Ti

Regalia

It is okay, it isn't the first time I get called out for being dead drop Gorgeous.

@Aeolian I was tempted to join, and I even had this totally original idea! It involved me picking Gilgamesh, you know, the lion looking one. Get this, their surname was to be called Arslan.

Because Gilgamesh is the dominant of law, justice, etc. I had the concept for them to be blind because justice is blind. Because they were blind, they are very much not in control, which allows them to align with the attributes of the dominant and their message. Had this nice little mental synergy going on between things.

Regalia

One thing from reading the RP is that Bastion is the real VIP.

He should become a regalia at some point.

The Hourglass Order

Hax’olop

The Hourglass Order

M E E T I N G B Y T H E L A K E

"The young conqueror surveys his new empire and crows that it is vast, like Lake Albadón, but he knows nothing of its depth."

- Firrazi Proverb

The road west from Torra Corda stretches on into inner Torragon, straight as a line in some places. To one side is Lake Albadón and the sparse greenery upon its shores; to the other lies a vast and cruel desert, bleeding off into the horizon, seemingly endless.

It was into this scene that Ayla Arslan, a daughter of one of the greatest noble houses in the country, arrived. From the dust and winds, the endless mirror of the lake emerged, flamingoes and other waterfowl dotting its surface, peering up from their animal activities at the new arrival.

Not so far from its shore lay a gazebo. A simple wooden structure, it cast a rhomboidal shadow across the whitish sands as whitish curtains fluttered in the stifling breeze. Just outside was a horse. Just within was a man. He waited at a table. The girl arriving knew who he was.

Since they first met, that girl had grown into a young woman. Years of Ersand’Enise education and extracurricular activities had moulded the once demure girl—a lion cub—into a confident lioness. While a typical lady of the court might don her prettiest dress before an audience with the king, she had chosen a more practical outfit. She wore sturdy black boots and an embroidered rose-patterned corset styled like a tunic over a red blouse. A belt cinched her waist, holding the hilt of a bladeless sword, and a cavalier hat added a bold touch, with her red hair neatly tucked up inside as it shaded her from the sun.

As she strolled toward the gazebo, she admired the flamingos in the water before finally approaching the occupant. With a warm greeting, she crossed her arm over her chest, clenched her gloved fist, and bowed her head respectfully toward the gentleman.

The man inside was King Sancho VIII of Torragon, called El Alacrán in the Northern dialect. He rose to his feet and nodded in return. "Lady Arslan." A smile lifted his mustache from his upper lip for a moment, and he waved her warmly towards a seat. "It must've been a long ride. Have a drink. Have some tapas. Then, we discuss." He settled back into his seat and moved to pour both himself and his guest a drink.

Ayla took the seat offered to her by the King, pulling back the soft-cushioned wooden chair before settling in. “We find ourselves north of Varrahasta more and more these days," she remarked, her voice light with humour. "One might think we’d be used to the long rides and saddle sores by now.” She offered a playful yet sweet smile as she accepted the glass of wine and a rather delicious-looking empanada.

She took in the surroundings, her gaze sweeping over the vibrant landscape. “This must be one of the jewels of the north, with such a breath-taking view,” she added, gesturing toward the flamingos gracing the nearby lake. “Who should we thank for this pleasant scenery?"

♫

The king smiled again, briefly, plucking from the plate. He nodded. "It is what some would call a 'hidden gem'," he admitted, taking a bite and chewing. A light breeze rippled the surface of the water and a quartet of ibises took wing. "A place not known to those courtiers who want only to fill the king's ear for their own gain."

He watched the birds for a moment before addressing the second part of Ayla's question. "It is a place we thank An-Orafe for, in our prayers, but I have always thought that we owe equal debt to An-Ejerran." He tilted his head and stroked his goatee. "Why do you think that is?"

Ayla secretly suspected that the Queen's influence had been involved in choosing such a beautiful location, but she smiled pleasantly nonetheless and nodded when the conversation turned to the gods. The empanada was spiced in the manner preferred by the men of the north—bold and fiery—unlike the sweeter versions she was accustomed to in Varrahasta. Thankfully, and unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a Virangish pepper in sight.

“Then we shall prepare to be plied with food and wine, while our ears are filled for the King’s gain,” she quipped with a mischievous smile, her sharp tongue making light of the situation as she used the jest as an excuse to indulge in the spread laid out before her.

Sancho let out a snort of laughter, but it quickly gave way to something more pensive. "Certainly," he admitted, "I hope to gain, but your words remind me of something that dear Felipe told me before he left to be with Ejerran."

He sat in profile now, almost a silhouette as the morning sun shimmered off of vast Albadón. "One cannot rise while the ship he is on sinks." He lifted his glass from the table and took a sip of his wine. "This was what Huarcan Frannemas did not understand." He glanced her way, setting it back down. "That is why I killed him. He was willing to sink the ship to rise within it." His eyes, in shadow, found the young woman's. "It is a lesson I believe that you know," he decided, "So tell me, Ayla Arslan, what is the ship that we are on?"

As the ripples of wine settled within the chalice, Ayla's eyes rose to meet Sancho's. "He was a mutineer on a surrounded ship," she said, shaking her head, "though not one that's sinking—yet." She took another sip. "There's no real appetite for war in the East. Trade during peace brings prosperity to its people. The raids in the West are a different matter; they embitter the people." Her gaze sharpened on the captain. "So the ship needs a carefully plotted course to avoid troubled waters—it can't rely solely on the winds."

"And yet, much as it may yearn to, it cannot defy them either." Sancho breathed out into the desert air as a flock of sandpipers came to land at the water's edge. "The Firrazi have a saying: The young conqueror surveys his new empire and crows that it is vast, like Lake Albadón, but he knows nothing of its depth." He took a bite of his empanada. "What do you think this means?"

Ayla pondered the saying for a moment, though the fact that it was Firrazi made her a bit skeptical. "It suggests looking beyond what's on the surface. While some may focus on the size of their armies and navies, real strength comes from stability, loyalty, and the discipline of individuals in battle. Overlooking that depth might hide how fragile a situation truly is—like a lion made of parchment." She tapped her lip thoughtfully. "Just one of many aspects of an empire, for brevity."

"You are not wrong," the king admitted, "from a certain point of view." Wind stirred the curtains and the hair of the people withing. Horses snorted and flicked their manes outside. "And I don't disagree, but the Firrazi like to remind us, in their bitterness, that they know this land in ways that we do not." He snorted at the notion; whether in dismissal or agreement, it was not quite clear. "It is a parable designed to trick us Torragonese, for Lake Albadón is, at most, five meters deep. Should the winter rains fail to come one year, it might disappear entirely."

He breathed in the lakeside air, tinged as it was with hints of dust and salt. "It is a reminder of how tenuous - how ephemeral - are the monuments and works of we individuals in the face of greater forces." He breathed out. "I think it is also, in a teasing sense, a call to understand, truly and humbly, before acting." He swirled the last remaining wine in his glass. "This is why we must go to war." He glanced out at the vast salt lake, brow furrowed, before turning back to gauge her reaction.

Ayla raised an eyebrow at the mention of war, especially considering King Sancho's impassioned plea for peace in earlier years. During her time at the academy, however, she had encountered many factions and individuals aiming to shape the world to their own agendas. The statement left a void she felt compelled to fill. "With whom?" she asked.

Sancho grimaced at her well-but-not-perfectly-hidden confusion. "The people who would see us laid low." He furrowed his brow and continued. "Would that we could be like cattle, left to feed and fatten on the plains with no care in the world, but that is not the truth of things." He shook his head. "The bull may appear complacent, but he is anything but, for he cannot be." A lone cloud drifted lazily across the face of the sun, providing a moment of welcome relief. "He is surrounded, always, by hungry wolves and serpents and tigers."

Sancho batted the imagined animals away. "Trust you me, girl: they circle even now, and I imagine you can guess who most of them are." He shook his head again, tightly, and reached over for the wine bottle. "The blood our answers spilled to reclaim this land demands a price." He poured, pensively: deep crimson wine splashing into the glass. "Since I took el Trono de Hierro, I have built a Torragon of peace. I have furnished universities and libraries and ports for trade." He sipped. "I have patronized artists and scientists. I have shaken Osman's hand as a friend and equal. At the start of last year, I repealed the laws against Darhannics."

A couple of swans alighted on the lake's surface, and tiny waves lapped at the shore as their ripples spread outward. Sitting in profile, the King breathed deeply: in and out. He turned to Ayla, gaze heavy and direct. "It won't be enough." He was earnest. "Two of my dukes rebelled against me. Frannemas, you know, and I slew the bastard with mine own hand." He sniffed and glanced away, at the lake and the swans. "Herrera was in league with him, ready to march on their 'soft' ruler. Only the quick death of Huarcan persuaded her otherwise, and after I disinherited his brats I'd have had a rebellion on my hands had I tried to remove her as well. Ejerran knows Tojarra is frothing."

He stood all at once and held the bottle out towards Ayla's glass, raising his eyebrows inquiringly. "We are of the same cloth, to some measure," the king concluded. "We speak for peace and sense and mutual benefit and nobody listens." Finished with the bottle, he set it down on the tabletop and turned to face Albadon, crossing his arms. "At the summit, last year, I convinced none who had a real say." He glanced over his shoulder at the youth. "It was something from Hunghorasz, the old wizard, that made them pull back." He tapped one of his temples. "I can still feel the way he went into my head and forced a decision." Sancho snorted. "At least it was the right one."

He pivoted on his heel and leaned over the back of his chair. "It is a regrettably simple conclusion, Lady Ayla." He pursed his lips for a moment. "Most everyone wants to fight: on every side of this thing, and I will not let Torragon be served up as a feast. Can you work with that?"

Ayla nodded as she mulled over her thoughts, reflecting on the complexities. "Peace is not easy," she began thoughtfully. "It takes hard work and is anything but complacent. Sometimes, people need to be reminded that it is in their best interest not to act against it, or persuaded by other means." She continued, using the earlier metaphor by Sancho to make her point clearer. "A complacent bull is weak—others start to ignore and violates its boundaries. This stirs the bull into action, forcing it to use violence to make others respect it, a war. Now, an active bull, constantly vigilant, dissuades people from crossing its boundaries. If they try, they're met with a snort and a show of the horns. Violence isn't needed because the threat alone keeps others in check, thus experiences peace. But it's important not to be an aggressive bull, as that would cause others to band together and outnumber the bull, seeing it as a threat."

She paused for a moment and added, "You could argue that peace is a war—a war fought with words, influence and clout."

"Perhaps it is so," the king acknowledged, as a gust of wind stirred the feathers in his cap, "and perhaps it is not." He pursed his lips grimly. "I've called you here, Lady Ayla, for two reasons." his wine sat on the table, he was drinking none of it now.

"The first is that you have helped your country immensely. You acted decisively when the Queen's and my lives were threatened, for which you've my gratitude, and again to secure Revidia's secret weapon for us." He shook his head. "Such things should not exist and, if they do, they should not be kept from friends." There was a brief, ironic smile. "You could say that you sharpened the bull's horns and diluted the serpent's venom."

In the distance, the sun lay atop the water, its surface a mirror to the sky and the plains. A pack of dwarf halassa grazed on a copse of bushes. "The second," Sancho began darkly, "is that the time for metaphors and waxing philosophical over what may happen is at an end." He tapped the table twice and worked his jaw, eyes meeting hers. "They will have their damned war whether we want it or not." He sighed in vexation. "I want to make it as short and decisive as possible."

He glanced down before meeting her eyes again. "I've no desire to spill blood over Revidian and Perrench squabbles." Sancho shook his head tightly. "Neither is a clear evil, much as the leaders of both will rail that his counterpart is." He glanced out over the idyllic scene of the inland sea. "And we are a continent away. Our only real danger is the unbridled ambition of some in Virang." Now, he lifted the glass and took a sip. "Osman is a good man. I had hoped to build an understanding with him, but I fear his days are limited and his influence wanes." Sancho swirled the wine and watched it for a moment. "The new generation do not remember war, and so they treat trade as if it is a thing to be won, and encourage the most radical form of their religion, and fund Hattim of Firraz in his campaign of terror against the Nordeste."

He scowled into the sun before his eyes flicked Ayla's way. "We are going in opposite directions, and it is time for the bull to use his horns, while he can still quickly put the panther in its place." He tilted his head. "Is this something you can help me with?"

Ayla nodded thoughtfully after listening to the reply, then straightened her posture, adopting a more formal bearing. "What is it that we need to do?" she asked in a composed tone.

Sancho regarded her and... was there a hint of discomfort on the face of the king? "An act that will make our names live in infamy like that of your ancestor." His bearing became grim, serious, earnest. "But one that could save millions of lives by putting a swift end to the war." In the distance, a flock of flamingoes lifted from the surface of Lake Albadon. "I am asking you, Ayla, not commanding. Is this something you think you could countenance?"

She gently put her hands together as she sat and listened, as she prepared herself for what was about to be spoken, “Yet without my ancestor, there would not be a Torragon or our people.” She nodded, as she consented, “Please continue.”

Sancho nodded at her words. "Mine own, Felipe de la Sangre, was infamous in his time." He shrugged. "And perhaps since, though he has not had the unique misfortune of having his name live so in infamy as Alizée." A fly came to rest upon the white curtains, tiny and black and eager to take of the food on the table if given the opportunity.

Sancho batted a hand dismissively. "Virang has risen much, some as a result of my own leniency towards it and the desire that both us and they might rise together and break the endless cycle of two grand alliances, mutually exclusive." He leaned forward and plucked an enchilada from the platter. "They are too strong for us to trample as we may have in the past." He regarded the morsel and shook his head... annoyed? Regretful? Admiring? "They will dig in and hold on and occupy us while the other Darhannics pounce and Belzagg either overwhelms Joru and takes us from the East, or Perrence joins them."

The king bit in and chewed. "Millions on all sies will die for the ambitions of few and grudges passed down for centuries, now meaningless." He swallowed. "I want to avoid that. We need a quick, decisive victory that will humble them where they stand and act as warning against any who might consider taking their part." He glanced out at the curtains as they flapped and the fly took off. "Something strategically decisive, scored away from their innocents, that leaves them utterly at our mercy." He took a second bite and chewed, eyes narrowed as he glanced at the lake and back at Ayla. "Can you think of such a thing?"

Ayla was presented with a near-impossible task: figuring out how to take down Virang without unnecessary bloodshed or loss of innocent lives. As soon as the Torragonese forces mobilized, Virang would respond in kind. Both sides had permanent garrisons ready for such a situation, and they would have to cross the Merapora making a land approach infeasible. Even if they attempted to circumvent the defences through Inipor, Gandakar lay to the south. A naval approach, even with allied support, would struggle to pass Izan without incurring heavy losses before reaching the capital.

"It would have to be like lightning," she mused. "Using portals to transport groups to capture key locations, then moving in the armies to catch them by surprise." She shrugged, acknowledging the difficulty of her suggestion. "Unless we could somehow position ourselves as welcomed liberators, there would be significant resistance—and for that, we'd need an enemy to liberate them from."

Popping the final bite of enchilada into his mouth, Sancho paused, and a grin spread across his features. "This is why I come to you, Ayla." He finished chewing and swallowed. "For this is precisely our plan." He pushed the plate away and paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "The Virangish rise has made them less amenable to us, true." He nodded. "but it has made them many enemies."

The plate sat there in the middle of the table, a sprinkling of crumbs dusting its surface. "Among those is Tarlon, who will soon try to force the Bin Ada again." The fly took off from its spot on the curtain, circling around the two of them and zeroing in on the plate. "Osman fears that they will move on Paggon, which they refer to as 'lost lands'." Sancho shifted in his seat and regarded Ayla frankly. "He is terrified of it, in fact, if our people are to believed. Losing Paggon means losing their stranglehold on the Bin Ada and the tolls they take for trade into the Ensollian."

The fly made its move and, with a single quick motion, Sancho swatted it. "He is willing to sacrifice Palapar for Paggon." The tiny creature lay broken upon his glove for a moment until he flicked its corpse free. "His advisors are not. Many own vast amounts of land there that this new unrest threatens." The king set his gloves aside and turned to Ayla. "Tell me, now, with more of the picture in place, how might you proceed."

Ayla listened carefully to the foundations of the plan. From what she gathered, the idea was for Torragon to pose as the liberators of an anticipated Tarlonese invasion of East Severa. It was true—the Tarlonese would never expect Virang and Torragon to work together, and both nations would be able to repel the yasoi. If the Tarlonese were bold enough to attempt such a gambit, they would likely stoke tensions between the two nations, causing a war, and then swoop in to seize any territories they desired.

“There are only two main conditions for such a possibility to exist: a weakened Virang and for Tarlon to move against Virang proper.” Ayla leaned back in her seat, contemplating. “A decisive action against Virang would guarantee the conquest of Paggon and control of the strait. Both are likely Tarlon’s long-term goals, so there is motive, but the opportunity is lacking.”

“For Virang to be weakened, it would need to become embroiled in Palapar, and it cannot achieve a decisive victory—neither for the rebels nor for itself. There would need to be a stalemate, encouraging reinforcement from the mainland as they try to tip the scales in their favor.” She moved imaginary figures across the table. “With the mainland and Paggon vulnerable, and its forces occupied across the Asperic Ocean, controlling the strait would prevent Virang's forces from returning, allowing Tarlon to achieve its objectives. They would hope this would create an opportunity for us to strike at Virang.”

“However, Virang wouldn't send its forces to Palapar if they knew it would leave them so vulnerable.” She knocked the imaginary figures from the table. “They would want a guarantee—a strong, ironclad one. Virang might draw support from Belzagg toward Joru to keep us focused on the Eastern threat, bolster their numbers from Perrence, or even consider an agreement with Eskand.”

She placed her glass to the north of her position on the table. “Then there’s another factor: ReTan. They seek vengeance against Tarlon, and control of the strait would threaten their trade. They might consider working with Virang against Tarlon in these circumstances. So, Torragon's objective is clear.” She moved an imaginary fleet from Varrahasta toward ReTan. “We need to strengthen our partnership with ReTan. That means working with them against Tarlon.” She marked an imaginary cross over the straits. “This benefits everyone. We work against Tarlon and demand concessions from Virang for our support, such as tariff-free ReTannese trade for Torragon and rights on the Merapora. Virang would accept nothing less—they require a guarantee of our self-interest in iron.”

She drew a semi-circle on the table, symbolizing a protective line against Tarlon. “This might prompt Virang to take risks in Palapar.” She moved the imaginary figures back to Palapar. “But then you have the same problem again with Tarlon…” She let the cyclical situation hang in the air, unresolved.

Sancho leaned forward as Ayla spoke, taking in her analysis of the situation. "You understand the picture well for one with limited information." He nodded appreciatively. "So let me share the rest that I know, as a king, with you."

Leaning back somewhat, the king stroked his beard twice over. "Firstly, Tarlon's appetites far outstrip what its teeth can chew. The people in charge know this. Second -" He ticked another point off on his fingers. "Osman with his famous prudence and his... wariness of us, is seen to be losing his battle with old age in Virang."

Sancho did not reach for his wine or a snack or anything of the sort. He narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "The Tarlonese are easy to fear and to hate, to ascribe goals and motives to that we can decry." Not so far away, his horse snorted and stamped the dirt. "It is a common disease of people." He batted it away. "But I see, in them, a people not so very unlike us: They want to live as they wish, on their own land, unbothered by others, and they will do whatever they need to ensure that." He shook his head tightly. "Beyond that, I do not agree with them on much." His voice sunk, even though the seemed to be here completely on their own. "But one does not need complete agreement from an ally, merely common purpose." Now, he took an empanada. "Of course, we could let Virang think much the same."

“Keep our enemies close, divided, and pitted against each other?” she succinctly summarized the course of action Sancho was proposing.

"Something like that," he allowed as, in the distance, the dust trail of another rider could be seen. "But, perhaps, a common enemy might make for a useful ally." He rose in preparation to greet the fast-closing rider, who was just now entering sensory range. "We can only hope that Virang sees it that way," he added by way of conclusion.

A new Sorceress in town

Ah, greetings, fellow human writer!

I also maintain a catalogue of dynamc personalities to suit the needs of any narrative protocol.

Roger roger... I mean, looking forward to collaborating with you!

Regalia

A lot of familiar names in this thread!

Wish you the best in your endeavour.

Tales From the Realm of Laelilon

Sorry about my absence, I had to take a hiatus from the forum and deal with some things in the real world for a bit.

The Hourglass Order

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Event: Castaway: Back to the Wreck | Location: Waters under Mehameha

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♫

Maura sat in her submersible, attending to the situation from afar. The resistance Marz and her puppet faced indicated life on the ship. Could this be the Meerami they were warned about? She sensed powerful sonic energy, reminiscent of Ayla’s abilities, used in the attack. Their intent seemed to incapacitate rather than kill.

Time passed, and Maura heard a slight squeaking noise as a partially humanoid head crept into view of the observation window. She focused on the creature as it moved further into view. The sparse interior lighting barely illuminated the figure as it slowly crept to the centre of the viewing glass.

Maura gently increased the light, shining it on the Meerami. She waved her hand toward the creature. “Olá sou Maura,” she said, using a touch of sonic magic to help her voice carry through the submersible's shell and into the water. She held a token in her hand, signifying her friendship with the locals.

The Meerami, startled by the lights, swam back a little. The creature appeared to be a tween, covered in orange and black fish-like scales. She began to use a similar sonic attack, directing it toward the submersible.

The outer hub groaned under the force of the sonic magic, but otherwise resisted it. The old man puppet next to Maura adjusted some controls. “Make sure to compensate, Papa Joey, or the bath tub, as Marz call’s it, will be made aware to everyone's senses.” The puppet gave a perfunctory salute and continued turning the dials.

The Meerami looked puzzled at the crew through the window, watching them remain unaffected. She swam in a circle, perplexed by the situation. Taking a deep breath, her gills vibrated as water passed through them, preparing for another volley.

Maura wagged her finger side to side and shook her head, gesturing at the Meerami. Little Nicky, change the colours of the light.” The puppet obeyed, switching the lights to an alarming red. “Something more serene!” she called back, and the puppet hurriedly adjusted the lens to light green and blue. “That’s better. Hopefully, it knows we are not aggressive.” The dragon puppet marched up beside Maura as she handed it the token from the locals, then it hurried off toward the back. “Now, a slow release.”

There was a clank as the torpedo tube loaded, followed by a burst of air as the trinket was pushed outside, floating toward the Meerami. The girl inspected the token in the water, swimming around it before taking it in her hands and examining it closely.

Maura waited until the girl appeared satisfied, coming to a mutual understanding. The Meerami nodded toward Maura and gestured, swimming toward the wreck, then stopping and signalling for the submersible to follow.

"It looks like she wants us to follow her," Maura said, turning to the old man puppet. "Back into the wreck, and steady as we go." The puppet adjusted the controls, and the submersible began to move slowly toward the wreck, following the Meerami's lead. Maura watched closely, her eyes flickering between the Meerami and the path ahead.

When the submarine resurfaced in the same empty plantroom, Maura opened the hatch to see the Meerami sitting by the water's edge. She tensed up for a moment as if prepared for a fight. But she relaxed quickly, maybe it was Maura's disarming demeanour, maybe she felt more in control given the merchant girl left her soundproof defence.

"Ya all don't seem like the other bozos coming to loot tha wreck." She said with a playful smile while sitting back. "Who are ya anyway?" Her accent sounded familiar.

Maura struggled to maneuver herself into a more visible position, her rollerchair making it a bit challenging. Perhaps looking vulnerable might have a disarming effect in this situation.

“My name is Maura Mercador, a Biro of Ersand’Enise,” she said, offering her hand. Unsure if the gesture was understood, she bowed her head as a backup.

She had her own thoughts about the looters targeting the wreck, but she focused on her primary mission. “Our goal here was to protect the wreck from looters,” she sighed, “but things changed. The locals wanted items from the wreck to pay for all those ships you see around you to leave.” She gestured to the surrounding waters. “The other students volunteered to help, trying to resolve the matter.”

For myself, the locals mentioned that your people are seeking refuge beneath the wreck and were in danger. So we hoped to make contact to see how we could help you.” She smiled warmly at the Meerami girl, her gesture inviting and sincere.

The Meerami shook Maura's hand. "Ersand'Enise huh. I flew the coup from that old place years ago." The youth of the girl made her exagerations fairly transparent. "Most of the other Meerami are at these islands to hide away, but I'm just stopping by for a visit." She was trying to look cool with the way she spoke as if trying to impress the older girl in front of her.

"You're here to protect the wreck but we've been doing fine enough on our own so far. A few of those Virangish come in and we put 'em to sleep, they wake up on shore come morning like nothing ever happened. Seems something has changed out there, but not sure why we'd need you." She kept a playful demeanour in spite of her words. She seemed to be enjoying the conversation.

Maura smiled at how they handled the Virangish. "That sounds hilarious! That definitely explains the tales we've heard about your people." She was clearly amused by their antics.

"The situation out there is coming to a head. The Virangish now have a powerful slaver among their number, who seems to have turned the battle around with the other ships. Very dangerous man, stronger than the students on your ship... single-handedly stronger than all of them together." She shook her head ruefully. "You might have to fight, for real."

"Look," she gestured toward a puppet of a boy who raised his head from the submersible and brought out a map. "This island here, just south of ReTan and Nikan. It is called Longwan. It is my island." She marked the location. "If you need a place to flee, you can have refuge here." The boy walked over to the Meerami, offering the map to her.

"We recommend reconsidering your stance on not asking for help, but we won't force it. We want to be friends to your people, but if my presence has overstayed its welcome, we will leave and respect your decision." She bowed respectfully to the girl.

The Meerami stuck out her tongue and gave a wink. They both had fun with the idea of setting looters to sleep.

She accepted the map from Maura and had a look over it. "Don't think I'll need this but the others could. It would be a risky migration, kinda a last resort thing. Eeaiko scouts are pretty common around these waters, ya know." Her mood turned as the gravity of the situation was slowly dawning on her. "If what you say is true about the Virangish, we might be able to fend them off but they'll definitely know we're here."

Her eyes drifted down weighing her out the options. "We still have a job to do here. Most won't leave until its done... It seems time is short now. If the locals trust you, we could use the help."

Maura smiled at the turnaround. "What needs doing?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. "My submersible might be able to carry things or pull them along, if it's a matter of transport. We also have torpedoes if you need... you know, if required." She tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "It sounds like we need to help move things along for your people."

The Meerami didn't smile back but clapped a hand a couple of times against the metal floor. "Well, I got here after this big thing washed up on shore. But from what I heard, it was run by a bunch of Hegelans hopped up on Sirrahi tech. When the ship crashed, they took what they could and abandoned ship to get outta sight. But they left a few things behind in a hurry, some that the world ought not to know about yet." She trailed off but Maura seemed to wordlessly understand that the Meerami was referring to the nuclear reactor.

A cheerful facade was donned to continue the conversation. "We're scouring the ship and making sure they didn't leave anything behind that could cause trouble. The Meerami here are a little... proud. But I think they'll see reason and take the help."

"I'm sure we could give you some trinkets to pay off those on shore if you can help us get rid of the actually dangerous stuff. Might find some loot for yourselves too." She gave a cheeky wink.

Maura thought for a moment. "Well, if that is the goal, there could be some easier solutions." She drummed her fingers on the armrest. "You could always blow it up—that usually hides evidence. But given what we sensed in there earlier, we can understand why that wasn’t an option."

She mulled it over for a moment. "You could always put the wreck out to sea." She gestured with a pulling motion, as if tugging on an invisible rope. "We could pull it from the island and allow it to sink to the bottom of the ocean. Obviously, you can continue to work on it down there, but us humans would have great difficulty."

Maura paused in thought. "The issue would be what sank the wreck. We want to hide your involvement..." She snapped her fingers. "Kaureerah! She can sing and dance around the top. They would think the Eeiako stole the wreck."

The Meerami giggled along with Maura's first two suggestions, amused by the grand bombastic solutions and not entirely scrapping them either. "I think you're gonna want to take that up with the other Meerami first or else you might get chased up and down the ship for it." She joked then extended another hand to shake. "The names Ashileen, by the way. Don't think I mentioned."

However, the Meerami's brow furrowed when Maura implied an Eeaiko was in their number. Her eyes darted side to side as if about to disclose a secret. "Wait, you didn't bring an Eeaiko with you, did ya? Did she come to the wreck too? Some of these Meerami here have bad, bad history with them." Worry was painted on her face.

Maura shook the offered hand, thrilled to have a handshake with a real life Mermaid-Dragon. So cool! She maintained a composed smile, or at least the best she could muster.

"Kaureerah is a good girl. She is exiled from her people, and she would keep the secret. Which is a good thing, as she already knows it. The locals weren’t exactly subtle in trying to hide it." She placed a hand on her face, shaking her head side to side at their terrible attempt. "Told her to stay away. Didn’t want to put her life in danger due to a misunderstanding."

"She would probably do the idea, though. She would like to resolve this without a fight. She abhors violence."

"Yeah, it ain't exactly *our* safety I'm worried about if she comes aboard..."

Her mood turned for the better, Maura sensed the girl fronting confidence. "Anyway, I'm not exactly the lady who can give you the go-ahead to start sinking this thing. You're gonna need to ask the big boss." She jumped a little, remembering the commotion echoing through the halls before she left. "Say, you got friends here, don't you? They're probably enjoying a nice nap at the moment, we oughta go tell the other Meerami that your friends."

"We have a puppet with them at the moment. Is there something we can do to let your friend know we come in peace? A word or symbol they can draw?" Maura questioned, hoping for an easy solution to the problem. "Interpretative dance may be difficult otherwise."

Ashileen seemed distant for a moment as she focused on sensing the fight on the ship. She has expected the scene of a bunch of students snoozing in a hallway, what she perceived instead caused her eyes to widen.

She began to get up with haste, not sparing a second more with idleness. "We need to go, now. If you have a puppet, try to keep your friends safe with it. I can help you navigate this place while you focus on that."

Maura blinked for a moment as Ashi started to slither away. She took one look at the vessel, as she instructed the puppets back into their piloting positions, then she began to roll herself through the vessel, making it more accessible with the gift as she went as she followed her new friend.

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The Hourglass Order

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Event: Ransom Demand - Chapter 3| Location: Belleville

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♫

Oksana for her investigate created a masterful crude drawing of a girl with one leg, pointy ears, and shoulder-length hair. She decided too start showing this parchment around to try to find some clues and answers to finding the one-legged woman.

Oksana walked around with her piece of paper and asked the same question: "have you seen this woman?" - in her own unique way. At first, she had precious little luck, but then, suddenly, a hit!

A twitchy-looking aberration addict perked up. "Oh *ta*! Luuchan see her! *Yr ash* lady, luuca?" He nodded excitedly.

Oksana smiled bright and wide at a positive confirmation of the suspect. She took a hold of the addict’s hand, as she tugged on it. "Bring me to lady, tak"

The man - Luuchan - blinked. "Oh, well... I have no good... yexon?" He grimaced and tapped the side of his head. "This girl look small different." He glanced at her coin purse.

Oksana was unclear what he was saying, though it appeared he had a marble loose. She however understood the universal of sign of people being interested in money. It was a theme in Belleville in particular as well. She took a coin out as she pointed again to the picture, "Bring to One-Legged Lady?"

Luuchan nodded eagerly, reaching for the coin. "Oh, this girl look different." He pursed his lips. "Different... yr ash." He motioned cutting off a right leg instead of a left. Then, he rose with a twicthy sort of energy, dusted himself off, and gestured to Oksana. "You come. You follow! I take you there." He began skipping.

Oksana turned the page around, so it shone through the other side, so the leg is the right way around, and nodded for future reference. She followed the twitchy man.

Luuchan merrily led her through the streets of Mudville, pointing things out along the way that went totally unheard. Partway through, when he noticed her quietness, he paused and tapped one of his pointed ears. "You no can?'

"I know a little" She nodded her head as she replied about being able to understand him through the language barrier. She pointed to her lips for emphasis.

"Ah!" he replied. "luuca!" He made a thumbs-up gesture and they continued on their way. Before long, they were right in the shadow of the white walls. "This girl," he said, trying to clearly enunciate his words, "She live here, in a small house. We almost here. Many who like darkling come here." He paused for a moment, asking her a hesitant question. "You like?"

"Duckling is Retannese speciality" Oksana made a gesture of a chef kiss, "We hunt for food, or from herds. Duckling rare." She pondered for a moment, "The taste good." She nodded.

Luuchan's eyes widened. "You hunt...darkling?" He looked fearful for a moment. "Those ones... be too dangerous." He shook his head. "Wow." Then, they were in front of a ratty-looking bunkhouse - just about the worst building this close to the city. "She was live in here." He stood back to let Oksana walk through. It was clear that he was not going to enter the place himself.

Oksana approached the door as she inspected it. With a finger bent, she knocked on it with a ratta-tat-tat. She waited to see if there was an answer before she attempted the door herself.

For a moment, there was no answer. The building was clearly large and there was a distinct reek emanating from it. Then, suddenly, a young woman bungled up in rags pushed the door aside and brushed rather rudely past Oksana. It yawned open and the inside beckoned…

Oksana entered the building that smelled of Tommy on a good day, as she hoped that she may be successful in finding the one-legged woman her picture depicted.

Immediately, she found two large women standing in her path: one yasoi and the other eeaiko. To the side was a third: an older human behind a battered wooden desk. A labyrinth of narrow wooden hallways and curtained doorways branched off in every direction and, in the distance, was a rickety set of stairs set against the building's rear brick wall.

The crone looked up and spoke to Oksana, for whatever good it might do. Her eyes flicked evaluatively up and down the young arrival. "Ten Jacks for a bed," she announced, in a voice that *just* about managed not to sound bored. "Five for a space. One incantor for your own room. No men overnight." She blinked and regarded the newcomer expectantly.

Oksana displayed her picture toward them, and hoped they understood her request, and she offered a coin to help sweeten the deal.

"That a girl with one leg?" the old woman rasped, narrowing her eyes.

[color=amethyst]"Eet ees, me'em. Joost lyke -"[/color]

The elder held up a hand in a shushing gesture. "We know 'er. She was here for..." She paused to consider, glancing at the other two. "Roundabout a week."

[color=amethyst]"E jaunkie,"[/color] the eeaiko confirmed.

The yasoi took a breath to speak but, at a sharp look from her superior, pursed her lips and said nothing. "She left a couple days ago," the old woman concluded. "It was strange. She'd already paid for the night, but I haven't seen her since." She shook her head. "You girls?"

[color=amethyst]"Noo, me'em."[/color]

The yasoi nibbled at her lower lip and hesitated, but then shook her head. "Not that one, no," she admitted.

Oksana found it difficult to understand the Eeiako girl’s pronunciation. It was as if she had a piece of meat stuck between her teeth and was very animated in her attempt to dislodge it. Thankfully, most communication was through body language. The elder seemed to be the authority here, and the Yasoi girl acted as if she might know something. It seemed like they were attempting to protect her, so anything hostile would go badly in this situation.

"Art bad, One leg, Yasoi." she said, as she hopped on one leg. She held up the piece of paper and directed it towards the three, particularly the Yasoi girl, in an insistent and encouraging manner. "Please, she can help friend." She rocked her arms in a nurturing manner, her eyes pleading with them. Shaking her head in a sullen manner, she put another coin on the table. "Anything, need to save."

The yasoi woman grimaced at the coin. "I don't think you'll -"

"Well, I've told you that she's gone," the elder interrupted. Seeming to cue in that Oksana was hard of hearing, she waited until the youth had twisted her way. "But if you're willing to pay that much, you can go look." She gestured down the hall. "Just don't disturb anyone too much. Hmm?"

The eeaiko's eyes flicked between the other three women. [color=amethyst]"Shoold saumwaun go weeth her?"[/color] she prodded, and the old woman nodded. "Yes," she agreed, "But not you. Nobody understands a word that comes outta your mouth, girl."

The eeaiko's eyes went to the ground and she nodded sadly. [color=amethyst]"Auf coorse, me'em."[/color]

"Selitte, you go with her. Make sure she behaves!"

It was at about that moment that a pair of raggedy women, their eyes wide and bloodshot like aberration junkies, staggered through the door, one laughing uncontrollably. "Saurah!" shouted the old woman, and the eeaiko leapt into action, gently restraining them for going any further. They stumbled back, one reaching wondrously for the eeaiko's cheek and the glancing around as if she had no idea where she was. "This isn't a charity, ladies!" the old woman could be heard saying. "It costs money to run and the church doesn't give us a Benny." She held out a hand expectantly.

Swaying there, holding onto each other, they looked at her blankly and began laughing. Selitte's eyes searched for Oksana's. "You wanna go look now?" She motioned with her head down the hallway. There were the stairs there as well and this place looked to have at least three floors. "I can show you where she stayed."

"Selitte, don't you go telling her any of your crazy stories!" the old woman shouted, in between trying to wrangle the two new arrivals.

Selitte's eyes flciked between her and Oksana and she nodded obediently. “Of course not, Mama Cacci.”

Oksana thanked them for their generosity with a light bow as she was led away by the Yasoi. She smiled brightly, feeling she was making progress, but the smile had the unfortunate effect of opening her nostrils to further invasion by the strong smells of the place. She hoped she was being led to where the one-legged girl stayed, and perhaps away from the old madam, so they could speak more freely.

As they moved out of the room, Oksana began to ask, “You look as if you have much to say,” nodding towards her guide in an encouraging manner.

The walls were thin things, made of curtains and anchoring planks: designed to be flexible and resistant to the sudden depredations of the mad, desperate, or vicious - designed to be easily replaceable. If Oksana couldn't avoid the stench, she couldn't avoid the sight, either. It was dim and hazy and claustrophobic, with cell-like 'rooms' marked with coloured strips of cloth and symbols. At least three people leapt out at them only to scamper back in to their little cells once they saw it was just Selitte with some new arrival. The eyes of a few went to Oksana's finer articles - of which she did not have very many - and a couple went to her sword, which usually gave them pause. She was fresh meat, they must've assumed, and worthy of evaluation.

The one thing that she *could* at least dodge was the sounds: mad laughter from a couple of rooms, loud sex from others; at least one woman talking to herself in a desperate, unsettled voice and another was singing - quite beautifully. From another rose voices in argument and, when they spilled out, entangled in a vicious hair-pulling, skin-gouging fight, Selitte separated them and sent both reeling back to their rooms, drowsy with Chemical magic.

She took a little time to let the place make its impression on Oksana and for Oksana to make an impression on her. "I have much to say," she said, turning to face the Vossoriyan. "But you don't hear." She pointed to her ears and shook her head. "Do you?"

Oksana nodded her head. “Little,” she said, then mimed the opening and closing of her mouth. “See. Feel.” She placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Vibrations. Though, Avince not best.” She shook her head sadly. “Will do my best to listen well.”

“Man said ducklings are bought here,” she gestured to the rooms. “Occupants are quackers. Aberatsiya?” She questioned, inquiring about the state of the others present.

For a moment, Selitte suppressed a giggle. "Whew," she managed. "Whew. Ahah." She shook her head. "Darklings," she repeated, trying to exaggerate her pronunciation a bit. "'Dark', not 'duck'." Her mirth soon settled, however, and her face became sober. "I'd say three quarters of the people here are addicts." She shook her head. "Maybe more." She swallowed. "The woman you're looking for seemed to be, too..."

She paused and her voice lowered, not that Oksana would've noticed very well. "But I don't think she was." She shook her head. "She talked to herself a little bit. She stumbled in late at night." Selitte pursed her lips. "I remember her well - in the before time, I had to be good at remembering details - she was short for a yasoi, brown hair, mousy face, missing her whole right leg, even some of her hip, I think. She hobbled a lot, like it was a new injury." She regarded Oksana steadily. "But she never spoke with the others any more than she had to. She never caused even a bit of trouble." Selitte gestured about. "And everyone here causes at least some." She bit her lower lip. "I swear, one night, I saw her hurrying back and she was *fast*, not like she'd just lost a leg." They were at the end of the hall, and light streamed in from a barred window and through the skeletal staircase. From a nearby room came loud swearing, and the walls wavered. "I think she was a spy."

Oksana nodded as she followed the best she could. 'Dark' made more sense than 'duck' as well. She paused as she thought of a response. “A man, Jaxan, she with him?” She indicated a possible companion. “He sought to do charity work, went missing. Last seen with her, maybe.” In truth, she had nothing indicating this, but perhaps tying something together might help.

The yasoi shook her head. Then, she furrowed her brow and considered. "Well... I saw her with a man once, in the street: very tall." She paired it with a gesture. "White hair." She shrugged. "Nice clothes, but I don't know his name..." She glanced about, ever alert in this place. "She disappeared a couple nights later."

Oksana nodded in affirmation. “That would be Jaxan. She must be with him.”She paused as she tried to formulate her next question. “Do you know where she goes? Where can she go?” She circled a finger for their current location, then gestured toward the madam. “She said no man.”

"Mama Cacci thinks my idea is crazy she's a yan - not a soldier and she doesn't know Tarlonese like I do." Senitte shook her head. "She was telling the truth, though. The one legged girl paid for the night and then left, suddenly, maybe because of that man." She shook her head. "Their body language when they spoke: it was not a rich man helping a poor girl or paying her for sex." She shook her head. "They were equals. As far as I know, she never brought him in here. That was the only time I saw them together." She paused to consider. "We have to be careful how we bring it up, but we should talk with Saurah."

Oksana faced a hurdle when it came to talking to the Eeaiko, which she shared with the Yasoi girl. “I cannot hear her,” she said, indicating her ear and then her lips, to simulate the potential mismatch between the two of them. “I need your help.”

Senitte reached out with both hands to take Oksana's. "I am happy to help, suunei." Wasting little time, she led the Vossoriyan back towards the front.

"Not there," called Mama Cacci, "Eh?" She shook her head apologetically. "She was until... the day before yesterday, even -"

"Mama Cacci," Senitte interrupted, "Can I borrow Saurah for just a minute?"

The old woman shot the young one a crusty glare. "Oh, and we just leave the front unguarded?" An aberration addict stumbled out into the warm afternoon air, waving drunkenly at the reception area. Saurah waved back and managed a smile. "Sounds like a great idea! Got any more winners in there?" She tapped her head mockingly.

"Literally just a minute," Senitte promised. "And we'll be right outside."

Saurah, sensing that it was important, nodded, eyes darting towards Oksana. "I'm counting," Mama Cacci growled and, true to her word, she began.

They scrambled outside. [color=amethyst]"Okee. Yoo waunt too knoow ebaut te waun-leg goorl?"[/color] Saurah asked, glancing between the other two. [color=amethyst]"She went aut toowaurd te gete aun te nyght shee deesauppeered."[/color] The eeaiko pointed to the distant Seagate and the white walls that it guarded. [color=amethyst]"Baut Eye stend gaurd autsyde e laut."[/color] She nodded, hoping for acknowledgement of understanding. [color=amethyst]"Eye theenk tere ees e secoond waun, weeth red herr. Shee waus -"[/color]

The door swung open. "Fun's over, ladies," came Mama Cacci's voice. "Place doesn't run itself!"

[color=amethyst]"There aur twoo!"[/color] Saurah quickly blurted, backing inside.

"She says the one-legged girl went towards the gate the night she disappeared. She thinks there's a second girl around, with -"

"Senitte!" came an angry voice. "Move it or lose it!"

She ducked back inside with an anguished face. "Red hair! There are two!" With that, she was gone, and Oksana stood alone on the street. Across from her lay St. Vitus' church, a shelter by the same name, and a Red Pentact. Further up the road was a diagonal intersection with the Searoad and the white walls of Ersand'Enise behind the Seagate.

Oksana looked at the drawing and made some alterations to the parchment. She drew a second figure of a girl with brown hair, with the missing leg on the opposite side. She never thought there would be so many one-legged Yasoi; perhaps some of them might do it intentionally to emulate their fallen goddess. The thought disturbed her, but she knew others who had done worse for less motivation. She began to head towards the Sea Gate, pondering which location would make the most sense to check out next.

Along the way she spotted Xiuyang and Seviin, as she moved to meet up with them.

Seviin slowed to a stop, and Xiuyang followed suit. Like her companion, she groomed herself, but more out of a need to self-soothe than to look her best. She had a look at their destination, with some apprehension in her eyes. Then, those eyes caught Oksana, and hope returned. "You found the place!" she chirped. "Learn something?" she waited eagerly for an answer. "We should stick together. It feels like a storm is brewing."

"Oira, suunei!" Seviin waved Oksana over, hurrying up to her, and Xiuyang was full of questions as well. The yasoi nodded at her assertion and then made a point of facing Oksana as she spoke. "We learned much. This matter is not simple. There are two people missing and I am guessing they are connected." She glanced at Xiuyang, equally eager for Oksana's response.

In the background lay the church and the Red Pentact. Though they worked with all sorts of injuries and maladies there, it appeared focused on addiction treatment. A handful of Dordian nuns hurried by, each sparing a brief but respectful nod in Seviin's direction. The priestess nodded back and made the sign of the Pentad.

Oksana waved to the pair as she joined them. She held up the crudely drawn picture, depicting a red-haired Vyshta girl and a brown-haired one. "Two of them," she confirmed with a nod. "Seen with Jaxan. They disappeared last night, last seen headed to the gate." She pointed towards the Seagate in the distance. In a single sentence, she distilled everything she knew.

Xiuyang also nodded towards the two nuns. If she was not one of them, she respected their work—and her work often coincided with theirs, at least. Then, there was Oksana's reply. "Two?!" Xiuyang replied incredulously. "You're sure?" What, was he gathering them all? She kept that particular absurdity to herself, though, and hoped to any gods that would listen that was not the case.

Here, though, she was met with a crossroads, and seemed uncertain. "I think... should we still ask around? If Jaxan returned to Ersand'Enise, why has no one seen him? We don't know his state of mind or what he intends." She spoke while facing Oksana, but then she turned to Seviin. Xiuyang was apprehensive. Gone was the confident jokester everyone was used to. Was it because she'd ditched the mask? Did the persona follow suit?

Seviin blinked, trying to process the information. She blinked again. So there were *two* one-legged women leading Jaxan into Ersand'Enise and they all disappeared last night...

She furrowed her brow. "But we were already looking for Jaxan last night and he's been missing for at least *three* days." She glanced Xiuyang's way. "And the one-legged woman *we* know of - Thantra - has been gone for the same amount of time."

"And she had... red hair?" remarked Xiuyang with a hint of uncertainty.

Seviin nodded animatedly. "Yes!" she exclaimed, pointing to both her and Oksana's drawings. "Just like here!" She nibbled her lower lip and her eyes were wide with an excited sort of thinking, as if it were all coming together. "She mentioned an 'apple seller' - a Tarlonese agent - and that's who me and you saw!" She gestured between herself and Xiuyang.

"...and a childhood friend."

Seviin's eyes slid to Oksana's drawing and so did her partner's. "Another Tarlonese woman with one leg..." The priestess shook her head. "I don't think this is a coincidence." She turned to regard the Red Pentact. "And there was an aberration incident here three days ago!" She regarded the other two.

Xiuyang nodded grimly. "It was info from the Colas, but we've found no reasons to doubt it: Jaxan can probably create aberrations, and it's likely he did so in there." She regarded the building in question with the polar opposite of Seviin's enthusiastic energy.

Seviin nodded, her excitement quickly overwhelmed by the sobering realization of just what sort of incident they were talking about. She came down a bit from the eureka of her momentary high.

"Oksana, are you sure that you didn't... misinterpret?" She furrowed her brow. "If this other Tarlonese girl disappeared just a day or two ago and she was with the apple seller..."

Oksana mumbled something in Vossoriyan, clearly displeased about something. She sighed, deciding to start from the beginning as she pointed at the girl with brown hair in the drawing. "She’s been there for week," she said, indicating the building she had come from. "Gone for two days but still paid up. Last seen walking towards there," she continued, pointing towards the Seagate. "She was seen talking with a nice clothes, white-haired yasoi man." She pointed at the drawing again, emphasizing, "There are two," and then gestured between the two girls in the picture.

"...Seviin," Xiuyang began shakily. "Jaxan had... brown hair, right? I'm sure that's what the parents told us..."

"I... think so. Yes!" Seviin replied with a nod. She twisted to regard Oksana. "This one, I think." She pointed to the brown-haired yasoi drawing. "She was with a white-haired man and he's a Tarlonese recruiter." She pointed to the other. "This one is Thantra. She went missing at the same time as Jaxan and she worked right here." she pointed to the Red Pentact beside them. "He can generate aberrations - probably a timewalker - and there was an incident here just before he disappeared."

She shook her head and twisted towards the Red Pentact, motioning with her chin. "I've volunteered there." Her eyes flicked between the other two. "Any good reason not to go in?"

Seviin's eyes did not evade anything. They took it in, they made their judgement, and she said nothing but for, "Then let us go."

Oksana was silent, seemingly already on board with the plan. Seviin took the lead and brushed the curtains aside, walking into the makeshift receiving room of the tent. It was mere moments before a nun in the robes of a Sister of the Unconquered Sun brushed past, wheeling in a young man strapped to a stretcher and thrashing.

A Brother of the Sunset was using some rather advanced binding magic on an old human man. A *Sister* of the Sunset was feeding a teenage yasoi girl who appeared utterly listless. She opened her mouth when prodded and swallowed, sitting there on a bed and staring blankly.

Others had various minor injuries, ailments, and issues, but the majority were aberration-addled. Most of them were quite ragged, as one might expect, but a surprising number looked as if they had been respectable enough folk before their recent trip here. Some were even human.

Then, there was a large East Severan woman blocking their way. She'd emerged from the doorway into the hospital proper. Her gaze flicked between the three women before falling upon Seviin. "Sister Taxoiya."

"Mother Grace." The tall yasoi bowed at the waist, her knees bending slightly too.

"Are you here to help? Are these..." She evaluated the other two before returning her gaze to Seviin. "Volunteers?"

Oksana allowed the other two to do the talking with their silver tongues and keen ears as she inspected the various people present.

A thought crossed her mind: what was a life when you’re no longer truly living? She looked at some of the blank faces around her. She wondered if she would end up like that, deprived of Eshiran’s mercy and the chance to meet her ancestors in the afterlife. Back home, the responsibility fell to the family and then the tribe to make these choices—those who loved and knew the individual best.

Seviin grimaced knowingly. "We won't take much of your time, Mother Gracie, she began, "but my friends are correct. There was an incident. Two of the people involved have gone missing: a yasoi woman named Thantra - she had red hair and was missing a leg - and a yasoi man named Jaxan'suul'doridax. His parents are -"

"Filthy rich and looking for him." The abbess shook her head and crossed her arms. Her eyes flicked between the three girls. "Are they paying you?"

Seviin did not notice it, for she was entirely focused on her conversation with Mother Gracie. The others might have, however. At least two the patients stiffened at Jaxan's name, perking up and looking their way. The spoon a nurse was holding bumped against the listless woman's closed lips.

As Oksana observed the others, she noticed how they perked up as something drew their attention. She looked around, questioning if someone had rung a dinner bell to cause such a response. Then it happened again, causing them to be alert like salivating dogs. She realized they were likely overhearing the conversation about Jaxan.

She approached as a nurse had difficulty feeding a listless woman, the broth just sitting in the woman’s mouth and drooling out a little. Oksana moved forward, tipped the woman's head back slightly, and stimulated her throat to encourage swallowing. The woman swallowed gently, downing the broth. Oksana encouraged the nurse to step aside and indicated for her to take over.

Once settled with the woman, Oksana continued to feed her as she began to ask a question. “Jack-son?” she queried, though the response was muted. She attempted again to pronounce, “Jax-” and already there was a response.

"That's Maribet. She'd not talk since the incident," said a hegelan volunteer, mixing up her tenses like most of them did. She shook her head. "He stab 'er throated and it's heal, but the damage is deeper, methinks." She tapped her temple.

The yasoi girl was looking at Oksana, though, and the Vossoriyan tried again. "Jax-" Maribet blinked. She reached out, seized the newcomer's hand, and there were thoughts by the dozens flashing through her large golden-brown eyes. Her lips quivered and she looked pained. "Jaxan," she interrupted, her voice barely a squeak. She rose, pulling Oksana with her, and began moving. Her eyes were wide and bugged out and she looked like a mess. She glanced back beseechingly at Oksana and coughed, reaching up to massage her throat as if it hurt - as if its very abilities were unexpected and confusing. She breathed a few times.

"Mother Gracie!" shouted the hegelan, her bright blond hair bouncing in curls as she hurried off. "Maribet's just talk!"

"It... still do not feel... right." she coughed again. She pressed a hand to her upper chest. "He take it." Oksana could feel her trembling. "Follow. I know where he be."

Oksana was not strictly with them. One of the patients had her by the hand - had it been that girl who looked listless? - and was leading her out onto the street. Seviin's eyes followed. "I... don't think we've been given a choice!"

Two separate leads, both pointing in the same direction. What had come unraveled before - what had tossed them separately to the four winds - was now bringing them back together. If Dorothea had lost the trail, all three seemed to agree that they were well rid of her. If Lunara was with her, then perhaps the fiery Palaparese might be the only one among them able to exercise something like a restraining influence.

The boys were about somewhere as well but, if this was the lead that would bring the investigators, finally, to Jaxan and Thantra, then they had either fallen off of the pace or would come upon it separately, of their own volition.

Yet, Maribet, who had come back to the world as suddenly as she had left it after three listless days, who had departed with such haste and insistence that the nurses had been unable to muster anyone to stop her, continued in that vein. It was clear that, if the trio did not match her urgency, they would lose her trail. "I shall look after her!" Seviin shouted back at the sisters of the Red Pentact. "We shall return her safely!"

They did not have so very far to go. Cutting across the Searoad with its bustling commerce and vigilant guards, and skirting the northern edge of Fascino, they found themselves in Miller's Hook. They found themselves at the townhomes. Maribet, momentarily confused, searched about. Reflexively, she reached up and stroked her throat. She shook her head as if to clear it. "This!" She pointed to the house at the very end of the row and began walking toward it.

Seviin's arm shot out to bar the girl from going any further. She reached out with her senses and, inside, were a one-legged woman and an unconscious man... but there were two others. She was so focused, however, that she did not notice the third, as the crowd swirled and parted, Oksana and Xiuyang beheld two hulking skuggvars, and Abdel.

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The Hourglass Order

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Event: Ransom Demand - Chapter 1 & 2| Location: Belleville

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♫

Oksana found herself pairing up with Captain Skugvaar who had a finger on the pulse of the investigation, along with Little Johann, and Niallus Scarlet, accompanied by the two swamp dragons. Unable to pronounce their names, she settled on the merry monikers of Masha and Misha.

Deciding to keep her distance from the group, Oksana reasoned hanging back made sense as it made her look inconspicuous, rather than accompanying them directly as part of a motley crew. Besides, she could easily keep track of them, as they stood out like sore thumbs like this, with many people giving them a wide berth. Opting for a natural approach to gathering information, she engaged in routine inquiries while sought property in the area.

Her first stop was the Buudvuud restaurant. The aroma of the food assaulted her senses as she looked hungrily through the shutters at the wide selection before her. Her eyes settled on a juicy, cheese-filled parcel topped with melted cheese, oogling how the strands of between the slices stretched like long thin strings. The appearance and the smell definitely beat anything from Vossoriya as she bartered with the teen behind the counter using the Cheburashka Jamboi method of diligently counting out bennies in a slow manner until he was satisfied with the amount. Taking her prize, she eagerly took a big bite, only to find her mouth filled with steaming hot cheese, almost scalding herself if she hadn’t quickly drawn back. She blew gently on it as she devoured it outside the shop.

While eating, she noticed others looking in her direction, speaking in hushed tones. Originally thought it was about her, but soon realized they were addressing the shop. Approaching a nearby couple, she inquired about the food. Though not understanding their gestures entirely, she gathered that the shop was deemed unsavory. It seemed to be a bad place with bad people. Despite the service being decent, the teen boy was that not terrible, only greasy looking, she asked if there were alternative places she could visit in the future, but there was no such luck as they muttered something and left. It seemed this particular establishment had a monopoly on tasty cheesy slices.

Continuing her inquiries, Oksana asked about the local area, focusing on important details like whose palms needed greasing and who and where to watch out for. She encountered varying responses, from quiet reluctance to share information, to attempts to extract wealth from her. Some were stubborn in their stance, others were eager to express their opinions to an audience. A lot of locals expressed sentiments against refugees, a sentiment she had encountered before in her past, but noted they made it clear that she was more welcome than others, with comments like ‘knife-ears’ presumably directed at Yasoi. When attempting to speak to the yasoi, she found them less understanding and suspicious, but managed to tease out some names to watch out for due to recent negative experienced. A big player was the Rollers, a group of Yasoi who made a lot of dough, and renown for their beatings. With the indicated hand gestures, she assumed the name came from their rolling pins used in baking. They seemed to have a connection with a group called the Paws, a group of human animal lovers who behaved similarly to their namesake, known for being woof in their dealings. Across town, there were the Boozers, known for frequenting beer halls and causing trouble as they grew rowdy due to alcohol.

She discovered that the Flying Lion had a notorious reputation for various incidents recently, finding herself surprised as she couldn't recall any disturbances outside of her own bedroom whilst she stayed at the tavern. Delving deeper, she uncovered that the establishment had undergone a transformation, previously known as the Crying Lion before being acquired by the Arslan-Mercador company. Intriguingly, the confusion was because locals had taken it upon themselves to repurpose horse stables near the port, laying the stonewalls as a foundation for a new establishment painted in goluboy hues, aptly named the Cryin’ Cyan. Its proximity to the port allowed it to serve as a hub for backdoor activities, including under-the-table jobs and smuggling. It was also a hotbed of political activism amongst the yasoi, with some striving to amass funds to topple Tarlonese dominance, whilst those on the bottom rungs of society were only out for themselves.

During her investigation, Oksana was surprised to hear talk of Penny, her one-legged friend, as her incident during Mano e Mano challenge has led to urban myths that she is rumoured to be making visits to Belleville, allegedly for summoning aberrations over the town, including a recent large one at the tavern.

Eventually, she caught up with the others after receiving a tethered tug signal from Captain Skugvaar. They surrounded a property where the owner of the missing finger was located. Oksana suggested she could knock on the door with the finger and offer to bind it back on the hand, though her idea was not popular with the others. Instead, she was sent around the back of the building and to blend in, with the goal to catch any escapees by surprise. She followed the instructions, leaving negotiations to the experts in the motley crew.

Oksana, who had snuck around back of the property, was left with little to do but track the movements of the people inside through their energy signatures. Presently, however, she noticed a small silhouette appear in one of the windows. It was a child - a rather cross-looking child. She sat by the window pouting with her arms crossed until she noticed Oksana out there. Her eyes widened in fear and she appeared about to bolt.

Oksana grew somewhat bored as she found herself relegated to waiting at the back, her presence seemingly startling a little girl who promptly fled at the sight of her face. Puzzled by the reaction, Oksana pondered whether her appearance was truly intimidating, though she conceded that her distinctive face markings might be unusual for the locals. To occupy herself, she decided to while away the time by sculpting a miniature elk out of ice along the short wall at the rear. As she worked, she noticed another figure inside the house, but her attention was soon diverted when the little girl reappeared. Offering a friendly wave in an attempt to reassure her, Oksana returned to her sculpting, focusing on the delicate details of her creation.

Around back, however, Oksana's efforts - aside from frostburning the shrubbery, began to bear fruit. The child smiled back but didn't wave, glancing warily over her shoulder into an area of the house that Oksana couldn't see. She continued sitting on one of those puffy yasoi-style teacup chairs, glancing over every once in a while and occasionally saying something in rapid Mycormish.

Finally, the girl grinned and sprung off the couch. She was small and blonde a bit on the chubby side. She scampered over to the rear door and drew a little sad face into the frost that now coated the window. She opened the door just a peep. "Don't come closer, 'cause I don't know if you're bad or not," she warned. "I'll scream if you do." Still, she was clearly curious.

Oksana didn't catch what the girl said, but she noticed the sadness reflected in her frosty expression. Offering a sympathetic smile, Oksana returned her focus to her task. She employed a touch of binding magic on the shrubbery, coaxing it to sprout little offshoots which she deftly snapped off with a pinch of kinetic magic. Using these, she began crafting a miniature home for the elk, fashioning the offshoots into trees and using frost to mimic the appearance of snow. As the elements came together, she created a charming scene. "My home," she said softly, gesturing proudly to the completed display.

The child was enraptured, watching Oksana build. "Wow, you're really good at magic." She tilted her head admiringly, holding back a question. "I guess you're from a really cold place." She blinked. "Do you go to Ersandenize?"

Oksana focused intently on the girl's lips, trying to follow her words. She tapped her ear and offered a smile. "Me Deaf," she explained, gesturing to herself. "Yes, cold place, Vossoriya. Lot of snow. Brrrr!" She mimicked shivering, wrapping her arms around herself. "From St Yuri, come to Ersandrise, seek to refuge. Bad people at home, fled them." With gentle hands, she moved the elk out of the scene and away from the snow.

"I'm Lalomen. How about you?" the girl was asking, the door having opened a crack wider. Then, before Oksana could answer, it slammed shut and the child stumbled back, alarmed. A yasoi woman hurtled into view, radiating fear with each step. "Malo! Pathiir yil elaz!" She scooped the girl up. "Tuum'a dax. Tuum'a toil tox pa Colas!" Malo! Away from there! They're bad! They're working with the Colas!

Lalomen looked upon Oksana with horror as her mother spirited her away. Then, the woman stopped, realizing that she was surrounded. The enemy was at the front door and had snuck around the back, trying to bait her child. "Mama, elei'ya weix?" Mom, what's wrong?

She was placed on the ground. "Malo'semprii, pa Colas el'liic pa yaniixa. Eluumen seldii tuum muul luum'o ilac rey nax seldii tuum duun'it juu stiip joila aluu rey moi'aluu." Malo precious, the Colas paid these yaniis. I think they want our money and I think they will try to hurt your father and uncle.

The girl was panicking, crying. "Mama..."

"Yax elden, semprii." She whirled, drawing to capacity, and turned her fury on this woman who had come to harm her daughter. "Mama westa'l pa dax lelan. Joi yash juu let'o doin dain. Eluumen felix'al joi duul zoap stii." Be brave, little one. Mama will distract the bad woman. You run to our safe place. I'll meet you in a few minutes.

There was a sudden burst of panic, as the mother seemed to scoop up the daughter as the conversation continued in another language, Oksana remained attentive, though she couldn't understand the words. One term caught her attention, the Rollers. She glanced around, scanning the area as if on guard. "Rollers bad, they take dough and beat. Stay away from Rollers," she warned, looking toward the pair. Pointing at the sad face in the frost, she added, "No cry, we brave."

Somewhat ironically, Oksana's words fell upon deaf ears. A mother had seen people come to her door with honeyed words, her brother-in-law's severed finger, and then threats. She had seen another sneak in from the side, in the direction of the neighbour's house. Finally, to her horror, one - a 'nonthreatening' woman - had slipped around back and was tempting her daughter into opening the door! "You get away my child!" she screamed, "Cola bitch!!!" She was not so much of a mage, but she had raw power in the Gift. She burst out the rear door behind a massive wave of kinetic force.

Oksana swung her cloak around like a makeshift shield, freezing it and reinforcing it with her own kinetic magic. The shield's shape deflected the gust of wind around her as she crouched behind it. "shcho za diavol," she exclaimed loudly, followed by a rapid-fire response of [colour=dcf3ff]""Ne vykorystovuyte taku nebezpechnu mahiyu, khtos' mozhе postrazyaty." She paused for a moment, gathering her senses. "Stop! No hurt to people." Lowering the cloak so her eyes could peer over it, she observed the situation more closely, checking to see if anyone was caught in the crossfire.

Oksana, meanwhile, was dealing with a somewhat different sort of threat. She'd been pushed back a bit, past the yard an through the fence, and the yasoi woman had rushed out to occupy that space, interposing herself between Oksana and Lalomen. The little girl came scurrying out and ran past, into an alley. "You no hurt me girl!" the mother screamed. "You fuck off!" She gathered energy for a blinding blast of light.

It seemed that Oksana had stumbled upon an angry parent, and she was no stranger to dealing with such situations and their overprotective nature. She couldn't fathom even laying a finger on the girl; if anything, she would protect the girl herself if the situation warranted it. All she could imagine was that the boys had somehow messed up, and now there was an overly defensive family involved. Knowing when to withdraw, she realized there was no role for her here.

"No harm, I'll leave," she said, ducking behind cover as she sensed tension rising again, slowly stepping backward under her cloak away from the property. "Just misunderstandings here." She had no appetite for a fight, but the same couldn't be said for the other party; she knew she would need to keep her guard up.

Oksana, meanwhile, had recognized that something had gone very wrong. The girl's mother stood there, brimming with energy and shouting at her to leave in yasoi as she backed off. It had all been a misunderstanding: a terrible misunderstanding. The child ran. She ran out of view of her cautiously-advancing mother. She ran and then, suddenly, she tripped and fell. She landed hard on the ground and she did not rise.

Oksana blinked in shock as she saw the little girl on the floor, not moving. What kind of cruelty is this? She cursed under her breath, “Zvernit' uvahu na dytinu,” she stood up, pointing towards where the little girl lay. “Girl hurt!”

A little girl getting hurt on her watch was unforgivable. There were a couple of ways to deal with this, but only a big gesture would probably work. She raised her hands in a surrender posture as she indicated again. “Binder. Girl safety first, I'll go.” There was also a plan B, but she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The girl's mother cried out and began running there. She made no move to stop Oksana, for she had sensed no draw from her: nothing that could've caused her daughter's mishap, and she knew the word 'binder'. It was a major leap of faith on her part. When Oksana got there, it was unclear what had happened. The girl had fallen as if her foot had caught on something, and her hands had failed to shoot out and stop her fall. She had gone unconscious on impact with the ground due to head trauma.

When Johann asked him to check up on Oksana, Niallus nodded "I'll get her, hopefully she hasn't got into too much trouble." once outside, he walked off into the direction where Oksana went.

Upon arriving. It seems a lot had happen, he didn't want to jump to conclusions. Standing next to the Girls mother, "We are about to go."he said to her politly. Then asked her, "What can you tell me aboutthe resistance?"

Once the mother had backed down, Oksana swiftly approached, her heart racing with concern. She carefully tended to the child, giving her a once-over before moving her into a more suitable position for a thorough inspection. There was a clear graze on the head, bleeding profusely from where she had hit it hard against a stone. With gentle hands, Oksana applied a cloth to the wound, then began using her binding magic to seal it. This was the easy part; the face tended to bleed a lot, but it was the risk of concussion that concerned her most. She began to reduce the swelling, little by little, taking her time to ensure the best outcome.

Anxiously, the mother watched as Oksana tended to her daughter. Did her rage cause this? Had she neglected her precious little girl? Her mind was flooded with thoughts and doubts. Suddenly, she sensed a presence behind her, and instinctively went to cover her ear, her fear palpable. Whirling around, she spotted Niallius approaching from the side of the house. Acting on instinct, she positioned herself between him and her daughter, a mix of protectiveness for her child and silent pleading in her eyes. Though his words were foreign to her, she understood the meaning of resistance. “Velluum! Yim joi ezei,” she responded, her voice trembling. “Ilac’se mitoip fo hax’olop vel. Temoip’hoam seno stiip. Dax’aspaa qeil’pol. Poiret?”

Meanwhile, Oksana finished her ministrations and breathed a sigh of relief. Turning her attention to Niallius and the mother, she noticed the woman looking intimidated. Furrowing her brow at Niallius, she silently questioned his actions. Gathering the sleeping child in her arms, Oksana approached the mother and gently presented the girl to her. “Girl sleep,” she gestured, pressing her hands together against the side of her head. Overwhelmed with emotion, the mother sobbed as she cradled her baby girl, covering her face in kisses and muttering softly in the yasoi language.

With a tug on Niallius's shoulder, Oksana led him away. “Don’t be bad,” she urged quietly, hoping to diffuse any tension that lingered in the air by leading him away.

In the event, neither Niallus nor Oksana understood much of anything that had been said, but they would soon enough be filled in by Johann and Abdel. The true nature of the resistance, this family's devil's bargain with the Cola Brothers, the thugs' names, and a rough location of their base of operations - close to the warehouse they'd been directed to in the first place, and some dirt on the Doridaxes: it all came out.

Eluumen scurried in through the back door, having managed a small, vaguely grateful nod in Oksana's direction and a fearful look in Niallus'. Lalo looked back with wide eyes and managed a shy little wave goodbye at the Vossoriyan.

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Oksana heard everything being said, or appeared too as she nodded her head. She turned to look in Niallius’s direction, as she tilted her head to the side, encouraging him to speak up.

"Oksana, my friend? They are the bait, we come up from outside and ambush?" He turned to her when speaking. "Does this work for you?"

Oksana gave him a thumbs up and rested her hand on her sword hilt. She wondered about Abdel and Niallius in the plan, though the former being tethered spoke for itself. As for Eskandr, she considered, “He go in the rear this time?”

Niallus nodded to Oksana, "I'll be ok with that." Looking to the others of the group "You guys should be ok, especially when we get the other group here." he trailed off as he sensed something odd.

Oksana saw it as an opportunity to expand their plan with an arrival of an insider. “Why not let her show you in the back door?” she asked Niallius, as she gestured toward the redhead that had arrived and spoke frantically with them.

Their plan accelerated when Xiuyang blasted open the doorway.

With Abdel and Johann occupied, she followed Niallus's lead and headed toward the roof of the building. Her intention was to make her own entrance, but she halted when she noticed the vent being slammed shut, with the red-head closing it behind him. Sensing the arcane energy, she recognized that the red-head spelled trouble, and not the kind she welcomed. Turning her attention towards her, she watched carefully to see what her next move would be as she drew her blade.

Lunara slowly stood up, and glanced round to see what was happening, she noticed Oksana was on the roof, but she could see someone with her, but they didn't look like anyone from the other group. Lunara decided she would head up there she as had a bad feeling and didn't want Oksana to be alone. "Miray this way."

She sprinted to a ladder that led to the roof, placed Miray over her shoulders and Made her way up towards the roof. When she reached the roof she made her way to Oksana, however she was weary of the strange woman in front of her. Miray then jumped off her shoulders.

Lunara glanced at Oksana, she then glanced back at the woman in front of them. Lunara then glared at the woman when she noticed that she couldn't see Niallus, she shouted. "What did you do to Niallus bitch, where is he?" Lunara's chakrams began to charge and move around the two of them, Miray also started to hiss, when she noticed her owner getting angry.

There was a fiery blast coming straight for her, but Lunara was too busy posturing and speaking to manage much more than a reflexive half-dodge. The attack sliced through her defenses, burning and scalding her, and she staggered back, her clothes on fire. A quick blast of howling cold from Oksana's direction put it out before it could do worse, but a message had been clearly sent: less talking, more *doing*.

"Why don't you jump in there and find out?" the yasoi mocked in belated response, arching an eyebrow. "Or if the little taste you got was a bit much, you can send your cat ahead to scout for you."

Oksana unleashed a frigid torrent towards Lunara, as the girl was caught off-guard by Cherii’s fireball. Whilst While those two were locked in a battle of words, a presence lingered at the edge of Oksana's awareness. She evaded the sudden thrust of a rapier by a hair’s breath, as the illusionary figure faded before her eyes.

Now on the roof stood another figure, a male Yasoi known as Arsii to others. He executed a graceful flourish as he drew his rapier, assuming a poised stance with a smirk playing on his lips, betraying his eagerness for the challenge as he spoke those unheard words.

Wordlessly, Oksana had drawn her blade and lunged forward, her katana slicing through the air as Arsii had danced aside with a fluid, blurred motion. His movements had been graceful, akin to a leaf dancing on the wind. He had countered with a series of quick thrusts towards her, illusion magic creating the appearance of multiple blades, forcing her to draw back.

Undeterred, Oksana had flicked her wrist, coating the ground beneath them with a thin layer of frost. Arsii's footing had faltered for a moment, and she had seized the opportunity, closing the distance between them with determination.

As she had approached, Arsii's illusions had danced around them, twisting and distorting reality in an attempt to disorient her. His smirking expression had seemed to surround her as the illusionary rapiers had feinted towards her. However, she had remained focused, her senses honed by her time in the Vossoriyan wild.

With a swift movement, Arsii had plunged his poison-coated rapier into her shoulder, claiming victory with his smile. In response, Oksana had grabbed the rapier and encased it in a sheath of ice. He had staggered back, surprise evident as he had struggled to free his weapon. Seizing that moment of weakness, she had slashed with her blade, shattering the Yasoi's sword in two.

Pulling the blade free, with the poison now frozen, she had cast it aside where it had clattered to the ground. Using her binding magic, she had patched up the wound, then pressed her weapon against his neck, his defeat evident as he had gazed at her. "Stand down," she had called out loud enough for Cherii to hear, signalling her desire for the fighting to cease.

"Why would I not?" the swordsman replied, eyes flicking toward her shoulder. "Go and sense down below. Your people have taken their target, all without paying for him and are now trying to murder our people. I've nothing to do but run if you'd be so kind."

Oksana did not object to this course of action and lowered her blade accordingly.

Cherii, meanwhile, was too busy to stand down. Lunara appeared to be just a hair shy of a murderous rage and it was all that the sneaky yasoi could do to dodge her unschooled but very powerful attacks.

Having been bested but not slain, Arsii knew that he was beaten and, at this point, escape was his only real option. He nodded in respect. "Thank you, and thank you for a good duel." He flicked a small salute her way and backed up a couple of steps. "You should see a binder for that poison, though. Even the cold can only hold back so long." With that, he turned and made his escape.

Cherii was not so fortunate. Somehow, through a varied illusion with eight different versions of her rapidly tumbling and eight different goma cats attacking, through the chaos, and in split seconds, Lunara had picked out the genuine Cherii and managed to alter the edge of the rooftop to stop her escape.

Meanwhile, Oksana was hard at work on binding the poison away. Her quick thinking and cryogenic magic had halted its freeze but, now, some had slipped through. She began to feel woozy and took a knee rather roughly, world starting to sway and spin. A couple of deep breaths steadied her. She had been through worse, but this was also a display that Lunara could not help but have missed. Two binders would be better than one…

Lunara noticed that she had caught her, and saw that Miray had jumped away. "Got you, and clever girl Miray." After catching the Yasoi girl, she turned to check on how Oksana was doing as she was worried, about her. on turning around she noticed that something was wrong and began to run to Oksana, when she got there she gestured to her, how Esmii had taught her to. "Oksana are you ok, what's happened."

Oksana blinked at Lunara as she pointed to the wound on her shoulder. She had intentionally frozen the blade to prevent the poison, but it seemed like she had failed. She was using her binding to attempt to neutralize the poison in her system as she cursed under her breath.

On the roof, as Oksana and Lunara worked together to successfully draw out the poison, Cherii made a break without hesitation. She was a survivor, not a team player. Arsii did much the same.

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