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 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.
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.
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 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!”
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.
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: 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 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.
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 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 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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
R E S O U R C E S
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"If the gods chose a nation, they did so 800 years ago."
19 | Male | Perrench-Djamantese | Baronet | 7.68
P E R S O N A L I T Y
❖ [ Soldierly ] Raised in Djamant, Guy had always had a "work hard, play hard" attitude to most things. However, for better or worse, he has become even more rigid. He wakes every day at the same time. Manages his responsibilities with great care and order. Trains and maintains what he has to be prepared for. When he is given an assignment, he follows it to the letter. It provided a structure that made him uniquely fit to start schooling but deprived him of his old habits of cutting back. Every now and then, he fondly remembers swimming through old shipwrecks.
❖ [ Loyal, Trusting, Commodore ] Guy didn't come to learn what loyalty was until he trained with his fellow frogmen. What it means to trust someone and to give that trust back unwaveringly. To trust so fully in someone's character that even if one doesn't personally agree with them they do it because of that trust. That is what it means to have loyalty.
❖ [ Patriotic ] His mother inspired a great deal of patriotism in the boy. Cultivated from a young age, Guy was primed to see Perrence as his true home. This was accidentally reinforced by his father's hardened outlook on his new wife and new child. Having few prospects, Perrence provided a place for Guy to find pride and self-determination. His collective experience has made him a sycophant for them and a fervid protector. His pride stretches to protecting what he knows as Perrence and fighting against those that would threaten it, externally or internally.
❖ [ Tolerant ] Tolerance was never taught to him but it was learned by not having too many negative experiences. The Djamantese people were mixed and merchants came in all the time. Even when he was being trained and indoctrinated in Perrence, He worked with Eaiko and mixed folk for most of the time and had to learn to respect different people. This has led him to a crossroads on how to view Revidia and the other Central Alliance members.
❖ [ Curious ] Guy had always been curious about everything around him. Before he was molded into a soldier and became obsessed with Perrence, He was reading books with his mother, learning, and asking questions. Before he had become such a Perrence loyalist, he was striking up a conversation at the port with people of all shapes of life. Even his tolerance is based on his natural curiosity of people. He often loved swimming and exploring shipwrecks and the reefs. For the first time, this curiosity has been met with acceptance and has even been encouraged by the academy. With this encouragement and Guy now finding satisfaction in trusting and getting to know someone deeper, Guy has found himself very satisfied in his life.
C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E
Guy stands at an impressive 6 foot and 2 Inches. Broad-chested and a sizeable back combined with a trained body makes him seem much more athletic than the average Biro. His arms are longer than average, and you can see it play out in his control over weapons. Well defined physique obtained from his training is holding strong. His skin is relatively light for the amount of activity he does though freckles have started to pop up on him.
His face isn't outright handsome but isn't bad given his background. Blemishes mark his face from either sun damage or other small accidents. The most noticeable marking is a scar that crosses down from his forehead, across his left eyebrow, and narrowly misses his eye. It is rather deep but has softened over time. He maintains a level of facial hair considered appropriate and takes a great deal of work to keep himself looking sharp.
For days that he toils on land, Guy wears a sturdy tunic that has minimal frill to it accompanied by plain pants and a well-maintained pair of boots. He chooses more earthen tones for these, trying to not stick out and focus on functionality over style. Still, he wears a piece of jewelry to separate himself from the common folk from time to time.
For the days at the school, he tries his best to adopt the latest trends of Ersand'Ernise though at times he goes with basic attire, not having the care or money to match the elites at the school. He'd rather have a few very reliable set of clothing that he could actually maintain.
Informal events are met with loose, flowing outfits that allow him to move as he pleases. He will even break out the few adornments he has to have fun. He tends to not buy many outfits for these events and instead has organically built up a closet worth of things and a box of accessories. Many of the items Guy keeps are given him to by friends and he places great importance on them.
Formal events are different. For those, Guy would be ashamed to not go all out. He was taught by his trainers that dressing the best in formal events makes what you represent seem strong. He will spend weeks ahead of time planning his outfit with notes on how to best represent himself.
Something of notice is that the very astute can see the off coloring of his skin. He's never been caught on it but from time to time he tries to obscure it with the right garments and if needed, makeup.
L A N G U A G E S
❖Djamantese- His Father tongue and the basis he learned other languages. ❖Perrench- His Mother tongue and the language he finds himself the most comfortable with. ❖Revidian- He learned this language solely for espionage and has a good grasp on common speech and even some accents within the enemy nation. It is a rather foul language, all things considered. ❖Avincian- He learned this one like any other noble but he has been honing it to make it more natural. ❖Constantian Eaiko- He learned this from teammates and from working in Thalakos for some Eaiko harvesters. His greatest feat is talking underwater. ❖Virangish- Guy mainly leans on his knowledge of Djamantese and substitutes some additional study to be able to read and sound like a 4-year-old making up words every now and then. ❖Torragonese- Guy is shamefully barely at a conversational level for the language. If only he had known which way that scorpion would side, he would have studied it more.
T H E G I F T
GoldbloodOceanborn
Journeyman Chemist
Guy has extensive study and training in Chemical. It was by far one of the most prolific schools he used for infiltration. During his training, he used it to make people more amendable to him while boosting his own physical abilities more subtly. Deteriorating to the hull of a ship to setting up large explosions, Guy found the most use of the school of Eshiran. Ersand'Ernise had deepened his understanding of Chemical mixtures and has made him not only more well-rounded but also gifted him a more delicate control.
Journeyman Magneticist
The next school was taught to them with 2 purposes. 1 is to resist internal chemical attacks that can lead to their capture and end themselves quickly in case of capture when combined with Chemical. Later on, they were gifted multiple Drudgunzean Gold Threshers for operation and as such were taught the art of taming using Magnetic as the main instrument of control. He has built further on this at Ersand'Ernise to better his own abilities as a beast master and to give him some unsuspected firepower.
Adept Kineticist
Like most Oceanborns, he excelled in kinetic enhancement. These were built on in the military where he honed his enhancements to his own body to make it a weapon in close quarters. Silence was key for their role, so he was instructed on the functionality of Sonic manipulation. There with the help of his Eaiko squad members, he learned how to use Sonic magic in the water to further his detection range and how to find hidden things. He started to practice Kinesis much more regularly after coming to Ersand'Ernise as it seemed to be the fashion of laid-back nobles to use it for every whim.
Adept Arcanist
Something that was not taught to him by Perence was the School of Ipte, Arcane. He was focused on the Chemical and Magnetic specialties while others in his group focused on the utility side of Arcane. Coming to the school gave him time to learn about them and he followed his comrade's training, learning illusions and luminescent. An interesting combination he found is using Chemical, Magnetic, and Arcane to supercool the water. With this, he could easily manipulate this mixture to turn instantly frozen and then liquid again. How practical it will be in the field has yet to be tested but he found some pride in his talent as a scholar there.
All of the squad members were given a thresher companion to help increase their odds in missions. He received the runt out of the kindness of their instructors and he has been taming it well. He even taught it some fun tricks.
B A C K G R O U N D
Guy was born in a small town in the northeast of Perrence, not terribly far from Revidia. His birth came as an unwanted arrival as his family was about to return to their home in Djamant. They stayed there for a few months for his mother, Liana, to recover from childbirth. Guy was the 4th child of the line with two older brothers and one older sister. His father paid him little mind but his mother was affectionate towards him. She would sing tales of the Great Perrence to him and often said that him being born in Perrence was the greatest blessing he could have been given.
Growing up he was given freedom to do as he pleased by his father. He was the third son and was given to his mother to raise him into a proper Perench noble. In between studying under his mother, Guy spent time in town, at the ports, or any number of areas. He would play in the shallow waters and take risks jumping cactus. Guy remained unaware of his nature until he was quite cruelly tossed into the sea by his brother. He could breathe underwater!
After that Guy found himself going on many underwater adventures. Exploring shipwrecks, discovering treasures, observing nature, and stealing some thresher eggs. He met a few Eaiko but was mainly nervous because of the myths that sailors told about them. However, he often found his curiosity kept him watching them like a shy child. However, his mother intentionally let it out that her son was an oceanborn and the Perrench made an offer for him to join Légion de la Flamme Sacrée. They came, offered Guy's father compensation and there was nothing else to say, Guy was off to be trained without ever knowing a father's love, he was treated coldly by him even towards the end.
He trained with a team of Eaiko and other people like him. At first, he prided himself on his noble blood and being born in the golden fields of Perrence unlike most of them. However, he changed. They were working for the Perrence too and he had grown close to them. He moved up the training list and felt he was a shoo-in for captain. He was well-liked, well-trained, well read. He had it all. Instead, it was given to his rival. He didn't even make the cut.
It was a sad day, goodbyes were given. He was bitter but he knew better than to let it show. he wasn't going to sour his former team. They were going to be doing the Lord's work and he wouldn't let his own feelings cloud that. He packed up and headed for the doc when his instructor stopped his just before he boarded a ship to Djamant. He handed him a letter along with a pouch that would change his life course. A privilege given to him for the sake of Perrence! He was now a Biro at Ersand'Ernise.
M O T I V A T I O N
Besides discipline, it would be the basic want to improve for the sake of Perrence. Everything he learns furthers his worth to them and he finds that to be more important than other goals. He hopes to learn enough to one day be entrusted with the training of new recruits and instill in them the same will as he has. To fail that would not only be a shame but be a failure for all he has worked for.
I N V E N T O R Y
Quite a few sets of formal and informal clothing.
Jewelry and other adornments he gathered naturally over time. - A utility knife made out of Eshiran's gold, a unique memento from his time in Thalakos. It was said to be a present from his former teammates. He is unaware that he helped pay for it. - An old necklace with some Virangish writing on it. It was the only thing Guy had ever been explicitly given by his father. Despite his issues with him, he finds himself cherishing it. - A signet ring belonging to his mother's noble line, saying if her needs he should use it. He has no intention on burdening his mother's blood. - An Eaiko sash that was gifted to him from a close friend and at one point romantic rival. It is too bold for him but he will still wear it for that friend.
A few vases and coins that seem to be from the avincian era. He found these in very old shipwrecks around his home.
In his room are various maritime things, some goggles, and other random assortment of things. For a somewhat serious person, he keeps a very particular honey from Djamant well stocked.
A Rosy Thresher: Given the most wonderfully creative name, Pebble. He has had it for around 2 or 3 years now. It was the runt but had grown to near full size with lots of love. Guy has been slowly training it to respond to stimuli to help him search for things quickly with its immense sensing range. It is still in development as it can be hard to train threshers to do complicated tasks. But as long as he can provide an item, scent, or thing for it to search for, it can find it and more or less guide him with weak pinches. Or sometimes pinches that are way too strong. That is just how Pebble rolls.
A Puffhound: This fantastic lady was given to him at the age of 13 after nearly losing an eye on one of his adventures. She is precious in every way and very well-trained. Sadly, Guy could never get rid of its stubborn belief that it is a lap dog. It is immensely friendly and loves everyone. Her name is Penelope the Great.
TBD, probably 2 or 3 things.
S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S
❖Espionage: Just a skill he was taught and one he makes use of. Along with it came certain techniques used to manipulate people, set traps, destroy evidence, and all the basics. ❖Sailing: A skill he had learned from his home and reinforced with military training. He is quite a capable sailor and finds it to be fairly relaxing. ❖Geography: They were taught the basics in training, but Guy has expanded past that. He uses the vast resources of Ersand'Ernise to build a collection of maps and to make little war rooms. He even whittles the miniatures himself. ❖Martial Training: Sometimes the best way to deal with things is with no magic. So, Guy like any other soldier, was trained to fight proficiently with many weapons and with his hands. He prefers spear, sword, rifle, and his own hands. He isn't too proficient with firearms though he tries to improve himself. ❖Survival: The missions he was trained to go on could be long and drawn out in the water. They were taught not only how to survive on land but in open water in terrible conditions. Most of these skills are learned and haven't been practiced in a long time.
W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S
❖ Poor Management: He falls into putting too much on himself and lets his superiors put unjust work on him. ❖ Women: He finds women to be in need of help and has fallen for more times than he liked for a pretty face much to the despair of his purse and teammates. ❖ Lone Actor: Despite having trained for group activities, he finds himself being more self-centered after not making the cut and being sent on a solo mission. ❖ Stubborn: Once Guy makes up his mind on an issue, he tends to stick with it unless there is a good deal of convincing evidence or argument for it. ❖ Longing: Guy craves companionship. He had always been more reliant on those around him for that but since coming to the school, he has been hard-pressed to make friends and has felt displaced by it.
M I S C E L L A N E O U S
Guy started as a 7.33 after he finished growing. It was a respectable RAS for a low noble. However, he had been slowly tipped off by people of potential aberrations and he just so happened to have reason to go to those locations with usually a few people. He now is at a commanding 7.68 and has become familiar enough with the risks and benefits of black aberrations.
Guy has done some work in Thalakos on his off-season. Gathering and selling Eshiran's gold using that very human face of his. It was a job his close friend set up for him after not making the cut. He made many friends there and has gotten a little bit of metal along with some experience handling the workhorses of the operation, Black Devils. The last thing they said to him was that if they had one too many eggs, they would send one to him. He secretly hopes it wasn't a joke, but he is unsure if he would be capable enough to handle such a beast.
Ingrid tended to her and Niallus's wounds, leaving other Valerian to the capable hands of Evil Eye. She had but a moment to reflect on why Linlin let the fighter go? She had produced power that could best even her own yet Linlin just told her to go home. Why? Ingrid thought to herself, What if she comes back but with Temporal skills or some other magic that can kill you later. What about Niallus or me? Will I be strong enough when she rears her head again? And like that things became clearer.
Ingrid had seen it wrong. They had won. It would be easier to just remove her now, nip the girl before she can blossom into a threat but what would that do? It was cruel. It was unnecessary. Linlin wanted change. She held no ill will so she accepted they would most likely come for her. It was surreal for Ingrid, someone who struggled accepting that Traveler agents would target her no matter what.
Linlin did not care.
Then the world braked to a monster. Things only seen in exaggeratory drawings. A monster that was so large it took up the side. It ripped through the veil, similar to how her dagger would but it eerily different to what she does. And spine chillingly enough it carried the same miasma that wicked dragon did.
Tentacle after tentacle started to move into their world. It was clear to all those on the battlefield that was the new target. From Student to Blackguard. From Elder to Progenitor, it was the target so much that the summons brought forth by Ash even turned against it. It felt almost instinctual that they all were stunned by it. And that is when the Traveler struck it. The mysterious figure that Ingrid presumed to be the people chasing Hugo though timelines, appeared and with a few words rose everyone to action.
Friend or foe was indistinguishable as everyone followed the Traveler's lead. Attacks of such great magnitude that they felt indescribable were launched out. The Emperors launched an attack so long it left them defenseless on the ground. Then Wu Long, leader of a faction of the revolutionaries let the chance go to help defend. No one had enemies with each other because somewhere they all knew that whatever they had against each other was petty in comparison to the end of the world.
That was if you had any human to you left. The Progenitor struck the Traveler instead of helping. He would use the end of the world to enrichen himself. But it seemed his enemies knew that he was the embodiment of greed, that nothing was too dastardly for him. The fight rather quick as they needed to stave off the octopus or squid. It seemed one of the combatants, Sleeping Carp was his brother and had been ready to end it from the start. This powerful being was brought to nothing not by overwhelming intellect or some hidden element.
No it was to a simple illusion. The ancient evil was toppled by his own confidence that gave his brother room to strike with the legendary blade, White Ripple. There was no rewinding, just an ethereal fading that took the Progenitor and Sleeping Carp. It was over.
The Titan that descended had taken out mountains with single, accidental swings of a tentacle. Everyone pushed themselves further and further. Attack after attack and it wasn't enough. That moment of distraction from the 3 strongest was enough to let it descend into ours fully. It was over until a cluck rung out across the sky, across all of Retan.
Feathers that matched the color of the void but with the luster of polished steel, Green and red spurted out from the tail to create a demanding accent. It stood as large as the Titan Squid and it launched a beam so strong that the Titan shifted, wounds showed on its body, and it immediately started retreating. Luck had shifted for the denizens of this world and fate was rewritten by a majestic chicken. Maybe the Darhanics were on to something.
More attacks were thrown, Ingrid dove into the depths of her power gifted by Ahn-Shune. And launched an attack that could match that of the strongest Dragons with the help of Abdel's immaculately trained Skugvars. Attack after attack was launched and somehow, someway, the Titan fell. It's body left on the ground but it was obvious it wouldn't stay as it started to decompose. Nothing more than a curious note with a new guest among them.
Someone Ingrid had seen and been slightly scared of. The Ice King, Sixth God of the Darhanics, Vashdal. And now apparently the Blackguard Chicken? In a way it reminded Ingrid how Shune-Zept would change his form though it seems the Ice Kings cares more about what form he takes. The conversations were small and not very meaningful. All that was gotten out of this was that there is a stage far beyond them. But it seemed they were being prepped for it somehow. Not to inspirational other than Ingrid wants to tell Zarina.
Ingrid had agreed to become a sanguinaire. She didn't thank too much on it. She accepted it because she was sick of it deep down. She tried and tried to be better and she was. She trusted for no return. She avoided doing anything to harm them and it didn't matter. Ingrid was kept out of the loop the entire time by those who mattered. She was and still is bitter. At the very least she can maybe sway them away from Revidian and towards Eskand and Perence.
It came time for the spoils of their choices. They actually made it through it all and they were at the end. There was many spoils and what caught Ingrid's eyes were brought to only one prize. A hammer. The Hammer of Dami-Zept. Ingrid made her way to it but the church boy made it there at the same time. The conversation was short and a deal was made. For his land and counsel later on, Ingrid would not contest the hammer.
Feeling biffed that multiple people took multiple rewards, she went to go claim one as her own. With some issues with Valerian, Ingrid decided to take his blade. He had made one mistake when they fought Golden Monkey, that was only worth some warning. But what he did when they fought the Dragon was fully unforgiveable.
The foes they faced required a united front and he broke that. He defended the enemy and nearly got them killed for it. Valerian was of great strength and they needed everything to fend off the dragon. He defended him and he still was put in their midst. She wanted to settle it quickly with a simple fist fight but instead he insulted her and walked like a coward.
Eventually they fought and Ingrid lost. Simple as that. Ingrid rose and the grudge stayed down. She didn't like him but for her anything against them was done. She lost the sword she took but that was okay, it was secondary to begin with.
Soon they were brought one last task by Laughing Squid was to gather the action figure. They handed them in and a sacred groove opened. Different than the grove from the Pentad. These were more lined and orderly. They let look and judged what you have earned. It was unique compared to the Pentad's version.
Ingrid went first to a decaying tree. For a moment it seemed bountiful but then it withered, something Ingrid would later understood it didn't believe she had the correct balance. She spoke to Rikard, both of them seeing the fruit. Ingrid tried to give some words of advice having made so many mistakes, even now she unknowingly made one.
Ingrid made her way to the first one. Mint and chiles. And for she could see both. She decided to take both but looked at the one that Maura had seemed disappointed at and she got only 1. This time it was easy to tell what it represented and Ingrid felt some disappointment.
After they all chose, they made it back to school. Just the start of what was going to happen
The fight in ReTan was intense and somehow, every student that went survived the end of the world back to school. Ingrid adjusted to the changes in her life, and there was one change she needed to address.
A message was sent to Niallus, not uncommon for them, but it had a different air to it. No more of the airy flirting that Ingrid would write to him, it was… lacking? Still very much personable, but it was hard to place. Maybe it was about business or someone was rude. Either way, Ingrid headed over to her dorm for a visit. Walking through the halls like normal until he got there.
Unlike the normal servant answering, Ingrid was there to greet him. A welcomed surprise but odd. She quickly guided Niallus to her room. There was an odd feeling in the air, Niallus picked up on it. He wondered if it was serious, since she wouldn’t look at him properly. If it was something to discuss what happened in ReTan that’s understandable, a lot of shit happened there. “Ingrid, is there something wrong? You don’t seem to be yourself.” He asked her.
Ingrid turned to him, awkwardly scratching the back of her head, "There is." Ingrid tried to find a way to be a little less awkward, but it had to come out, "Niallus, I think-" Ingrid stopped to take a seat near her desk, "-been thinking a lot. About ReTan, about the future, about us. I think back to when we went on that date and the night I let you into my room. It was so fun, so… nice." Ingrid smiled warmly on those memories, only to frown. "I think we shouldn't date any more," Ingrid gulped and looked at Niallus.
Niallus was taken aback by it. “You, You’re wanting to break up?” he frowned at this, then cleared his voice. He didn’t expect this from her, but he could tell this wasn’t easy for her to come out and say it to him. Kneeling in front of her. Looking at her. He wanted to hold her hand, but she didn’t want to, so he didn’t push her.”Why? I thought everything was great with us. his tone was a mixture of concern and confusion.
"It was! But not?" Ingrid struggled to put it in words. "I am just not ready, you know?" Ingrid fiddled with her stiletto, trying to figure out how to explain it. "I just wasn't ready for what we are. Ipte is next year, and our families are going to put a lot of pressure on us. I don't feel right being your significant other. I thought I would. I really did. But it never went far enough."
"Ingrid…" Given how long they have been together now, it may only be a matter of time before their parents know about them dating. He moves closer to her, to try to help her feel less uncomfortable about the situation. "How come you didn't want to talk about this?" He kinda understood the reason behind her not asking him about it. In case, he took it the wrong way.
"What was I supposed to say? Sorry, I don't think I have the same feelings? I tried to wait and see if they would come. But they didn't." And there he was trying to comfort her, it was kind, but she didn't need it. Not from him right now. "I care for you Niallus, you are a wonderful friend. But I don't love you. Not like you love me at least." She was bitter with herself, she knew she only desired to be wanted, yet she fell into thinking it was more than that. "We got closer, and I never truly stopped to consider what I was ready for. You call me dear, honey, and love, and I can't say the same. Not genuinely at least."
Niallus paused for a few seconds, taking time to understand. He felt bitter about it, more than that, he was hurt by what she was saying. She never loved him in all the months that they were dating. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but nothing came out. He tried his hardest not to let it get to him, but it slowly was. He tried again to speak. "I know that you tried, I really do. I do love you, Ingrid, but if you don't feel the same," he moved away from her, "It would be selfish of me, I'd rather not force you into something that would make you feel uncomfortable." He says to her.
Ingrid thought, no she knew, that he was not the selfish one. He had always offered to be there. An ear when I wanted to complain, a companion on lonely nights, and a stalwart defender whenever we faced a foe. Niallus had his issues, but- "You weren't selfish, Niallus. I was. I came to you looking for comfort and in that I found something I shouldn't have taken advantage of, your love," she paused to look at him. At his hurt face. Just how much pain have I caused to the closest person in my life? Ingrid thought. "I went past the fun and games we played when my feelings weren't there."
Niallus thoughts and feelings were a complete mess, he didn't know what to think at this point, even if Ingrid was blaming herself for this, it still didn't make him feel any better. This hurt him a lot deeper than anything he felt before. He could see Ingrid looking at him from the corner of his eye. When looking straight at her, he could see that tears were building up. "Ingrid, you hurt me more than anything I've felt before in the past. You broke my heart, betrayed my trust as my closest friend. If it was anyone else, I'd want nothing to do with them." his usual smile wasn't there when he took a moment before speaking. "However, because of our relationship before this, it'll be a while before I can see you as a friend once again. As well as trust you."
"Thank you for even considering it, I'll gather your things later, and you can come and get them later." Ingrid said, not making eye contact any more. She seemed deeply ashamed of what had happened.
"I'll sort your things out your thing too" Niallus stood up, letting out a depressed sigh, still feeling like complete shit. Not looking at Ingrid, "Was there anything else?"
Ingrid paused, "No…" Ingrid then corrected, "Yes," Ingrid said. "I, I understand your probably want nothing to do with me right now but I still care for you and if there is anything you need, anything you want, I'm here. And I'll always be." Ingrid strained her voice as if she was so desperately trying to come off as genuine.
Niallus shook his head. Anger was slowly building; he didn't want to flip out on her, even though he should. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. "You were one of the few people I trusted. I wanted to tell you something, something that you should know, about my family. but now…" he trails off. "It doesn't matter." trying to smile but it's a weak one at best. He wondered if she knew how much he was hurting from this. "No you're right, with all of this, it would be best to not see each other for a while. Don't want to cause more damage." he chuckles a little "It's funny, Maura kept saying, she's just using you, she'll only end up hurting you. I always told her she was wrong, I defended you from all the negative things she said to me about you, saying that you were trying your hardest to be a better person. I Never imagined that she would be partly right." His anger started building once more, he wanted to just leave so he opened the door, walking off, not looking back.
There was a pain in Ingrid's heart. Her hand gripped uncomfortably at her dress, and a small quiver on her lip. Niallus lashed out at the first thing she trusted him with. The only person she trusted that with. Her mind raced with ways to lash back but it came to halt. "I understand that you're hurting," she stiffened her lip and loosened her grip, "and I understand that what you said was your anger. Just know that I am here for you Niallus." She waited to hear the door slam as he finally left. Ingrid held a hand to her chest as she quietly wept. She knew it was going to hurt but that last part was more than she could've imagined.
Maura had received a letter the week prior to a proposed meeting at the Eskandish Grove outside Ersand'Ernise. It was a simple invitation from Ingrid and there was even an offer to prepare travel accommodations if Maura wished.
Whichever option Maura chose, she would be greeted by Ingrid at the nearest road to the grove. She was adorn in lighter wear and one could make out some boots underneath her dress.
"I'm glad that you could make it Maura," Ingrid gave a polite smile.
Maura's smile was polite and genuine as she manoeuvred her rollerchair toward Ingrid. "The invitation was quite a delightful surprise," she mentioned, her hands resting on a finely decorated box. "Choosing a gift for someone who seems to have everything proved to be quite the challenge. However, we hope this will find your favour."
The lid of the small box began to open gradually, revealing a tiny wooden hand that emerged through the gap. With precise movements, it undid the latch and pushed the lid open, revealing a small marionette. The miniature figure sat up, gazing toward Ingrid, and then offered a playful wave in her direction. The marionette rose within its container, its movements a mixture of slight awkwardness and practised finesse. If one squinted and used their imagination, they might notice a resemblance to Ingrid – dark "hair," glasses, and a silhouette that bore a resemblance.
"We're still practising the art form, but we thought you might enjoy having your very own personalized Min-grid. One of it’s kind," Maura explained, her own hand making a gesture as if the doll was encouraging Ingrid to pick her up.
That's quite... Nice? It was a perplexing gift. Was it suppose to be a slight or just a hobby she had gotten into it. Either way, no reason to care, hopefully today will handle things. Ingrid brought no gift with her but she graciously accepted the it, as odd as it was. "Is this a new craft that pricked your interest or an old one coming back into focus?" Ingrid briefly acquired but moved on relatively quickly.
They traveled into the grove, the land seemed cared for but overall was left to grow as Oraff designed. Smaller animals made home here and with less people around, it wasn't odd to see tracts of some deer. Ingrid walked through it quietly, observing and embracing nature.
Eventually a smaller clearing was met and Ingrid turned to take a seat on a log. "How familiar are you with Eskandish traditions?"
Maura's smile held a touch of solemnity as she observed Ingrid's reaction to the gift. She responded, "My mother was a Maestra. Lately, we've been investing more time in this craft, maybe as a way to feel closer to her."
As Ingrid inquired about her familiarity with Eskandish culture, Maura shook her head gently from side to side. "Sadly, our knowledge on the subject is not as comprehensive as we would like it to be. Would you be willing to share some insights about it?"
Ingrid nodded, "Eskandish follow the Pentad but we practice differently. For us, worship is less about solemn worship in a church but active participation." She looked around as the grove as if to point to it. "For Ipte we paint and frolic to know love for nature and neighbor. For Shune we teach others our trades and offer our professions for the betterment of ourselves and community. For Oraff we appreciate nature, go on journeys, plant and flourish nature. For Eshiran we celebrate victor, remember loss, and play sports." Ingrid paused for Dami, taking a breath out.
"For Dami we air grievances. Speak frank to settle things. For the year is Dami, I would like to air things out with you Maura." Ingrid looked at Maura expectedly.
Maura winced slightly, her imagination conjuring up an image of Ingrid standing there and relentlessly berating her for the next few hours. Despite this, she did her best to maintain her composure. She had hoped that her efforts, like the personalized gift, would help mend things between them, but it appeared that Ingrid had her own way of handling the situation. Taking a breath, Maura steeled herself and looked directly at Ingrid. "Go ahead, lay it on me."
"Well alright, let's start from the top." Ingrid scratched her head before sitting up, "When we worked together for the snowsweeper, I felt I had genuine reason to worry," she paused to put her thoughts in avincian, "War. War was still being talked by my countryman. They wanted it so bad. They were ready for it too. So when I found the king to be there and having trusted the vial before, I panicked and wanted assurance. My country couldn't survive the perrench turning on us. Revidia used us once, what would stop Torragon from doing the same." she stood up rather quickly. "But then you turned it on me. I squeezed, you yelped and then berated me, told me to strip my dress and glasses to give it to that hussy Idun. You know I didn't squeeze too hard. You should have known my worries were justified."
She took a breath, Ingrid knew in retrospect she was the bigger offender. She was hurt sure but it's best to start with the first pain then hold it in front of Dami, "I'm sure you have so much to say on that?"
Maura's frown deepened as her frustration with Ingrid grew. Ingrid's choice of closing words only irritated her further. "I’m sure you have so much to say on that?" Maura retorted with a dry tone, her expression unamused. "We came here for an Eskandish-style airing of grievances, and you've already chosen belittlement before we've even begun?" Her raised eyebrow conveyed her clear dissatisfaction.
"Maybe the core issue, Ingrid, is your lack of self-awareness," Maura continued, her voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and concern. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "You're not unintelligent, we know that. But you state facts without context, without asking yourself 'Why?' For instance, did you ever think about, 'Why did I ask you to take off your dress so someone else could wear it?', like, to take your role in the plan because you wanted out?"
"About being right to worry? We were in the midst of a plan to rescue a Snowsweeper. All of us were concerned! And we were making great progress, until you threatened to jeopardize it all." Maura threw her hands up in exasperation. "You talk about having the right to worry, but your actions threatened to put weeks of preparation and thousands of Magnus on the line all because of a 'worry.' We were panicking, Ingrid, and your actions almost derailed everything we had worked so hard for. All our efforts were heading down the drain."
"You gave this eloquent speech about global politics, but you forget that we were your friend, Ingrid. We weren't just some random Torragonese girl in a rollerchair. Or was that truly how you saw me?" Maura's gaze turned stern as she looked at Ingrid. "We would have done whatever we could to keep you safe. Yet instead of speaking to me or trusting me, you physically grabbed me, squeezed me hard, and threatened me. You treated me like an enemy. And you deserved to be called out for your actions.”
"Even with all that said and done, we succeeded. The plan was nearly flawless otherwise. We saved the Snowsweeper, King Rouis is still reigning in good health, and you emerged unharmed," Maura's gaze turned more imploring as she locked eyes with Ingrid. "But you never apologized. Not once did you say you were sorry."
Maura's tone softened a touch as she urged Ingrid to reflect. "Just... think, Ingrid. Don't speak. Take a few moments to truly consider all of this. That's all we're asking for. If you realize you were wrong, an apology would go a long way. We would forgive you."
She expected this. She wanted this. But Maura wanted to have her take a moment so Ingrid waited, reflecting on it. After a few minutes she spoke, "I never saw you as a friend. Friendly, yes. But a friend? No, you were someone close to Ayla. Neither was Zarina, again just friendly." Ingrid told Maura. It wasn't to be harsh but to be honest.
Ingrid felt a little awkward, "I only bring this up because I have pain there and obviously you do to," Ingrid gave a light smile. "More than me," she admitted. "Saying sorry and making up when hurt is still there is building on the mud or on shifting sands. It won't last." Ingrid sat back on the log in front of Maura. "I want to mend things with you. And this is how I know how." Ingrid looked Maura in the eyes, "I am at fault there. I hurt you and ignorantly forgot what was at stake for us all. I threatened you. And for all of that, I'm sorry Maura Mercador."
Maura maintained a quiet presence, allowing Ingrid the space to express herself fully. She offered a nod of understanding as Ingrid's words came to an end, her hands gently interlocked as she absorbed the sentiment shared. Taking in a deliberate, deep breath, she finally responded, her voice measured and calm. "Your apology is acknowledged, Miss Ingrid Penderson."
Surveying their surroundings with a hint of curiosity, Maura's attention returned to Ingrid. "With the ritual concluded, might there be a suitable spot for us to set up a picnic and enjoy the afternoon?"
Ingrid was relieved it was accepted, feeling a weight off her shoulders. She wished to continue it to talk about their time in ReTan but decided against it. Maura had been willing to do it Ingrid's traditional way when the fault was on Ingrid. It was the smallest sign of respect she could give Maura to forgive the way her culture would like.
"There is," Ingrid confirmed as she stood up from the log. She wiped herself off of any bark or moss that may have came with her dress. "This is more the general area for worship. But people spread out to their own areas if it feels right, I have one that I enjoy." Ingrid paused, "Thank you for the gift Maura, truly. I've tried your way before and all it got me was threatened and then punched."
The uphill path there was a little challenging for Ingrid before her new found strength but would be very difficult for Maura without the assistance of magic. Once they got there though it flattened and overlooked what seemed to be a sharper drop-off into the wider forest. There was flowers strewn about and a berry bush or 2 that were blossoming. The view overlooked the forest like you were above it. As they arrived, Ingrid drew in some of the ambient heat and light and channeled that into the plants, having them grow ever so slightly.
She took a seat on a nice little tuff of grass, "Here it is," Ingrid opened her arms to show her little spot.
Maura slightly tilted her head, attentive as Ingrid shared her thoughts about doing things 'her' way and facing threats, even a punch. The story felt cryptic, as if it held a deeper meaning that wasn't immediately evident to Maura. She debated internally whether to delve deeper into this or let Ingrid's words stand on their own.
Regarding the uphill path, Maura was well-acquainted with such challenges, making use of her kinetic and binding magic to create a smoother incline for herself. Though it was a slow process, she considered it an investment in accessibility that future travelers might find beneficial.
As her gaze settled on the picturesque view, including the captivating effect Ingrid had infused into the plants, Maura found herself truly appreciating the tranquility of the location. She couldn't help but comment, "This spot is undeniably serene and lovely. It seems you've spent a good deal of time curating this place."
Ingrid looked out at the scenery with Maura. She found it with Niallus a few months back but they don't come here together no more. I don't even know if he comes to the grove at all anymore, Ingrid reflected on their time searching for this spot, getting lost in that thought.
"It took weeks and at least 2 dresses," she admitted as she went to take a seat on the ground. "Never thought I be having a picnic with you at my hidden spot," Ingrid smiled before she started to try and figure out what Maura had brought for a picnic. Was it to be the basics? Flashing with the warmth of the Torrogan? Maybe a bit of cloudberry jam? Ingrid excited herself for the reveal.
"Oh, did you not prepare anything?" Maura's fingers interlocked as she fixed Ingrid with an expectant gaze. It was just long enough to create a faint sense of unease before she revealed a playful grin. "Lucky for you, we come prepared."
From beneath her chair, Maura produced a bag, clearly a convenient storage spot. "We did a bit of asking around, and we've put together something we think you'll enjoy." With care, she began to lay out an assortment of items on a blanket spread between them. Containers and clay flasks emerged, along with a pitcher of Sangria meant for sharing. "We noticed your interest when we discussed it earlier, so we've brought along some Gazpacho, a cold soup from Torragona, for you to try." As the soup was poured into two cups, she continued, "And since you're Eskandish, we took inspiration from Smørbrød for a mix 'n match." Maura indicated a selection of different boxes. "There's rugbrød, gravlaks, leverpostej, and geitost cheese in your style. And then, from my background, we have pão de água, Bacalhau, Patê de marisco, and queijo de Azeitão."
Drawing attention to the final box, which had a distinct appearance from the others, Maura's expression brightened. "Ayla contributed these," she said as she opened the box, revealing Skillingsboller, Pastéis de nata, and Churros, accompanied by an array of chocolate and lingonberry dips. It was an impressive array that integrated elements from Torragonese, Segonian, and Eskandish cuisine, all set out for their shared enjoyment.
Izurich
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