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Welcome to Vradia

Feel free to make up myths and legends about the location!
Or even challenge Amandine's narrative. After all, the followers may have been unarmed, but they were not defenseless.
Torsten might even want to challenge it on religious grounds, on how the Dragons were not really gods.
Dorothea might even want to include how the healing is said to be uncanny and unique, giving her mage perspective on why this magic is different enough from others, and contrary to Amandine's comment, it could work.
It is in the woods, Simblemyne might have heard tales on a more accurate location, or myths around Dragonians living in the area from an Elvian perspective. Or even the Old Goat believes Dragons are a menace and should be wiped out (if you want spicier group dynamics).
There are a few different angles the characters could take.

Welcome to Vradia

ꁲ ꂵ ꁲ ꋊ ꂠ ꂑ ꋊ ꈼ ꋖ ꂑ ꂵ ꈼ Day 1 [Night] ꒒ ꂦ ꀯ ꁲ ꋖ ꂑ ꂦ ꋊ Lock and Key [Somerset] ꉣ ꁲ ꌅ ꋖ ꂑ ꀯ ꂑ ꉣ ꁲ ꋊ ꋖ ꌚ [NPC] Sir Dorian @WhiteAngel25 Faline @Mechromancer Dorothea @Jamesyco Torsten @Red Wizard Simbelmynë ꌚ ꂦ ꐇ ꋊ ꂠ ꋖ ꌅ ꁲ ꀯ ꀗ ♫

Amandine’s eyes narrowed as she was almost bowled over in disbelief. Within seconds, the conversation shifted from discussing how to handle a Duskrot epidemic to planning a raid on the nearest Dragonian temple ruin, with the intention of plundering it for riches and valuables.

She felt her heart racing and her blood pumping, a pounding sensation behind her eyes and along her temples. The proposed sacrilege these people were considering was quickly pushing her to her limits, and she found herself getting lost in the heat of the moment.

In response, Amandine entered a meditative state, focusing on her teachings and initiating a pattern of breathing exercises. She inhaled deeply, paused, exhaled slowly, paused, and then repeated the process. She rode the waves of her emotions, attempting to regain her focus on the task at hand, resolving that the rest could be dealt with later. After all, she was present for a reason; she was a Dragonian Scholar in both senses of those words.

She opened her eyes and surveyed the room before speaking, “In Dragonian society, Dragons were not mere creatures or animals; they were the manifestation of the Gods made flesh. Imagine a religion where you could directly interact with your patron God.” Her gaze flickered toward the resident Paladin. “Selene was the God of the Moon, and it is said that in times past, they were responsible for bringing water and winter to the region. Vradia was a barren landscape, as their ice carved rivers and waterways into the region.”

“You might be wondering how this potentially relates to Duskrot. After all, isn’t Winter often associated with death?” She posed the question from a human perspective. “In Dragonian belief, Winter is seen as a time of rejuvenation, when the land heals itself to prepare for the birth of new life. Therefore, the God of the Moon is strongly associated with healing.”

She turned her gaze toward the Book of Artefacts; her expression almost derisive, for she knew that some of these items were greater than the trinkets that were simply being considered as. More than the mere possessions for greedy hands, they are valued as. “So, if the Amulet of Selene truly exists, it could be regarded as an artefact with significant healing potential. I assume the Emperor foolishly believes it might serve as a cure for Duskrot.” Her eyes locked onto Dorian, and her tone was firm. “I say 'foolish' because the Dragonian cure for Duskrot did not involve healing.”

She shifted her attention to Faline, her expression thoughtful. “There’s a reason the Dragonians are extinct, and their temples lie in ruins. The first Emperor rounded up the unarmed followers of Selene and massacred them with swords. As for their ‘War Chief’…” Amandine couldn’t suppress a snort of mirth, “… if they survived, time would have caught up with them by now.”

She noticed the atmosphere in the room, especially after her speech. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Legends claim that the Hiemaquas Dragonian tribe secretly endures, having evaded this great Empire over the ages. At this point, perhaps if we approach them politely and convey the nobility of our purpose, they might hand over the amulet. And who knows, maybe as a sign of gratitude, they’ll give us dragon mounts and let us frolic in the hatchery with the adorable little dragon whelps.” Her tone was jovial but dripping with sarcasm, an attempt to lighten the mood of the endeavour.

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The Hourglass Order

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Event: Primitive Dream Sequence | Location: ???, An Zenui

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♫

As Ayla fell, the world seemed to collapse in on itself, fragments shattering like glass and giving way to an engulfing darkness. Shadows danced around her, and she found herself standing in a dimly lit chamber, the ground beneath her rippling like a puddle. Although light was absent, a peculiar luminance illuminated a pint-sized Ysilla doll placed strategically, its arms mimicking the hands of a clock ticking away the final moments for the Hours of Dami.

“Hola, Kitten,” a voice purred, drawing Ayla's attention to a peculiar figure. The person seemed to be examining their own appearance before fixing a smirk on Ayla. “Look who’s finally taking notice. Not that it matters, considering your track record.”

Ayla steeled herself, her gaze firmly fixed on the strange woman. The figure bore an uncanny resemblance to Ayla, but taller, more shapely, and their fiery hair was crowned with newly sprouted horns from the temples of their head. There was only one other who had ever possessed such features, someone Ayla wished she would never have to encounter again. “Hetraxa... what do you want?”

Hetraxa

“Oh, just the same old thing. To take control, to finally make a difference in this pitiful existence of ours.” Hetraxa's hands gestured suggestively toward her chest, her lips curving into a playful grin. “I'm sure Rikard would prefer these, wouldn't he?”

Ayla frowned, responding defiantly. “We won’t let you, I won’t let you take over.” Her voice softened slightly as she added, "Besides, he's just a friend."

Hetraxa mouthed ‘Just’ in response as she burst into laughter, the sound ringing with an edge of amusement. “You act as if you’re the one in control now. Tell me, Ayla, just how many close calls have you had? How many lives have you wasted?” She picked up the Ysilla doll, cradling it as if it were a cherished possession. “They say an Arslan only has nine lives, after all.”

“That's preposterous,” Ayla muttered dismissively.

“Eight times!” Hetraxa's grin widened, her pointed fangs glistening ominously in the strange light. “I was surprised myself, and seven were just in this past year alone.” She continued to dote on the puppet, her swaying mirroring the tick-tock of the Ysilla doll's arms. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Ayla was visibly shaken by this revelation. “That's not fair. We’re trying to do what's right.”

“Trying? There's no 'trying' in life or death. And don't even get me started on your lack of will. You can barely stand up for yourself, let alone others,” Hetraxa replied with a mocking tone, her finger trailing over the doll's arm to reposition it. “Let's have a closer look at each of those 'attempts'.”

The darkness surrounding them began to shimmer like Ayla's astral cloak, forming constellations that took on shape, colour, and substance. The scenes played out like fresh memories, each representing a brush with mortality that Ayla had narrowly escaped. The most recent was Wesca with her face in a grimace in the moments before pushing Ayla.

“Always trying to see the good in people. You could have chosen a better hill to die on that time.” Hetraxa pointing out the obvious.

The next scene was Marci, the girl was in dire straits as Ayla ran into the devouring swarm. “Aw, so sweet. Though it is a shame at how fast they grow up. One minute helpless darlings, the next moment they are robbing nobles. What’s next, murder?” Hetraxa rubbed her hands together as her eyes sparkled as she flicked through them one after another.

Ayla's eyes welled with tears as she watched each scenario, the rawness of those moments rushing back. Hetraxa's commentary accompanied each memory, taunting Ayla with the notion that she was simply wasting her chances at life.

The scenes continued to flicker, capturing moments of danger, sacrifice, and resilience. With every passing moment, Ayla's heart grew heavier, and her resolve wavered. Wildblood Zarina, Old Benny, Jocasta during Roses & Neskals, Heart in the ruins of Zaqhoria, the penultimate one in the desert…

Finally, the memories came to a painful halt, a scorching blank where a particular scene should have been. Ayla's head throbbed as if a fire was consuming her memories, and she winced in agony.

Hetraxa's voice broke through the haze, her gaze focused on the scene as she appeared seated and mimicking eating some kind of small snack. “You really do hate yourself, don't you? Dying time and again for those 'friends' of yours.”

“One doesn't hate oneself, don't be absurd,” Ayla retorted, her voice dripping with venom.

Hetraxa's attention shifted back to the scene, which now portrayed a younger Ayla, surrounded by flames, tears streaming down her face as she declared her self-loathing. It was a painful reminder of a time when her hurt her friends. It was the first time, the day when Ayla killed herself. Her stained dark since as she renounced who she was.

“There's a saying that 'denial' isn't just a river...” Hetraxa's tone turned thoughtful, almost contemplative.

Ayla clenched her fists, determination welling within her despite the overwhelming doubt that Hetraxa's words had seeded. “We won't let you define me. We've come this far, and we won't give up now.”

Startlingly, Hetraxa materialized beside Ayla, her voice a soft and gentle contrast to her previous taunts. “Oh, but you're missing the point, dear Ayla. This isn't about defining you. It's about saving you.”

Ayla's brow furrowed in confusion. “Saving me?”

Hetraxa's demeanour shifted again, her cheerfulness returning for a fleeting moment as she clapped her hands together before seriousness took over. “Yes. You've been evading your potential, your strength. I'm not here to destroy you; I'm here to make you stronger. You’re my vessel.”

♫

Ayla trembled, as if every fibre of her being fought against that thought. The world around them took on a visceral quality, responding in kind. The sky turned shades of red, casting an ominous hue, and the water at her feet transformed into a blood-like colour. The rhythmic beat of her heart seemed to echo throughout the space.

Hetraxa's expression grew darker as flames erupted around her, an eerie shade of deep red that carried a sinister aura. The flames expanded, forming a massive ring that encircled both of them. She created a circle in the air, conjuring a rift in reality—Ayla recognized it immediately as the Vozas. Hetraxa plunged her hand into the portal, her mouth moving as she communed with it. Withdrawing her hand, she revealed a large, burning sword. It was an Arcane sabre similar to Niallus's, but noticeably larger and burning with greater intensity.

Ayla began to retreat, finding herself confined by the dark red flames. Hetraxa approached with slow, confident steps, a domineering presence. Ayla's gaze remained fixed on the blade as she edged away along the fiery boundary.

Hetraxa, displeased by Ayla's evasive movements, observed her with growing irritation. Channelling her energy into the blade, she unleashed a forceful strike toward Ayla. The fire blade snaked through the air like a whip, its length growing as it closed in on Ayla's position. Ayla managed to evade the attack with quick movements, narrowly escaping its reach.

“Look at you, barely holding your ground. You're not fighting for your beliefs, you're clinging to your fear,” Hetraxa taunted, her blade continuing to lash out. It cornered Ayla, her options narrowing as she was backed into a corner.

A sense of impending doom gripped Ayla as Hetraxa closed in. How could she fight against Hetraxa and her formidable weapon? Desperately, Ayla mentally cast items aside, including her flute. Then it struck her—the Golden Lion Spell blade of Aur’iguul’adzong. The thought drew her attention to the blade hanging from her waist, as if it had been there the entire time. She clasped her hands around it, channelling her kinetic energy. The hilt vibrated within her grasp, and with a telltale hum, a blade of pure sonic energy emerged. As Hetraxa's attack came in, Ayla intercepted it, her blade clashing against the fiery strike. “No, I fight for what's right without losing my humanity!”

Ayla's guard was momentarily lowered, and Hetraxa seized the opportunity, striking her against the side. Ayla was sent sprawling onto the wet floor. Hetraxa's grimace revealed her satisfaction. “Humanity? Your humanity won't save you when the odds are stacked against you.”

The world trembled as the thrumming grew louder. The temperature increased, and the ground shook violently, as if an earthquake raged beneath them.

Breathing heavily, Ayla struggled to her feet. “No... We won't let you take over. We won't let you define my fate!”

A barrage of blows rained down from Hetraxa's fiery sword, but Ayla managed to deflect and parry them. Using her might, she knocked the sword aside, utilizing footwork to evade the relentless assault.

Hetraxa paused, her displeasure evident as she watched Ayla. “Stubborn, aren't you?” She extended her hand, causing the red flames to transform into an all-encompassing darkness. The flames seemed to pull light into a void, appearing distorted and ethereal. The darkness extended infinitely within itself, leaving only the flame's essential form suspended in a sea of darkness. The ring of flames began to shrink, the horizon fading into nothingness, as if erasing reality itself. “Behold Llama de la Oscuridad Eterna - The Flame of Eternal Darkness.”

Ayla surveyed her surroundings, determination growing as she charged at Hetraxa. Her sonic blade's intensity intensified as it clashed with Hetraxa's air-made weapon. Ayla's voice became her blade, her feet moved to the rhythm of her heart. Her strength grew, and she declared, “We're not defined by our mistakes or fears. We define ourselves by our actions!”

Hetraxa's fury surged, flames roared and flickered, clashing against Ayla's strength. Arcane versus Kinetic. Pyromancy versus Sonic. Red versus Blue. Darkness versus Light. The two locked onto each other, their fighting instinct unbridled.

As an inferno descended, fireballs erupted in the red water. Ayla dodged and weaved between them, launching a sonic stream at Hetraxa, sending her tumbling. Hetraxa landed gracefully like a cat, her fiery hair extending like tendrils. She retaliated, using her fiery hair as a weapon. Which Ayla countered using her enhanced nails like claws.

Hetraxa retreated, her dash leaving behind a trail of flame. She gazed intently at Ayla, the dark flame threatening to engulf them. There was nowhere to run as Hetraxa launched her final attack. She summoned a great pillar of fire, Marhazannet.

The blazing pillar seared Hetraxa's skin, her smile wide with anticipation of victory. Out of the flames emerged Ayla, having cast Sonic Shield! Roaring like a lion, she used all her strength to puncture through the pillar, her sonic blade slicing through Hetraxa.

Hetraxa's form began to dissolve, defeated. Her voice softened. “You did it. Now, take it.”

The world grew calmer as the dark flames subsided. Ayla's breathing and temperature returned to normal. She turned to watch Hetraxa's form vanishing, congealing into a dark orb. Ayla hesitated, then reached out. “Why? After everything?”

Hetraxa's gentle voice persisted, “Because I am the strength you deny. Embrace me, and you'll be whole.”

Ayla took a deep breath, holding the demon soul in her hands. The surroundings brightened, becoming serene. She whispered softly, “We'll accept your strength.” Raising the soul orb to her mouth, she bit into it.

The pain that followed was excruciating, feeling herself absorbing it. She screamed in torment.

“I'll always be a part of you.”

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The Hourglass Order

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Event: Primitive | Location: An Zenui

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♫

The blue eyes of the Red Nashibansek Coon opened as the gruff voice spoke. The feline's keen senses started to pick up on its surroundings; his cat-like instincts tingled, aware of something magical in the air as he dangled from the scruff of his neck.

It was then a beautiful woman radiated curiosity and fascination toward him, his eyes widened as she approached. He picked up on the mixture of emotions in her aura, his eyes following her movements as she got closer, his ears twitching to catch every sound as she spoke.

The woman cradled him in her arms, feeling her touch—gentle and warm. Her aura resonated with intrigue and wonder, igniting a similar sense of excitement within him. His tail twitched with the thrill of being noticed and cared for. He nuzzled into her hand, sinking his claws lovingly—and painfully—through her clothing to make contact with her, infusing himself with her essence to create a unique connection. He now knew her as Ayla, the Lioness of Varrahasta, witnessing a home full of cats and creatures just like himself—a place known as Heaven.

Words began to take shape in his mind, sounds having meaning, enabling him to understand language such as Avincian spoken, but his thoughts adopted a pattern known as Torragonese. And he heard a powerful word called a 'Name,' and at that moment, the meaning came to him—a name represents a piece of his identity, a word that echoes his essence through the tapestry of existence. It was a name that the heavenly maiden had just christened him with, 'Nyan-Acan!' However, after much talking, they spoke of this as a sacred name, an alternative identity perhaps, with a simpler name provided of 'Benny,' after a copper coin of great worth and value.

Benny began to sense the tension in the air and the impending change. His attention was drawn to their voices, the cadence of their speech, the emotions interwoven with their words. Something was not right; he grew restless and wary as he refused the other woman’s advances toward him, squirming to warn Ayla, as he looked up to meow toward her. "Oh, dear Ayla, something's not bueno. See how my tail swishes and my corazón beats fast? Listen, there's danger."

The divine maiden only sought to relax him; he felt that chemical magic radiate soothing energy as his restlessness subsided. When the servant brought the cactus wine, he noticed the shifting dynamics between the pair, his attention flickering between their exchange of words. He used all his might to fight through that chemical magic; perhaps if he could get away, she would follow him. His paws twitched with eagerness as he escaped and was free to explore, darting in pursuit of a gecko. "¡Olé! A scurrying lizard, Ayla! Watch as we chase that little diablito, moving you away from imminent peril."

The scene takes a dark turn; the sudden shift in auras, the rise of uncertainty and fear. He watched as the poison took effect on his beloved maiden. His body tensed as he sensed the duel of magic, the conflicting energies. Urgency and panic filled the air. In the chaos, Benny's instincts guided him as he witnessed Ayla fall; his heart raced with a mix of distress and helplessness as the scene unfolded before his eyes. "By the whiskers of the great Nyan-Acan! We shall not let this tragedy unfold. With swift paws and a brave heart, we leap to rescue you, dear Ayla."

His determination surged as he leaped from the balcony’s edge; his tail flicked and swayed with purpose. In the air, his magical energy blended with his intention, interacting with the surrounding environment. He envisioned a protective weave—the vibrant cloth coverings, laundry lines, and other textiles responded to his unspoken command.

Colours blurred, fabric danced as if to an invisible rhythm, his thoughts acting like a conductor's baton; his tail was a magical needle. "With claws sharp as navajas and weaver's skill, I conjure a protective manto. Look, Ayla, as the fabrics dance, a shelter woven by fate's breeze." The cloth bent, folded, and intertwined, weaving an intricate lattice that stretched beneath Ayla’s falling form. The fabric cushioned her fall as it embraced her, wrapping around her like a dangling cocoon. Landing expertly on his feet, he looked up to witness the completed work. His focus began to shift from the suspended safety net to the urgent task at hand—finding help.

He remembered the term ‘human’, what Ayla was, which set her apart from the others. His senses, sharpened by his unique attributes, guided him through the bustling town. His heightened sense of smell led him through winding alleys scented with spices, earth, and the activity of humans.

Benny’s tail swayed in rhythm with his determined steps, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings, seeking any familiar aura or trace. He caught snippets of conversations, glimpses of daily life, but his focus remained steadfast as his intuition guided him.

Finally, as if drawn by an invisible thread, his instincts led him to a nearby house, his tail flicking with anticipation as he sensed a familiar scent from within. Without hesitation, he approached, his heart pounding with a mix of relief and urgency. In a display of agility, Benny leaped onto a windowsill, peering through to spot Marci within. He let out a soft, determined meow, conveying urgency to the girl inside. "Vamos, human! Follow mi camino, carved by the hot wind. Soy Benny el gran Nyan-Acan, and we'll guide you to save Ayla!"

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Welcome to Vradia

ꁲ ꂵ ꁲ ꋊ ꂠ ꂑ ꋊ ꈼ ꋖ ꂑ ꂵ ꈼ Day 1 [Night] ꒒ ꂦ ꀯ ꁲ ꋖ ꂑ ꂦ ꋊ Lock and Key [Somerset] ꉣ ꁲ ꌅ ꋖ ꂑ ꀯ ꂑ ꉣ ꁲ ꋊ ꋖ ꌚ [NPC] Sir Dorian @WhiteAngel25 Faline @Mechromancer Dorothea @Jamesyco Torsten @Red Wizard Simbelmynë ꌚ ꂦ ꐇ ꋊ ꂠ ꋖ ꌅ ꁲ ꀯ ꀗ ♫

Amandine attempted to patiently wait for Dorian to arrive, but a mischievous smile crossed her lips as the two Elvians had their conversation. “Don’t pay Feline too much mind; nicknames are a sign of companionship and friendship,” she noted. Her attention turned to Faline, “As for her shapeshifting ability: Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Simbelmynë.” She shrugged her shoulders, leaving the answer unspoken.

Her eyes watched Dorian as he entered, placing items on the table in front of them. She peered over each one, studying the pattern on each, gleaning insights from them. Thankfully, her own token was faced up with the open fist symbol.

The Oath of the Concealed, a most curious collection of individuals, each from different backgrounds and specialities. She analysed the information and began to make deductions about the individuals and the roles they might play. Her own role seemed to align with that of a scout and historian.

The discussion of predecessors brought forth interesting points. Mousey's concern for her mother was understandable. As for herself, she could imagine that her Shifu, ꁲꁅꍩꁲꂠ, would be classified as a kind of father figure. Feline referred to herself as a lone wolf, perhaps due to her singular purpose in searching for someone dear to her. Her eyes glanced over Bear and Rabbit, unable to make any deductions beyond the observation that Rabbit was clearly far from her comfort zone.

It was curious how the Elvian shapeshifter was the first to sign up for the task at hand. Amandine had reckoned her to be the most sceptical among them, considering her people's indifference to the Empire's rules. And the other three? Well, they were human, which spoke for itself. This only meant one thing: she had to play along with this charade for now. She had been planning to remain quiet until a thought entered her mind, prompting her to ask, “Is this related to Duskrot?”

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Welcome to Vradia

ꁲ ꂵ ꁲ ꋊ ꂠ ꂑ ꋊ ꈼ ꋖ ꂑ ꂵ ꈼ Day 1 [Night] ꒒ ꂦ ꀯ ꁲ ꋖ ꂑ ꂦ ꋊ Lock and Key [Somerset] ꉣ ꁲ ꌅ ꋖ ꂑ ꀯ ꂑ ꉣ ꁲ ꋊ ꋖ ꌚ @WhiteAngel25 Faline @Mechromancer Dorothea @Jamesyco Torsten @Red Wizard Simbelmynë ꌚ ꂦ ꐇ ꋊ ꂠ ꋖ ꌅ ꁲ ꀯ ꀗ ♫

Amandine moved her hand to take hold of the Elvian's own, pulling it closer to inspect the girl's token. “Pretty goats,” she commented as she examined both sides before releasing the hand with a wink. She brought a finger to her lips as she considered her answer. “I have absolutely no idea what it means.” She looked around at the others in the room, especially casting a suspicious glance at the enigmatic response from the healer poet. “I suppose we will find out when Sir Dorian graces us with his presence, then.” She moved with a bounce in her step as she approached Dorothea, walking around her as she observed the girl up and down, as if taking mental notes. She then did the same with Torsten, nodding with some approval before returning to stand alongside Faline once again.

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Welcome to Vradia

I'm growing on the idea that Simbel will deadpan a lot. The poor girl is used to speaking with trees, for gods sake - she can't be expected to understand such advanced civilized interactions as quips and japes!

@Red Wizard

On the plus side, she didn't take it in a bad way!

Welcome to Vradia

Eclectic bordello is still my favourite term.

Welcome to Vradia

ꁲ ꂵ ꁲ ꋊ ꂠ ꂑ ꋊ ꈼ ꋖ ꂑ ꂵ ꈼ Day 1 [Night] ꒒ ꂦ ꀯ ꁲ ꋖ ꂑ ꂦ ꋊ Lock and Key [Somerset] ꉣ ꁲ ꌅ ꋖ ꂑ ꀯ ꂑ ꉣ ꁲ ꋊ ꋖ ꌚ @WhiteAngel25 Faline @Mechromancer Dorothea @Jamesyco Torsten @Red Wizard Simbelmynë ꌚ ꂦ ꐇ ꋊ ꂠ ꋖ ꌅ ꁲ ꀯ ꀗ ♫

Amandine simply smiled as Faline was being helpful in correcting talk about the weather, shaking the woman’s hand firmly in return. However, she couldn't help but become distracted by the arrival of more people in the room, responding dryly, “Yes, we mercenaries must discuss our questionable ethical choices of engaging in acts of violence for material gain by recounting tales.”

She examined the pair that entered, making mental notes on each of them. The first appeared to be reclusive and sheltered, and she seemed to be blushing under the hood. It was clear she was no social butterfly and was easily startled. The man who followed behind appeared to be pleasant and polite at a glance. Her nostrils flared as she caught the scent of incense. He was perhaps someone who knew about the stench of sickness, a healer of some kind.

Her gaze shifted to the side as the one known as Faline spoke on her behalf. It was evident that this was the girl who sought to be the leader of this gathering. Displaying that lone wolf tendency, superior attitude, and willingness to put herself forward. Amandine smiled inwardly, thinking, 'Yes, talk for me. Allow me to hide in plain sight.'

Her eyes then caught the attention of a field mouse, locking onto their prey like a predator. It was rather plump-looking. Perhaps it would become a tasty snack for later. Her eyes widened with curiosity as it shape-shifted into an even more delicious-looking Elvian. Her tongue discretely licked over her lips.

She allowed her gaze focus on the Elvian girl as she asked her questions, “While I cannot speak for your mother, from appearances, it seems that we have either volunteered to join an eclectic bordello, or something greater has brought diverse individuals together at the same time."

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The Hourglass Order

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Event: All that Glitters is not Gold | Location: Wánggǎng, ReTan

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♫

As the others were distracted by the Aftermath of their encounter with a Titan Knower, Maura noticed that they appeared to overlook a very important figure, the Traveller. She moved to where the mysterious figure had fallen, considering her actions such as perhaps attempting to give them cover, shielding the enigmatic figure, or attempt to use her binding to heal them.

Instead, she found nothing.

"You were the only one," said a semi-familiar voice from behind her. She whirled on the spot to face it, and it was Jocasta's, only... she was some years older and standing. No, she was not Jocasta. She was the girl from the picture. "The only one who thought about me."

Maura was startled, and blinked in surprise as the woman approached her. She had never actually seen the Traveller before, but she recalled Ingrid’s description - someone who looked eerily similar to Jocasta, almost uncannily so. There was no rollerchair, to her disappointment, but she was aware from Abdel that the being was a shape-shifter, so she could adopt any appearance she liked. She did wonder if certain appearances held any special meanings, recalling how the Maestros tended to have particular favourite marionettes they loved the most.

“We thought you were injured. You put your life on the line to save us when you didn’t have to, and we wanted to thank you by helping if we could.”

She knitted her fingers together as she looked at the Traveller with awe, watching her every movement, no matter how subtle, with great interest.

The Traveler smiled faintly, and perhaps she even grimaced a bit. "I would happily take the bouquet you offer me were it true but, as I'm sure you noticed..." She scratched at the back of her head. "We all very much had to." She sat beside Maura on one of the few patches of grass remaining, pulling her knees up and looping her arms about them. "It would've destroyed this whole nation, and perhaps the whole world. Because of us, it didn't." She managed an appreciative smile and, while it appeared genuine, she also appeared distracted.

Maura paused as she considered the words and reflected on her own, realizing the misunderstanding. “We meant… you stepped in when you didn’t have to.” Her voice grew softer and quieter with every word, losing confidence as she might imply further miscommunication.

Here she was, feeling out of her depth compared to the person before her. In some ways, the Traveller had a presence that she both envied and admired, both in competitive spirit and as a role model.

Her fingers continued to knit as she started to feel herself grow anxious. This was a person she had so many words she wanted to share with. She scolded herself mentally, proverbially smacking herself on her cheeks as if to spur herself into motion and snap out of it. This was an opportunity to prove her worth.

“The Knowers are the true threat, aren’t they?” The comment was a statement rather than a question, reflecting on events with insight, “And if it required ‘all’ of us, then being so divided could have put us in great danger. More than this singular encounter.”

The Traveler nodded. She smiled supportively up at Maura. "They are a true threat, but also an opportunity, I feel: one to bring us together, because you are right. We must come together. After we win - because we must - I dream that the change might prove lasting, that it might be the start of a better world." She tilted her head as she regarded the girl, so very young, so bright, and... nervous. Did she make people nervous? Sometimes it was a blessing - there were enemies to be cowed. Sometimes, however, it was not. I'd bet that they don't listen to you very much. I'd bet that they should. She resolved to see what Maura Mercador had to say. There might be hidden treasure in her words. The Traveler so loved life's unexpected discoveries.

Maura blushed as she heard the words, considering them carefully before speaking. “It would be nice if that were the case. It is true that a common enemy unites us all behind a shared cause.” She turned to look toward her, “What happens when the enemy is no more? When two squabbling neighbors put aside their differences to prevent a giant tentacle from destroying both their houses, what happens when that threat is gone? Do those neighbors decide to continue, or do their old conflicts become more relevant again? We see this with the great powers – they encourage those within the nation to focus their attention on Perrence, on Revidia. It works as long as there is an enemy, and when there is no enemy, they find or make one.”

“This is not to say you're wrong, but to say you're right. There needs to be a purpose, there needs to be a shared vision. Something for people to unite behind. It is shown that the best leaders are those who unite people, leading from the front. Yet, we often see nobles ruling who don’t know how to lead.”

She found herself biting her tongue, already imagining the faces of the others from earlier – yet another Maura speech. Wu Long rolling his eyes and walked away in that enigmatic manner of his. She paused to allow the Traveller to speak.

Instead, Enna Lantisca smiled. "That is precisely it. A common purpose must bind people together. A common enemy is easiest, certainly, but I am greatly concerned with how to maintain that if there is no threat." She shook her head. "Some among the nobility are not bad people - maybe even good people - and they certainly cannot help the station of their birth. It is as you have said, however. Far too many simply 'do' without knowing what they are doing, much less understanding why they do it aside from it being their prerogative." She furrowed her brow, glancing up at the girl again, fondly. "I say that it is nobody's given prerogative. I say, as do you, that one should aim to inspire, not to command. That is my goal." She nodded slowly, gaining confidence that here, finally, was a thoughtful young mind with whom she could share in the truest sense. "That is why I am an idea instead of a person to most. Such a leader must emerge organically, not be ordained by myself or even be myself."

“It's like on the ships, and you can tell the difference almost instantly just from the atmosphere. You have the ship captains who listen to the concerns of the crew, who are supportive and inspiring, who maintain a visible presence and are often well-liked. Then you have the others, often appointed due to rank or privilege, rarely seen on deck, barking orders, dismissing concerns, and then wondering why they struggle to retain sailors – eager to blame everyone but themselves. The first is leading, the latter is ruling. While a noble cannot choose the station of their birth, it does not mean someone of that station is automatically qualified to lead. Leadership is a skill, not one exclusive to the noble class.” She paused for a moment, considering whether to share, then decided to. “My father is of the first kind, and he tries his hardest. And as for me… we still have much to learn.”

With the latter point, she nodded. “That was the point we tried to make to Ash when he spoke of his plans for ReTan. He said he opposes tyranny, but one cannot help likening it to a customer complaining at a restaurant. It doesn't mean he would make a gourmet chef if he stepped in.” She couldn’t help but smile with some amusement at the parallel she made, but hoped the point was clear. “As for you, you see yourself as a source of inspiration, donning the guise of a humble traveller, journeying from village to village, removed and disconnected – an observer or at least an impartial party. Yet, for your sage advice and the wisdom of your travels, you recognize you must not lead, for you would have to relinquish the mantle and role you play. And like the Ópera dos Marionetes, each role is has their vital importance to the play.”

"Truly. I wonder," Enna admitted, "if I would not be tempted to rule, to command." She shook her head and rose momentarily, stretching. There were others who seemed to have taken notice of the pair - most pointedly a large reptile that was not a sirrahi. "My nameless name has spread far and wide in so many ways. Some speak of me as a menace, some as a saviour. I have little doubt that I could order some to die not for our common cause but simply for me and they would do it. That..." She trailed off. "is a frightening thing because it means that, on some level, I am failing. My message is failing." The worry was plainly evident on her face. "I am curious. What would you do? How would you handle this?"

Maura paused for thought, as it seemed the Traveller wanted her help, or at least her opinion on something. It was difficult to put herself in those worn-out shoes, but perhaps she could assist the Traveller by playing her role by offering a different perspective. “We would suggest sticking to the purpose of the role, maintaining anonymity, and placing emphasis on the 'what' rather than the 'who'. The message is what's important, not who is saying it. Instead of the narrative being 'the Traveller did this' or 'the Traveller did that', focus on the ordinary people involved. You should be the narrator of the story, not the main lead or hero. Shift the attention to the actors.” She looked toward the woman, “You've signed yourself up for a lonely existence.” offering a sad smile as she recognized the challenges involved.

She then focused back on the task, “Collaborate with and empower others. The message should be that each of us is the hero in this story. Strengthen the unity among people by showcasing their collective efforts, rather than centring on any one person. So, instead of making you the sole symbol of the movement, develop iconography that represents what it stands for. Promote these symbols through art that captures the essence of your message without featuring you – for instance, associate tyrants or malevolent figures with tentacles, symbolizing that only through collective action can these 'villains' be defeated. Promote these symbols through art and imagery, embedding them in the collective unconsciousness of the audience.”

She considered the wording of her last suggestions, “Guide and mentor individuals to take on roles that inspire and motivate others. Encourage and support them to independently spread the message. However, always remember the importance of stepping back when you feel you're becoming too central to the narrative. This will allow perceptions and expectations of you to subside, enabling the focus to remain on the message itself.”

She gazed toward her companion, hoping her words were useful.

The Traveler rose again, but crouched, reaching for Maura's hands. "And just like that, you've distilled it." She smiled thoughtfully. "Why, though?" She tilted her head for a moment and there was none of the shapeshifting that Maura had heard of from Ingrid. "Why are you so helpful? At the risk of centering myself once more, what have I done to make myself important enough to you for such consideration?" She shook her head. "I am not asking for my ego stroked. Truly, I wish to know, for you are exceptional."

Maura's mind raced as the Traveller responded positively to her help and offered a compliment. Her heart fluttered with a mixture of surprise and discomfort. She felt herself on edge, her defences kicking in, her mind whispering that this might be some kind of trick. It drew parallels to the sweet words of unsavoury traders attempting to pour honey in one's ear for a sale, only to turn rude and brash once your back is turned. Maura, whose very existence seemed to offend others, found such words to be almost unnatural.

She looked at the Traveller's hands upon her own, struggling to maintain her composure. Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke. "We've always aimed high, tried to make my mark." She forced a smile, her eyes not quite meeting the Traveller's gaze.

Feeling the warmth of the hands on hers, her thoughts continued to whirl. She questioned the sincerity of the compliment, wondering if she was being mocked or tested. Yet, there was a part of her that desperately wanted it to be genuine, yearning for those words to be true.

She continued to veil her inner turmoil with her practised facade, eventually settling on something approaching a cautious and tentative acceptance of the intention behind the compliment.

Attempting to focus on the questions she was asked, she found them both humbling and perplexing, momentarily leaving her at a loss for words. Why was the Traveller asking her why she was worthy of consideration? It felt like an unexpected role reversal.

Clearing her throat, she contemplated her response. "Well," she began, her tone a touch more earnest than before, "We're just trying to contribute in our own way. There's something a friend once said – that we should try to be the change we want to see. Even if we're still trying to find our place in that. It's why we push ourselves so hard and set such idealistic targets. Even if they seem out of reach, we can always look back and see how far we've come. It's always further than we would have been otherwise."

With that, the Traveler nodded. The large beast had approached closely. "Then it appears that we have much to offer each other." She released the girl. "We shall speak again, at length, in earnest. For now, know that I consider you a friend worth keeping. I believe that our interests align and that..." She trailed off and offered up one final smile. "It is good to have friends, is it not?"

Maura smiled, giving the hands a gentle squeeze before the Traveller released her own. "Sincere friendship is perhaps the greatest gift someone can offer. If that is your intention, then we would be genuinely interested in accepting and reciprocating in kind."

She felt a bit star struck, realizing that her attempt to assist the Traveller in what she perceived as their hour of need had resulted in her forming a friendship with them. "Abdel informed me about the letters you exchanged with Ash, so don't feel the need to be a stranger when it comes to communicating with me if the need arises."

Enna smiled. "Speak of the devil..." she replied with a grin. Abdel was rushing after his animals, but it was also, clearly, an excuse to speak with the Traveler. "I... just may have your address," she admitted with a wink. "Dare I say this is only the start of a long and mutually beneficial partnership."

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