. She sighed, "Alright, alright. I'll follow you in."

She knew that Miret had some kind of agenda, everyone does. "Is the staff that famous," Ingrid asked with a tired curiosity.

Miret shook her head. "No," she replied, "so you don't have to worry, but my cousin knows something of it and so do I, as a result."

Momentarily, the yasoi reached over, closed the door, and hung up the 'Cleaning' sign on it.

"You need a leg and I want you to take mine."

Vyshta girl knowing about the Vyshta Stick? Makes enough sense, Ingrid let any further curiosity slip by as the door shut. But then Miret offered something unexpected. So unexpected that Ingrid just went silent for a good bit of time, staring at Miret

Eventually she got out a simple, "Why?" She leaned on a wall. She wasn't relaxed but even trying to imagine why Miret, Tarlon soldier, Zarina's lover, sister of Tyrel, would give up a leg for her.

"If I tell you, you're part of this," Miret warned, "and while we know each other a bit and you seem like good people, I don't have a mind to bring you into a Tarlonese conspiracy and mortal danger." She pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "Suffice to say I've got a way of bringing this back when I need it." She tapped her right leg and forced a quick reassuring smile at the end for Ingrid's benefit.

Ingrid nodded her head, it was another conspiracy, another plan, another person just talking around her head. Gods it was annoying. Just another pawn. She could take it and leave, just have nothing to do with this but...

"Your right one..." her mind clicked for a second and the color that had been lost rushed back. "I see, I can accept your benevolence. Ismette and Tyrel had always been kind to me," she gave quick thanks, "I just wish I could return the kindness one day." A bit of pain sprung forward to her as she remembered Ismette or Leluun or whoever she truly was. The circumstances around her death was questionable but after the Smiler and who it is connected too, Ingrid's doubts have reemerged

"Are you ready for it now or do you need to finish some other business?" Ingrid asked to be nosy and get her mind off of Ismette.

"Ingrid," Miret sighed, "I don't want you hurt. This isn't your fight, okay. This is... between us yasoi and..." She swallowed. "I've already lost too many people, okay?" She perked up a little. "I don't know exactly how the process works - Tyrel gave me only the essentials of what she knows." The yasoi traced a line across her upper thigh, hand quivering slightly. "This is where I need it." She shook her head. "Gods, this is insanity," she admitted. "I just know I'll get it back, and we need this." She took a breath. "I have a few things to wrap up here, a few things I need to do." She regarded Ingrid evenly. "Two days time, by the Rolling Rocks up past Morrento? Under the big willow by the pond there?"

"As nice as it is to hear you don't want to hurt me," Ingrid smiled, "I've lost people as well, some recent, some I don't even know when they left me." Ingrid didn't pity Miret nor did she romanticize her situation. She was given an attempt with the staff and it was worth it. "You don't need to tell me what the depths of your mind and I won't pry either," Ingrid nodded, accepting everyone had their part in someone's story. "Just know that I am in your debt, Miret. Whether you call on that debt or not, is up to you."

"If you ever want to talk, you know how to find me. See you at the willow, Miret."

"Stay safe, fellow bloodsucker," Miret replied. "I'll see you there." She waited a few minutes so that it was not too suspicious before walking away.

The Hourglass Order

Tku

A Voyage in the Night

Was this right? popped into Tku’s mind, unable to keep away the intrusive thought as he looked up to the Tarlonesse ship. His voice felt so very small with the King and Queen and now he put himself through talking to the Tarlonese. Maybe a few months ago it would have felt normal, even excited to meet some Tarlonese again. But now?

He wasn’t deaf to the claims of the refugees through Bellville and the worksman quarters that he frequented for small acts of kindness that he could sneak into his day. What some claimed was beyond disturbing. It was very unlike the Tarlon he came to know, unlike the Tarlonese that he would call friends. But could same be said for… It is all murky. But right now, they can help the people I want to help. I can figure the rest out later.

He gave a confident smile to Kaureerah before taking hold of the ladder the Tarlonese so graciously lowered for him. One step and then a leap of kinetic, he grabbed the banisters of the ship and gave a big smile to the crewman, “Oira!,” Tku gave a small snicker as he rolled his shoulder loose. “I have come with an offer on behalf of the people of Moatu Suva,” he spoke in his experienced Yasoi, his accent thick from having learned it only from those of Tarlon. He gestured to the islands with some flair as he picked out the high ranking members, their uniforms were quite the fashionable giveaway, “King Kaleo and Queen Kanani have spoken well of you and I come to make a request to you,” Tku gave a small bow to them as he broke into discussion with Tarlonese captain.

A dialogue was held and the outcome was inline with what Tku wanted. Tku has asked that when the battle begins to settle and the damaged Virangish go to collect their spoils, they simply sail to the wreck and apply some gentle pressure to them. The pirates would either be sinking or running by then, the Virangish would have very little reason to stay after such a battle. Of course more had to be given than the mere satisfaction of fucking with the Virangish. Tku could not say what was on the ship, nor he could let them on as the islanders have forbidden it. He can only make a promise that they will be given some of the things that can be found on the ship. It was a rough agreement as neither party truly knew what was on the ship but at least with this they had a chance.

Towards the end of the talks, working on the final details, Tku felt a worrying pull on his kites. He couldn’t make out much but it was enough to give him pause. He made a reason to excuse himself, and climbed back down to Kaureerah.

Tku dropped from the top rung of the ladder, landing roughly on their small banana themed vessel. He tied his dreads once more, "It went alright," Tku nodded at Kaureerah, "We'll be able to count on them when the time comes." their was not an outstanding amount of confidence in his voice but he didn't need it, instead his voice lingered and jumped to something else.

"The real thing at hand is something may be happening with our friends at the wreck," he tugged on the strings of his kite to double check, "Definitely something."

"How bad is it?" the eeaiko inquired, glancing pensively across the water as she undid the ropes and cast off. "I've... been told to avoid that wreck and I can only wonder why." In truth, she knew and, unless there was some immense and sudden change of heart among the meerami who'd clustered there for reasons unknown, she imagined that an eeaiko showing up among them could be the worst possible thing for her friends and herself.

The small boat began to move across the darkened waves, bucking and yawing as it went, but it didn't yet accelerate or stray too far from the dread ship that Tku had emerged from. Kaureerah regarded him inquiringly, though whether it concerned her explicit or her implied question remained uncertain.

"Hard to say," Tku went to check his things, making sure none had fallen out with all the rocking. "My little kites extend my range considerably but none of our friends are very good at communicating through them," Tku let out a worried chuckle, "For all we know a fight has broken out with Virangish nearby." He grabbed an the oars and settled in to start rowing.

"I know you have been asked not to enter the ship, which is why I'm not asking that, I'm asking you to help me get there," he briefly tossed his head to the waters below and all the sea monsters scrambling about.

"Then maybe we shouldn't be helping the Virangish," she muttered, and it was, perhaps, among the first couple of times that anyone from the academy had seen her wear a peevish expression. She dipped her hand in the water, sullen and silent, and closed her eyes momentarily for focus. "I've no wish to anger our welcoming hosts and honorable allies." She exhaled and the boat sped up. Her hand reached into the water and cupped it and she channeled her sonic magic through it. From her mouth came no sound for a good minute or so. "I'll take you that far and..." She nibbled her bottom lip anxiously. "You can sense through your kites. Are they being attacked?"

Tku turned his eyebrow up at Kaureerah, "I wouldn't say we are helping them," he left it at that, leaving it open if she wanted to speak more. "I'm still new to using the kites this far, I'm no puppet master like Maura, nor an artifact master like Marz but I can sense trouble."

For a moment, she considered saying nothing, like she might've if Evander or some zeno had questioned her, but Tku had struck her as someone who maybe wanted to change things. "They showed up here from their closest colony and held this place hostage." She shook her head tightly, feeling the threshers flee. "Between us, the islanders, the Nikanese, the pirates, and... even the Tarlonese (if we had to) we had the forces to deal with them and the cover - those pirates - to do it without it coming back to these people." She scowled and sighed. "Instead, the rich just keep kicking the little guy for half his lunch money and they get stronger while he gets weaker."

Tku's second answer seemed... evasive, and maybe she'd been wrong, so she fell silent. Is there trouble!? she thought, but did not press any further. "Tku, those are my friends. Maura and I faced death, hand in hand, in Retan. If you know anything that could help keep them from getting hurt, you wouldn't hide it from me, right?" They were now approaching the giant wreck where it loomed above the low-lying atoll of Mehameha, soft waves thumping against its metal sides. Kaureerah reached out with her senses but the hulk was so vast that, even with it this clearly in view, whatever was happening inside remained beyond her. She knew that there were meerami and imagined they were at the wreck from the secrecy of it, but how many? How did the islanders know them or had they at least been told to expect visitors? Maura had gotten naught but a couple of words out and that state of half-knowing was almost worse than not knowing at all.

Tiff was a good person. If their first encounter had been tense, they'd become something almost like... friends, since. It was hard, however, to overcome years of stories, education, and belief to the contrary. Meerami were dangerous. Her friends were there, likely with them and her presence would likely only make matters worse. It was that or the Virangish - and she'd gathered a good deal already about what *they* were about.

"They did," Tku agreed with Kaureerah on the Virangish role in all of this.

"The Islanders only wish for people to stay off the island, Kaureerah. The have allowed some of us to enter. The Virangish do not wish to follow the people's wishes, nor do we know if any other faction in these waters will," Tku openly admitted. "But still, the king and queen trust the delegates Tarlon have sent from Tarlon, not the ones from Nikan(Who are also not the nicest). Nor can I say much about the pirates. If things go well, the Virangish might not gain anything than the 'righteous' feeling of defending some islanders."

He hesitated for a moment, he knew what she was saying but he did not feel they could wrangle everyone against the Virangish. Maybe it was the fear Ren had put in him weeks ago, maybe it is because he had little confidence in those around him to survive the onslaught that would take place. Maybe he wasn't willing to kill Raffie if it came down to choosing sides. "I cannot say Kaureerah. I'm no tethered, I am but an Obenjan trying to use what control I do have to help the people I came here with."

He paused again, "I know nothing Maura does not and the only thing I know to keep them safe is to have a binder at the ready and to keep you off the wreck. You ask of me for safety, and that is what I can tell you to keep you safe," he does not say why, for he is bound by a promise to not share what he had been entrusted with. "You do not need to trust me, I don't ask for that either. I just ask that you believe I want them safe."

Kaureerah went silent and then they were there. She didn't know Tku and she hadn't earned his trust. The reverse wasn't untrue either. The boat went still in the shallows and it wasn't easy to trust someone when they would not do the same back. But aren't I holding put too?

She nodded at him to disembark. "I want them safe too," she said simply, trying to conjure the sweet smile that normally came so easily to her. There was no erasing the bitter aftertaste of it, though.

Tku need not question her smile, she was loving and being asked to not enter the ship. He could not say if she had figured it out but was happy she wouldn’t rush headlong into a dangerous place. Hopefully he would need no force, and this was just his nerves pulling at him but in case it wasn’t, Tku drew from the very depths of the night sky and strengthened his being. "Be safe Kaureerah, I’ll keep and eye out for you with my kites”

The Hourglass Order

---

---

Ride at Dawn

The Festival of Eshiran slowly came to a close. Lanterns once held to illuminate the stalls now flickered to darkness and the stalls that filled the market place were either covered or placed back in storage. The ringing in people’s ears was replaced with the calm of waves crashing at the port. Children found themselves clutching their first vuvuzela as their parents tucked them into bed. Many people comforted themselves with their loved ones one last time towards the end of the festival. The city of Zengali had raised its spirits to the sky for the sake of tomorrow and hopefully this would be the last time they would have to.

Before Lor had carrassed over the eastern cliffs of Zengali, men and the odd woman were loading themselves onto ships. Some vessels stood mighty with their large sails and double or triple gun decks. The mightiest vessel of war was the galleon that The Marquis of Zengali wielded, the Mkuki wa Zengal. From the quality of construction to the polish of the cannons, no expense was spared in the creation of it over the last few decades. Accented with bronze and well equipped with the most cannons, many men found themselves boarding the ship.

The next ship that held some spotlight was a fluyt-like ship with Hodari riding upon it. The main sail and flag proudly showed the symbol of the Pentad in all its glory. It was loaded up with a concerning amount of firepower, enough to where one would be concerned of its ability to stay upright on the waves. Some number of Mezegolian warriors and people of the church boarded it for it was their duty. Stained a deep red, the powerful fluyt stood out even if the size of the vessel did not compare to the handful of larger ships.

Another one of the larger ships was a Eskandish long boat, so long and wide that it may as well been called a bastardized Galleass. The Eskandish mongrels that called it home swore on their father’s names they could carry it over the very mountains of Mezegol! It carried the head of a dragon and the claws of a sandbar as decoration. Upon the beastly southmen ship, a deck of rowers stood above a deck of guns, and antique shields of a bygone era lined the sides of the longboat. It could get quite the burst of speed but trying to do that while fighting was quite the challenge. Though in spite of this, they seemed confident. They would happily accept any Sovereign Pact aligned person and even a Revidian that showed enough heart.

To the side of the formation, towards the open waters, was a handful of sloops of war, cutters, and one special sloop with 19 cannons. Were the odd mercenary, former pirate, and some Virangish on some of the better cutters. There was a true ghost crew on one of the cutters and was almost completely empty. It was certainly ready to be boarded and a note was pinned on the mass that any person of notable character would be given ownership of it on the completion of the hunt.

Many other ships filled out the ranks as a diamond formation catalyzed for easy travels. The success of this expedition was almost solely based on that the thresher wouldn’t come too close to shore and attack before people where the ships were in position. The ride of a few hours held people's breaths at bay and the normally loud people were silent as to not add any reason the Thresher would attack. Every moment felt like a relief and a blessing, especially to those like Zarina who had seen how quickly it can destroy a sloop.

But the fleet did make it to their chosen arena. It was here, at the remains of the old Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa now laid among the rocky shallows. There was only an hour of wait before a sacrificial caravel was sent into deeper waters to lure the White Thresher to trap. Of course the ship needed someone to take control of it and the Marquis had requested one brave soul, blessed by the gift, to take on the perilous task.

An hour later, Lor had reached its high peak in the sky. Far in the distance, they could see the mage returning to the fleet, closely followed with a growing bulge in the water behind it. The cannons were readied as the ship skipped over waves at an unbelievable pace. Even with all the speed granted to them by Dami, the water grew larger and larger behind them. With a rush of white water, the ship disappeared but what of the mage? No one knew the fate of them but still they fired their cannons at the beast. now breaching the surface.

What was there was not the White Thresher rumored about but a monster nearly 300 feet in length. The white carapace had growths of sickly gray-blue and green liquid leaking at the seams. The claws have seemed to burst and then reform into jagged sickles. Mages could feel the unending reactions roiling inside of the creature at a distance. Water steamed off of its massive body and then it suddenly stopped. All but the strongest of mages lose their faculties as they temporarily crumble at its massive draw of energy. The warm ocean behind it suddenly had a small iceberg behind it as it threw itself toward the fresh ships, still thirsty for blood.

The fight has begun.

Instructions

Please pick the ship you want and make a special action you want your character to have the option of doing during the Discord event. The action can truly be anything but try to keep it on topic. Please then DM me both your ship selection and special action via a direct message on Discord or on the Roleplayer Guild. If both had not been sent, then I will take the liberty of putting you on a ship and choosing a special action. The thread will be up tomorrow, have fun people.

Ship Options

Every free agent or shipless person will need to designate what ship they intend to board for the sake of headcount, and in the case the ship sinks they know who has fallen in battle. Choose wisely as each ship has its strengths, weaknesses, and positioning in battle that can give you an edge.

A Host of Flyboats: Older boats that are mainly being used to fill out the perimeter near the pirate ship. They each have a handful of guns and are being run by untrained merchants rather than the military inclined.

The Salty Swallow: An Enthish Sloop of War ran by Enthish privateers who happened to land in Zengali. The crew seems more inscrutable than the pirates on St. Elmo’s Frye. The cannons seem well maintained, even if the ship itself seems in desperate need of debarnacling and is eerily covered in a powdery layer of salt. They are rather loud and welcoming to any proud sailor or so they claim. Past the notable integrity of the crew and ship are two comically large ballistas at the stern of the ship. What accompanied them was some Haureenium-tipped harpoons and strong rope. It rides on the outer side toward the shore and is positioned near the pirates.

Nameless Cutter: Held on the outside of the formation towards the open water is a nameless cutter run with the minimum crew to operate. Not many people are willing to get on a cutter to fight a monster but with such little interest, the Marquis has declared that any persons of notable character to take charge of the ship may keep the ship if it survives the fight.

Fortis Offertor: A larger than normal Fluyt commissioned by the Bishop of Zengali some years ago. It is well decorated for a ship of the order of red Rezindians, the sails hold the symbol of the pentand and it has been given a beautiful red stain which has been well maintained against the corrosion of the sea. Two dozen large cannons are at the disposal of the ship and the cannon loaders have been rumored to be rather skilled. The ship is helmed by Hodari as captain and is well stocked with warriors of the church as well as some men from neighboring villages that had come from the mountains in Zengali’s time of need. It is placed left of center towards the pirates and the shore.

Kuvunja (Raimy’s Fluyt): A modern fluyt, only constructed a single year ago, is the vessel that Raimy found himself being captain of. The ship is of Revidian make and is moderately armed with the newest cannons and some special cannon shots that can only be properly fired by mages. It is in a relatively safe position towards the open ocean when in formation.

Heraldik för Fiskar: A bastardized hybrid of a galleass and Eskandish Longship. Ran by an Eskandish and Virangrish crew, they are willing to accept any sovereign aligned friends on board. The ship is rather long, decorated with large shields, dragon skulls, and thresher claws. With a full deck for rowing, it is capable of bursts of speed unseen by other ships of its size. The main attraction is the fish head bow and scale painting to give even more character to the vessel. Any layman will make a worrisome note that the gun deck is below the rowing deck. Will you be joining their very merry crew at the front of the formation?

Mkuki wa Zengali: At the near center of the formation lies the largest of the Galleon’s. This was none other than the Marquis’s personal vessel of war. It was dedicated for few things other than war with 48 heavy cannons mounted and another 8 swivel cannon for this massive ship. Well decorated from the Zengali bronzeman and the architects have taken extra effort to reinforce the mass and hull with bronze. It was a proud ship that held many of the greater warriors that Zengali had to offer. All of the students are allowed on it.

Ciro’s Ship: A very normal transport ship. It carries 24 heavy cannons and feels relatively hollow without its cargo, though some empty crates are still on board. The normal crew that guards it has been offloaded and now the Marquis is allowing anyone to fill it. The ship is very sturdy but significantly slower, tailing the formation at the very end.

Partenope 74: The Partenope is a galleon that sits between a vessel of war and transport ship. It has some makeshift repair and off colored stains from the use of binding magic on the stern, portside, and rutter. It is equipped with an appropriate amount of guns though some makeshift swivel cannons have been added to the top deck. This is the last surviving galleon of the Revidian trade fleet that was assailed by the White Thresher. It is the most overstocked when it comes to manpower as all its forces were rejuvenated by the song of Leon Solaire. It sits to the left of the Marquis and is the 2nd most impressive ship in terms of fire power. Any Revidian or those with allegiances to the Central Alliance may board this mighty vessel though it may be crowded.

The Hourglass Order

Festival of Eshiran

---

The shadows of the high mountains have started to cast over the city, reaching even the furthest wharf. Most portmen had finished and those with duties still in need of tending lit candles and torches to guide them through the later hours of Eshiran. With the calming of the port, the people of Zengali and its visitors could hear the eerie waves of the ocean. It had been a long time since the ocean held the admiration of the people here. Now the dull waters of the port just served as a reminder of the monster that stripped the spirit from Zengali.

But not all places in Zengali were so lifeless. The encampment of this morning hung with the stench of death and despair. Many have rescinded their lives to Ahn-Eshiran’s hands, only hoping they will be the lucky ones to receive her mercy from the plague that attached itself to them. But as quick as the plague came to them, even quicker was it dispelled by one man and his heavenly song. Never have they heard a sound so comforting as they did from the Sun King that day. Some recited the menana, as it was the only words that could describe the relief they had been given. Many cried as he pulled them from the hands of Eshiran. For the common man, one not blessed by the gift or lady luck, to be saved was a rarity and for all of them was unheard of. Countless blessings were given to the Sun King that day and many started to sing to show their newfound health.

Their spirit was infectious, spreading the good word through the town until it reached Alberta’s ears. She hadn’t felt such relief since Raimy convinced his father to give them proper shelter on dry land. As she confirmed what they had heard, a resurgence of energy took place in the Revidian’s heart, soaring them to work harder and bring back that classic Revidian spirit. Enough to give some back to the people who had long endured the thresher’s threat. The festival was set to be a lively one with the remnants of the fleet ready to celebrate their 2nd escape from Ahn-Eshiran.

Elsewhere on the docks was a very different scene. One that played out more times than the wharfmaster would like to count. Zarina had portaled to the very dock Keanjano and herself set off from. Her clothes were tattered over part of her abdomen and the color of her skin ran cold. She came not with the lively crew she went there with but instead just 2 men, Daoud and Kilik, and a notebook Keanjaho gave his life for. The first thing Zarina saw was a group of Zengalians standing near the wharf they set sail from.

The sight of the portal was more than they could comprehend right away but as they did dread and tears poured from some of the women. Small children were confused about why their parents cried and why their older siblings held them so tight. Slowly, the children realized that their fathers weren’t going to return like they had. The older kids and men only let a silent anger weep from them. They were hardened to death and some only knew that the season of Oraff reeked of death.

But they rose, the mothers comforted their children the way they knew they had to. The men let the older kids know it was alright to cry. Kilik, ever the serious, did not cry for he had a duty to tell what had happened this day. Daoud, though injured, followed Kilik to tell tales of the men's bravery in the face of the beast. If there was one last story their loved one needed to hear, it was not of their death but of their life. Kilik looked towards Zarina, a young woman who had more grit and determination than he had seen. “Go find Brother Hodari and give him the notebook,” It was worded like a command but was ever so meager in that moment. He could only trust that she would.

---

A young woman, Amani Juma, bustled around the edge of the marketplace. Left on her own to tend to the festival stall, the girl hadn’t the time to greet her uncle at the dock. Instead, she set herself to bartering with the vendors her uncle suggested in the passing. She needed goats, fish, plantains, spices, and of course, chicken. They bartered and traded in their usual way, making jabs at each other and eventually the vendors relented and gave her some for free since she was his niece after all. She carried the stuff with her blessed gift and got to work on all the ingredients.

Some humming was heard as she sliced and diced her aromatic vegetables like onion and garlic. The fire started with a flare of arcane and the goat was tossed into brown and render. Uncle always used some kind of trick to make it go faster, she clicked her tongue and looked around to see he still was not home yet. She improvised by adding some more heat and watched it carefully before clearing the center and adding a small pot of onions, garlic, and various spices to the pool of oil at the bottom to wake them. She juggled her other duties as a cook, watching the delicate spices before a man named Hamisi hulled a large pot of crushed tomatoes over. Together they dumped it in and she adjusted it with more salt.

”Has there been any word from my uncle,” Amani asked Hamisi, worry carried not with her voice but by the way she anxiously looked about for him.

Hamisi looked apologetic, “I haven’t been anywhere near the docks since those pirates came in, sorry,” he waved off as he was also busy with the festival. She rolled her eyes and continued her duties, swearing Uncle wasn’t to get even one mahamri.

The sun was setting and his uncle hadn’t returned like he said he would. Warriors were starting to gather around to fill up on spicy stew before the performance but the drink they needed was not there. Uncle had not returned and Amani couldn’t make it. Ah, that uncle! Always telling me he would teach me but never the day I asked, she thought to herself as the warriors grew more testy. She placated them with sweet mahamri and jest whenever they were getting too rambunctious for her liking.

“Amani,” Brother Hodari spoke over the other warriors, partially silencing some of them. His usual tone was present but there was a degree of seriousness to it that she had not been accustomed to.

”Ah, Brother Hodari! It is so good to see you,” Amani quickly prepared a bowl, giving him twice the amount of goat meat in an effort to bribe him. ”Now I know why you are here but I promise you it is quick to make and you'll have it very soon,” she put her hands up in a way to hopefully stall for just a little more time.

Hodari’s face was unchanging in his stoicism but there was a moment of realization that took him, “Amani, come with me to speak,” Hodari asked but nothing ever sounded like an ask with him. Especially as he started to walk without receiving an answer.

Amani agreed and they went on a small walk outside of the marketplace, people were still around but it was much quieter. Amani grew increasingly nervous, she knew what they wanted and what they needed. With uncle missing, the marquis was sure to be angry and sent Hodari to relay his message. She was about to start to make excuses saying the winds had been stale or how he was just out but Hodari stopped it.

He placed his hand on the young woman who beamed with skill and charisma much like her uncle. Hodari had yet to speak but Amani could feel the words from his eyes. She didn’t want to hear them. She couldn’t hear the same words her uncle said to her when she was only 9. Hodari knew the pain she was bearing and said it anyway. “Your uncle Keanjaho,” Amani closed her eyes begging for him to just say he was injured or was just running late. “His ship was attacked by the thresher. His soul rests in heaven now, child.”

Amani's eyes opened as tears welled up, she wanted to protest it. It was unfair. He did so much for everyone and had so much more to give and now he is gone. She wanted to scream at Hodari for sending him but she knew it would do nothing. Her anger had no place to go. Amani wiped away the tears before they fell. There had to be more reason he was here than to deliver his passing.

And Hodari did have more news but found himself remorseful to watch another child of Zengali lose a part of themselves to the beast. It was painful for the red rezaindian to be unable to purge the world of this beast. But his heart was worn and hardened like how Amani’s would grow to be, the fact she held onto herself after her first tragedy was only a blessing of Ipte. Hodari pulled an unfamiliar notebook from his robes. With no words, he handed it over for Amani to read.

She took it and read through each page, her face stayed angry and pained and grew as she got further along in it. Amani committed each note and story Keanjaho left her. Then she got to the last day's entries, which detailed every part of their journey, the crew, Zarina, the weird foam, and a guide on how to get to the area safely. It was more thorough than anything she had seen from her uncle. It didn’t feel like her uncle.

But at the very end, 10 or 20 blank pages between the last entry was a message. It was not like the last entry. It was cluttered and unorganized. It switched between Belzagic, Avincian, Toragonese, and Virangish for little terms that he poached and used half haphazardly. It was the recipe for Maji ya Udongo. It was her uncle, a jumbled mess of dozens of words and topics to all say something that could be said in so few.

Hodari stood in silence watching the youth process the reality. He had planned on leaving but he would not leave until she would let him. But with a surprise, Amani ripped out about 5 pages from the notebook and presented it to Hodari. There was so much pain and indignation behind her eyes towards him and the Marquis but Amani no longer frowned. “Thank you, Amani,” Amani stayed quiet and returned to her stall where she started to prepare the Maji ya Udongo away from the warriors.

When reapproaching the warriors she carried a large jug, about the size of her uncle's belly, full of a spiced yellow liquid, ”Come now warriors! You can’t have a festival without Maji ya Udongo!”

---

Now that there was the Jug of Maji ya Undongo, Hodari, Raimy, Leon Solaire, the warriors, and performers started to march their way up to Marquis Dume’s home. Upon arrival, many women started to apply makeup for the performance and of course, Leon was no exception. Painted like the rest of the performers and oiled to shine under lantern lights. Huge wooden drums that stood as tall as 2 men were rolled up the mountain for the festival. While most performers already knew the dances and songs, Raimy was tasked with teaching the famous Sun King the same dances and when to blow his vuvuzela. Other performers were snickering at the ‘Sun King’s’ private lesson but became impressed by his speed of learning. With that, the performance was set to begin.

“Dum”

“Dum”

Two massive drums blasted a deep resonant sound over the entirety of Zengali. The bustle of the city quieted, and merchants stopped their sales as the buyers had lost interest. Parents silenced their children with hushed whispers, pointing up to the beautiful flames lit at the mountaintop. The songs of the recently cured Revidians slowed and they waited for a sight many of them would not have seen. All eyes were on the recently built pyre, tension building as they waited for the next beat of the drums

“Dum”

“Dum”

Out they came and with that a shout from none other than Marquis Dume. Loud enough for the people at the port to hear him. He spoke not words but noises that set the tone and beginning of the performance. Professional musicians within the march started to play their vuvuzelas, and quickly Raimy and Brother Hodari yelled out the same thing as the Marquis then followed all that was behind them. The horns flared again as the Marquis timed the start of the march at the next beat of the drums.

“Dum”

“Dum”

The march had started, and the Marquis was in charge of setting the pace and leading his people through. People quickly gathered around the lit road to gain a better view. The performers were tasked with a herculean task to maintain the beat and perform under the pressure of the entire city watching. The musicians played the loud instruments in a way that was almost enjoyable for their foreign guests. Then a lull in the music took place, maybe a quarter way through the parade. It felt unnatural but the look among the locals was ecstatic, reaching to their sides and raising their own, less ornate, vuvuzelas. Any poor visitor near these were pierced with the shriek of a horn. In no feasible way did it sound good. But the people nearby started to dance and sing just under the volume of the horns.

Soon the parade loosened, still led by the Marquis to keep it going, but now there was an opportunity for those in the parade and outside to express themselves. Hodari showed a fluidity to his dance and his very steps shook the ground. Children would bounce in the air with every step and would softly land. Raimy flared to torches, changing colors to create a show of fire that would captivate the imagination of those watching. Even the guests who wished to participate were allowed to do so if it did not stop the march. Though Leon was given a specific moment to wow the crowd by Raimy.

Soon the men found their way to the heart of Zengali, encircling it with dance, and yes, even more vuvuzelas. Torches from the crowd were handed to the men in the parade and Marquis Dume took center stage. The crowd and performers blared their vuvuzelas, stomping and yelling rose until it was a cacophony of sound. The energy of the people rose and rose until it came to a head and then,

“Dum”

“Dum”

The performers stopped, and the crowd quickly followed. The Marquis took a deep breath, "Zengali,” he looked at his people with pride. "We raise our songs for the people who could not sing with us!” the warriors shouted back. "We dance so that the ones below can feel that we are still here!” The crowd stomped much like the way Hodari did, shaking the very ground. "And we celebrate for the new day! Let the festival begin!”

---

Events

The Parade

The Parade: Even if you weren’t explicitly invited to the parade, you can participate on the sides if you are playing to the beat and not slowing it down. Magic, dance, singing, and of course, vuvuzelas are warmly welcomed here! Show your spirit and I’m sure it will be appreciated.

The Footrace

Footrace: After the parade entered the heart of Zengali and the festival began, you could see Hodari and some other church members handing out planks of wood painted a blueish purple. Many warriors seem to be taking them and starting to bounce and stretch. From what you can tell, it was a footrace of some kind and the planks allowed you to participate. They also seemed to be some kind of badge that allows you to climb over or go through people’s areas to take the fastest route. Anyone who wanted to join better do so before it begins. Brother Hodari promised that there will be a prize for the fastest runner.

You could hear some men whispering about how they were going to try and sneak some beer since they were ‘allowed’ to cross the brewery on the way there…

Chicken Wrangling

Chicken Wrangling: It is a tradition across Mezegol during a celebration to have the guest wrangle a chicken into a net for slaughter. These chickens were no ordinary hens though, they were specially bred for their beauty and attitude. Large and proud, they came in a variety of vibrant colors that would catch the eye. The most prized was a Blue chicken with feathers and speckled like the sky on a moonless night. The chicken handler warned that she was quite the feisty one and one should not challenge her half-heartedly.

There was of course one catch. The guest was only allowed to wrangle the chicken with the beautiful noise of the vuvuzela. Teams of up to 5 guests may take on the challenge together though there was pride among the Zengali people to do it with only one person. Some grumbling from the darhanic guests about the practice was to be accommodated that if you could catch it, you may instead pardon it or keep it. May your captor be kind Mr. Chicken.

The Marketplace

The Marketplace was the heart of Zengali and it was in full swing with singing and dancing. It was the hub of activity for the festival and as such, many vendors stood near it. Food vendors handed away food for the festival goers, always free for the first taste but more would cost you. There, you may have found many spry visitors using this time to meet in a less critical way, one could even find party lines being crossed by the beat of the drums and squeals of a horn. Raimy could be found celebrating with the warriors, speaking in a way unbefitting his mild-mannered self. Though he was with a group of men, he seemed to glance over to a Revidian woman buying order after order of food.

Merchants still tried to peddle their wares but it became obvious that the people of Zengali were only interested in vuvuzelas and small trinkets. Still, they kept it open as many people from outside the city had come for the hunt tomorrow. Some sold things like weapons, jewelry, knick-knacks, clothes, and of course, vuvuzelas. The most notable thing being sold though was a yellowish liquid.

Wares of Zengali

Vuvu, the vuvuzela maker, was offering cheap vuvuzelas for cheap. She seemed to have some better quality ones for a reasonable price but there was one vuvuzelas that was held in a bronze display case that commanded a hefty price. No one even dared try to buy it.

Mbita, the cloth vendor. and his wife Chika, the tailor, offered their services for whoever wanted to be done up quickly in Mezegol fashion.

Madini, a young girl, held up a big sign directing people to her tiny jewelry stand. She seemed very proud of her creations and it had 3 bronze sigils of approval from various important people within the city.

Merchant Amani Juma is offering a week of Zengali’s one and only Maji ya Udongo though it seems to be in short supply.

The last notable merchant went by the moniker Fanaka. He traded from Firraz to Revidia and everywhere in between. Sadly, he had been stuck in the port because of that dastardly thresher. Port fees were catching up to him and before he knew it, he needed to sell some of his wares.
- Nandi Q's Chutney Sauce
- A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in of a man with an outrageously good mustache. There seemed to be words on the front and some sort of comical drawing on the back with an old man with a large beard being beaten by the hero on the front.
- A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was a bald man who seemed to wear strapped glasses. On the back was an image of him outswimming this scary-looking eaiko quite easily.
- A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped on was a woman wearing a head covering but still dressed with alluring eyes. The back has her sneaking in the clouds, teasing these little children who can’t seem to catch her.
- A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was a fresh-faced man with a pair of leather gloves and a grappling hook. The back displays him quite simply free-diving off a cliff and catching himself with his signature grappling hook.
- A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was a beautiful woman with flared eyebrows and beauty. The image on the back was just a very detailed drawing of her beauty, showing some of the clothes that she was wearing in color!
- A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was a man with a wrapped head and face, only showing viscous eyes. The back had him slaying fiends, riding a flying carpet, and somehow stabbing the ground for an oasis to appear.
- A hexagonal metal container that had an image stamped in was an older and esteemed-looking man wearing a coat. On the back seemed to be an instructional diagram of mixing powders with labels together to cause something to happen.

The Port

The port had grown eerily quiet compared to the crazed work that took place here in the hours of Oraff and Eshiran. Some people still slowly worked under the light of lanterns, checking powders and tying knots. A sizable group of sovereign members seemed to be laughing and eating together, talking about the glory and money they could seize tomorrow. Some shifty fellows seemed to be amongst them but they held themselves to the shadows.

Towards the northern wharf, some religious figures seemed to be praying near the edge of it. They were accompanied by Kilik and Daoud. They carried numerous things with them and even the usual storyteller, Daoud, was silent at this moment. Some people followed behind them in mourning.

Further down the port, near the warehouses, was a very tired advisor. Years of life and stress had seemed to catch up with him at this moment and he now sat on a crate. He glared emptily at the waters, waiting for either the next person to show or something to appear in front of him.

The legendary pirate ship had seemed to be completely dead at this point, not even a single soul could be seen on the deck. Though there seemed to be some new crates lining the edge of the port that weren’t there earlier. Even more mysteriously, an elderly woman seemed to be speaking to some Zengali men that seemed to be quite confused about her presence next to dastardly pirates.

The Encampment

The once sickly encampment now carried an energy that could match that of the Zengali’s at the festival. Songs were being sung, drinks were being poured, and friendly competitions took place with their newly healed bodies. All sorts of jovial conversations were taking place but underneath it were hushed whispers of what they think really happened that day. No matter their thoughts, they knew that all they had to do was retrieve what they had lost and they could return home with great pride.

The Marquis’s Home

No guards were stationed out front of the gate and instead, it was open like an invitation. The tables set outside from earlier were still there though now they were covered in various dishes and more importantly, wine. The advisors seemed to be drinking with the Marquis and having an exquisite time complaining about their job in front of their boss and the Marquis played with them about it as well. The only thing of note is that Dume has still not taken a drink and the seat directly next to him sat empty. The advisors, even within their allowed jesting, did not make note of the empty seat even if it sat on their mind.

The Villa on top of the Mountain

The villa provided to Yvain was quite stylish by modern standards. It seemed loosely inspired by Torrongonese design in structure and openness but it still was very much of Mezegol aesthetics. The path to it was highly decorated with intricate bronze work and well maintained so that any visitor should be able to walk it even if they came home bumbling drunk. A botanical garden, filled with a variety of plants from Mezegol and Belzagg lined the path and seemed to stretch into the dark quite a distance. Outside the gated courtyard was a young and beautiful Zengali woman, eyes bright and eager to greet whoever had been sent to stay here.

”Welcome to Chemchemi ya Mlima, the Marquis warmly welcomes you,” The woman gave a deep curtsey to her guests. Rising from it to meet their gaze, ”My name is Lady Siti, head maid of the household and at your service for the night,” she turned and the gate began to open on its own. The courtyard was well lit and many servants were moving about to make the place as enjoyable as possible. Beyond the servants, were well-dressed women who seemed to be enjoying themselves in the courtyard. One of them looked over to the guests and seemed to ‘appreciate’ them.

Lady Siti watched people’s reaction to the women with some pride and amusement. She continued guiding the guests through the courtyard, past a few rooms and a small band ready to play at their discretion to the back way. What lay beyond was a grand heated bath. It smelled of flowers and spices and was decorated with wonderful Zengali bronze, inviting any weary guest in. Siti then led each guest to their room only to show them it and said any and all service they may need can be accommodated. Of course, they had left the festival but the villa was still full of wine, food, women, and the soft sound of music. A room had also been set aside as a library/ conversation room for any guest trying to find a cozier spot to be alone.

The House with the Trees

Toward the end of the night, Raimy made time to meet with Leon. The offer was simple to the young man, a house during his stay in Zengali. It was to the west of the port and was an old house used by other noble visitors when they found themselves in the port. He prefaced his generosity as just a simple extension of hospitality as an alumnus of Ersand’Ernise.

Hidden far on the western slope of Zengali was a grove of decorative fruit trees in full bloom. Fireflies had taken flight and lit up the entryway to an old, but well-maintained household. It was rather long and only 1 story tall but very well decorated with lanterns and plants. An old maid, maybe a decade or 2 older than Marquis Dume, stood at the last set of fruit trees holding a basket of berries and other small fruits that were ready to be harvested. ”I welcome you to this home, my name is Salene Neema. I manage this estate on behalf of young master Raimy.” The older maid bowed to the new guests but couldn’t get quite as far down as she used to. ”Please let me show you to your rooms.”

The interior was rather different to the places the guest here grew up in but it still somehow had a rather comfortable vibe. The stress and the lights of the city did not reach past the grove, it felt truly secluded. Each room was carefully prepared for the guest’s one-night stay. Whatever the guests needed, Salene would do her best to accommodate the guests of young master Raimy.

Looking up towards the sky, one could notice the very nice house up on the mountain near the Marquis. There was a small dirt path that seemed to connect the 2 if anyone would be so bold to walk the unlit path.

Ciro’s Ship?

Whether it be by the songs in the encampment, the whispers of the merchants, or the disgruntled conversation of the Perrench, word finds you that a Volta ship is in the port. With a little bit of searching, it could be found.

The Hourglass Order

Tku

Excited as ever for a trip to an unknown place, it felt like he was picking up his journey from before Ersand'Ernise. Dressed in his finest travel clothes, accessorized to the high heavens, and topped off with seafoam green hair. This would be the vacation he needed to truly get himself out of this funk. All he has to do was some light work for the school and then all that tropical splendor was for him to enjoy and paint.

How it should have been a perfect trip, an easy time, but his expectations were blown up by the sudden ear rupturing sound of cannon fire. He plummets into water, diving 10 or so feet under the surface. Bobbing up to the surface to hack up the cups of sea water he took on. Startled and panicked, Tku swam to the closest island. All the commotion should scare large creatures away so he should be safe from their claws and jaws. But what he was not safe from was his makeup smearing in the water.

"Nope, not my makeup," he said unamusingly. He reached into his bag of wonder and yelled out, "BANANA BOAT!" Materializing out of thin air came a banana canoe with accompanying peel oars. He leaped aboard and dried himself off binding. Rowing over to the island in fruity fashion, offering a ride to whoever wanted it. Tku wasn't one to play around when his makeup was on the line. Hopefully the island proved safer than their entry point.

The Hourglass Order

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Sunny Rain

Fierce winds whirled into the fjord accompanied by sunny rain. The verdant cliffs shifted at the mercy of the storm with little show of relief with the dark storm billowing off the coast of Zengali. Rain ran down to the port, tossing the damaged ships and the survivors in their makeshift camp. It was a sorry sight for a fleet that was held as untouchable by pirates or any navy. The protection that the Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa held in such high regard, reduced to something truly pitiful.

“Now that proud fleet is in my port, asking me for repairs for little pay,” the Marquis sipped from his glass as he looked over his city of Zengali.

Past the Marquis's desk, an injured but well dressed sailor sat on a green settee, “Marquis Dume, I implore you to look past what we have on our ships and what we can promise-”

“Promise what?” Dume spoke over her, “Money from a country on the brink of war and their crown vessel at the bottom of Australic Ocean?” he waved a dismissive hand at her without even turning to her. She bit her tongue, doing her duty to not glare at the man. The room grew tense as a few seconds went by.

“Father,” Dume looked over his shoulder to allow Raimy to speak, “I believe that Alberta has claims to stand on. In my time at Ersand’Ernise, the Doge is one of the few people with the kind of credit that we can accept with little worry.” Raimy endorsed the Doge’s very deep pockets then glanced back at Alberta to spur her to continue.

A small nod back to Raimy, “Marquis Dume,” Alberta waited to speak, Dume allowed, “The Central Alliance believes in paying its dues and respecting the sovereignty of independent nations. The ‘Unification’ of Belzagg was froth with infighting and outright violence at times-”

She was interrupted again with no visible distaste for her comments, “Brother Hodari,” one of the men standing in the back of the room, near the door stepped forward revealing his red vestments. “How are our own preparations for the White Thresher coming along?”

A deep voice thick with a Zengali accent spoke as clearly as he could in Avincian, “Our cannons are well maintained however our guns and ammunition outnumber our vessels ready for fighting,” Hodari said neutrally but a small smirk came to him.

“Ha!” the marquis let out a hearty laugh, “What a fortunate problem to have, you have done well,” Hodari stepped back knowing that was the end of what the Marquis required of him. Maquis Dume set down his glass, finally turning to the woman that led the remains of her defeated fleet. His smile melted back down to a neutral ruler, “How many injured do you have?”

“One hundred strong and fifty injured but they will recover soon,” Alberta answered quickly and earnestly.

Dume glanced at his son for verification, and Raimy carefully recalled what he saw before validating Alberta’s claims. Marquis Dume nodded as he flipped through some further notes and intelligence he had on hand, weighing the outcomes of what he can do in the odd respite they have. He gently set down his glass, “I will trust that the ruler of the central alliance will pay his dues when the war is done.” The marquis went to pour a new glass of water for the woman.

Relief fell over Alberta face as she had seemingly achieved the responsibilities laid on her as the highest in command, “Thank you for your grace, Marquis,” she accepted the glass with her one good arm but when she tried to drink, she couldn't move it. She up glanced at the Marquis, wondering is she offended him in some way

“In the meantime, you and your hundred men will take the repaired ships to battle with me,” Dume declared to everyone in the room leaving no room to argue. Still, he watched how the Revidian would try to squirm out of it. Each sign of hesitation changed his thoughts on her.

But to Dume's surprise, Alberta let go of the glass and laid her hand over her heart, “It is only expected for the survivor to seek revenge, we will gladly set sail with you to destroy the white thresher.” She accepted the Marquis' declaration quickly seeing the opportunity laid in front of her.

Dume grinned and handed the still glass to Alberta, “Raimy, tell the craftsman to put other tasks to the side and put the skilled slaves and convicts to work immediately. Tempt them with honey if you need.”

Raimy stood up at his father's orders, “As you say, father,” Raimy headed out but there was a small glance shared between Alberta and him.

Dume looked back at her, “Alberta, go with Raimy, he will show your injured to drier quarters than their flooded ones and have some binders visit them,” adding more to his son’s duties for the day.

As they left, Marquis Dume was left with old and trusted aides. In these private chambers, Dume took a seat at his desk. Looking at his aides, all of them had something to say but he chose Hodari, the one with the most duties right now, “Speak Hodari,” He started to pour him and his other aides some wine.

Hodari took the glass and drank heavily, “Your son seems quite infatuated with the central alliance,” only a slip of concern coming through.

“Infatuated with a pretty and needy face,” one of them scowled at Reimy’s behavior in front of them.

Dume raised a hand to put the issue to rest, “He’s a young man and the war is on the brink. Awar unlike anything in known history. His blood boils but his stomach turns at the sight of the wounded. He needs a side.” Dume disappointedly sighed but he moved on. “Be truthful, do we have the forces to put it down this year?” he looked through the latest reports gathered.

Hodari looked into his glass, “We have the ammunition, we have new cannons for longer combat from a place in Enth. We have the spirit, but we don’t have the people or the ships to load the cannons.” he answered after finishing his drink.

There was a pause as Hodari’s words stole the bravado they displayed earlier. Before they could continue the discussion, the warning bells rang over the sunny rain. Dume and his aids turned to the window, and they saw another damaged ship. The ship was large with rows upon rows of cannons. The breaks Dume knew. He could never forget what happened to his own ship years ago.

“Another damaged ship,” Hodari said, exasperated from another group forced into their port, especially this particular lot.

Dume only smiled at the ship taking on water. “Hodari, send a dragon rider to Belzagg, the rest of you will greet the new ship and tell them the cost for entering the port and repairs.”

Dume looked towards the sky shining through the rain and drank to his fortune, “Your time is running thin, beast.”

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R E S O U R C E S

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Zengali

Welcome to Zengali!

A Baker's Dozen

A Baker's Dozen

A small flash of light and the smell of toasted grain is overtaken by the stench of seawater and mud. You found yourself in a military tent with maps pinned to moving walls, seemingly marking multiple places off the coast of Zengali. Quickly you were greeted by a woman in her mid thirties wearing a patched military uniform, missing her left arm about halfway up the bicep. "I hope your transport was of ease for you," she made her way to each person and shook as you introduced yourself.

Finally she introduced herself, "My name is Alberta D'Aniello, a survivor from the remnant of the fleet that protected the Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa. I thank you for coming here, every hand is needed right now," Alberta walked past them to open the tent's entrance. Dozens of people were working in the port, preparing their vessels for the coming fight. "I know that your contract specifies the fighting of the white thresher but find some place to be useful. In the chest over there are your invitations to a festival tonight, try to attend if you can. Be wary of the people here, not all are friendly," Alberta warned them before heading off to her own ship as she was also swamped before the battle.

The Stowaways

The Stowaways

The light took you and you found yourself in a similar area though the furniture and color theme seem to be different than before. Soon a tall man, roughly six foot, stepped into the cabin you now found yourself in. "It seems you have all made it, we have been expecting your arrival," he gave a light bow that leaves his vestments hanging slightly. "My name is Hodari Hamisi Abdalla, though if you prefer, you can call me brother Hodari." he gave a small smile before having you introduce yourself.

"We are in the final hours of preparation before we set sail the next day," he went over to a chest and handed out a small letter to each of them. "I ask that you keep yourself active and helpful to us while you are here. These are invitations to the festival tonight, the last preparation before we set off tomorrow." With that he turned to leave them their own devices and get to work himself.

Stepping out of the cabin, you could see dozens of people working throughout the port and carts running in and out of the city, the more astute would be able to pick out the clashing nationalities at the port and was that... Ersand'Ernise students? It seemed you were not the first group here, better get a move on.

Places of Interest

The Port: The bustling port of Zengali is quite the exotic location for most with the scenic hills and exotic birds flying over, it would make an excellent memory. Now it seems almost full, and people are moving around quickly to load heavy cannons and even heavier supplies onto the ship. They seem behind and even some mages are stepping in and acting as general labor. They could use a hand.

The Makeshift Encampment: Tents set off the ground with boards creating a small encampment inside the city. People are coming to and from here. A younger man draped in the cloth of a nobleman seems to be making his way in and out of quite a few of them carrying more delicate supplies. It stinks of sickness if you get too close to some of the tents.

The Pirate Ship: An obvious pirate ship that is filled with quite the eclectic group manning it. They seem busy as well but compared to the others, they might as well be relaxing. The captain isn't immediately found but they have their walkway down along with some bouncers next to it. Maybe you can find a way on? For those in the know, they will recognize it as the St. Elmo's Fyre, a legend among legends to pirates.

The Marquis's Home: Found much further into the city but easily spotted amongst the cliff and all the servants running too and from. The Marquis seems to be in front of the house and appears to be ordering things around from his home. Now may be a chance to speak to him.

A Small Ship Setting Sail: A small rowboat made of some strong looking men seems to be about to set off down the fjord. They seem equipped with a map and some extra room on board. Just what might they be doing leaving right now?

The House Boats?: Some random house boats? A few floatmelons and other aquatic vegetation seems to be growing on them at the water level, but it is an odd sight indeed. There seems to be nothing going on there but who knows, you just have to figure out how to get there.

The Hourglass Order

Ingrid

Administration really wants to test me it seems, Ingrid annoyingly thought. She had the best Zeno with Luumelan and an old friend with Ayla. Maybe she can rekindle a friendship with her, lord knows she could use some. Johann was a pleasant inclusion, having known him from his generosity and passion she's seen in the reading club. Maybe I can hang out with from time to time, Ingrid ignored the obvious political tensions of interacting with a Kerreman and a Torragonese. Then there were 2 choices that made her roll her eyes, Trypano and Esmii. Ingrid had some mixed feelings though mostly she just felt crossed. Trypano and her playing keep away with the Lantern of Shune-Zept and Esmii being a bitch and being moss on a tree with Sven. And again, the other one was Central Alliance. The only Sovereign Pact member in this group after what happened. This is what I get for helping out.

There was a moment of pause as Ingrid just looked at her group with much less enthusiasm now. Just ignore it, fuck admin, fuck this war, and fuck Trypano and Esmii. Simple as that Ingrid just rolled her eyes and went back to her work. If the admin wouldn't help her achieve her goals, she will simply do it without them. She is not so easily daunted by a closed door. First step is working with a certain scheming woman to make a Shipyard.

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Tku

He survived the 2 Grand Demons, he survived a bad hit piece on Juulet, he survived the revolution and took down the Queen of Magnetism, he even survived his own hubris taking that aberration on his own. Tku was quite the lucky man and somehow, he even scored and interview, how it went he couldn't say, he just hoped his friends achieved their aspirations. But now Tku had a different task, one that he was unprepared for.

Marci wasn't here, Zarina was hurting, and the others were mules doing what they needed to do. Tku was a manager with honestly too little responsibilities to justify his pay. They were always so hands on it was an easy, relaxing job that he could chat with customers and friends while making some hats. How he wished he could have maintained that. Maybe he should have helped Marci that night somehow, tire Juulet, end it quicker. "Something," Tku found himself saying from time to time. He safes people and ends things with what should be good change, but there is always a cost, and they haunt him. And this is his cost, no, what he can pay for his friends.

He went into work that day a changed man. No longer was he lax and slow. Instead, he was a busy and competent manager. The more work he could do here, the less Zarina and Marci had to worry about something they had put so much effort into it. Keep the atmosphere light while working hard on the back end. He hated to be serious but if that is what was needed, he would take up the role with care and grace.

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Guy

Guy sat down at his desk with all his stationaries as he was obliged to write a letter to his family about his continued existence. It was a short and brief letter informing them of his newest accomplishments in the Trials and his adoption of some new pets. There was a strange sense of pride reporting to his father that he had done something his father could have never dreamed of in his youth. He didn't let his pride turn into boasting though, as that would only inflame their small feud. He did ask that Father may entrust some of the family techniques on Midnight Wasp keeping and to send an experienced hand to help manage the hive. A small ask from a son that never asked for anything. He ended it with warm regards and small P.S. An intimate section to his father in their native tongue, thanking him for allowing him to go to Perrence. Tekah snuck in a small drawing of her, Penelope, and Guy relaxing under a tree.

His next letter was in response to a call for aid from his former teammates. It was a simple reply, not making much more fuss than needed. Tekah insisted on going to see her brother and sisters, Guy was quickly overpowered by her immense egging and Guy agreed. Another stress to his limited funds but he had no reason to refuse his daughter's request.

Lastly, he wrote to his treat proprietor in Perrence. Tekah had wanted to try more foods and he thought some things from the white cliffs of le Colosse. Quite the unique cuisine Guy was treated to when he was training there.

Dear Esteemed Proprieter,

I ask for a hand in the procurement of some local smoked shellfish from the white cliffs of le Colosse, my companion Pebble has been a very active in duty and I thought I should reward her. Penelope, though, has been given a Bunfruit by a Yasoi man at the school. Seems that she is quite fond of them now. I would go as far to say Gluttonous even, he gave her 3 and she ate them all in the same day. I am worried that amount of Bunfruit may be unhealthy for her and wondered if you could get an expert's opinion on the matter.

Yours Truly, Guy Attard

Guy finished the letter and stamped it appropriately and sent all his letters out. As he met up with his Zeno group, Guy was pleasantly surprised that Penny was with him. There was a small part of him that felt a sting though he couldn't place it.

The Hourglass Order

Dragonpiece's Mano e Mano Records

Tku Pictor playing for team Beware the Nice Ones!

Guy Attard leading Fiske n' Chips!

Ingrid Penderson playing for Fait Accompli!