YummyYummy

The Hourglass Order

@dragonpiece@yoshua171

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Incessant scratching plagued Ingrid’s residence on an early Victendes morning, a good hour before Quentic mass was to take place. It came from her door, with the source being a ginger cat with an envelope under its paw. It meowed a couple of times whilst leering at the Eskandish girl, head tilted slightly to the right. Then, it dashed away!

A similar encounter occurred with Valerian, this time at his window. A black cat with an envelope in its mouth tapped against it until it received the attention it wanted and dropped the delivery into the home. Then, off it went!

Dear Friends of the Rettanese Empire,

Let’s meet for real! We have much to share and many events to prepare for.

Dorm 17B - Merchants’ Quarters. After church.

Stay Dope!

-Stormcloud

The time for worship had come and passed like any other week, and like any Victendes most students would find ways to spend their free time, whether in hobbies, self-improvement or simply nothing at all. It wasn’t the case for the two fresh Sanguinaires, however. They had a date. They could decide to completely ignore it, of course. How dare this individual walk on their limited weekly break? On the other hand, she knew where they lived (like most of Ersand’Enise).

Do they attend the rendez-vous?

♫

Ingrid tried to pet the cat before it took off. Damn, Ingrid snapped her fingers as she watched it dash off. She picked up the envelope and shut her door. She made note of the wax cat stamp binding the letter close.

Ingrid leaned on a side table and melted the wax away into a pot. Rather short, Ingrid thought. She weighed on rather to skip mass or to push back her duties to her business. She went to her room to think but more importantly she kept examining the letter, the loops in the letters, the tilt in the words. Punctuation if it was longer.

Ingrid fed the letter to a flame, I can go on my nature walk some other time, my businesses needs some tending. Ingrid worked on the paperwork she needed to do and dropped off what she needed at the banks and handed her letters to the postmaster along with the fare. And away Ingrid went to Stormcloud's dorm.

Flames flickered in a drape drawn window like lantern light as Valerian wrote his reflections in a journal. He’d had the habit for some time and found it helped him process everything he dealt with on a day-to-day basis. Now, with the events in Retan it seemed he had even more to unpack than usual. As he finished a page, Vel heard a faint scratching at his door. Raising an eyebrow slightly, Valerian finished his thought then closed the book before he pushed up from his desk and headed to the door.

Lock moved with a small kinetic spell, Valerian opened the door and glance down the hall. No sign of anything beyond a small cat bounding away. Looking before his door he noticed a letter, which he pulled towards his hand with a bit of kinetic magic.

Catching it in a hand he moved back into his dorm, closing the door behind him as he opened the letter. As he moved through the well appointed door room, the small flickering flames reoriented around him.

Eventually he read the letter’s contents, at which point he frowned slightly. Sighing, he flicked it to the side and into an orb of flame where it instantly ignited and burned to ash. A moment later he’d grabbed a coat and left his dorm room, locking it behind him. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Valerian made his way to the meeting place.

He made a point of finding cover and shade whenever possible, but when that wasn’t an option he used a bit of clever magic to shield himself from the sun. If anyone asked, he’d say he overheated easily and the sun had been getting in his eyes.

“Come in!”

Called a voice, maybe familiar to the two, maybe not. The new resident wasn't exactly the most chatty of the Black Guard. The door opened before the guests with only a chubby tabby welcoming them with a loud meow and expectant look before U-turning, butt out and retreating inside in an elegant gait. The door gently shut behind the visitors once they stepped inside.

The dorm room was spacious, as one would expect from the higher-end merchant quarters. Though there really wasn't much else other than space. A few crates at the corner, a simple blue rug in the centre of the large room and a desk with a chair and a few bookshelves behind it set at the side of the room that had all the windows. There was only one framed painting on the wall opposite to her desk - one of a dune sea and a castle at the distance. Judging by the style, it looked very old.

Stormcloud we under her desk, loading up the drawers with various baubles the two couldn't see. A pale face stained by green paint on her cheek with long, dark hair poked out with a wide smile plastered on it.

“Hi!” she chirped before hopping on her feet, and then hopping again, over her desk this time, to close the gap between herself and the teens. “Please, have a seat.” she opened her arms to gesture toward the entirety of her abode. She wore a freshly paint-stained, white hanfu mismatched with Constantian-style shoes. “First thing's first.” she regarded the tall bunch, quite a bit taller than her mere five feet and three inches, and let her smile mellow into a more neutral look. “How are you adapting to your new lifestyle?”

Ingrid gave a light nod to greet Valerian before they entered Stormcloud's room

Ingrid couldn't help but to very obviously inspect the room. The mysteries of what a centuries old woman does in her spare time intrigued her but the room left her mostly disappointed. She had expected dozens of small knick-knacks to strewn the room but instead, all Ingrid could find of note was a painting of torragonese dune seas.

Maybe her home from years ago? Then she noted the paint that laid on Stormcloud's cheek, Or she is just a painter with lots of styles under her belt. Only time could tell. She took a seat as she asked.

Ingrid was unsure how she was doing. She sat silent for a few moments trying to figure out how to word her experience so far. "I find myself struggling with it. Every time the lor burns me when I worship in the sacred grove, I wither inside," Ingrid spoke candidly in front of Stormcloud, not giving any care of Valerian hearing it. "The blood thing hasn't had as much impact on me as I thought. It's odd, don't get me wrong. But it could be worse."

Giving Ingrid only a small perfunctory nod of acknowledgement, Vel glanced about the room as the feline granted them entry. There wasn’t anything particularly impressive about the Blackguard’s room, but it wasn’t drab either. As he noticed Stormcloud beneath the desk a somewhat amused expression crossed his features. As the woman rose and greeted them with a pep in her step, Valerian found himself liking her.

Cheerful was the first word that came to mind. Funny how they had almost been enemies. At the thought he almost grimaced before hiding his face behind a practiced mask—in the form of a courtier’s smile. Turning his eyes to find a seat, Valerian eventually settled on his own. With a brief cast, the air itself was trapped in between a series of invisible ‘panes’ of kinetic energy such that as he moved to sit, the air caught and held him as if it were solid. “It is…certainly an adjustment,” he stated in a plain yet ambiguous manner.

He’d been rationing himself, a difficult thing when blood starvation would have…rather severe consequences. At Ingrid’s words he nodded somewhat, “I agree, the Sun’s newfound hatred for me is…certainly disconcerting and more than a little troublesome…but not entirely intolerable.”

A smile of delight graced Stormcloud's visage once more. Both were sitting, in a room with no viable seat, with one sitting on the floor and the other straining himself for something more high class. It was nice when people did as requested. It also made her feel just a smidge taller.

“No substantial challenges.” she made oral note to herself, making her unusual Avincian stand out. It didn't sound foreign, but rather accented in a manner that put emphasis on different syllables than one would expect. “That is subl- Err, Swell! Dope, even.” she nodded.

The black guard turned chaperone scooted into her desk a little more under she could cross her legs for extra comfort. “I think I should introduce myself, actually. We'll be working with each other for a long time, after all.” she regarded both of them with a sweeping glance and then focused upwards to the ceiling as she began. “You know me as Stormcloud. My name is Ariadne Hyde. No, it's not my original name, but it was one of my names. I am NOT Enthish or Thalak. And I am here to make sure your transition into the life of a Sanguinare happens seamlessly.” big breath, she was reciting something she had rehearsed and forgot to breathe. “Also, to make sure you don't get yourselves killed and keep the peace between the school and ReTan, I've been sent to intervene on most matters regarding you. Whether for assistance, or reprimand.” another deep breath, and then she went briefly silent whilst tilting her head. Did she forget something?

Ah, right! “Feedings! That, I'm supposed to teach you proper methods. And manners. And our cycles.” she firmly nodded to herself before peering at her group of sitting kids. “I think this is where you can start asking your first questions, before I continue with the, errr,” she had trouble uttering the final word. Or maybe she was unsure if it was right. “deets ...?”

Ingrid nodded along to StormcloudAriadne Hyde, surprised on how seemingly normal it all was compared to the stories of Sanguinaires she heard as a child. What should've been surprising was the school knowing and permitting it. But that ship has sailed. Ingrid's once strong support of the school had shifted to skepticism. The trip to ReTan was a real waking up moment. Upta had known so much more than she told even when asked.

Did they have a role in Hugo's passing? a thought fluttered in for a moment...

Ingrid raised a hand, "So, is there any kind of blood you should avoid? Like the dead or animal blood?" Ingrid decided to start with a simple question. She was somewhat aware of what can happen if she does but asking it from their resident expert was better than any book she could read.

Raising an eyebrow as he listened to Ariadne's rather unique communication--both in annunciation and affectations--Valerian considered what he might want to ask. While he was considering, Ingrid spoke up, asking her first question and though it was a good one...his probably would've been more related to the ethical concerns of feeding. Nonetheless, he was eager to hear a response, his eyes training on Ariadne to show just that. Still, not one to be left in the wings, Valerian spoke up, posing his own query.

"Speaking of the sun..." he began, referring to both their earlier comments, "...do you have any suggestions for dealing with it, given that we do still need to be active during the day?"

Ariadne's fingers drummed over her calves as she listened to each one. Her head canted to one side when Ingrid spoke, and then the other when Valerian did, all the while her gaze drifted about as if she was thinking of something entirely different.

“The bad kind of blood.” she answered Ingrid completely deadpan. “Animals won't nourish you. The ones that won't kill you, anyway. Even dead people, unless very freshly dead, will not sustain you. You will just get sick. Stick to people - mages in particular. RAS, as they call it nowadays, is the indicator you should follow. The higher, the better.”

Then came Valerian's turn, and her expression turned into one of smiles again. “You stay in the shade.” and then a pause. An awkward one. Was this really it? “Although,” she eventually broke it, of course. The grin turned into something impish. “You could cake yourself in makeup. You WOULD look like a clown and utterly suspicious. But, in theory, you'd be safe.” she chuckled. “You're going to be suspicious to some degree, especially to those that came with you to ReTan. Accept it. You're likely already found out by the faculty. It is, in all likelihood, a matter of time before everyone and their dog is aware of what you are.” she snapped her fingers and pointed right at Valerian with a finger gun. “Which is a problem for you, Parrencheman. Your people are particularly vicious to our kind. Whereas this one here,” she nudged her head toward Ingrid. “will likely be ignored so long as she doesn't cause a fuss, YOU are a noble. A stain on their image. They WILL come for you.” she tilted her head slightly. “No matter how important you may believe yourself to be. The biggest nation of the Twin Continents does not hinge on a few superficial pillars. They'd gladly sacrifice their own King for the grander picture. Be careful, fledgling.”

Then, she clapped her hands together. “Dull questions answered. Now you will answer mine before I hit you with the 'deets' and the catches.” one hand retreated to her ankle while the other was kept raised at shoulder level, fingers wiggling as if machinating something devious. The High Sanguinaire grinned wide. “What are your three preferred blood types?”

Ingrid leaned back on the wall as the next question was posed. An illusionary scorecard manifested for everyone to see. She put down some obvious ones and then started to dig through her mind to find more of them to consider.

Logically she needed things that were easy to hide. She already has a sun weakness now but if she suddenly makes plants whither and is 9 feet tall, she will be found in an instant. Things that could help her take down her targets should be high priority as well

After about 3 minutes, Ingrid speaks up, "I think for hunts it would be Sensemaster. For power it would be Fireblood, you can't go wrong with extra power. And because it is interesting, Timewalker." Ingrid answered. Though she did wonder if these would just be dangled above her to control, either way there were plenty of other interesting ones.

Listening to the explanation for Ingrid's query almost brought a frown to his lips, but he schooled his expression as he'd long been taught to do. instead of the shift in expression he simply nodded and gave a small amused chuckle at the idea of caking himself in powders and makeups. That simply wouldn't do. He'd have to find his own solutions it seemed. He supposed nothing easy was worth it, at least that was the common wisdom. Then Ariadne pivoted from educating to inquiring and he raised an eyebrow, admittedly surprised by her question.

He'd not given it much thought, but in that moment he drew on his studies and considered what might be beneficial.

"Glowvein," he said, looking thoughtful, "...and Sensemaster as well." He'd seen the strength of awareness and the danger of Atomic magics and while he had little desire to meddle with such energies, it would be wise of him to have a means to combat them. Then a third came to mind and he nodded to himself, "...Rosebud as well, I think."

Those were a good start. Rosebud covered social situations and could eventually become an asset even in combat. Glowvein gave him an innate resistance--if not immunity--to the invisible fire of Atomic power, whereas Sensemaster let him not only enhance his own awareness--and thus faculties--but also to afflict others with reduced capacity in such areas. In tangent with his own innate talents they would make for a potent combination. Still, as he lifted his gaze and met Ariadne's eyes, he wondered why she was asking.

Ariadne continued with her habit of canting her head to one side when paying mind to one pupil, and then shifting when the other spoke. It was her way of communicating that she was paying attention, even if eye-contact was flimsy at best.

“Sensemaster is a big favourite. And a tad bit of a trap.” she uncrossed her legs and let them instead hang over the edge of her desk while supporting herself with her hands gripping the opposite end of the desk behind her. “If you've managed to touch them, you've probably succeeded in your ambush anyway. A good mana-type, but there are better starters, like ...” she snapped her fingers before pointed to Valerian. “Rosebud! Why take risks when you can seduce or mislead your prey with words and presence alone?” she flashed a toothy smile at the two.

The finger then pointed toward Ingrid. “I expected you to want Glowvein, actually. With your propensity for ... The more destructive spells outside of the forbidden, it would suit you. But Fireblood!” that same finger wagged side to side in denial. “Tsk tsk. Unless your mark is weak or easily mislead, it's a trap that claims many new Sanguinaire lives. Only jump into an ambush for Fireblood if you are convinced you can get a strong advantage. Otherwise,” another click of her tongue. “Better off steering clear until you've fattened up a bit.”

Then, Ariadne snorted. “Timewalker ... Are you suggesting you have a growing interest in Temporal Magic, Ingrid Penderson? Much like Linlin did, or maybe she was sick of having two evil eyes.” she chuckled smugly.

“I wanted to know your priorities. It's good to see you're not TOO ambitious, but have some spunk. It'll at least be entertaining.” she raised her hand to brush the stray locks of her that his a fourth of her face behind her ear as she continued. “Now, for the bummer - You're gonna start wasting away, and I do mean WASTE, if you don't feed semi-regularly. Ideally on a weekly basis.” she announced with a stern gaze and a hardened tone. No more happy-ditsy fun-time, it seemed. “And, you will only hunt in my presence. If I deny you a mark, you obey. If I give you a specific target, you go for it. Defy these two core tenets, or cause enough of a mess to get the hunters on Ersand'Enise, then I will be taking away your acquired abilities and you will be banned from hunting for a month.”

She hopped off her desk, now standing straight and her arms crossed under her chest. “Is this understood?” she inquired, waiting for a response, before continuing. “I'm not difficult to please. Come to me for Sanguinaire-related problems only. Otherwise, we're merely peers. Jolly, youthful school peers. That definitely attend clubs. Yes. And fairs.”

Keeping her words in mind, Valerian nodded along, only finding himself hesitation as she made her second stipulation.

He didn't much like that, her dictating in any instance who he was and was not allowed to hunt. It wasn't that he'd prefer particularly ambitious targets, nor that--as he was sure some Sanguinaires might--that he wanted to target someone and hunt for sport, but rather that he had no idea what the woman's moral scruples were. Stifling a sigh, he nonetheless acquiesced...at least for now. She was stronger than him, that was a simple fact, and there was little he could do to go against her if she truly wanted to put him in his place. As such, it was better to lay low for the moment and question her judgement later even if he ended up following it anyways.

"Very well," he said, nodding once, his expression serious.

Ingrid listened earnestly to Ariadne, making note of sensemaster being a trap and the benefits of rosebud. Ingrid was not much of a seductress. She liked the act but most men found her size to be unappealing, even in Eskandish circles. And Ingrid only grew more perplexed about showing her face in to get it. Maybe she would have to try though.

What Ingrid had been surprised about is fireblood. She knew it was strong but she thought of the manatypes with affinity to a school of magic, fireblood would be safer with their lower RAS. A lot safer than an Atomic mage with Glowvein at least.

Ingrid was obviously curious about Linlin, leaning forward to only lean back as she felt a little teased by Ariadne. "Who wouldn't be interested in it? But trying to become a time mage right now? I'm not sure. I think just feeling time would be worthwhile though."

Lastly came the rules. Ingrid made no fuss or face about them. She just nodded at the conditions placed in front of her.

“My remark, Ingrid, was meant to underline the fact that without Temporal magic, you shouldn't aim for known Timewalkers. The moment you fail your ambush on them,” Ariadne snapped her fingers. “done. Time stops and in the blink of an eye, your head's spun the opposite direction. That said,” she raised a brow as she mused. “You're always rolling the dice whether your prey has that sort of magic to begin with. Which is why I recommend sticking to the semi-familiar, if you can, or study potential targets.”

Pale and dirty hands clapped together, prompting the self-grooming cat to perk up and stand. It brushed against Ingrid's calf. “With all that said, I think we got the important things sorted!” she flashed her pearly whites. “We all got to meet each other, you know where to find me, now ... You're free to go if you have no further questions! Thankies for attending!” Segu, the cat, meowed and yawned.

Nodding, Valerian rose and made his way from the place to enjoy the rest of his day.

The two were dismissed, and first to leave was Valerian. But before Ingrid could cross the door, Ariadne hollered at her.

“Oh! Ingy! I have a small request.” arms reached up for a stretch. “It'll just be a minute.”

Ingrid was so ready to leave after the successful disaster that was the first hunt. But Ingrid knew better, that display of hers earlier taught her better. She turned to Ariadne with a smile and stepped back into the room shutting the door behind her, "And what can I help with Ariadne."

The High Sanguinaire canted her head. “What clubs are you signing up for?” she smiled.

Ingrid was suspicious but thought there wasn't much harm in answering. "Well, I'm continuing most of my clubs from last year. The Eskandish Circle but that is more of a religious outing for me. I actually have become more attached to the Draconic Order." Ingrid rolled her eyes and smirked a bit, "Originally I only joined because of an enthusiastic friend of mine but now I go there because it's fun. He made me into a dragon lover before I knew it. Oh, but back on topic." Ingrid steered herself away from talking about her dragon friend.

"Eshiran's Own I've been a member since last year, and the same with the Pageturners. I think you might enjoy some of the more experimental literature people test out there from time to time." Ingrid gave a light recommendation, always looking for another book enthusiast. "I've also am trying to join the Special Ones for pretty obvious reasons. I had a spot open after I left the Golden Mushroom."

Ingrid then in a hastened whisper, "Fingersteeplers as well, And that's them all"

Ariadne hummed, tossing a few m'hm's and uh-huh's to Ingrid's need to explain the why's for her simply query. Eye contact was also broken in favour of gawking at various details of the somewhat ascetic room she had been working on. Once the question full answered, her head adjusted back to look forward at her pupil.

“Okie! We appreciate it!” she beamed at Ingy, eyes closed to emphasize her delight. “You are dismissed. Have a pleasant day.”

"Thank you, and a good day to you as well," Ingrid left without a fuss. It was actually quite pleasant though Ingrid resisted both the urge to speculate and the urge to believe it was out of mere curiosity. Ariadne didn't come off as malicious but she could be conniving, Ingrid believed. Either way it was not for her to worry about today.

The Hourglass Order

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It wasn’t unusual for Zarina to visit the sanctuary she had helped build in Eskand with the help of someone like Jocasta for mobility. But today was different - she was going to relieve her sensei of any responsibility and take over the reins, once she felt ready. After all, she portal’d in a big dragon before, what was a person or two?

The first time was difficult, even when she chose Maura to accompany her - someone of small composure that would theoretically not require too much strain to accommodate for. A panting Virangish Pepper was left in the wake of the portal’s creation. “Rolling ladies first.” she huffed out, gesturing dramatically into the tear in reality that showed the familiar sights of Somnes-time Eskand and the reserve barn in the distance. “I suppose that trade agreement you got going with ReTan considers these thingies. Like that Silk Gate. Boats can’t do it all nowadays.”

"There are volume, risk, and price considerations. Fortunately, portals are only available in limited supply and specific areas. After all, we still need to ship goods from Revidia to the Silk Gate somehow.” She smiled as she looked up toward Zarina, “Beautiful ones first it is then~” As she made her way through the portal her friend made.

As they travelled through the portal, their perspective of the Snowsweeper Sanctuary expanded. The once modest shelters had been replaced by much larger structures, and several new buildings had sprung up, indicating the development of some kind of industry in the area. However, the most breathtaking sight was the Snowsweeper family in the field, frolicking in the meadows. There were three adults, the bull, and two pregnant mares, along with five juniors playfully charging around in the grass. Surprisingly, they all appeared to have shed their thick winter coats for the warmer season.

Maura smiled widely as she pointed towards one of them and playfully giggled, "That one clearly takes after you."

“Guaranteed it’s Adnan.” remarked Zarina with a proud grin on her face and hands on her hips in a triumphant pose. It was a delectable sight to be sure - the fruits of their efforts laid right before them with no catch. The Sanctuary had gotten bigger with the massive amount of land ever expanding and secured.

Zarina approached the youthful animals, prompting a couple of them to look her way, but only one was curious enough to approach. It was the one she had guessed. Out of her pocket came a few sugar cubes she presented to the animal with her hands flat. The small feast attracted the attention of the others, and soon they were all congregating toward the two students much like cows would once a single one had made a friend.

“Hey, Maura, look.” Zarina was surrounded by bovine heads all sniffing about and releasing light moos for attention. She began to swing her hand up and down, which led the animals to mirror her movements with their heads bobbing. “I’m now queen of the moos.”

Maura simply giggled as Zazzy proclaimed herself the Queen of the Moos. She directed her attention to the runt of the litter, appropriately named Ayla. The little cutie with its reddish fur was persuaded to come over as Maura presented a treat. The Snowsweeper had certainly grown larger since last year, definitely too big for her lap now. "Even Ayla has grown into a big girl now."

As they spent time with the Moos, they started to attract the attention of the staff working at the Sanctuary. A small crowd of them began to gather before approaching. "Say, Zazzy, you did let them know we were coming, right?"

“Nope.” answered Zarina, carefree and drowning in Snowsweeper scritches and licks. When the security rangers were closing in, she absently waved at them. “Heyyyyyyy!”

The rangers approached with frowns on their faces as they observed the two girls playfully interacting with the Snowsweepers. "Denne helligdommen er ikke åpen for publikum," one of them stated, gesturing towards their weapons and the outer fence.

Maura paused for a moment as they spoke Ingrid to her, not fully understanding but getting the gist of their interaction. "We don't speak Eskand. My name is Maura Mercador, and this is Zarina Al-Nader. We have come to see our investment."

Zarina squinted at Maura. “Investments? You’re actually making a profit out of this?” she shook her head. “Admit it, you just fell in love with these fluffy shits.” she turned her head to one of the animals and made baby sounds whilst nuzzling its big, damp snout. “Whosagoodgurl mmmm!” and it moo’d back in all its ugly goodness.

Then she attention went to the Eskandish staff. “Ah! Yeah, uhhh,” she reached for her chest and then just emphasised what was not clearly bigger than her’s. “Idun! Friend! Uhhh, Thorinn?”

"You know what we meant, talking about our donations and our rescue of them," Maura clarified, rolling her eyes in response to the gentle chiding regarding her choice of words. However, her aloof demeanour quickly shifted to shock when she realized that Zazzy was trying to inquire about their mutual acquaintances. She buried her head in her hands, feeling the second-hand embarrassment from her request.

The rangers exchanged glances among themselves. They had limited knowledge of Avincian, so they gestured for Maura and Zazzy to remain in place while one of them went off to fetch a colleague from the nearby buildings.

Meanwhile, Ayla, the Snowsweeper, turned her attention to Maura. She attempted to sniff Maura's hands before gently licking them with her slathering tongue, as if trying to comfort or cheer up the girl. Maura couldn't help but exclaim, "Eep! Ayla's eating me!" She tried to fend off the tongue with her hands, but the playful Snowsweeper nudged her hands away and continued licking her face.

Zarina laughed. “Hah! She really loves you.” and then she just slumped into the big adult female nearby, with still a little bit of white coat left, and just stayed there while the animal indulged in some tasty grass. “Mmm, fluffy.” she sighed, and after a moment of waiting for the staff to get a supervisor, Zazzy looked at Maura. “Heard you had quite the encounter with, errr, big creatures in ReTan, by the way.” she remarked as we went back to feeding the youths some cubes. “Big animals and grumpy boys.”

"Have you ever eaten battered squid, and when you put the rings in your mouth, you playfully go 'nomf' as if you were a giant creature? Well, its big brother escaped your nightmares and loomed over us all in the sky, like a walking mountain. A creature known as a Knower Titan," she sighed, "Not even sure if it was real; it happened so quickly." She shook her head to dispel the memory. "The boys weren't too bad; Abdel was sweet. The girls were the worst, except for Kaureerah—she's great."

“Shit.” blurted out Zarina, leaned against the big male they had rescued. He was so thick and strong that he barely felt her weight against him. “Sounds like bad calamari. But not all that unbelievable, I don’t think. I just expected something like a big Rettanese dragon or whatever.”

"There was a large arrow dragon who could transform into a human at will, named Wu Long. We collaborated with him for a while, but we eventually ended up in a conflict due to... well, various reasons," she paused, uncertain of how to succinctly explain what had transpired.

The ranger returned with Thorinn by his side, the RASgardian extending his arms toward them in a cheerful manner. "Ladies! It's good to see you again," he boomed, his long, flowing blonde locks trailing behind him as he strode forward. With a mischievous wink at Zarina, he declared, "I hear you've been appreciating these mighty pectoral muscles of mine," while thrusting his chest out proudly. "You should've sent word ahead; we're ever vigilant against any who might threaten these lands. We're not ones to ask many questions."

Zarina snorted. “Damn, Snowsweeper raising does a number on the body sculpting creed, eh?” she regarded Thorinn, hands on her hips and lips pursed as she nodded, looking visibly impressed. “Yeah, my bad.” she waved in surrender. “I don’t have a total grasp on this magic yet. I didn’t plan on popping into the middle of the field, more like … Somewhere I would NOT be ambushed by these cuties.” she smiled, hands back to doing what they do best: Scritches.

“How are you guys holding up?” she inquired, her tone a tad deeper, signifying the end of pleasantries. “The Sanctuary has its needs met, right? Any threats? Special considerations?”

Thorinn scratched his chin, "The fundraising continues, for we must amass a worthy treasury to feed these fine creatures as their appetites grow more insatiable." He gestured toward the two expectant mares, "And lo, we've embarked upon a Snowsweeper wool workshop, a venture that shall, in time, lessen our reliance on donations. But alas, breaking even remains a distant dream."

He snapped his fingers with a hearty laugh, "Idun, she's off to the trials this year, armed with cuddly creatures and certificates to grace your auction house! We're hoping her charms will ensnare a wealthy noble or two, for the cause!"

Zarina scratched her cheek as she pondered. “I’ve been thinking about this, actually. This self-reliance thing.” the snowsweepers were congregating more toward Maura of all people, likely intrigued as to why ‘Ayla’ liked to lick her so much. Was she made of salt? “I was thinking of the Varrahasta Zoo. Maybe that could be an idea. Get a few animals in this sanctuary, and people will want to see them. In fact … This can be a good way to expand the menagerie here, with other creatures that need help.” then, she snapped her fingers as she recalled something. “Were we able to get the other two known males here, by the way?”

Thorinn crossed his arms, and let out a hearty chuckle, his voice booming. "This, my friends, is a sanctuary, not some pitiful zoo. Those places lock up creatures in deplorable conditions for the mere amusement of the masses. Here, we're on a sacred mission to save a species from the brink of extinction," he declared, casting a glance at Maura, who was being thoroughly licked by the Snowsweepers. "Besides, humans can be quite the perilous lot. Just look at how comfortable these magnificent beasts are with us already."

He shook his head solemnly in response to the second question, his golden locks dancing as he did so, "Studding them might be on the table for our lovely ladies, but Snowsweepers, my friends, are a rare and precious treasure. We simply can't scrape together the coin to meet their exorbitant price tags."

“Well, then, be a zoo that doesn’t exploit. I think the best way to get people to care is by letting them meet the beasts.” a couple of pats were placed on a pregnant female’s side. “It’s gonna be about money at the end of the day. So we gotta get producing, so we can get all the remaining snowsweepers here.”

Then, she looked over at Maura and smirked. “Another idea is to make this famous. Lemme explain.” she gently tugged on some of the animal’s fur, and it just slid off as if it had barely been on the animal. She was shedding, after all. “You sponsor Trials teams. Mine, Maura’s and of course Idun’s. If we secure some good places, we can stand on the podium with Snowsweeper tees and a cause to flaunt to the world.”

Maura chimed in with enthusiasm, "Advertisement is indeed a splendid notion, particularly when you're dealing with merchandise as fine as Snowsweeper wool. It can fuel demand, which, in turn, inflates prices. And let's not forget the positive impact on donations."

Thorinn grinned, his voice resonating like thunder, "Ah, you've got the spirit, my friends. Let the world know about our noble cause. As for attracting those pesky poachers, well, let's just say they won't enjoy what I have in store for them if they dare set foot in these parts. Consider it a not-so-subtle deterrent to keep them far, far away."

Zarina clasped her hands together, prompting a nearby snowsweeper to perk up. “Awww, did I spook you?” she reached out to embrace the beast’s neck, and even dropped a few smooches on its cheek, sneaking her head under the thick horn. “We … Could always be proactive with the poacher-snuffing. Surely there are established groups that have been hired for years. If we want them to stop, it isn’t by reacting and scaring them away. They’ll just come back even more prepared.”

The Virangish left the beast to its eating with a couple of pats and gestured for her two colleagues to come closer. “I say we gather a team and start dismantling these dickheads. It ain’t like they’re hunters, they only hunt the exotic and rare. Total fuck-o’s.” she shot a conspiratorial grin at the two.

Maura contemplated for a moment before responding, "Barring opportunistic poachers, a successful operation like that would require some serious infrastructure and logistics. They'd either need buyers lined up or access to a network that can move that type of illicit merchandise. It's not something easily done."

"I shall investigate this further, and I shall keep you both informed," Thorinn declared. He casually spat out the snuff he had been chewing onto the ground. "Looks like I'll be doing some questioning after all, if these troublemakers come knocking on our doors. Come inside once you're done with the beasts."

The Hourglass Order

---

---

Assani 19th

_{Location: ReTan - The Royal Palace Grounds
Day of the week: Lepdes
Time: Dawn
Characters: Everyone.}

Dawn ♫

The Traveller Encounter 2

The Traveler turned, and now he was a tall, pale man with long hair. There was a different air about him, almost as if he changed based on people's perceptions: on what they wanted or - perhaps - what they needed. He inclined his head ever so slightly to the side. "I can feel it bursting from you," he observed. "There is much to be said."

Abdel, burnt but driven, and his faithful Qadira, were once again in the familiar realm separated from the flow of time. The animal recognized the shapeshifting entity and casually approached it like it had done before. The boy, on the other hand, let himself drop onto the floor in a hiss of pain. Binding was being progressively used, but he was distracted. “I sided with them. These Emperors.” he remorsefully confessed. “I knew they were tyrants but ...” he clenched his particularly burnt and scabby forearm and clenched in, causing it to ooze a variety of fluids. “They were ALL tyrants. Hungry for this land.” his teeth gritted as the pain consistently increased. He desperately sought to have the physical agony match and eventually numb the hurt that was within. “What was I supposed to do?! Just ... Walk away? And leave my friends?”

"When you join the game, there is often no winning play," the Traveler admitted, slowly shaking his head. The boy was so lost in himself that he believed them to be outside of space and time when, in fact, they were not. The Traveler quickly made it so. "But punishing oneself will not make it easier. Distraction will not change matters, and I believe that we can change them. Dare I say that we must."

Abdel relented on the self-harm, or rather he became more conscious of it when the traveler made his remark. “How?” he asked, brown eyes now locked onto the new form the freedom fighter had taken. “HOW can anyone even keep these people accountable? You can't.” he gestured meekly at the traveler's direction. “I can't. Rival megalomaniacs couldn't. These people can ... Just do what they want.” the bleeding wound began to close as Abdel composed himself, his frustrations going from a sense of defeat to a growing sense of purpose. “Someone's gotta, though.” he grimaced and shook his head. “Someone, out there, has to keep all these hungry creatures in check.”

The Traveler sighed. "In theory, that falls under the purview of the Knowers. They promote order over chaos. They work behind the scenes to prevent outbreaks of violence between these hungry ones from spreading and destroying others." He clasped his hands behind his back. "In practice, it often means that they accept and promote an ironclad tyranny so long as it is an orderly one." He shook his head. "I know them well and not even they are a united front, somewhat ironically."

There was a brief pause. "In truth, it is as I have been saying all along: we must make the change ourselves. We must hold the cruel and the greedy directly accountable. To do this, we need to be strong - all the rest of us." His voice rose passionately. "We must not be passive and meekly accepting of the casual injustices that we see." He twisted to address Abdel as they walked. "We must not defer and accept out of politeness. We must disrupt, but never solely for the purpose of personal gain." He furrowed his brow and found the youth's eyes. "There are mana brews, there are aberrations, and there are devices which can promote and punish the magic of men. We cannot shy away from their use if we are to win."

Abdel nodded, a rapid pace for a nod that increased in intensity. “Yes. I agree. We can't just let them get their way because their RAS is big or they have an abundance of artifacts and wealth.” still, the notion of confronting the twins, or even smaller fish like the Ingrids of the world was a terrifying notion to ponder. “Without these girls,” he canted his head and looked to his Skuggvar that curiously inspected the shapeshifter. “there's no way I can do any of that. I'm weak, on my own. So very freaking weak.” at first it seemed his bottled up anger was going to surface, but instead the traveler was met with eyes filled with resolve. “How can I do it? Holding powerful people to account is against every law, because they make the laws. Might makes right, as they say.” he sighed. “They are just ... Too BIG.”

The scale of things scared him, really, and despite the bravado, the fear was just as obvious as the fervour in his eyes. So his mind recoiled into a smaller, more familiar scale. “Maybe I cannot hold titans to justice, but some ...” he scoffed. “Why did they all choose the emperors? After the promises many made. They just-” he shook his head. “I did not want to believe it when that man showed me the truth that my own friends would side with what we were convinced was an undisputed evil. Why? Why did they change their minds? Did they see the same things as I did? But then ...” his legs had finally healed, and so he stood. “They all seemed so confused as to what that giant monster was. So they cannot have.”

"I cannot say what happens in everyone's mind. That is his business alone." The Traveler shrugged. "But something in his past: in his experiences and his outlook, have made him think that his course of action is the best of those available. People are, by and large, self-interested. The great trick of it is to try to mild that self-interest: channel it in a direction that does not trample others in the prusuit of some greater self but, rather, uplifts them side by side."

Space and time wavered and then the Traveler was a woman. She looked somewhat like Jocasta, but she was standing. "I will not lie. We must try to save all. Sometimes, we must even compromise on our beliefs in the name of a greater good. Such was what we did today, when we stood shoulder-to-shoulder with tyrants against the destruction of our world." There was something ethereal about her, but yet, paradoxically, so very mundane as well. She paused to consider. "There are times, though, when we should not - we must not compromise: when we must meet strength with strength." She turned to him, earnest and pained. "Truly, I wish it were not so, yet we see, every day, that it is." She shook her head. "The small may yet humble the mighty, though, just as they did today. We were nothing compared to that Titan, and yet, we overcame it." There was a smile just a bit too tight to be satisfied at a job well done. "Collectively, and by using every boon, every magic, and every advantage we could muster." She pursed her lips, moving again, hands clasped at the small of her back. "So it must be in the greater fight."

Her eyes went to him, then, perhaps evaluatively, perhaps not. "And, as I believe you may know, we are not alone in this fight."

“It took the threat of death - no, total annihilation for them to compromise and work together.” Abdel concluded with bitterness poisoning his tone of voice. “Do you think there would have been a show of unity if it was just half the city at risk, the one furthest from here?” he shook his head. “I don't think so. I think you're spot-on with the whole self-interest bit. But,” the healing of his body had been nearly complete, allowing him to stand straight once more. “I don't buy that we can all just hold hands one day. Some need to be punished. Held accountable. Fear was the strongest driver today. It definitely drove me to making my own decision.” he confessed, a look of shame brought down to the distortion in space-time by the traveler. “My girlfriend, Maura, is a strong advocate of the carrot, but I'm personally seeing faster and stronger results with the stick when dealing with self-interest and megalomania of the magnitude I've seen.”

The Skuggvar sniffed some more near the traveler, less afraid after an initial inspection. It circled her in a non-threatening manner, and then let out a low rumble for attention.

“No. I don't know who fights for freedom and justice other than the lot I've been hunting down. Your lot:” he remarked, arms crossed but standing his ground. “A bunch of random lower folk, with a scarce few with power they don't quite know how to use. Only just a league below me, commoner tethered with a disappointing RAS.”

She laid her hand upon the large beast, finding a spot towards the back of its head and scratching. "Some do need to be beaten, and with strength of our own. Where there is a will, an understanding, and the necessary self-discipline, there is much to be found." She shrugged and then the world wavered again. This time, it was Manuel Escarra who addressed Abdel. "But we are legion, and we can be clever as well as strong. Some, we can convince. Your girlfriend and her... carrot." He shrugged. "That is worthwhile in some cases." He continued, and they were in an endless field, its long grains whispering in the wind. "Others, we can outsmart: use their own predictable greed against them. Do the mighty not just as easily turn on each other as step on the weak?" He grinned, and there was a sparkle in the corner of his eye. "And if push comes down to shove..." He trailed off and shrugged, glancing up at the star-filled sky. "We have the Dieci Volti. They are on our side and, though they do not come from wealth or power, they are mighty in their own right: mighty indeed."

Abdel scoffed. “Turn them against one another and one will emerge victorious to exert their newfound power even harder.” he nudged his head to the side, bringing attention behind him, where the ruined castle would have been. “Those twins are a good example. ReTan is huge, full of people - strong people. And yet they've ruled for two hundred years. When I see this I ...” he grit his teeth. “It makes me upset there's almost never someone, or someones, to stand up to these people. Not until the direst of situations, when all is at stake. Until then, promises and trinkets seem to do fine in pacifying.”

The Skuggvar let out a light purr of joy when it was blessed with the otherworldly scritches of the traveller.

The young tethered narrowed his eyes into a squint at the mention of the Volti. “I thought they were mercenaries.” remarked Abdel, wary. “... Strong mercenaries. Mighty indeed. People who can make a difference.” he nodded. “So they're the stick.” he chuckled, chin lowered and eyes closed. “Well.” he opened his eyes and slowly regarded the false-Escarra. “I'm angry. I want harsh justice on some. On tyrants. On some of my peers. And I'm not as weak as they all think.” he smiled. “I'd like to be that stick to your cause. Leave the incentives - the carrots - to you and Maura. I'm just ... Too bitter, deep down, to let all of this go. All that people like my parents, or Nialluses or Valerians just do to others. I just can't - I can't just compromise with these people. I want retribution. For me, and for others.”

The Traveler nodded sagely, as if knowing. "Your anger is not unwarranted and not without its place," he acknowledged. "Just remember that it can only destroy, not create." There was a smile and the world began to waver. "There is a place for you within what is to come." For a moment, the Traveler was Abdel himself. "This, I promise."

“I can accept that.” was Abdel's answer, now looking at his very reflection. The world was about to fade, as it did the last time they had exchanged.

But there was a final thing. “Before you leave,” his features softened, the tension oozing out of him wavered with the space-time anomaly surrounding them. “There was a man - Zhiang - who looked after Dayanara. We never found him after the Nikanese raid.” he frowned with a look of concern trained at the traveller. “Do you have an inkling as to what happened to him?”

The Traveler seemed to know, instinctively, that he was speaking of 'Xiang' and not 'Zhiang'. He shook his head cryptically and winked. "Oh," he assured the youth, "He's quite alright. I wouldn't worry about him." Was it a grin as one reality faded into another?

Abdel was back with Maura by his side. A simple shared look confirmed their experience to both of them, and they hugged. A moment of true tenderness after all the death and destruction they had to endure. But it did not fill the hungering void inside Abdel. There was a need to make things right, or at least try to bring his justice to those he could no longer tolerate.

He, Maura and Dayanara made their way back, passing through the soon-to-be confiscated mollusk cadaver sprawled onto palace grounds. Rikard nearly paid the ultimate price, but freed himself just in time to save Captain Zhu, while Trypano stood idly behind them. It all went unusually fast, but ended with nobody harmed, and Tan Zeno Re dealing with the hazardous material. Good.

Once reunited with the others, two were conspicuously missing: Ingrid and Valerian. Both of which Abdel did not hold to the highest regard. Especially not after this battle. They were out of sight, but not out of the Tethered’s range. A gathering of individuals made the tracking easy, and the combination of close contact and shifts in their internal biologies made the outcome of that meeting obvious: They were promised a great power to turn on their allies. Well, Valerian was, anyway. He could only imagine Ingrid was attracted by the promise of power - having something else above others.

Both were going to get what was coming to them. Maybe in a day. Maybe a year. Abdel would not forget.

Then came trinkets from the Emperors. An abundance of wealth, which so many salivated upon. Many that had committed murder and treason. It irked Abdel, deeply so. To the point where he acted quickly to claim the Royal Qilin, distrustful of what his peers would do to this animal. Then, the pendant he’d offer to a prize-less Valerian as a poison chalice with a disingenuous smile.

And then, a first effort to hold these people accountable: Niallus was challenged for his helm. The young Eskandish was left burnt and defeated, begging for death with only his void-stained sword he traded the life of Dragon Smirk for. The young man did not smirk as he passed, but Abdel certainly did as he walked away.

With three prizes guarded by Skuggvars and an increasingly confident Abdel, he made stood with Maura and Joscasta as one of the big winners, along with Kaureerah as a close fourth.

Then, finally, a familiar sight of a grove, now made physical in this world, came before their eyes, and Abdel made his choice:

Truthfulness - The Lychee.
Skepticism - The Almond.

His prime virtues as an investigative tracker. And his main attributes that allowed him to see through the deceits of all the power players, and yet he cursed his lack of strength to make the choices he believed to be the best, in hindsight. But now, with growing power and confidence, he could make everything right.

The wicked will be punished, and their kin will learn to fear the few that could actually touch them. And his reach was about to become even greater.

The Hourglass Order

Zarina straddled her Alpha Froabas, leaving Riesco at the stable with his friend Nuro and the safety of Zox and Jascuan. In truth, she would have preferred to leave Alqasas there too, but without the mistress the beast could prove to be a problem, especially if something happened to the beastmaster. The dragon led the herd of tuskers in the air, with An Zenui as their destination.

The duo of human and dragon split from the herd as they approached An Zenui, as to not alert the authorities, but also to provide Zarina with the privacy she needed. A stony plateau that had a view of the city and was decently elevated would have to do. The mount found its footing and rested where it could find the last golden glimmers of sunlight. Meanwhile, Zarina sat down at the edge, legs hanging want shoeless. In fact, most of her clothes were folded under a shrub barring a few light pieces ton her. Her few goods were put in a sack with a long belt tied to it, placed next to the clothes. And finally, her shield remained by her, just in case. On her lap, she pet Nibbler who was enjoying a fruit from Jascuan's garden.

Zarina pouted, lips flapping. “Ipte darn it, I would've liked to see some of that festival.” she swung her legs and waited, her eyes flicking up to the clear skies from time to time. Soon, the moons would provide beautiful, natural lighting to the event.

“Wh-at a mess.”

Blood surrounded the girl. No longer was she the soft-skinned Virangish girl with a bit too much money, hiding behind a pristine armour of platinum and dragon scale. Now, she was a beast. One the word had not see in so, so long. Curved, goat-like horns twisted just above her scale-ridden ears. She still resembled Zarina Al-Nader, right down to the eye colour and facial features. But she was distinctly Tryannus Horrifer too. Most of her body was covered in scales barring portions of her appendages and her abdomen. Her arms were abnormally long with a membrane still forming between them and her sides. The nine foot humanoid dragon loomed over the desert and once again grew familiar with this wretched form.

She whistled, prompted Alqasas to take flight, while Nibbler casually hopped onto her shoulder. By the time she was ready, satchel tied to her waist and shield slipped on like a perfectly tailored shoe, the message was received.

“It's g-go ti-me.”

And she vanished, while Alqasas was ordered to circle the skies of An Zenui until called upon. The four-moon Horrifer remained static above the city itself, witnessing the chaos unfold below. Her peers were successful, and she could even feel the Ayla's power - a power that even dissuaded an Alpha Sand Wyrm from rampaging.

Then, she felt it. Her instincts captured the signs of imminent danger, and then her energy senses confirmed them. With people dying by the hundreds, she had to act. She had to save. And she had to kill her enemies.

Classa!

Time slowed down to a near stand-still. Only briefly, in her own timeline. She could see the inevitable coup de grâce reaching for the precious Centaur. In a small fraction of a second, the black dragon stood before the girl, arm-wings wrapped around her as a shield. The spell was not going to pierce through the black scales.

The dark curtain opened, liberating Classa. Nibbler hopped into her arms for comfort. The transformed teen smiled, showing off sharp teeth that rivaled her Froabas'.

Zarina looked over her shoulder to witness what had happened as her long, wicked tail sporadically whipped in the air and obliterated the occasional piece of debris.

The Demon ♫

How they writhed and contorted. Blood poured from their mouths, their ears, and their eyes. Their teeth fell out and their skin fissured, crisping, cracking, peeling, a red mist hanging in the air. Bones cracked and hair caught fire. The unholy sound of their dying screams filled the night and the would-be revolutionaries fled before a fell power they could not begin to comprehend.

The blood hung there, thickening, and then came the bones, the skin, the flesh. Twining together in vile tethers, it snaked across the burgeoning hellscape at the heart of An Zenui. These rivers joined and grew, steaming and hissing. The ground trembled and heaved, swelling and burning.

Then, there were veins, threading through the night sky, rising a hundred feet in the air - two hundred. They twisted and solidified and... began to move. The circulatory framework of a great hand plunged into the ground and pulled out a chain of screaming, wailing demons. It raised these to its mouth and then there were bones, congealing, building, hardening: teeth that tore them to shreds, skeletal fingers, arms, legs, and a vast ribcage, within which beat a molten heart. Steam and smoke rose from the growing monstrosity as flesh began to entomb it. This vented through the air, whistling and hissing. Atop the head formed a gnarled crown of bone and then, from its back, sprouted vast, skeletal wings that dripped a foul black mist and sheets of flaking skin as they spread. Its bones groaned and crackled with every step. Its flesh seared and one could smell the sickening sweet stench of cooking meat.

“De-mon.”

Then, came the noise. Its toothless mouth unleashed a warbling scream that held enough force to tear back the curtains on the battered stage and send people running for cover. Skin now covered the demon, and it was a lithe, towering female figure with a lumpen, misshapen crown growing out of its head and yawning eyeless black sockets. The bones of its fingers extended beyond what its blackened, pestilent, and peeling skin could cover, ending in gnarled, branching talons. White smoke seeped and vented from fissures as it moved and burning black blood dripped from where the bony crown and vile wings emerged from its tortured skin. Its feet were massive and thick, like an elephant's, and they pulverized the ground wherever they touched it, burning and scorching as they went.

Last of all, came the eyes. They grew into those empty sockets, hundreds of branching veins, hardening and blackening and burning. Yet, instead of forming into two complete eyes, each stalk formed a little ball of its own that moved as it wished. There were hundreds, each fist-sized and, from behind them, came a hungry orange glow that licked and snapped and flared with eager malevolence.

Thus, for the first time in a thousand years, was summoned the Grand Demon of Cruelty:

Hetraxa

Burning An Zenui ♫

"GORGE!"

It commanded an awful, inhuman voice, multitude joined as one, in truth. Immediately, for dozens of individuals present and nearby, their manas began drawing energy uncontrollably, filling them with it to bursting point.

The beast merely glared, expelling copious amounts of heat as it was forced to draw.

Fire everywhere. None burned as hot as the unrefined rage inside the Wildblood. The instinct to lash out at the unnatural was strong, and the indignation for all the deaths and desecrations she had just seen was even stronger. The immense violence she was about to usher into this world was going to be the justice both sides implied in their own, animalistic ways.

Her allies minded the people and the fires, while Zarina charged head first into the monster. The blows, as mighty as what at least two of the others could muster up together, made her better for this role anyway.

An utter slugfest with the amalgamation of flesh, and yet it hardly hit back. Was it ignoring Zarina? Or did it not see the point in taking down the resilient dragon first, and aimed for the weaker ones? None of these thoughts crossed Zarina’s mind. It didn’t matter. All she wanted was to destroy this thing in particular, no matter what it did.

Then, it took a particular aim toward Josca with a concentrated blast of energy - one the cazenax could not stop alone.

Driven by both a desire to devour the energy but also the human portion’s instinct to channel the will of Oraff-Zept, the half-transformed wildblood appeared before the girl and halted the blast with some light aid, and then returned it to the demon.

Nothing. Not even a scratch. If anything it claimed the flames to use later.

The dragon was vexed. Any thank you or call was zoned out. All that mattered was hurting that tower of flesh.

The struggle was real. Her blows hardly scratched the mass, and the efforts of her peers merely chunked a few insignificant pieces of flesh. Something had to change, NOW.

Taking to the air again, the Horrifer inhaled slowly, syphoning in energy with the help of Gorge and its own special organs to contain the specific conversion and transformation she was doing. Arms opened, a ball of green energy began to form inside her opened maw. Then, she fired. A loud screech that rang for many hundreds of metres. A beam of energy got to the upper right of the beast, and with a simple turn of her head, was dragged horizontally down fast like a blade carving a piece of meat.

The grand demon recoiled, a massive burnt gash on its core and the first significant damage it had taken. It was vulnerable.

The dragon recoiled, overheated from the previous attack with steam erupting from her orifices and pores. She was vulnerable.

But she also had allies, and they capitalized fully, until Hetraxa’s fury grew into something new. For all of the devastation that this demon had wrought, those arrayed against her had struck back and struck truly. After eating a nuclear blast from Benedetto, bound by Ayla, she paused and released a colossal amount of scalding steam. Those surrounding her reeled back as she began to change …

"I CALL UPON THEE, OH CREATURES OF PESTILENCE AND FILTH. BRING FORTH THY DESTRUCTION UPON THIS WORLD!!!"

In Your Skin ♫

An enormous swarm of insects began to form.

Kneebiters and Sanguignats. None passed through the exorbitant heat around Zarina, and they quickly learned the futility of doing so. Instead, the others were prime targets, while the Wildblood’s position didn’t change.

The pounding continued, and the state of the group was starting to deteriorate. It gave Zarina all the more reason to prepare her next nuclear blast.

But then, as she readied her claws to gore a nearby portion of the demon, Classa was dragged before her!

“I... LET ME GO! LET ME GO, YOU BITCH!” the girl let out a terrified sound.

Zarina stared right at her with gold, feral eyes.

“Don't hurt me! PLEASE don't hurt me! I don't mean it!”

Then she looked at the demon. And finally to the nearby bugs. They were too close, and so she unleashed a stream of acid that morphed into a corrosive cloud to consume all the vermin. And with enough time, Ayla was able to clear the Dominion curse from the centaur, letting her scurry off so that the grown ups could end this.

The next big laser was in order: One that’d pierce through the core of the monster, leaving a bleeding hole in its place and causing it to stagger once more. Enough for Desmond to claim another significant piece with his special bullets.

Although not before finally getting a swipe off Zarina. The massive set of cleavers finally caught her off guard in overheat. Her reaction was slow and she had to catch the blade to hold it back, creating massive gashes on her palm, abdomen and forearms. Slowly, these would begin to heal, but now it was clear that even the Horrifer’s scales could not entirely stop this monster’s rampage.

Once again, Hetraxa was undergoing a change …

This time, a green mist surrounded the colossal creature and it sunk deeper into it.

Woes of Ecstasy ♫

"NOW YOU WILL KNOW MADNESS!!!"

It rang in ALL their heads. Madness from the Void. A sickening feeling. An enraging feeling.

Zarina began to gather energy. An obscene amount, and concentrated the excess into her core, where her final Horrifer blast was to take form. All that had to be done was survive. Survive the plague mist that infected so many. Tku, some of the snakes, Marci … She could sense it - the sickness in them. Taking their skin.

This needed to end quickly.

In position, the Wildblood took aim. Everyone could now sense the obscene quantity of energy she had focused into one point. The madness had made her even more callous to the potential destruction she’d bring, but perhaps considering that angle was a ticket to death. Maybe this was necessary.

And just as she was about to attack, Zarina turned to her friends. No longer was she in control of her body.

“NO!” she screamed. “NO! WHAT! NO!”

No amount of rage could stop this. Her grand finale was no longer pointed at Hetraxa, but at her own sister. She could not even self-destruct, everything except the mind and speech was robbed of her.

She fired.

And Marceline Hohenfelter-Escarra survived, nearly unscathed, to a Horrifer blast that even put the Nox Arcanum one to shame. With the Zox wall and some help, of course. The smoke cleared, revealing no casualties to the relief of the now burning dragon, exhausted from her last attack.

It was there that Benedetto came to deliver the coup-de-grace to the exposed dragon, with no way for her to defend herself. She looked Nyax-Acan right into the eyes - his furious and regretful eyes - and prepared for the end.

Except Marceline once again defied the odds and hurled her remaining wall to protect. But it wasn’t enough, Benny’s nuclear blast was going to push through …

Until a wailing Alaqasas tackled the blonde young man off his footing and redirected his attack to the sky. The Froabas had acted without Ayla’s command and intervened to save her handler. The animal stared down the possessed Benny, while Marci got to work.

The Cure-All in Zarina’s pouch was swiftly ripped out of the bag before Hetraxa could intervene and the vial shattered to coat the Wildblood with the stuff. In just a few seconds, the curse was lifted. Zarina was back in the game, right by her dragon. She layed a gentle paw onto the alpha’s snout as a thanks.

The hour was dire. The sickness was spreading further. Soon, they would all be dead. And Zarina was the last singular heavy-hitter with Benedetto still possessed. And she did not have the mind to strategize quickly enough.

But Tennaxi did.

The Final Push ♫

She knew a new dominion was coming. The young raider-turned-close ally was more observant than most. Something had to be done before the many eyes glared once more unto game changers.

Josca and Desmond, in one coordinated assault, shattered the remaining barriers the demon had put up. It could not be stingy anymore and needed to put everything in its next attack. An attack it could not be allowed to have.

“It okay.” something called to Zarina. “Friend.” and then it came from behind. She recognized it as a shadowy aura surrounded the Horrifer’s body with a little, dark form grabbing onto her from behind, this time with legs.

“Together.” she said simply. The dragon understood.

To the heavens they took, and even higher. They did not move normally, however, and instead Zarina had rapidly warped to the stratosphere. A cold and beautiful place. She could see the stars, and all of Sipenta! But her eyes were on one, minuscule point: Hextraxa.

“T-T-Together.” she uttered before descending down. Gravity and her own immense power made exponential by Tennaxi’s influence made of a crashing celestial body that terrified many ages.

High up, it looked like a simple, red comet slowly making its way down. Dangerous, but far. However, as Zarina his maximum velocity and burned bright, she vanished.

And appeared right on top of Hetraxa with a single, darkened fist lunging right at its centre.

“I’LL STAAAAKE IT ALL! TO KIIIILLL YOU!”

Tried as she might, the creature’s defenses quickly crumbled and the Wildblood pierced right through her, leaving a massive hole that traversed through her body, to the point of rendering the body near-unusable.

Massive tendrils of thick, oily blackness snake up from the abyss. They entwine themselves about her arms and legs. They wrap around her waist and up over her shoulders and the bony crown growing from her head. The ground opens up, glowing with an unholy dark fyre.

Cruelty ♫

""N O ! I W O N ' T G O ! I ' M N O T R E A D Y !"

Her eyes become sharp, black things that burn with fury and hatred.

""T H E Y M U S T S U F F E R ! Y O U A R E I N S U L T S T O C R E A T I O N !"

She thrashes and struggles and the tendrils begin to snap, but more emerge. She manages to break one massive hand free and her bale gaze settles upon…

""Y O U ! ! !" she roars, fist clenching Ayla tightly, with bonebreaking force. ""Y O U C O M E W I T H M E! T O W H E R E Y O U B E L O N G ! ! !"

It takes notice of the spell that was used.

The great stone pinnacle shudders.

Further towards hell, Ayla is dragged.

She sees the truth of it in that moment, below her, above her, all around her.

She is weightless.

She is everything...

and nothing.

Then, as the ground begins to close, the VOID of hell wavers and writhes.

This... THING that should not exist within reality is met with the world's fury, its disgust, its.... wrath.

All of this channeled through one boy - almost a man.

The great, desperate hand crumbles to ash and the ground... implodes.

The force is terrific. An Zenui rises and falls.

Great boulders and shards of rock hurtle in every direction.

Ayla, however, is not returned to reality.

For she is of it and also not of it.

She hangs there, in limbo.

The Hourglass Order

---

---

Assani 19th

_{Location: Xochiyeiteteo - 4S Farmstead > An Zenui - Omenaxan
Day of the week: Lepdes
Time: Morning
Present: A lot of people.}

Dreaming

♫

“You’re going to miss it, Zazoo.”

Zarina didn’t awaken or arrive anywhere. She was just there, as if she always had been, with only some plain clothes. But what was ‘there’? The air was warm, the sky was bright and the ground was …

“Sand.” she grumbled. “Why is it always a desert?” she complained, only to feel a furball brush against her ankle. It was a minuscule cat - a Rusty Spotted Cat to be exact. “Oh, Ayla.” remarked Zarina. Why, of course, this was always what Ayla looked like. Bending herself to seized the small cat, it did not resist and settled into her arms in a myriad of purrs.

Then, a neigh came from her right, and then a man’s voice. “Mrrrph. That big cucumber is going to appear any second. I could use a cucumber, actually …” he spoke with a creamy and deep voice. His stomach gurgled too.

Zarina regarded him. A fair skinned tall man with modest quality clothing, long blonde hair and pronounced musculature, barring the gut he hid under his tunic. His brown eyes oriented themselves to the girl. “Do you want to get closer?” he asked, hands on his hips. “I think we have a good view here, Riesco.” spoke the girl.

“I agree.” another voice, one heavy accident and quite nasally. “We should just kick back. There’s no way you be eatin’ all that cucumber, Riesco.” it was Nuro, seated on a beach chair and taking in the rays of the six suns that shone above them. And yet, the heat was never unbearable.

“Here it is!” Riesco pointed at the horizon. Zarina squinted to see. What emerged was indeed a giant cucumber with its tip splitting open like some eldritch worm. And with its emergence came a mighty storm, one almost identical to the one the group had escaped from previously.

“Over here!” shouted someone from the opposite direction. A female’s voice, quite young-sounding.

Then, a rat riding a skunk ran past the group of observers, rushing to that same direction to flee the storm. “Hey! Fiske, Desmond!” called out Zarina just as Ayla also hopped off and joined the two in their flight for survival. “Wait for me!”

Riesco and Nuro were gone, and all Zarina could focus on was the house on the other horizon. And as she ran without ever truly exerting herself, she saw an eel flop about. It was Evander! And as a literal fish out of water, he could hardly do anything, not even make a sound. Feeling pity, Zazzy grabbed him and stuffed the critter in a satchel.

Once she made it at the house, it looked … Exactly like her home in Ersand’Enise. Actually, it was exactly that, right down to the smell one would expect from an animal menagerie.

“UGH! You’re totally ruining my vibe Thawra! What the shizzle?!” whined a particularly beautiful girl in a Virangish dress worthy of royalty with pink, violet and red colours dominating. Her hair was long and styled to resemble one of the current princesses, and her skin was a tad more bronzed than Zarina’s. They were all in the drawing room, and the whining girl looked toward Zarina. “Oh Em Eff Gees. She’s home.” the girl rolled her eyes and migrated to the next room.

“Oh hells no you’re not talking about me like that, Alqasas!” Zarina cranked up the sass and even wagged her index finger. “You apologize right now, lady. NOW!”

“Heehee, welcome home mum.” another teenaged girl peeked out of the same room Alqasas had left. She was paler, but still had a noticeable tan, and she was smaller. She also wore more Torragonese-style clothing similar to Ayla’s. “I’m still feeling queasy, though, so I don’t think I can make school tomorrow.” a badly acted whine and rub of her tummy had Zarina roll her eyes.

“Nice try Thawra.” Zaz pursed her lips and regarded the girl. “Get me your sister, and do your homework. Or no pork chops.”

The girl grimaced but surrendered quickly. After skipping away to get the more rebellious sibling, a Raccoon passed by Zarina’s, skedaddling on its two feet while holding a mix of coffee beans and magi in its small, cupped hands. “Looks like the stand is holding out well with you, Marci.” Zarina smiled. “At this point it should be your striped face on the logo.”

“Zarina! Quickly! Over here!” once again, the voice called for her from the backyard. So familiar. It even made Evander squirm in her bag. Zarina power walked outside …

The air was dry and there were many shrubs around her. The house had vanished the moment she stepped out of it, and before her was a large coliseum with an abundance of … People? Except, they were all animals waving their Kurushes as they bet on actual men and women racing in a circular field. And on their heads were mantises riding them.

“Zazzy Zazzy!” a child called out.

“Zazzy! Where were you?!” another with a higher pitched voice yelled as well.

Two kids, one wearing all black with a dark mask, although he clearly wasn’t of dark skin underneath. A boy a good two inches taller than the girl that followed him. She was of darker skin, although she favoured red and blue colours for her getup, as well as rainbow colours for her hair. Both rushed down to Zarina to hug her. “Hey you two!” laughed the caretaker.

“I wanna see the pony-people.” said the more reserved, but still quite energetic female, as she held Zarina’s hand.

“I do too, Maat! I know you love to watch horsies.”

“Can we get treats too?! I saw grapes! Grapes! Pleaaaase!” the boy clasped his hands together to beg.

“Fiiiiine Horus. But only a grape. Too much and you get a rush for hours.”

Both were held by their hands on each of Zarina’s sides as they entered the arena with fruits being enjoyed and good seats found. They watched a race, with Zarina as the only human in the audience, although that didn’t seem to bother anybody, including Zaz herself.

“Go Billium!” cheered one. “No, Henry is better!” retorted the other.

“A little insider help: Arman is set to win the whole event.” A Virangish Queen Cobra had settled next to Zarina. It regarded the children with serpentine eyes that bent and emoted like a human’s. The little ones screamed ‘Grandma!’ in unison, while Zazzy merely regarded the reptile. “Why the long face? I want you all to have a good time.”

“Kinda defeats the purpose of the sport if you cheat, though.” replied an uneasy Zarina, arms crossed and her body oriented to keep the two youths away from the snake.

The cobra shrugged the best it could with its noodle-like body. “It’s still a spectacle, and we win.”

“I don’t care about idiots losing money. I care about you shitting on nice things - things to be proud of - because you want a quick buck.”

“Again with this, Zarina,” the snake’s tongue flickered out to taste the air. “overly concerned about things that hardly matter. Things that benefit those beneath that would hesitate to get on top of us given the chance.” the serpent chuckled. “I like a genuine horse race too. But family comes before all else. Even our lofty ideals.”

Arman had indeed won the race, prompting many cheers. One man, a tiger, was sitting next to the snake and showed off his winnings - a nice bag of coins. “Hey boss, today’s a good day.”

The serpent smiled and merely extended out the tip of her tail with an empty sack presented. Then, she looked at the gaping, hollow hole that had yet to be filled. The tiger licked his lips in feline anxiety, and eventually dropped a small portion of coins in the bag.

But the snake kept staring at the opening with an unmoving smile. So he poured more.

Still no budging. She stared with only a couple of blinks.

Tariq the Tiger conceded. “Here you go boss, for all you do for us.” the entire winnings were dumped into the superior’s bag. “Well done, Tariq. I trust you’ll keep on earning like a champion.”

Zarina watched it all unfold and rolled her eyes the same way Alqasas had done to her. This was routine. Might made right in this environment, and as much as Zazzy rejected the blatant corruption of certain practices, the sheer presence the serpent imposed always inspired her, in some way. “I think all of that is short sighted, mom.”

The snake, before answering, cheered with the two kids as another race concluded. It made Zarina’s concerns feel so secondary, and she knew it. “It is. Such trivial things are just short term gains.” it exhaled from its snout and tapped Zarina’s shoulder with its tail. “My dear.” the teen growled. “I don’t like it when you start with that.”

“My Dear.” the snake cleared her throat. “I know you’ve been hurting. All because you concern yourself over things that just … Don’t matter as much, I’m afraid.” the shoulder tap turned into considerate rubs. “Most people and things just don’t. The more you focus yourself on what truly matters - you and your family, and the right friends too - the better you’ll be. The less constrained that potential of yours will be.”

“Hoyyy!” the exchange was interrupted by a postman that had glided to their position. A short, young man with blue hair and a lanky frame. “Priority letter for Zarina! Just sign here.”

Zarina took the envelope and signed her name onto the clipboard. “Thanks, Arlo.” a faint smile was dedicated to the peppy delivery boy before he flew out.

The letter was opening, only to reveal a single sheet of paper with one word.

‘Help.’

“Zarina!” the voice called again. “Over here! Quickly!”

It came from … Under? And just as she realized this, all the audience was gone except for Saoussen the snake. “Another distraction that can get you killed. Choose your next steps wisely, Zaz.” the stone beneath them began to crack, and they fell into a bottomless, black abyss.

Zarina came to after a minute, prodded by the tongue of an unseen being barring two floating orbs that reflected the little light around. The whole room was black, and thus Tku the chameleon had turned dark as well. He stood upon a rock.

“Thanks Tku, Zox.” she gathered herself and looked around. A featureless room was what she came to find, with only darkness barring a consistent spotlight shining above her.

“Zarina! Please, help!”

Zarina twisted toward the sound, only to find nothing.

“Where are you?!”

“Again, Zarina, why are you travelling through deserts and coliseums to follow a voice you don’t even know?” the snake was suddenly there, except titanesque and looming over Zarina. Its big, orange eyes looked down at her and its tongue about the size of the Virangish teen. “You’re one of a kind. Quite literally, you’ve become something few can even compare themselves to in a few years! And yet … You just keep burdening yourself. Like your grandfather. It is a shame. But on the other hand, maybe it is better than letting that temper of yours win out.”

“I’ve yet to truly regret doing what I do. It’s in our core values to preserve life whenever we can.”

“That is a lie, Zarina Al-Nader.” A Froabas of the alpha variety emerged from the darkness just as big as the serpent and opposite of her in regard to Zarina’s position. “You’ve killed many innocents because of what you are. And, despite your misplaced self-hatred for the power you possess, you’ve been holding the mantra that you desperately try to contradict whenever possible, like with that Cuimits man who would not have hesitated to kill YOU and all your friends..”

“Go rot in hell with your pathetic father, Augusto.” hissed Zarina. And yet, despite wanting to attack the beast, the rules of this world made her stay helpless immobile.

“Some people simply deserve to die more than others. If they were in the way of the magnificent being you’ve become, they were meant to fall for you to grow.”

“I’ll have YOU fall beneath by foot you fucker. I will never forget what you’ve done to me and those people.”

“You want to protect so many things, and kill the most vile creatures of this world. Not even the greatest mage of your time could achieve this. Not even I, the strongest being of this world, could fully achieve this either.”

Finally, between the two, was a black dragon that dwarfed even the giants that had entered the stage to egg Zarina on. A dragon that resembled Zarina’s monstrous form.

“You need power to carry all these burdens. Power both of these lack, and so they’ve compromised. Their values, morals and souls for opportunities they would never have without making them happen. But-”

Zarina kept silent as she looked up in both amazement and terror at the third being.

“We share the same blood, you and I. The possibilities with you are limitless. You only need to be able to make them your own.”

“Zarina! Help! Please!”

A silhouette began to form under the obscured form of the Tyrannus Horrifer that had been talking down on Zarina. The memories were flowing back as the teen made the figure out more and more.

“Which would entail sacrifice. Would you save them, at the risk of letting a great evil, the same evil that’s hurting them, roam free even longer so they could hurt even more?” Heart shined a light upon the hidden figure, progressively revealing the source of the voice. “One would be privileging the safety of those close to you, as your mother believes you should do, at the expense of leaving the monster’s fate up to powers that aren’t yours. Powers that you have no control over.” one ‘hand’ was raised.

“I owe them so much …”

And then the other. “Or pursue the wretched creature and exact the notion you’ve been living by: Some simply deserve to die. It’s justice. The death of Wesca, and those connected to her, would ensure the safety of many others. Your desire to protect all life, no matter how small, drives you here. But the few are sacrificed for the many.”

“I …”

“One day, maybe, you could have both. But now? You’re helpless to the painful choices of this world.”

Evander jumped out of her sack, unleashed a massive electrical discharge and illuminated Classa in her entirety, with Sandbat Tennaxi and a regular Nibbler on her back. Both were chained and afraid. The three beings were repulsed by the lightning.

“Zarina! I’m scared! Help! HELP!”

“Classa!”

A Yansee frog then jump scared Zarina, making her fall back.

Finally, she woke up. And in front of her was a new, Red Nashibansek Coon meowing away at her. A delightful sight to make up for that unpleasant finale.

Sneaking in An Zenui

♫

They glided over the open desert and, for all that there was worry in their hearts, for all that the situation might've been grim, on some level, there was joy there as well. More than once, Marci lifted from Alqasas' back, flying momentarily on her own. She did a loop just for the feeling of it before alighting nimbly on the great beast's back.

Zarina remained mostly focused, though there was something beautiful about being up here, looking down on it all below. Rocky crags and hoodoos jutted out from shifting dunes and a low veil of sand that drifted across the barren expanse, interrupted only occasionally by thorny shrugs, cacti, and stunted, umbrella-like trees.

Finally, after some twenty minutes, An Zenui hove into view, perched atop the horizon like a sparkling jewel set in a small canyon and its surrounding environs. The sparkling brown waters of the river that wound through they city snaked along below them and Zarina's smaller shadow undulated across their surface alongside her dragon's larger one.

Once they deemed themselves close enough, they circled down to rest by a small rocky crag that obscured any view of them from the road. While they as yet moved, Jascuan hopped off and landed, light as a feather, on the ground. The elder produced a cane from his robes and stood aside as Alqasas' wings beat and the beast's landing kicked up a cloud of dust and sand.

"I guess that does it," Marceline chirped, sliding off and landing in a crouch. Zarina was already in her full regalia - a distant and intimidating thing to most who didn't know her. Marci didn't much mind, however. "Now that we're still, gimme a minute to work my magic." She closed her eyes and her face became a mask of intense focus.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and her face became pinched. Gradually, she swept the cliffsides, the valley, and the tops where the rich people lived. She swept the tents, stalls, buildings, and temples. A small centaur, she thought, and a girl with no legs. She chewed on her lower lip and steadies her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This was her craft. This was her gift. She felt them all: the signals in their muscles and brains, the half-digested food in their stomachs, the cancers in their organs. She focused, she felt, and then... she found.

"They're close to each other," she announced finally. "Not together, but close." She opened her eyes. "They're in a large tower together: south-southeast." She pointed in the general direction, eyes flicking Zarina's way. "So, do I guide you on foot or the tethered way?" she inquired.

Once again, Zarina traversed the desert skies clad in her reflective platinum armour. It was hot, and thermoregulation could only do so much before the artificial nature of it got tiring. A sigh of relief was warranted as they approached the borders of the city. They landed, with Alqasas settling in and eventually resting upon the hot, sun-exposed surface for some free, solar energy.

Marceline had located the two missing girls, prompting a rise of adrenaline within the recently awakened Zarina. That much sleep was going to keep one groggy for a while. “You stay at a safe distance.” she decided. “If something happens to us, you can make the call of either bringing Alqasas with you to help, or get the others at the farm. Until then,” her normal-sized gauntlet tapped the younger teen's shoulder. “I'm trusting you to keep me alive and guide me.” then, she regarded Jascuan. “Do you know that tower? I can just fly us there, and we get a feel of what's going on.”

Jascuan's head turned as if he was looking in the direction of the tower, though he could not have been. His body was stiff and his voice a grated rumble. "I know it well." He shook his head. "It is the Omenaxen." A gust of wind whispered across the barrens outside of the city. "It is not a place one simply enters."

Zarina regarded Jascuan with a dull stare, although it was concealed behind her helm. “Like some sort of prison? They'd actually lock someone up for missing legs and looking like a horse?”

He shook his head, pursing his lips. "It is more than that," he answered simply. "You will see. Be careful. All senses alert. Be ready for anything."

Marci looked concerned. "Should I... come?" she prodded, eyes darting between them.

“No. Like I said, you're our lifeline if things turn sour.” Zarina regarded Jascuan. “Got it. You do the talking, I'll keep my guard up.”

Jascuan nodded. "Very well. Follow me." he twisted to acknowledge Marci for a moment and began walking, his posture changing as he did so. His steps became slow and unsteady, his body stooped, and his cane swung back and forth tremulously. "Say nothing," he whispered.

The great armoured gate loomed ahead, dominating the landscape before it, rifles bristling from its twin towers and a dozen apertures. A couple of them moved to track the hunched, doddering figure of Jascuan but, surprisingly, none seemed to pay any attention to the heavily armoured figure of Zarina. Ahead of them were a couple of wagons being ushered through. Then, they were there and, when one of the guards held a hand out, Jascuan kept right on walking, straight into it. The old man stumbled and staggered and let out a small cry.

Zarina made no sound, and she was ignored by her surroundings. Even a stray fly accidentally bumped into her. Her position in this scheme made more sense to her now: She was invisible. The mass of metal followed, and when the elderly cazenax faltered, she just stood still and regarded him. Silent and stoic. Waiting.

To her, the words exchanged next might've made no sense, but they held meaning for those who spoke them. “Hey, old man, are you blind?”

"Blind, you say?" Jascuan craned his neck and cupped one ear, scowling.

“Deaf too,” murmured the other guard: a younger woman.

“Yes, I said 'blind',” the guard confirmed. “It was a rhetorical question.”

Jascuan nodded and chuckled faintly, mostly toothless. "Rhetorical question..." he repeated dumbly, seeming to mull it over.

“Ugh, nevermind,” huffed the second guard, and Jascuan smiled absently. "Well, yes," he admitted, "I - I am." He scowled. "No reason to shove a fellow, wouldn't you say?"

There was a pause, and they looked at each other, eyes flicking right on past Zarina without so much as a hint of recognition. “Now... now you look here, old timer,” the first guard began. He was paunchy and coming up on middle aged. He leveled his pointer at the elder, who did not so much as flinch, so oblivious was he. The second guard laid a hand on the arm of the first. “Oh come on, Zugan. He's clearly harmless and half-senile,” she interrupted, and he shot her a look. "I assure you that I am quite alright, thank you," Jascuan rumbled, at least a little bit wounded by the accusation.

Zugan let out a chuckle at that, however, and thankfully, he relented and stepped out of the way. “Well alright then. Head on through,” he allowed. “Try not to get lost.”

Glancing about dumbly, Jascuan bowed in almost the correct direction. "Oh, thank you, young man, young lady. I imagine I'll manage, one way or another." They lifted the gate and he doddered on through.

Perfectly still. The less strain on the old man, the better. With so much time at her disposal, Zarina studied the two short guards, wondering what they might be saying. Some snark, some professionalism. And Jascuan didn't miss a beat. He reminded her of that old man from Djamant, in a way. Both were more than what they seemed.

Then came time to move again. Following close to not end up sandwiched by the sentries, she was barely a few inches behind the elder. And as they got closer to the dreadful spire, she reminded herself to keep her guard up. To be Jascuan's eyes, ears and shadow.

"To be honest," the old man remarked, "I was a little bit worried." He shook his head slowly, hands clasped behind his back as he walked. Zarina could notice, when she looked closely enough, the subtle movements of his ears. Much larger than a human's they twitched every so often with extreme sensitivity, tracking noises, distant, faint, or both, that she could not have hoped to hear. "As a boy, Zugan-Alguo showed a lot of potential." There was a pause and, for a moment, it seemed as if he was done speaking. "He could've been one of us." His cane whipped out with ferocious speed, but only to sweep back and forth and prod gently at the ground before him. "What a disappointing adulthood."

Zarina kept quiet, tunnel-visioned on the order of keeping silent.

"Oh, you're quite free to talk now," Jascuan chuckled, after the silence had dragged on for a bit too long. "Makes these little walks more interesting, wouldn't you say?"

Around them rose a city, but they were winding through a quieter residential area currently. There weren't many people about with most of them being artisans and other professionals, off at work. In the near distance loomed a couple of ornate buildings that had the look of governance about them. Far away towered the dread black spire of the Omenaxen, a grim overlord to this otherwise colourful and lively place.

“Ah.” with Jascuan's permission, Zarina took a deep breath. With the conscious effort to keep quiet, her breathing was also unnaturally stifled. “You're one hell of a mage to keep me hidden so well. These guys who are probably trained should be looking out for stuff like this, and yet.” she looked back to see nothing changing. The guards were stationary and remote, and eyes were never directed to her concealed figure.

“You mentioned one of us. Like, an independent farmer sticking it to big farma? Or something else entirely?” she tried to cross her arms, but her over sized shield-gauntlet ended up with her awkwardly pressing her palms to her hips as she kept up with the cazenax. “That's actually something I wanted to address-” she mused, golden hues descending onto the farm owner. “Where do we stand in all of this? These Vozas politics that nearly cost your home and life's work, and the king's life.”

"We?" Jascuan responded. "You can stand wherever you like if you feel well-informed enough." He shrugged as if it were no business of his. "But I suppose it is my position that you wish to know about." He continued walking as he had been before, careful to keep up the ruse. "I am exactly what you say, but I also stand for freedom in all of its forms." He smiled softly and reached over momentarily to undo the clasp on his satchel. "Justice insofar as one can be objective about that." Inside was an innocuous-looking mask. He let it remain there, within her sight, for long enough that she would grasp his meaning were she able. Then, he clicked it shut nonchalantly. "I only wish that my people lived as long as you humans did," the old man sighed. "Oh, the things we could achieve."

Zarina tittered quietly at her clumsy approach. At least she got an answer. Just as she was about to give her two bennies, the mask came into her sights. The talk of freedom, justice and that mask. It was unmistakable. A wave of nervousness coursed through Zarina. A top assassin, and one that's lived long enough to be his age. She most definitely feared the old man in a profession where the young die in abundance. “I'm not sure I can agree to completely unrestrained freedom. Not when a king might destroy his nation, and many others, out of negligence. I do not feel comfortable with this unsupervised Vozas deal.” her facial features tensed up. Nervous ticks under the form of grinding of her gauntlets claws become more and more common. “Not after what I've seen last year.”

They drew closer to the mega-prison. And yet it did not aspire the same vertigo it did initially. Not when there was an elder Volti that took the spotlight. “I have a hard time understanding something. If you believe in freedom in all its forms, why do you own three slaves?”

Jascuan had little and less to say about her opening comments. People would always have differences of opinion, and freedom also entailed the freedom to act against others. Her second observation seemed to prick his interest, however. "Ironic, isn't it?" He shrugged. "Our society is, unfortunately, a cruel one." His blind eyes found her for a moment and they did not seem so blind, in truth. "It makes no room for products of the Vozas unless they are indentured." His scowl was sudden and deep and he looked as if he might spit in disgust. "Naxos and Zox, I inherited from a loving but flawed father. They are not free among the cazenax, but they are free to act as they see fit in my eyes. Classa," he continued, "Was rescued from a life of hard labour and raised alongside my dear Samaxi so that each might lean upon each other when I am gone in a world that is built up against them." He let out a long, sad breath.

Then, they were passing the ornate-looking buildings. The sightlines became wider and the crowds both larger and sparser. The Omenaxen loomed larger now, its features becoming increasingly obvious. A trio of dragons roosted atop it and two more circled lazily. The walls were carved from a single stone pinnacle, either naturally black in the way of volcanic rocks or else dyed so. For some reason, they so smooth that, even from this distance, they appeared to gleam.

“Slaves only in name, then.” Zarina remarked. “And I understand there are others - not from the Vozas - that are also in chains from birth. The snake people.” she added crudely. “I can get behind fixing that part of society. Breaking chains. Initially because I was told to do so, but-” she looked up to the dragons ontop the black peak. These things were big, too big for Alqasas to handle on her own. “I'm beginning to see why this freedom is as essential to some as air itself. They should always have a choice.”

The base of the prison was now in sight. “Okay. What's the plan here? Find any means to check on the two? Then act accordingly, I suppose.”

Jascuan's bearing had not changed, but Zarina could sense a whole barrage of shifts within his chemical makeup and the composition of the air around him. "Well, my little trick from earlier will not work here, unfortunately," he observed. "They're too good for that." He scowled. "We will try something a bit different, but breaking in with brute force is an express ticket to meet your Gods, I'm afraid."

Now, they were entering the edge of the plaza, and the Omenaxen was clearer still: a natural stone pinnacle, its surface slick and gleaming. The one entrance that Zarina could see was set a few stories up and the only way to it was a via a long, straight, and steep staircase. The hum of every magic that she knew and even one or two that she didn't could be felt heavily in the air. This was not going to be a simple matter - maybe even an impossible one.

Jascuan nodded. The ground around them appeared to be made of some sort of glassy substance, solid and weathered, jagged in some places. "Force is unlikely to work here, yes." He clasped his hands behind his back. There was one reasonable path forward: narrow and paved and he adhered to it expertly. "Either we go up, knock, and ask nicely, or we go up, knock, and trick them. We could try an airdrop using your tethered friend as well, but it's risky..." With that, he lowered his voice. There was a single very long staircase that did not wrap around the base of the tower, as might've been sensible. Instead, it extended straight outward in a laser-straight line, sand piled up in a great drift against one side of it from the other day's storm. That was a potential weakness: a potential line of sight blocker.

That was when Zarina could feel it. A pinch behind her ear, and she knew enough of tethered pinch language from being friends with two of them to know what it meant: 'Are you okay? Do you need me?' The question was, how could she respond and the bigger one: what to do in general?

“I won't take such a risk if it implicates others. Those dragons will rip apart my Alqasas if she makes a single bad move.” Zarina groaned, unsure if this was even a good idea. Second guessing herself allowed the armour-clad student to ponder their reasons for even being here. “We need to ask to see the prisoners in some form. And then ...” she sighed. “We can just be honest. They don't have the right person. And Classa is yours. As your property, you should be able to reclaim her. And same for me with Nibbler.”

The Virangish answered the pinch with a reflex: A quick slap to her helm. Too many times had she been plagued by bugs from having such a big animal menagerie that she had forgotten she was wearing protective gear. “Ah. Marci's asking if we're good, and if we need backup.” in turn, she pinched herself with mild use of the gift at the same spot Marci had targeted, hoping she could notice the nervous signals and subtle changes in her skin. 'No. Stay.’

The Four Gatekeepers

♫

Zarina could not sense Marceline's grumble. The younger of the two was always being left behind like this as the youngest, as a tethered, as a precious little thing to protect, but she was almost a woman grown, in truth. She sent back a slightly irritable 'okay'.

Then, they were ascending the stairs. The dread spire of the Omenaxan towered before them and the air was thick, all around, with energy. Zarina's cloak of shadows peeled away and she walked along behind Jascuan, clanking shining armour and all. There were blisters in the wall that they could now make out and, from them, a half-dozen guns pointed the way of the pair, humming with dark energy. The elder did not so much as react.

Finally, they were at the door, and there stood four guards. The first was a hulking mountain of a man, Zarina's height and heavily armoured on the chest. His eyes were covered in blacked-out goggles, his skin dyed green, and his hair fashioned into spikes. His teeth were filed into razor-sharp points and a series of serpentine tattoos snaked up and down his mighty arms, which were crossed over an ample gut. The second was a smallish woman with red-dyed skin and perky pigtails, their tips dyed white and fuchsia, the latter to match her eyes. She wore nothing on her upper body save a series of ostentatious jewelry and black and white belts, one of which preserved her modesty. Black parachute pants with white and fuchsia stitching completed the ensemble. The third was a solid, blocky man with his skin dyed yellow and his hair cropped short beneath a black officer's cap that gleamed beneath the morning sun. His head was squarish and his jaw was too. His shoulders were rigid and his uniform perfect, the brass buttons on it shined to perfection. A great tower shield was strapped across his back.

It was the fourth who addressed them, however, and she was tall, lean, and pitch black, save for a long green arrow that began with dye where her hair parted into white curtains and continued down the middle of her face and neck, stopping somewhere on her dark shirt, over her chest. She wore a skirt, no shoes, and had fingernails painted in the same poisonous green. She carried only a pair of small hammers. "Who are you," she hissed, "and what do you want?"

A colourful bunch. Literally. Out and exposed, Zarina marched by Jascuan's side as they approached the row of security with everything down to their very style serving a singular purpose to intimidate and dissuade. The venom-themed one who spoke made sure to stay consistent with the abysmal welcome as she spoke. A good look was given to each before she settled her eyes onto the dark and 'tall' female.

“My name is Zarina.” the Severan began, keeping a good few meters between herself and the guards, gestures at a minimum. “And I'm here to claim two wrongfully arrested individuals, as well as my Dormouse. The legless girl, Tennaxi, the centaur, Classa, and my aforementioned pet.” she spoke, collected and relaxed. “Has there been a trial date set?”

"Claim!" exclaimed the bright yellow guardsman. He wasn't tall but he was massive. As he spoke, the badge on his hat seemed to gleam or glow. "By what authority!?" he challenged, marching up to her, expressionless but aggressively unintimidated.

Old Jascuan was very nearly brushed out of the way.

Golden hues looked right into the shorter being's eyes. Zarina made sure to exaggerate the motion of tilting her head downwards to look at him. “No authority. I know they've been arrested without any solid proof. Why exactly is the centaur here anyway?”

Little Red and Venomous Black began to circle to either side of her while Big Green remained at the door. "Listen, lady, we don't make the rules here. We enforce them."

"You wanna speak to your people, you petition."

"If they're in here, there's a reason."

"Only the worst of the worst end up here. It's secure."

That was when Zarina noticed that Jascuan had disappeared.

Zarina arched a brow. “Petition? From what? The authorities? Benny - Errr, Nyan-Acan?” she crossed her arms, perplexed as to where this could actually go. Though, the comments from the group of guards brought her to a squint. “Do two kids, one without legs, and a big mouse spell worst of the worst? Really? I'm willing to bet they didn't even resist.” she shrugged. “Like, don't you guys find that just a little weird?”

Then, she noticed a conspicuous absence. She was down a man - her only 'man', actually. Zarina's helm twisted to regard where the elder once was, which telegraphed her remark to the others. At this point, she realized there was a good chance she would be the distraction. “... I'd like to speak to someone with authority. Your supervisor? Manager? Someone who can decide.”

The four glanced among themselves. They were all minions, but they were strong minions. "The manager?!" Little Red sputtered. She swallowed.

"Nobody ever wants to speak to the manager..." Big Green trailed off anxiously.

Yellow Square, who fell middling in size between the other two, executed a crisp step back and his hand darted into his bag. For a moment, Zarina tensed, but he was only retrieving a paper and quill. "This is a PR-55-B, Avincian Variant." He held them out towards her. When she did not have a flat surface to write upon, he pulled a small clipboard out from behind his shield, again with that same startling quickness. "This is to be filled out and submitted to the local coordinator." He blinked twice - precisely twice, for that was a godly and even number - and waited.

Meanwhile, Zarina had also taken notice that Jascuan was not the only one missing. Creepy Arrow was nowhere to be seen either.

More were missing, this time on the opposite side. Zarina could only imagine the what sort of things could going on in the background when an ex-Volti was involved. Her worries had her trail off momentarily, only to be pulled back by Yellow Square's swift and daring movements.

“Eh?” bureaucracy. She should've known. Only a dull stare could be mustered at the documentation. “This- It's going to take a long time for this to do anything at all, IF it even does anything, right?” she asked in a down-to-earth manner with a tinge of sass.

“Look, is there any way I check up on them? They're kids, and probably frightened.” sympathy was another angle, even if there was likely to be a sore lack in such an environment. “Anything at all?”

Little Red softened for a moment and let out a sigh. She blew a few strands of hair from her face. "You know he's the local coordinator, right?" She jerked a thumb in Yellow Square's direction.

Yellow Square nodded. "I can confirm that piece of information." He nodded stiffly and dutifully.

"The job title makes him feel important." Big Green jerked a thumb in his direction. Yellow Square reached up with a precise pointer finger and pushed his glasses up one-point-one centimeters.

Zarina flinched at the revelation. If the situation wasn't so serious, she'd have a laugh too and see this as mere theatrics. But alas, this was merely a case of different cultures and the inevitability of administration in civilizations.

“Oh.” she visibly blinked behind her helm. “Okay, then. I guess that makes things easier ...” the armoured girl held the clipboard and soon realized her weapon of choice made it difficult to hold or write anything. Telekinesis it was, then. Well, the board was held up while she wrote with her 'normal' right hand.

Then she read it. “Seriously?” she looked to the local coordinator, and he nodded sternly. “Dami give me strength ...” she mumbled. And of course, she muttered most of what she wrote.

“Zarina Al-Nader.

Some call me Zazzy or Zaz.

Female. Duh.

Ersand'Enise, 15th Godsroad. I'm the owner.

Father, Ibrahim Al-Nader. Mother, Saoussen Al-Nader, that's her maiden name. Father renounced his at a young age.

Mana type ...” this one took longer than a rest, and any keen observer would notice it. “Wildblood. 8-something. Low 8's.

Ersand'Enise student. 2 years as an operations worker in the Al-Nader network.

I'm looking for ... Classa, demon-centaur, female, like 9? owned by 4S farm. Tennaxi-Luna - Uhhh - female, desert scrounger, 16? Nibbler, 1 year old Dormouse, male, from Djamant Dormice, I'm the parent and owner.

Wellness check and brief exchange as family friend.

Pat me down if you want to know everything I'm carrying.

I'd like sweetwater.

I've not idea how to sign in Cazenax, here's in Avincian.” Zarina finalized. She could only imagine what Marci was thinking at this moment. “Is this good enough?”

Yellow Square held out his hand for the document and closed it crisply as Zarina placed the papers there. He rotated them one-hundred-eighty degrees, exactly, for that was his nature, and began to read. Little Red and Big Green leaned in, the former on her tippy-toes, flipping her riding hood up momentarily as if it might grant her some extra height.

Yellow Square blinked precisely twice, for that was an even and godly number, and lowered the paper from beneath his considerable nose. The other two looked at him apprehensively. "This is, without doubt," he began, "The w-"

Zarina rolled her eyes. She saw this coming. “Yeah, that's right, mom's last name. Rare, ain't it?” she interrupted, shooting a knowing look at Yellow Square. “These two matter a great deal to me, so I didn't hide any details. I learned it was better to be fully open to those with the ability to help. Those that know better.” she smiled behind her helm. So very close to the coordinator. “Anything needs clarifications?”

"The worthiest cause we've ever seen," Little Red cut in. "Right, Bui-Nats?"

Yellow Square scowled and adjusted his glasses, pushing them up precisely one-point-one centimeters. His eyes flicked between the form, Little Red, and Zarina. He cleared his throat. "You are quite correct, Cozo-Ban." He nodded crisply, extracted a folder from his bag with those familiar lightning-quick reflexes, and tucked the form cleanly inside. He turned on the spot to face Zarina. "Very good," he replied matter-of-factly. "Now, I'll just need to submit this to the local adjudicator for evaluation." He slid the folder, form and all, inside his satchel.

The short Cazenax, little red - Cozo-Ban, seemed to have caught on. For what reason did she intervene? Zarina hardly knew. Nor did she have any certainty that her anxiety was valid. The confessed Wildblood peered down at her, and then pointed with her normal-sized gauntlet's thumb. “And are you the local adjudicator, Lady Cozo-Ban?”

Little Red flipped back her riding hood and winked. "You know, I says tah myself 'this girl's a quick study' when I seen ya's." She rocked back and forth from the balls to the heels of her feet. "You are correct. I'm the local adjudicator." She nodded at Yellow Square and held out her hand expectantly. He pulled out the folder he had placed into his satchel moments earlier and handed it over. She smiled. "Why thank you, local coordinator."

"My pleasure, local adjudicator." He stepped crisply back with more of that alarming speed and stood at attention.

Little Red pored over the document, magenta eyes zipping back and forth across the pages, before extracting a quill from one of her many belts. She pulled out a tiny vial of deep reddish ink from another and, biting her lower lip as she went, made a few hasty amendments. Creepy Arrow and Jascuan, meanwhile, were still nowhere to be seen.

Finally, the form was handed back to Zarina. "So, I'm gonna need a couple o' lil' edits, ya know: for spelling, punctuation, clarity, and grammatical accuracy. We tend to be quite rigorous in that regard." She smiled sweetly. "Then, you're provisionally approved and I'll be able to send your petition to the local registrar."

Nearby, Big Green blinked and glanced her way, still on guard at the door.

A deep breath. At least they were a pleasant bunch. “Okay. Lemme see.” Zarina grumbled, especially as she realized what she had to fill.

“Fine, let's do this.
Full set of platinum armour.

Dragon-head greatshield and cannon. Begemot enhanced.

Black silk garments. Three gold rings. One silver.

Fireblood Greaves.

2 Magi.

A silver coin with the same face on both sides.

A cure-all drink.

And I guess she's a Subsistence Extractor.” the form was then given to the peppy little red, and then she looked to the final of the three. The Local Registrar.

With that, Little Red handed the completed form to Big Green. "Why thank you, local adjudicator," he rumbled. "No, thank you, local postmaster." He folded the papers expertly and gently, sliding them into an envelope that he procured from his satchel. With a dip of his chin, the enormous cazenax doffed his hat and sealed the envelope. This, he slid into the satchel. He pivoted on the spot, extracted a key from the ring on his belt, and opened one of the locks on the front door. He produced a second key and opened a second lock. The third key opened - unsurprisingly - a third lock, and then a fourth, and then a fifth. Little Red hummed a tune meanwhile, and Yellow Square seemed to be counting something absently.

Finally, a clank issued from within the Omenaxan. Big Green stepped crisply back. "Coze-Zast," inquired Cozo-Ban, "Do you have an ETA for us?"

He pulled out a pocket watch, checked it, and nodded. "Approximately two and a half minutes, if I can locate the registrar as planned."

"Very good," Little Red replied. "Thank you, local postmaster."

With that, he knocked in a particular sequence on the door, and not all in the exact same place. There was a second clank and it swung open. He promptly disappeared inside. It was now, apparently, a waiting game.

Zarina waited, metal body rocking forward and back. It was awkward, so she spoke up. “Must be, uhhh, something to guard the doors of a big prison-thing every day.” she blurted out to get something going. “Real tough.” meanwhile, she reached out to find Jascuan, or even that not-so-pleasant fourth member that had vanished soon after him.

But then something hit her. She looked to the local adjudicator. “Okay, I need to know - Why'd you overlook the big, scary thing I wrote in there? Is it just more common here? Or do you have something in mind?”

"Big scary thing?" Little Red asked innocently.

"Yeah, you know, that thing, Coze-Dar-Lupui"

She pondered for a moment, tilting her head in thought. "Nah. I ain't gettin' it," she admitted, shrugging helplessly.

Zarina canted her head. At this point she believed this was all a trick, but ... Maybe it was Jascuan, or something else entirely. Perhaps it was best to not push her luck. Wait, did he just say Coze? Like Cozesteo, big rock. Big. Dar was new, and Lupui - Lupine? Luna meant moon, it isn't unusual for some words to be similar, I guess. Big something Wolf. It'd definitely fit the Wildblood theme.

“Huh.” she tittered. “I thought I'd get guns pointed at me for revealing this is begemot-made.” she waved her massive left hand. So slick and clean, it reflected unpleasant light to those who looked directly at it. “And yeah, it definitely spews out fire, like a dragon.” she flexed, just a little.

Little Red blinked, on the verge of an epiphany, and Yellow Square sighed. "Wildblood, Cozoban. Wildblood."

She paused, and pursed her lips. "Oh. Yeah," she replied, pensive. "I guess it is kind of a big deal, huh?" She shrugged, turning to Zarina. "Well, not to me." She smiled conspiratorially. "I'm one of you. Have been for a long long time." she winked.

Yellow Square merely regarded her dimly. You could feel his palm meet his face, even if the gesture didn't actually take place.

Zarina blinked. “Uhh ...” an exceptionally long major finger from her left hand went on to scratch her helmet. It made an annoying grindy sound. “Cool?” then she chuckled. “Cool!” she threw her hands in the air in brief celebration. “So, uhm, have I been approved?” she regarded Yellow Square with her head canted slightly and hands to her hips, looking a little more confident now.

He inclined his head precisely twenty-two-point-five degrees: the optimal level to show respect but not subservience. "That is for the registrar to decide, though I wish you luck."

It was at about that moment that Jascuan appeared from above, floating down slowly. He was rather rough-looking, with his clothes torn and bloodstained. One of his arms hung limp and he clutched his side with the other.

Just as Zarina began to drop her guard, this happened. Staggered, she quickly stood before the old man, shield readied and attention to the three she could see while her senses tried to find the unseen fourth. “What happened?”

Jascuan chuckled weakly. "Oh, don't worry so much." He began to heal himself. "Just a little father-daughter sparring session." He pointed to a spot in the sky and, momentarily, there appeared Creepy Arrow. She had a black eye, one of her ears was hanging at a weird angle, and she walked with a pronounced limp when she landed. She smiled weakly and began healing herself as well. "You missed a spot, pa." She shook her head and reached out to heal him, mostly ignoring Zarina.

“Oh.” Zarina realized. “Ooooohhhhhhhhhh.” good thing she was wearing her helm, that blush was quite embarrassing, especially on such a big, shiny knight. The shield was lowered and, after showing her hands in 'surrender', stepped aside.

Big Green came huffing and puffing out of the doorway. "Madam Registrar!" he called, waving the envelope about. "Madam Registrar! I have a petition for you to review. It's a PR-55-B, Avincian Variant!"

Nearly finished, she perked up, reaching a hand out. He placed it there with dutiful eagerness. "Thank you, Local Postmaster."

"My pleasure, Local Registrar."

"I imagine this is yours?" Creepy Arrow asked Zarina, brandishing the form.

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Jascuan, "Josca, this is Zarina: a new but excellent friend." He scowled thoughtfully. "Do play nice with her, hmm?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, releasing a sigh. "But of course, pop-pop." She held out her hand. "Coam-Zast-Ocan-Josca. People call me Joss, for short."

Zarina was left to wonder: Why was everything so dramatic if he knew them all? It was strange. Or maybe this was just the cazenax way. So long as it wasn't another fight, she took it as a blessing.

The human looked at the offered hand. “Zaz or Zazzy are fine.” she reached her large, left hand out to match Joss', making for an unconventional shake. She also nudged her chin to the document. “Though I guess you know everything about me already. Glad to meet you all.” a slick smile formed inside her helm, though the blush wasn't going away just yet. “I assume you know about Classa, then. How is she?”

Joss' eyes darted about and, for a moment Zarina felt the presence of a sonic bubble lower around them. "You're approved, of course. I trust my father's judgement, and Cozoban's." She shook her head in annoyance. "Problem is, they're going above my head. We need approval from the Regional Registrar, which isn't usually the case." She shrugged in miffed helplessness. "Whether they think they actually have a threat like Maxi or they know they have a witness they need to keep quiet, they'll wanna keep her sealed up tight. Not even I'm allowed in."

Zarina looked up to the peak again. Up there Classa was alone. As well as Nibbler, and Tennaxi. Now that she was so close, this revelation that none could get to them without more convoluted approvals prompted a couple of silent swears. “They're going to use her as proof to put the blame on whoever they want, huh?” commented Zarina, arms crossed before her silver chestplate. “Look, they're not safe here. Whoever is pulling the strings, they did not hesitate to send forces to kill their more valuable men. I had to do so much just to keep that fucker alive.” she shook her head. “I want to get them out before anything bad happens. I feel like you have similar sentiments, but they've got you by the figurative balls.”

Joss nodded tightly. "I had to put up a show of fighting my father. Unpleasant." She crossed her arms. "If you've got any ideas, though, I'm all ears."

"At least it's not Maxi for real," remarked Big Green.

Little Red shook her head ruefully. "Yeah. If it was really her..." she trailed off.

Yellow Square swallowed nervously. "That is significantly above our pay grade."

“You had me fooled.” chuckled Zarina. Again, she looked up, this time at the dragons. “I'm not one for convoluted plans. I have a dragon - Froabas - at the ready with my Tethered friend. If the dragons can be made all floppy and slow, a getaway can be assured.” she twisted to regard Jascuan. “With that dark magic of yours, you could probably burst a wall open. Fast, messy but should work if we have these four with us.”

Then she looked to the other three public service workers. She had a foxy smile under her metal mask. “If Jascuan trusts you lot then I will too. Just ... No more papers.” and for Yellow Square's trouble, one of her magi were flipped into his hand. She winked and clicked her tongue.

Yellow Square looked horrified. "I -" he sputtered. "I do not take bribes!" He snook his head adamantly.

"You know..." began Little Red, trailing off until people's attention had turned her way, "Might not be your people that they're all sealed up about." She sniffed in irritable pensiveness. "Might be related to those stuzéts they brought in this morning." She furrowed her brow. "Lotsa hush hush around that one."

Zarina shrugged. His loss. The coin's trajectory changed toward little red instead, where everyone's attention had fallen upon. “Stuzéts, like,” she recalled the way the cazenax at the farm spoke of a certain people. “the Sirrahi? Snake folks?” she arched a brow, arms crossed once more. “Any idea what happened at all? A crumb of info? Where they came from ...” weren't some of her colleagues supposed to meet them in a hideout? Concern grew, and everyone could feel it by the conspicuous increase in heart rate.

The local coordinator, adjudicator, postmaster, and registrar glanced among themselves, each of them looking uneasy. "There are... hideouts, throughout the city," Josca admitted. "Used by the stuzéts," continued Cozezast. He pursed his lips nervously and his eyes darted about. "A sort of secret bolt hole for 'em," Cozoban clarified. "Though it's kind of an open secret," concluded Buinats. He swallowed. "But they've been getting more... revolutionary lately," Josca explained, "and the people in power have been looking for an excuse to squash them..."

"They hauled a half-dozen of them in early this morning." It was Cozoban. She shook her head. "They hit one of those places," Cozezast continued. "One would have to imagine these phenomena are linked," concluded Buinats, adjusting his glasses one-point-two centimeters upward. He looked... concerned.

“Shit.” Zarina realized, shifting until she looked to the direction opposite of the prison. “I've some friends heading there to sneak in a witness. They might end up in the shitter.” she shook her head, now facing Josca again. “Let's get this done quickly. I'm getting the two out regardless, as well as my mouse, but I wouldn't be against talking to the snakes in passing. Is this agreeable?”

Buinats shook his head. "Regardless of our personal feelings, we cannot let you break someone out of the Omenaxan."

Cozoban shot him an uneasy look, but she nodded too. "This is our job, even when we don't like it."

"And there are a lot of really bad people in there too," added Cozezast.

Josca was unhappy. It was clear. "In cases like this, we just need clearance from the Regional Manager, though," she proposed, "Right?" Her eyes darted among the others.

"In theory, yes," Buinats admitted uneasily.

"Do we really wanna call the manager?" asked Cozoban. The little red cazenax swallowed and seemed to sink deeper into her riding cloak.

Cozezast looked to Zarina and Jascuan for guidance.

“You don't have to 'let' me.” retorted Zarina. “Just put up a fight the same way Joss did with her father.”

Then, it came into consideration that such an approach could endanger their livelihood, or even their lives. The ambitious teen sighed. “If the regional manager can grant clearance, then are we on the same page? This fiasco won't last long anyway. Only until tomorrow night.”

"Then we are very much on the same page," Joss agreed. The others shot her nervous looks. "There's just one problem: they won't."

Looks of consternation were exchanged. It looked as if they had reached an impasse, and unwated violence loomed as the only potential way past. Zarina's comment about a 'fiasco' and 'tomorrow night' was not lost either, but this was very much a 'one revelation at a time' sort of situation.

Then, Buinats spoke up. "You know," he began, "It occurs to me that - and I could be wrong, for this falls more under the purview of the Adjudictaor - that were something to happen to the Manager, were they to be... indisposed, emergency powers would pass to the Registrar." He shuffled about on the spot and his gaze turned to Josca.

The notion of more violence was one Zarina had grown far too accustomed to. The tension in the air had a particular smell to her at this point. A nauseating one. Three on three, at least the odds were fair this time. At least for the first obstacle.

But, she was too quick to jump into violent conclusions. These people, they did not want to kill one another. A solution was found - a bureaucratic one of all things, or better known as a loophole. “That ... Sounds smart.” Zarina relaxed. “Maybe you should call in the manager. And then ...” she peered to Jascuan. “Knock 'em out before he realizes a thing. Is he strong?”

Jascuan looked up at Zarina with his sightless eyes. He blinked and turned back to face his daughter. "What do you think, my dear?"

Joss merely nodded. "Strong would be-"

"An understatement" Cozoban cut in.

"Accurate," Josca concluded, shooting her a look. They all regarded each other. "None of us can be involved," clarified Cozezast grimly, and Buinats nodded. "Technically, that would be a service misconduct, and would invalidate the Local Registrar's temporary authority." Cozoban's eyes darted about some more and she sighed. "We're sorry, but we'll... find reasons to not stand in your way, at least."

The Regional Manager

♫

“I get it.” chirped Zazzy. “Wouldn't be clean if you were involved anyway. And with the hourglass running low, we gotta be surgical.”

Then, she regarded Jascuan. “With Marci backing us up, do you think we can do this quietly and fast?”

Finally, she addressed the group of helpful public servants. “Do I find him, or is he summoned?”

"Local Postmaster," Josca addressed Cozazast, and he snapped to attention. "At your command, Local registrar!"

"We appear to have something of a situation on our hands," she informed him, voice suddenly quite professional. "I command you go, now, and locate the Regional Manager. Lead them to the facility so that we might consult with their expertise."

Cozezast saluted crisply and, a second or two later, he had disappeared. Only Zarina's keen eyes and senses noted that he had not, in fact, vanished. Rather, he had simply moved so quickly as to be nigh-imperceptible. "Now the Regional Manager has been summoned. Local Coordinator..." she pivoted to address Buinats. "Yes, Local Registrar?"

"Can I get a time of arrival estimate?" she enquired, and he nodded crisply, reaching into his vest and extracting a pocket watch with a frighteningly quick motion. "One and a half minutes," he replied, snapping it open, studying its contents, and snapping it shut. She smiled and nodded in his direction. "Why thank you, Local Coordinator." She twisted to face the others. "You are all dismissed for your daily fifteen-minute break." She winked in Zarina's and her father's direction. "Me too!"

That was it, then. They would have approximately fourteen minutes to deal with this Regional Manager, whoever they were, once they arrived. Now, it was a waiting game and, once again, Zarina felt a pinch behind the ear from Marceline: 'Update?'

'Threat'. 'Incoming'. Communicated Zarina to her long ranged ally by pinching and scratching her own flesh. They had little time to work with. “We'll intercept before he enters the prison's property. There were a few alleys outside the plaza on the way here.” she looked to Jascuan as she got on the move. “You're fast and discreet. You'll have him hurled into me, and we'll three-time his ass until he's out cold.”

The far too conspicuous silver knight had quickly found her place in the shadows cast by the row of buildings connected together by multiple narrow passages. Mostly artisan homes with most of them off to work before the heat became too strong in the afternoon. Then, she reached out to weed out the many passersby in the busier main street, until she or Jascuan could sniff out the manager pacing toward the prison. 'Careful.' she warned Marci.

For a moment, there was a flicker of energy. It was highly concentrated, moving at an absurd pace, and it was massive Then, it stopped. It didn't decelerate. It simply stopped. It was Cozezast and, behind him was, or were, or was(!?) a small figure with two heads. Each seemed to scan in a different direction, and Zarina could feel a tingle - like a pulse - work its way up and down her body. "Postmaster," ordered one small, snappy voice, "There is a threat. Go man your station."

"Y-yes, Regional Manager," the big man stumbled, before rushing off. "I will handle this."

They were small and dyed orange and ambiguously perhaps female? There were two heads, two arms, two legs, and an unusually thick torso. Both had white bob cuts, beady black eyes, black steel-toed boots, and razor-sharp black teeth. Zarina had gone undetected for precisely zero-point-four seconds. They hurtled towards her.

Jascuan materialized out of nowhere. He stepped in the way of one head's Arcane Lance, fired from its mouth. Zarina handled the second one's skewer of hastily-bound steel spikes. "Assaulting a Regional Manager of the Federal Bureau of An Zenui is a class-O felony and, if found guilty, will result in a prison sentence of -"

"D E A T H!!!" roared the second head, cutting the first off mid-sentence.

Such force! Terrible fury. The shield could barely handle their weaker attack, causing Zarina to recoil back, barely keeping stable footing. Without Jascuan, that sudden attack would have been an early end. “As if I hadn't had enough freaks in my life.” she grumbled, greatshield swollen to its full dragonhead size. “Although last I checked, you're the one assaulting me.”

Realizing their predicament, she began to manipulate the bloodflow and neuron connections within Jascuan's old body. If they were going to end this quickly, it had to be with a strong attack. And the old Volti was the only one who could match them. “Get ready ... We should try to end this in one attack.”

Some ways away, Marceline could sense that matters had taken a turn for the serious and deadly. She could not quite make sense of their target. Was it... one person or two!? Regardless, she knew a center of mass when she sensed one, and she aimed to fill this one with electricity.

Her attack was weak, though, and predictable. The magnetic energy was taken from her control and repurposed. "A very sloppy attempt," observed the Manager, shaking the head that had spoken. The other merely looked at Zarina and snickered with gleeful malevolence. “MeTal ARmoUr,” it cackled, looking her up and down.

Then, they came for her with searing flames. Zarina drew into the time stream itself, and visualized herself a few meters above, on a rooftop just behind her. But the drawing wasn't fast enough. Out of simple reflex, she 'shed' a clone of herself via amateurish binding after cutting some of her temporal energy in order to make this emergency maneuver. And yet the manager's spear tore through its core with ease.

But just as the tip pierced into the silver plate's side, inflicting a deep cut, the previously broken metal shell gained new vigour and coiled itself around the assailant before they could finish their attack. Zarina could successfully leap away to safety with only a cauterized burn and cut rib.

“Let's do it, they're trapped!” she called out, and Jascuan just acted.

His focus was enhanced by Zarina's spell, allowing him chemically block out the twins' lungs to simulate the symptoms of asthma. And given their specific anatomy, this was far more detrimental to their performance than normal.

Zarina hopped down, her arm now more cannon than shield, and took aim. “How's this for sloppy, freak-o.” the very same remnants of magnetic magic that lingered in the air and all the kinetic energy the shield had to sponge were enough for her to quickly charge a blast of air pressure right right at the Regional Manager's large chest. The rest of the air within was little blown out, causing them to faint with their back hitting the nearby stone surface.

“Fuck ...” she clenched her exposed side. Using temporal magic to make her puny binding magic actually effective, the healing and repair processes were underway as she looked down to the malformed individual. “That's, like, almost two people in one. Imagine the RAS on this weirdo.” she sighed, pinching herself for Marci. 'Thanks.' and even performed a thumbs up with her huge gauntlet for the Tethered to see. “Now to keep this one asleep for a loooong time, somewhere hidden. Think you can mess with the memories too, gramps?”

Jascuan moved in, smooth and quiet, and placed his hands upon first one head and then the other. It was such a brief flash of magic that it was barely perceptible, but then he rose and straightened, grimacing at the recent exertion. “They won't be bothering anyone for at least a few hours,” he said. “Dump them in the trash midden -” he pointed, “and then we should get what we came for.” He had already suited words to action, walking ahead while the rest of the cleanup was left to her.

trash heap. Now, prison time.

By then the break wasn't quite finished. This wasn't a long encounter, after all. And so, she arrived with Jascuan, with the coming approach being reevaluated in her head over and over.

“The manager's late.” remarked Zarina as she encountered the postmaster. “It appears he is indisposed.” an exaggerated shrug followed her little act.

Cozezast stood rigidly at his post, the very picture of duty, but his façade cracked just a little bit as he tried - with limited success - to stifle his smile. "Why... that is most unfortunate," he replied, tone thoughtful. He cleared his throat. "Well, in that case, jurisdiction falls to the Local Registrar." He pursed his lips and nodded. "I believe you already have her approval, correct?"

When Jascuan promptly answered in the affirmative, Cozezast was happy to take out his keys - all five of them - and, step by step, open the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. "Well, I've been cleared for break," he yawned, "and I think I'm going to take it now." He flashed them a professional smile. "Be careful in there. It is the Omenaxan, after all." With that, he was gone, darting off at the same incredible speed that rendered him nigh-invisible to the naked eye. The great armoured door creaked open and an endless blackness waited inside. The Omenaxan beckoned.

The Omenaxan

♫

The mouth of the great prison had opened, and it was hungry.

Zarina took a deep breath. “Now or never. We're on a timer.” he reminded her older associate. “Quick but careful.” she nodded, mostly at herself, before she took the first step in and immediately took in the sights, the sounds, the smells - Gods the smells were awful, everything that made the Omenaxan the hellhole it was. She was on the lookout for the snake people as their ascension to the peak was inevitable.

“Up we go.”

♫

The stairs were dark and dank and stank of death and decay. They started out as stone, but then there was an archway and it seemed... soft-edged and irregular. Jascuan wrinkled his nose in apprehension and made some sort of sign with his right hand. He paused where the change began, not bothering to twist around, but his voice found her in the reddish-tinged blackness. "I do not think you should go any further, child."

A small flame flickered at the end of her shield cannon, serving as a very modest light. If she wanted anything more, she'd have to spew flames. “Why's that?” she asked, unnerved but not to the extent she should probably be. “We're allowed in here. Unless you're suggesting we took the wrong way or something.” with that thought in mind, she pointlessly peered into the darkness to notice anything she could have missed. Still, despite her complaint, she didn't actually defy the elder.

♫

Just a second before Jascuan out it into words, Zarina had noticed it. “Oraff ...” she had gotten pale under that armour. They were INSIDE a creature. “This is fucking crazy. How do they keep people-” she realized. “Are they just being fed to it? Fuuuuuck.” if Marci was sensing right now, she could see just how much Zarina's heart rate had increased. “... I hate this. But we can't go without the kids.”

Jascuan nodded and pressed forward ahead of her. "No sudden movements, nothing that would irritate it." Even his breaths were silent and steady. "I think I have some idea of what this is," he whispered. Then, he paused, framed in silhouetted beneath a dangling flesh tendril of... something. "Can you... sense anything? I mean... beyond a few feet?"

Much like when she was tailing the old man as an unseen shadow, she did much of the same. Steady breathing, which was a challenge, and small steps. Her clanging armor didn't help in the discretion department. “Nope.” she replied in a hushed voice. “I see why my plan may not work so well now.” she raised her shield to try and get some light on that silhouette. “Is this actually an animal, or some Vozas spawned horror?”

♫

"If I had to guess, I'd say the latter." They ascended the stairs for a few moments longer, and the ground was soft and squishy and slick. It seemed to give beneath their feet, growing softer - almost mudlike - the quicker that they moved. Then, there was some sort of thin fleshy screen in front of them. Behind it were curved ivory-white bars, something like a ribcage. A faint, foul breeze blew along the hallway.

“What's the point of letting visitors in without a guide?” grumbled and whined Zarina, evidently irked by the experience. “Hmm, you feel that?” their wet steps were becoming more difficult as they picked up the pace. Naturally, she slowed down to investigate. “Almost feels like it wants to suck us in. Ugh.”

A fleshy obstacle was in their way. The 'torch' came closer to the wall of tissue. “Gonna assume this is some sort of door and not some trap for law abiding visitors. Well, almost. Let me ju- UGH!” the stench was rancid, causing Zarina to gag. Huffing, she seized a benny in her money satchel and had it levitate to the flesh veil.

As Zarina slowed, she noticed that the aggressiveness of the floor dwindled and she could move more freely. It ran counter to every instinct that she had as an animal in a place like this, but Jascuan was in the lead and he was moving slowly anyhow. The problem was that time was ticking by and they could only afford so much caution. As they approached the fleshy veil and she raised her torch towards it, it seemed to peel back. Her coin passed freely through and, beyond, lay a long, narrow tunnel or hallway of some sort. Dimly, in the gloom, she could make another half-dozen such 'doorways'.

♫

“Looks like heat, or just us getting closer, did the trick.” Zarina remarked. Onwards they went. The pressure of time was getting stronger, causing the odd powerwalk, but she disciplined herself by never overtaking Jascuan. The flesh doors were all going to get the same treatment. Although in the meantime, she drew the strange air around her. Maybe in the off-chance that she could recognize some of the chemicals in the air.

In the event, she was able to distinguish nothing, so overpowering was the chemical cocktail of this fell place. Then, she came to the first door. Inside was... a cazenax. She was small and elderly. She sat on a fleshy lump, rocking back and forth. her hands weaved about in some strange pattern, almost as if she were... knitting? She was talking on in quite a pleasant voice, though Zarina could not understand her and there was... nobody else present.

“This place is also a prison of the mind.” concluded Zarina. “Or they can see their personal ghost.” shaking her head, she moved on without fretting too much over the unsettling sights. Still, she did occasionally listened in on some of the 'cells' with the occasional tap to get a look.

♫

The next one revealed a cazenax she did not know. He seemed to be bathing without water or soap and it was indecent to look for long. The next was a centaur and, for a moment, Zarina's heart leapt, but she was a good deal older than Classa and looked nothing like her. Then came another cazenax she did not recognize. Finally, there was a sirrahi: perhaps about thirty, and large. He seemed to be holding something in his arms and rocking it gently. He sung a strange lullaby in an unknown language and smiled warmly down at the nonexistent thing.

Zarina stopped at the Sirrahi. “One of the fresh arrivals they spoke about, probably.” she mentioned offhandedly. “Which means whatever happens here happens quickly ...” she clenched her fists. “They've probably done stuff to the girls already.” still, knowing what may have happened was worth a shot. The coin she had been keeping afloat was flung onto the dazed snake-man's snout. “Hey, you in there, guy?”

He recoiled instantly and shook his head, scrambling backwards. “I didn't do it!” the sirrahi howled. “It was the revolutionaries! they've been plotting for ages!” He flew at Zarina, then, completely ignoring Jascuan. Tears were streaming from his eyes.

Zarina braced herself, shield set between herself and the Sirrahi. She did her best to draw the bits of energy she could find to add some stability to her defense. “Hey, hey, you got arrested in a hideout, right?”

“Please!” he wailed, sinking low beneath her and trying to grab a hold of her hands. “We had a deal, right!?” his eyes were pleading, looking up at her and, for a moment - flicker of time - the walls were wooden and there was a window. It was some sort of court backroom. “I-I did my part. Please. My kids: they're all alone!”

♫

Taken aback, Zarina wasn't quite sure what to do. Push him back? Hear him out? Well, there wasn't much to ponder as a new development caught her attention: The environment had changed. “Shit, it's having an effect on me.” her hands removed themselves from his and she looked into his pleading eyes. “Your kids, where are they?”

For a moment, there was only more of the crying and begging, but then he stopped at her mention of... “The kids!” For a moment, he shook his head and his eyes snapped her way. They could not help but widen for a moment at the unexpected horrors they'd witnessed as well. “The kids...”

Then, he was gone again. “Please, your ladyship! They're innocent, even if I'm guilty. I know I'm guilty!”

The moment the sirrahi snapped back to his former self, if only for a brief moment, Zarina could see just how genuine the man's plight was. His kids meant the world, and now they were alone. It made her feel vulnerable, she was reminded of the people and creatures that depended on her too. If she were to perish, or something worse, what would happen with them?

“I'm sorry.” the silver knight backed up and looked to the path she was to follow to ascend further - if she could, given how her perception had changed. “Jascuan.” she spoke up with a determine voice. “We need to hurry. I can't stand the idea of having Classa here for a second longer.”

“Juja, Walan, Matzic, Cili, Lelix, Zanca, Loci!” He cried, reaching for her once more. His eyes widened and he looked around in horror at what he saw. Zarina blinked and the walls changed again, for a second or two, before reverting. “They live on Wesca's estate! That evil bitch!” His eyes went hard. “She's behind it!” He shook his head again, struggling. “Find them, please!”

Then, Zarina, unnerved, was on her way.

♫

Zarina continued onwards and there was a rugged-looking woman with a farmer's bearing in the next room. She appeared to be spinning thread at a wheel. Then came another cazenax: a very elderly man who seemed to be playing with toys, making sound effects with his mouth and it was unsettling, to say the least. Finally, Zarina came upon a third of the same species, and this one was different. She was sitting in a corner, arms wrapped around herself and eyes closed. She did not react whatsoever at Zarina's approach but, when the human shone her makeshift torch at this newest inmate, she saw it: the girl was missing both legs. She was Tennaxi-Luna.

Zarina stopped the moment she heard the name Wesca. What was once fear and anxiety turned into a hatred she had rarely felt in her life. There was no creed that could justify such cruelty. She was burning in her armour like a brazen bull, with every second passing without that woman hurting becoming an unbearable pain to tolerate. “I'll find them.” she said as her parting words to the tormented prisoner before continuing her ascension.

After a selection of deplorable conditions, she found one of her friends. “Tennaxi!” the burning rage had been quelled, for now, making way for a glimmer of hope. Slowly, she approached the legless teen and shined her light upon her before reaching out to tap her shoulder. “It's me, Zarina.”

The moment that she made contact, Zarina felt something. An unnatural coldness behind herself.

The second she felt something abnormal, she twisted, shield up, to regard what was stalking her.

Behind Zarina, in the all-encompassing darkness, stood a living shadow of the purest blackness. It was not large, but it did not appear weak either. It reached a hand out slowly towards her, palm open.

Zarina didn't extend her hand, instead her shield remained raised. “Stay back.” the flame shined brighter as more fuel was added to it.

The shadow flickered and recoiled from her. It remained behind her, however, unmoving for a moment: watching, hands held open at its sides.

Zarina kept her eyes on it while Tennaxi stayed just a foot away. “This is more illusionary bullshit. It has to be.” she mumbled. “Jascuan! You there?” she called out, and then peered briefly toward the legless cazenax. “We need to go, Tennaxi. Now!”

Tennaxi did not stir, but the shadow did. It pointed towards the legless girl's still form, shaking its arm for emphasis. Jascuan, meanwhile, was some ways up ahead, peering into another cell.

The fear clouded Zarina's mind, but the gesturing and lack of aggression allowed her to centre herself and control her breathing. “Tennaxi?” her shield lowered a little, exposing more of Zarina's metal head. The gestures would confirm. But was it truthful? “... Do you know where Classa is?”

The shadow nodded at Zarina's first question, but shook its head at the second. Once again, it held its hand out towards Zarina, stepping forward. At about that moment, Jascuan took notice. He shook his head as if to clear it and began stalking toward the living shadow.

Zarina, after closing her eyes and exhaling, took the leap of faith. Her hand reached out toward Tennaxi's. The normal hand, of course.

When he saw Zarina reach out, Jascuan pulled back from his attack and let matters unfold. The two women's hands met and then, behind Zarina, the true Tennaxi opened her eyes and unwrapped her arms. She glanced about herself, shivering involuntarily, eyes fixing upon her friend. “Fuck,” she exclaimed, and then the rest was in Cazenax and Zarina understood not a word of it. Jascuan translated briefly. "She says she'd forgotten how much creepier this place is when she's actually here in person." He pursed his lips. “She's what we call an Astral Walker: she has a shadow self that can come out when she's not conscious.” He considered. “I think that's how she kept her sanity.” He spoke, then, in cazenax, and she nodded along, tentatively scooting forward. “Yes,” she replied. “I do tis.” She blushed in embrassment at her awful beginner Avincian and glanced about uneasily. “Classa,” she said, craning her neck to look up at the other two.

A grand sigh of relief escaped Zarina as the best outcome had come of this stressful encounter. Tennaxi was back and her Avincian had the Virangish chuckle. The first moment of levity she had felt since she got in here. “Thank Vashdal ...” she muttered as she stood up. Her larger hand extended out to Tennaxi. “I'll carry. And we'll find Classa.” she gestured to her back with her idle 'normal' hand to illustrate what she meant.

Then, she regarded Jascuan. “One down. We have one more to go. And not a lot of time.” and again, she'd let the elder lead the way as he made an effective barometer for the right pace to take in this hostile environment. “Do you trust your daughter to have spiked the dragons' break meals? Would that be something she'd do for Classa?”

Tennaxi swung up onto her back with a small “Tank you,” and then they were on their way. Zarina followed Jascuan's lead and he kept their pace steady. “They will not be an issue,” he assured her cryptically. “Worry not.” Then, just like that, they had reached the end of the floor and further stairs beckoned them upwards.

Tku reached out and touched the ripped flesh, his mana took some time taking hold of his flesh but soon Tku got to work. It started like a skeleton of flesh, strange white and baise that soon had small red and blue lines running through it. Color of light pink with a slight bit of black at the split end as the muscle formed. Finally came the complicated nerve inputs and the new tastebuds formed. Hopefully he would still like the same food but who could say. Tku leaned back. This was a first for him healing something oh so complicated. I'm a damn good sculptor, Tku took some time to appreciating what he did.

Reunion

♫

Tennaxi secured, next was Classa. And yet ... There was a gnawing feeling in the back of Zarina's mind. Anger and fear had since turned into hope after finding her friend in such a decrepit place, and now she wondered why she couldn't save a father of many children. A man that was clearly a victim of the same conspiracy Classa and Tennaxi was.

“I'm getting the Sirrahi. You go on ahead, Jascuan.” she nodded to the elder, and as they stepped out of the cell, the teen looked up to notice something incoming. A shadow. Jascuan had since entered his undetectable cloak, leaving nothing good that could come of the interloper. “Shit.” she cursed, and Tennaxi mumbled a few things in her language. “Down we go. The more us, the better.” she whispered for nobody to really hear.

It wasn't far, just a couple of cells down, until she found the snake-man, grovelling just as he had when she left. Her hand reached out to his. “You wanna see your kids? Come with me.” she ordered, eyes flickering between him and the coming pair of shadows, the second one more visible now and it was bigger than the other. “Before they're also found guilty of treason.” she added as an incentive for him to move.

But soon they would have to confront the shadowy externalities. By default, Zarina raised her shield as she slowly approached. “Stay back.” she warned, but the shadows didn't respond. They could not hear her, something she didn't know. The cannon's exit emitted a stronger flame, telegraphing a potential attack.

Although to the shadows, the dragon head shape of the shield would easily resemble a wyrm-like creature sprouting out of the centre of the twin-headed shadow's abdomen. A monster unlike anything they had ever seen. And there was yet a second shadow with them, bigger than the dark chimera that stalked closer to them.

“We're gonna push through.” she warned her team. “Only one way forward anyway.”

Before they could make a decision, a third head rose this time one of a dragon, flames spewing out. "Oh Gods! I think it's a demon Chimera!" Tku told Egosto. They were going to have to fight it no matter what if they wanted to escape. Tku would have run for now but Egosto was a fearless man and they merely moved a few steps up. Tku braved himself as well, presenting the a hand readying to blast away the demon with wrath. "I warn you if you can speak, leave or I will rid you from this world!" Tku tried to seem intimidating but against it he looked small and unsure. "Oh Eshiran empower me," Tku prayed that his power wouldn't fault him against the legendary beast of Avincien times.

The sirrahi was already slipping back into the haze of the Omenaxan when Zarina found him and woke him from it. His children were the key. The repeated mention of them kept him from slipping back. “Sazan-Betai,” he said, remembering to introduce himself. “Accountant. I... I thank you.” As they went, she could hear him whispering under his breath: the same sequence that he had before: “Juja, Walan, Matzic, Cili, Lelix, Zanca, Loci”

The 'monster' was drawing nearer. No stopping, they had precious little time left before things could get awry. Before long, the flame at the tip of the cannon was just a foot away from Tku's face should he not do anything about it, or behind his head if he opted to face the interloper behind him.

“Tennaxi. Sazan. Do not run if things get messy. Hide in a cell.” she warned, ready to go all out if the shadow proved to be hostile.

Then, they were back the way they had come and the two figures were approaching and Jascuan was nowhere to be seen and...

The monster approached Tku, but now there was a second. He issued his threat and there was no response. Egosto drew what he could from the limited environment and prepared to attack. Then, came a voice from behind them: "I would not try to fight a friend if I were you..."

"Ahh!" Tku screamed in shock at the mysterious voice. His spell he had prepared gone, his footing gone, his balance gone and then he fell on the steps. The 2 figure surrounded him, Oh Oraff is this it? Consumed by 2 monsters?! his heart beat so quickly you could almost hear it and then he heard something.

That same demanding voice he worked for, "Zarina?" Tku asked unsure, hoping it was her and not a chimera.

Tennaxi swung off of Zarina's back and landed somewhat gently on the floor. “Yes!” the cazenax exclaimed. “She Zarina.”

Zarina squinted. “Tuque?” she shot back as the cannon slowly descended until it merely served as a means to illuminate. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

Tennaxi glanced up between the two much taller people. "Sazan!?" called Egosto-Alguo. “Sazan-Betai!”

"Egosto-Alguo!?" The two sirrahi approached each other and were enfloded in a friendly embrace within a second. Jascuan, meanwhile, merely lurked behind them, silent and alert.

A sigh of relief rescaped the small openings of the helm. “One big family reunion.” then, Zarina looked upwards. “Cute. But we got a job to do. Classa is up there, and so is our getaway plan. Let's move.” once again, she offered her hand to Tennaxi if she wanted to hitch a ride, or she could grow some legs.

Tku tapped his chest, telling his little heart to calm down. He looked up at Zarina with the most 'what?', "Really? Tuque? T-Ku." He slowly rose, "We met with Benedetto, he's helping us. I came ahead of Ayla incase a binder was needed. Didn't even tell me what this place was. I checked the floor above this one. No Classa from what I saw."

All around them lay a half-dozen more of those familiar fleshy cells that they had yet to peer into. As they watched, Tennaxi scooted over to one, shooting an apprehensive look back.

Zarina was primed to overtake Tku. “All the way to the top? That's where Marci sensed her.” and until she saw it herself, she was going to check the upper level.

"You're right, I didn't check that. How about we check this floor first then go higher? Sensing is wierd in this place," Tku suggested.

Tennaxi leaned in further.

Then, Zarina turned to regard her and... she was gone.

Hungry

♫

Ready to move on so they could secure the main objective of this endeavour, Zarina reached out to where she thought Tennaxi was, only to realize she was gone. “Tennaxi?” she called out, keeping her pace slow.

Tku looked around for where Tennaxi went, "Alguo, Sazan, Jascuan, did you see where they went"

“Where did ...” the nearest cell - the one Tennaxi interacted with - was peered into.

Zarina stared into the VOID and the VOID stared back.

One great golden eye slid open almost... languidly.

Zarina did not back down from the staring contest.

From deep within the dark cell came breathing: warm and humid.

Something glinted faintly in the blackness, reflecting the scant light of Zarina's torch: first a couple, and then more.

And then more.

The eyes slid shut and then the glimmers parted. They were teeth: dozens of small, grey, dagger-sharp teeth. A long, oily tongue spilled out of the dread maw, slithering toward them, twitching and flicking. The eyes slid open once more: hungry.

♫

Zarina took a step back. “Stay sharp.” she warned the others.

The cannon was aimed at the hungering being. “What is it you want?”

Tku took up a better stance on the steps and slowly made his way ever closer to Zarina after her words. He readied the little he could do here.

Its eyes, which had seemed unfocused, snapped to her then. "S T I L L I H U N G E R . . ." it crackled. "S T I L L I T H I R S T . . ." The tongue was long and lumpy and covered in either suckers or cold sores. It squiremd across the floor, reaching for Zarina's foot.

“Fuck no.” Zarina aimed her cannon downwards and fired a blanket of flames onto the disgusting appendage.

It jerked, writhed, and retracted and then, from the depths, a THING stood up. It had a tall, spindly body, bony, lumpen, and covered in thin, wrinkly skin and occasional tufts of sparse whitish hair. Its arms were skeletal and hung limp at its sides, claws dragging on the floor, screeching and scraping. An enormous head with slimy, mucus-covered eyes and a great drooping mouth filled with a hundred small silver teeth and a half-dozen togues like the one they had seen hung forward, rocking from side to side as the abomination lurched towards them. "I H U N G E R . . ."

Its great, fleshy lips parted, spraying saliva about. "P L E A S E . . ."

“By the Gods.” Zarina stared at the thing in horror. Demons were also prisoners here, and this one was the poster child. Zarina kept backing up, her pace still slow as to not agitate the prison itself, if the flames hadn't done so already. She raised her shield and stared down the monster. “What did you do to the girl?”

Tku could see what they were dealing with it seemed as well as Zarina. But in this place it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. He reached into himself and tried to rid himself of the toxins that might be effecting his mind.

The bottom of its head hung down like some sort of sick pelican's pouch or a pair of testicles. "I F E E D . . ." Its hands dragged, metallic claws scratching and scraping. "N O F O O D . . . F I V E H U N D R E D Y E A R S."

Meanwhile, Tku purged himself of whatever toxins he could, but it did not appear to change anything.

♫

“You're hungry. Okay.” Zarina's normal hand was raised in the general non-hostile gesture. “Tuk, can you make food? A steak or something, I don't know. Anything this ...” she couldn't stand looking at the thing. “Good individual could want?”

Then, the monster swayed. Its neck-pouch bulged.

Behind it, appeared a shadow.

Tku thought for a moment. Drawing from the prison would be stupid. Instead he drew from the air and clothes people wore to make a nice, juicy torragonesse steak in front of Zarina, "There. He hoped that would appease the creature. Tku was now sleeveless and his pants were now shorts. For Zarina he tooks the sleeves, heavy socks. Whatever random hair and grime they had was gone. It was terrible.

The shadow approached. The monster lurched forward and opened its mouth to eat. Inside, beneath tendrils of mucus and saliva, was something large and solid that they could not quite make out. The shadow reared back to strike. One of the monster's arms jerked up off of the floor to grab the food.

Zarina took a step forward as its attention was on the fresh steak, just so she could see what that object in its mouth was. Or, at the very least, she'd be close enough to actually sense something.

Tku tried to focus his eyes away from the creature to the odd shadow. Just what could that be? he wondered

Inside was... a person, or half of one, with long black hair. It was covered in layers of mucus and unmoving. The demon picked up the steak and then the shadow struck, plunging its hand into the very heart of the beast from behind. It let out a guttural howl and staggered forward, but then its arms whipped and lashed out, covering the entirety of the room. Its neck pouch swayed with the weight inside, and the shadow struck again, nimbly dodging its desperate raging attacks.

Egosto leapt in, trying to seize one of the arms.

Sazan ducked another, wide-eyed.

All around them, there was vast, low, airshaking moan.

The floor began to soften and rise. The ceiling began to drip and lower.

"H U N G E R"

Tku tried to supress the beast with Blood, Chemical, and Kinetic to help out. Turning parts of it with stone while weakening it with chemical numbing and kinetic restraints. It was brutal but it's what he had.

Everything went awry. But now Zarina knew it was likely Tennaxi in there.“Shit. Hold its arms!”

Her massive hand plunged itself into the mouth of the beast to try and retrieve the person within, while the Begemot manas did their job to expand and serve as blockage. “Cough her out, or you're going back in there hungry! DO IT!” she yelled, her idle fist readied to add some incentive to her order. “Another five hundred years!”

The massive silver gauntlet dug into the layers of mucus and saliva. The platinum and wyrm scale armour could take the slow acting acid without any issues. It was resisting, hard. “Spit it out, asshole!” she yelled out, punching the thing in the gut a couple of times while Elguo hit from the side and the shadow struck once more. This was enough to make the monster stagger, but also enrage it.

Seizing the moment, Zarina could rip out the prey from the death-sack, revealing Tennaxi with mild first degree burns and many of her clothes eroded. “Oraff be blessed.” quickly, with a mild use of kinetic magic to keep her feet off the ground, she made a leap away from the beast without disturbing the even bigger beast. “I got you, I got you.” she whispered as she kept the girl in her big gauntlet and prepared to get to work on a chemical and brinding treatment.

Its arms flailed and thrashed and it let out a warbling wail. "N E V E R ! N O !" It rose from a rumble to a high-pitched screech. Then, Tennaxi's eyes opened and the shadow disappeared. The cazenax tumbled free, tattered clothes fluttering. “Okay!” she assured her friend, clumsily levitating just above the swelling ground. “Okay!” She reached out to help maintain Tku in the air as well, but it was a struggle. The floor and ceiling were closing in. Even the beast was sinking.

It reached out and grabbed the steak, desperately shoveling it into its mouth.

“Okay. Okay!” reassured by Tennaxi's words, Zarina paid attention to the threats now. The rampaging monster wasn't the true problem, the environment was. And so, she looked to the beast's cell, open and dark. The big question was whether prisoners, if in their cells were safe from the digestion.

Tenaxi had made it out of the stomach of the monster and now they needed to leaved the room. The room sinked and he needed to help out the most he can. He placed a blood mark on the creature and cast curse of the snake. It's draw, it's movement filled the snake and he let it drain into the 2 sirrahi, hopefully allowing them to manage their large form.

The floor and ceiling were closing in fast as the demon thrashed and screeched and flailed. The two sirrahi did not lack for power. That much was certain, but they did not have the most practiced touch with their magic and they were large. The floor grabbed them first, gradually starting to suck them under. Sazan-Betai struggled and screamed. Egosto-Alguo tried to wrench himself free.

Then, Zarina's helm touched the top and it began to suck her in. Tku's arm brushed a wall and it grabbed him.

Tennaxi was small and flattened herself but, soon, she was pinched.

Then, none of it mattered.

The beast collapsed in three parts with a meaty thud.

The two sirrahi went limp suddenly.

Jascuan appeared before them, floating in the air, legs crossed. He had mere inches to spare both above and below. "Still," he advised, "and silent."

Zarina immediately froze when she heard the wise voice and his tried and true advice. Still, and silent. Only her eyes moved.

Tku held still as well. Limp like a Revidian noodle, Tku told himself on repeat.

The flesh tightened, constricted, and swelled. It covered Zarina's eyes. It covered her nose. It inched up to her mouth. It closed around Tennaxi until only her fingers were sticking out. Tku felt the pressure around his fingers, up his arm, and onto his chest and flank. It took hold of one side of his head.

Then, it stopped, and remained that way for some time. It receded: first slowly, and then with increasing speed. After nearly a minute had passed, they were free, Jascuan floated down, and the pair of sirrahi were revived from thier impromptu trip to unconsciousness.

Zarina had been holding her breath the entire time. And then when she was freed, she gasped hard and panted.

“Fuck, that was way too close ...” she very carefully straightened herself back on her feet and lit up her improvised torch. “Everyone's okay?”

Tennaxi set herself down upon the ground. “Okay.” She gave her friend a thumbs-up. "Cuxé zel cé," she grumbled.

Nothing but pure grimace came across his face. He stopped himself from shuddering and slowly stood, managing only a dry heave. Tku quickly examined the meat chunks of the demons, feeling pity for the creature. "I'm fine," Tku responded. He then went to tend to Tennaxi and her injuries after they got out of the room.

Tku attempted to heal her but he found himself too shaken to do even an okay job. He found himself shaking, his nerves were on edge and he clenched his hand, "I'm sorry. I think I might be too shaken right now. Apologies Tennaxi."

They gathered themselves again. There could not have been more than three or so minutes left before the guards returned. When all had answered in the affirmative, Zarina turned and urged them to the top floor: the only one that had not yet been investigated, even in part.

The Peak

♫

They rushed up the stairs, risking angering the Omenaxan, and Tku's footsteps, indeed, caused it to stir. Seeing this, Tennaxi, once again piggybacked by Zarina, reached out with her magics and lightened his steps just enough. The rumble died down and they slowed not a bit.

Reaching the top floor, they moved from cell to cell. It was different here: the stairs seemed to narrow and a fleshy aperture loomed at the end of the hall. The first cell revealed a woman with wild graying hair who appeared to be playing soem sort of game with an invisible ball. The man on the second floor was young and laughing hysterically at something. The third cell contained a lawyer, eloquently debating with an unseen opponent, and the fourth, a young woman begging an interrogator who was not, in reality, present, and spilling everything that she knew about a murder or some vile crime. In the fifth cell, they found Classa, shrunken into a corner, explaining something about stuzéts and their resentment of cazenax to an unseen conversational partner. The girl looked frightened, and then... her eyes snapped to Zarina before belatedly flicking back to nothing and tentatively resuming her bunk conversation.

In the sixth cell was Stela-Zomé, charging forward on the spot, casting some sort of spell, but she was not their intended target.

“Classa!” exclaimed Zarina. The brief look to her caused her heart to skip a beat, but then the centaur regressed again. Like with the Sirrahi, she stepped in and reached her hand out to the girl's hand. “It's me, Zarina. Mister Jascuan, Tku and Tennaxi are here too. Samaxi is safe!” a quick unloading of information, as to see what could get the girl out of her daze. “We're all safe, and we're getting out of here.”

Tku watched as the prison get more agitated but they found Classa! Now they needed to escape somehow. Shune he didn't know. He called out to her, "Classa we need to leave, I can't make that armor for you if you stay here." He tried to call upon the last conversation he had with her. Something to take her back.

Classa blinked and it struck Zarina that her reaction was a bit exaggerated - a bit overcooked. “Za - Zarina!?” She stood suddenly and launched herself into the older girl's arms. “I'm so glad you're here. I thought I was gonna...” She trailed off, looking around and gasping in horror - again, in an exaggerated fashion. Tku did not fail to notice either. “Well, they were interrogating me. It was really scary and... Where are they?”

The strangeness of Classa's behaviour did not go unnoticed by many. “It's okay, they won't do anything to you anymore.” the girl was held tight with a hand caressing her hair. “What did you see, Classa? Who are you talking about?”

Classa leaned in toward the human's ear. “Zarina, come closer,” she whispered. Her eyes flicked Tku's way as well, for just a moment.

Wary, but ultimately trusting of the girl, Zarina actually leaned a little closer.

“I'm pretending,” the little centaur said simply, voice barely audible. “I can see through what this place is. I figured it out after an hour or two and I've just been telling them what they wanna hear.” She pulled back and smirked conspiratorially. “I've got more than just agility, you know.” Classa winked.

Zarina blinked.

“Oh.”

Then, she whispered back. “Nice.” the silver knight smirked under her helm. “We gotta go, though. Before the guards get back to work.”

Tku made his way over to Stela, unable to just leave someone he could help. "Stela," he tried to grab her shoulder, "We're here to rescue you. Egosto and Sazan are here for you. We're getting out." He tried to reassure, hoping the more gentle approach could shake her back.

Stela was busy telekinetically hurling boulders at unseen enemies when Tku came upon her. Her name was not enough to pull her from this fantasy. Neither was the prospect of rescue or Egosto or... Sazan was, though. Her eyes clouded for a second and then she whirled about, her tail nearly knocking Tku aside. “You're...” She trailed off. “One of the humans: who knew Nyax-Acan?”

He froze but when given a sliver to hold onto he took hold,"Yes, Yes! I am an ally of with Nyax-Acan. He brought me here to help rescue people." Tku stood up and offered a hand, "Come Stela, Your children need you." He hoped it would work as time was running out.

She shook her head as if clearing it and then horror blossomed on her face for a moment - a first look that he knew well. “The Omenaxan.” It was barely more than a whisper: ripe with terror-filled reverence. At his urging, however, she snapped back to him. “The kids. They're okay? How long has it been?” she demanded. “Sazan?”

"It hasn't been long, maybe more than half a day," Tku assured. "I can't say for the children, and that is why we need to get out. They need their mother. Sazan is sane. We will get you out as fast as we can, I promise." Tku knew he couldn't guarantee what he said. But Tku had faith, he needed faith for this. He was a small outsider here trying to change rot decades, maybe centuries old.

She smiled sadly, but her eyes were sharp. “Do you have a plan?”

Classa pursed her lips, suddenly a small adult. “I don't think that'd be a good idea,” she advised. “They were asking me all kinds of questions, trying to get me to save Samaxi, but I know they don't really have her, and now you do, or, well... Tennaxi. She's safe.” The kid shook her head. “The badguys won't do anything unless they think I'm gonna help them. We should set a trap.”

“A trap?” Zarina furrowed her brows. “Like ... Leave someone to blame here?” quickly she shook her head. “Leaving someone in this nightmare, especially someone innocent, makes my stomach turn, dear.” she still held Classa's shoulders and tightened her grip with her normal gauntlet.

But then she realized just how different this Classa was. How much she had mature. It wasn't normal, and yet she had seen it in more than just brains. She was strong. Again, she went in for a hug, so that she could whisper. “If you think you can handle it. I'll let the snake people out, if this is the case ...”

“And they break out 'on their own',” the kid advised.

Zarina concurred, nodding. “Do you know where the rest of the Sirrahi are? We've found three.”

Classa shook her head sadly. “I just know they're on a lower floor.”

But then, there was another voice. “As bad as it sounds to say,” Stela interjected, “Sazan should stay too. He's never been much for the cause. If they nabbed him, they're probably threatening him, trying to get him to rat.” She shook her head. “He won't, though, as long as he knows we have a plan. As long as his family's safe.” She shook her head. “As long as he knows we're coming back for him.” She cast about. “On that subject... where is he?”

Zarina pointed down. “Looking for you. And others, I presume.” she regarded Stela, still cherishing her moment with Classa by staying close. “Would you be able to convince him?”

She need not have waited long, however. At the far end of the hallway there appeared Sazan, Egosto, and Jascuan with two other sirrahi who appeared familiar to at least some of them. The lone cazenax rushed up to Classa and embraced her. "My sweet, sweet little girl," he said. Sazan and Stela made for each other and their embrace was no less intense. “Love of my life.”

“My morning sun...”

“You're safe.”

“You're well.”

They held each other tightly. “Sazan-Betai...”

He pulled back to arms' length and nodded.

“I need you to stay here for a bit longer.”

His face fell.

“We should spring our trap on Golden Skies Day,” Classa recommended. “That's tomorrow. Everyone will be watching and the king or Nyax-Acan - if he's there - always does a big public pardon.”

Jascuan nodded. “If they're going to make a spectacle of it, that's when they'll do it.”

“But we can do it too.” Classa grinned wickedly, a bit more of a kid again instead of this uncannily adult-like thing she'd morphed into since eating the divine fruit.

“Pardon or not.” interjected Zarina. “Nobody's falling for these scumfucks tomorrow. I'll make sure of it.”

Zarina stood up to let Jascuan reunite with his little girl, and took a step back. “Now to get out.” she reached a hand out to Sazan's shoulder. The poor man was effectively their sacrifice. “The kids will be fine.”

His face was heavy. His hands shook. He gulped and nodded. “Look after them.” He leaned in and kissed his wife, for what could very well have been the last time in his life.

Outside raged a storm. In the distance, arriving from the direction of the sun, came five flying specks, but then they grew. Inside, time was ticking away. A decision would have to be made, and now. Goodbyes would be said, with the hope but not the guarantee that the plan would work and they would not be permanent ones. Classa clung to Jascuan for a moment longer, her eyes looking to Zarina, full of fear and searching innocence, but then she hardened herself. "You need to go down. I'll see you tomorrow.”

♫

"I think we should head down, I'm not confident enough to break through it's hide. I could try but I been unreliable with my binding." Tku weighed his performance of Wrath of the Pentad with what he would need to do to break out through the top.

"There's dragons there too, you know,” advised Classa. "Now Go!”

Tku scurried off, making his shoes smooth as could be to not upset the beast.

Zarina made an executive decision to lead the way down. “We outrun it. GO!”

Escape & Ride of the Tuskers

♫

Marceline, meanwhile, had been hard at work on two projects: the first was giving Desmond and Cazelui directions, and now she signaled 'up' 'top' 'opportunity'. The second was the dragons perched at the top of the spire and nearby. She had been slowly, subtly, but surely poisoning them with a soporific.

It was a mad dash, regardless of all the gurgling and stickiness coming from the innards of the beast. A sprint barely enhanced by magic. Luckily the armour could somewhat sustain itself. She went ahead, so that her shield could take on whatever horror could greet them on them. “Keep it up! If you get stuck, call it out!”

Desmond called out to Cazelui as he began to magically enhance himself more, trying to speed through the prison, "We only have a short bit of time, maybe somewhere near half a minute".

Desmond began his run up the stairs, as the moment his feet was to meet the stairs he began to propel himself with magnetic and kinetic energy that made him almost fling himself farther and farther forward. The lights began to fade, yet the moment he smelt something horrific his feet stopped. Desmond saw a horror that he never thought, a mouth that was acting as an entrance from the stairs to the prison propper.

Demsond stopped Cazelui that moment raising his hand as he called out, "Stop!".

The moment his feet were planted right before the flesh floor started he continued, "We only have so much time and entering there might be suicide, we need to hope they will make it down here before the guards arrive. If they don't we need to leave to take the guards out to garenteed their escape".

Desmond then tapped his foot, 1 second.

Zarina was so close to avoiding more intense craziness and battles. And yet here she was, running to the point of making her heart nearly explode.

She held the vanguard, holding her position firmly on the fourth floor and even ripping Tku out of jam with spare kinetic magic. And he returned the favour the following floor with his powerful blood magics.

The second floor was where it all went to shit. A rumbling from the innards had gotten half the group entangled, with Stela holding Tennaxi being completely incapacitated by the floor and ceiling gipping them. If it weren't for the Sirrahi she did not know the names of, Zarina would have finished dead. But, with combined effort and putting their all, they tumbled into the first and final floor.

Invigored by narrowly avoiding death, the final sprint was the most seamless run. None were left behind, with a couple of Sirrahi pulling eachother through the hateful muck that wanted them dead, and Jascuan receiving the aid from Desmond.

“Desmond!” she called out. “Fresh air!”

And they were out!

Out in the open. And the guards were returning. And the dragons ...

Tku was well conditioned to run and run he did! He leapt down 4, 5, 6 stairs at a time! He slipped and rolled but never did he stop. Each step felt like the flesh tried to grab him but he kept going. Powered by Oraff-Zept to survive, he sprinted to the end to see the ever reliable Desmond there to help.

It was a final burst into a sandy world. But as the saying go out the pan and into the fire!

Dragons!
Guards!
Even a sandstorm stood in the way of their freedom.

Pumped up on adrenaline, Tku searched about for a way to escape. Sazan's and Classa's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.

Desmond could see very little in the darkness that was this beast made prison. He could see it shift and move as hit seemed agitated. Desmond continued to tep his foot, counting down as he could almost see the near maelstrom of energy heading towards them. Desmond saw the prison change and move, trying to crush the running people as they dodged and weaved the many tentacles and the ever quickening closing of the prison.

Desmond took out his hand guns and began to fire multiple shots into the hallway, hitting multiple tentacles that tried to grab onto the others. With one grazing pass Jascuan's head as Desmond severed a tentacle that was to grab him.

The moment they neared the mouth of the beast, Desmond turned around and yelled as he began to glide down the stairs, "Great seeing you guys too! No time to talk we need to leave before-"

It was then Desmond exited the hell hole he had only glimpses of, he saw what awaited them outside and continued what he was saying, "-the guards get back".

The wind began to die down, the dragons began their descent and the guards could be seen a slight ways away.

Desmond didn't know what to do, he was almost ready to pull his guns, but he began to look around hoping Marci was watching over them.

Out of the fire and into the frying pan. Meeting Desmond and Cazelui on the final floor, the group of eight escaped the dread hellhole known as the Omenaxan, but it was not yet entirely ready to release them from its clutches.

They stumbled into the daylight outside, the walls, floor and ceiling hungering, slavering, swelling as they closed in on the escapees. It was blinding, fresh, scathing, windy. The sands of a dying twister swirled about them and, as the winds slackened, the rifles in the blisters on the fell prison's sides rotated to face them. The four guards who had gone on break were now visible in the distance, returning from it and obligated to put up a resistance that they were very capable of. Finally, there were the dragons: two of them taking flight and circling down, down, gaining speed as they closed in. Was this it!?

♫

Then, in the distance, emerging from the glare of the morning sun, came the sound of trumpets. They were no instruments of man, however, but those of the elephants to whom they belonged. A flight of four kite tuskers, and one adolescent froabas came swooping in, and the three other dragons strained to rise, but they flapped a few times, ineffectually, and refused to take off, no matter how much their handlers shouted or how many times the prodded or whipped the creatures.

Then, the guards began jogging towards them and there was only the one staircase and the one path.

The flying elephants neared and then they could see, on the back of the lead animal, Ayla, like a pied piper, sonic blasts echoing from her flute. One of the two airborne dragons shrieked and wheeled about. The other closed in, only to be surrounded and pummeled by the concussive kicks and cries of the kite tuskers. It beat a hasty retreat even as the guards covered their ears and Naxos launched a fireball at one of the gunners that rendered her impotent. Ayla pulled up for them to hop on. "Why hello there!" she chirped. "Thought you could use the help."

Lightning from afar crackled through the skies and the remaining five of the rifles in the blisters drooped. A warning blast of fire from Alqasas was enough reason for Green, Yellow, Red, and Arrow to stall their approach further. Then, it was Jascuan's turn. The former Volti stepped forward, gathered his magic, and leapt off of the staircase. The hardened ground resisted for a moment and, for that long, it looked as if he might've misjudged, as if he might hit! Then, it opened before him "On the tuskers or in the hole!"

The Great Escape was nearly complete!

Tku smiled as Ayla and the Kite Tuskers returned. He decided to hop on the tuskers! "A magnificent entrance once again Ayla!" Tku leaps up and his clothes repair themselves quickly. "Time to Fly!" Tku lightened himself and boosted his flight with chemical!

Desmond saw the many actions beginning to fly, it seemed an escape was made, Desmond saw the strange flying elephants began to come down as Desmond began to try and leap up to one and land upon it to try and ride off and away on it.

Desmond began to draw from his own weight as Desmond made sure to not put too much weight upon the strange little creature before they flew off.

Desmond began to put kinetic and chemical energy into the flying pachyderm to help it fly Desmond off.

“No way.”

Flabbergasted, amazing, frozen in utter awe! Zarina couldn't believe it. Flying elephants led by a small girls and a big kitty, with a ferocious dragon tailing them. All while schooling the two hostile dragons in the air. “Ayla, I love you.” she formed a toothy smile under her helm as she waved down Alqasas with a recognizable whistle.

The dragon wasn't going to land, and like the tuskers, they were going to have to catch them as to keep momentum. An easy enough feat for a beastmaster, and so the remainder of her time was spent ensuring all others were saddled up for the exciting escape. And with the flying reptilian swiftness, she could cover for her allies with a massive curtain of flames to hurt visibility and leave the sabotaged guards with only a cloud of smoke to work with and energy signatures quickly leaving their range.

“YEAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

When their tails were finally lost, the next stop was picking up Marci before retreating to the farm.

The magnificent troupe descended in a swoop to allow the others to board the Tuskers, assisting them in making their great escape out of dodge. Ayla winked at her bestie as she overheard her words, "We love you too, Virangish Pepper." Nyan-Acan meowed loudly toward the escapees, instructing them to board. With the great feat underway, it was time to return to the farm.

Home Safe

♫

"Go away Omenaxan?" The traveling merchant, quite a worldly man by his own estimation, appeared nonplussed at the very notion. "Do nobody before." He shook his head.

"Do you know what it actually is?"

He concentrated on her words and then, after a moment, nodded at the 'easy' question. "Great big prison. Nice inside, hear I."

Marceline shot him a dubious look. She could sense the others drawing near, now. "I don't think any prison is nice inside..."

"Oh, but is it!" he assured her, glancing at the gate where his sirrahi and wagon were holding his spot in the burgeoning line. "Nobody go away because."

"Well, I hope so..." she allowed, trailing off. What limited bits she could sense from within, including - miraculously - the energy signatures of Classa and Tennaxi earlier, had seemed to indicate otherwise.

"Hope never find out we, huh?" the merchant joked. She'd forgotten his name, but he seemed a decent enough sort: bored and wanting to talk and perhaps show off the bit of Avincian he knew with a real live human from overseas.

But then came movement in the line and, moments later, the sight of a dragon and four kite tuskers sailing over the city walls. "Well, there's my ride," Marceline informed him. He shielded his eyes and gazed up for a moment, impressed. "Good ride." Then, he looked at the shortening like. "Time to go for me." They parted.

Marci was waiting for the others, leaning in the shadowed lee of a great rock when Alqasas touched down. Tennaxi gave up her mount for the younger girl and doubled up with Zarina. “Don't let me fall, sugar mama,” she said with a fond squeeze, but it was in her own language and the humour was likely lost.

Then, as quickly as they had touched down, they were off again. It was naught but half an hour before they were back at the 4S sweetwater stead. With the hideout gone, the others gathered there as well over the intervening hours, each with their own triumphs and tragedies to report.

These were the longest days of Zarina's life. Reaching the farm when it was still midday felt like she had spent a week of non-stop horrors in the Omenaxan and running from pursuers. Now, back at the sweetwater stead, she stripped herself of her gear and just sat back, feet up on something for a good fifteen minutes. No talking. Just, nothing.

Next on the list was tending to her dragon, and collaborating with Tku and Zox to make her a temporary pen to keep her out of sight. Of all the things witnesses can identify, the uniquely coloured dragon of a species that wasn't native to the area was the biggest one. Then, Riesco along with Nuro were tended to before she retreated back to the shade of the home.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” she swear-yawned while stretching. “Tomorrow can't come soon enough.” she commented amongst her peers. “I'm growing antsy for leaving Classa and that snake-man back. I wanna just ...” she hooked her fingers as if she was trying to squeeze or crush something. “Fuck up these cunts who are causing all this.”

“Yeah, they can have a dose of hell,” Marci agreed, aping Zarina's body language without even realizing it. Tennaxi chimed in with some commentary in her native tongue as well and Naxos translated helpfully for her. “She says she's gonna break a foot off in their asses.”

The moment they returned to the 4S Sweetwater Farm Desmond laid back and rested. There was so much they wanted to do.

So much they tried to do.

And so little they could do.

All plans take time and sadly this one required the most time. So, Desmond laid back and allowed himself more rest, because the moment things are to start, his job would have to start agaian and there would be no stop until it finished.

Desmond laid his gear out next to him as he laid back onto his satchel. Desmond stayed in his armor, it naturally drew from his heat to keep him which made it all the easier to keep himself comfortable and protected.

As Desmond leaned back he sighed and thought about wishing for his hat to cover his eyes and remembered Fiske was still out there. He hoped good news would follow, yet as all things, the die was cast. All that is left is to see where they fall.

There was an exileration that was becoming more frequent in Tku's life. The thrill of risking it all and surviving. So far he had been fine but he would lie if it wasn't starting to get worriesome. He felt he had been blessed by Reshta more in the last few days than his entire life. But making it back to the farm he grounded his high and got back to work.

A makeshift pen was crafted for the Dragon, Covered from the outside but the geometry still allowed the Frobas to have light peak through. He shared with Zox his adventure along with some of his deeper thoughts on all of this. Tku found a friend in Zox and it felt nice to share unashamed of the cowardice feeling he felt from time to time on this outing.

Tku made new clothes for people if they liked or repaired the ones they had if preferred. He matched the colorful aesthetic of An Zenui with the new clothes he made.

His tasks were dull, even while making some more artifacts for the coming fight, it was still dull. He had felt it dozen's of time at this point. Dark magic. It allowed for the creation of abject horrors but also people like Zox and Classa. Used unwise it corrupted but held the ability to free someone. He couldn't stop thinking of it.

Eventually Tku asked Jascuan, "I know this may be much but," he hesitated, trying to make sure with himself if it was alright to ask. "I was wondering if you could show me what this dark magic is. I find myself mesmerized yet appauled at the same time. I wanted to understand your perspective if you have a moment to spare to me."

Jascuan was still and silent, lying on the couch, peacefully snoring.

“Alright.” Zarina clasped her hands together as she sat on the home's comfy couch. “Tomorrow night, it'll be show time.” she reminded, her sights brushing through the room populated with early arrivals. “One of you should take my armour.” she left that without any more context. “Volunteers?”

Then, she looked toward Tennaxi, expression soft and with clear concern. “Nibbler wasn't there.” she peered to Naxos for him to translate. “The rodent with Classa.” she explained. “Did something happen to him? I would have sensed him if he was in that prison. For sure.”

Before Tennaxi could reply, Naxos let out a warning that more people were approaching and Zarina was called upon to investigate. It was there that she came upon Stela and seven children who had never so much been outside of the city. There was also Nibbler, of course. He always seemed to come back to her.

Tennaxi noticed Tku's question instead. She peered up at him cautiously, still annoyed by her present smallness. “And... why are you interested?” she asked cautiously. She looked to Naxos for assistance and he translated.

Tku raised a hand at Zarina's offer, "I believe me and you are similar enough and I wouldn't say no to some armor. Also-" Tku made a piece of paper and started to write some things on it, folded it and handed her, "For you to read when you have time."

Tku turned to Tennaxi, letting the elder sleep. "I might be able to do things I couldn't before. It feels beautiful and repulsive. I wonder what beauty I could find in it. I'm simply curious to the nature of it Tennaxi."

Tku had given her a note, which prompted a squint of suspicion and concern. His tone wasn't too encouraging, and the contents even less. Lips pursed, she merely nodded. “Yeah. It's yours tomorrow. Except for the shield.”

Then, Zarina perked up. She could sense him, and he could sense her. Dashing outside to greet the newcomers, the rodent sprinted to her and leapt up for a pounce. “There. He. Is!” the Virangish gleefully embraced him, and her found his place on her shoulders with some use of magic to reduce his weight.

For the Sirrahi, it'd be the first time they'd see the person inside the armour. In all her sweaty and dishevelled hair glory.

The Hourglass Order

♫

Rikard, Abdel, Jocasta, and Trypano found themselves approached by a long, lithe sinewy creature of the palest white. Its eyes burned a fiery blue and its great coils wound about. The sheer energy that it exuded brought most of them to their knees, though this was not the case for Jocasta. Yalen needed her help. She would do what she could to empower the others. From there, it was their fight.

The lake was quickly freezing over, the plants on it curling up and crumpling under the growing frost. Jocasta, however, bled heat into her surroundings. "I have to go. Yalen's alone against... that monster" She glanced over, face lined with worry. "How can I help before I do?"

Abdel looked up in awe at the magnificence that was the frost giant up above. He nearly lost his balance! This thing was comparable to the Sand Wyrm, too. And then flooded in the Ogauraq too. Did he make the right call? Was his fate sealed from the start?

He shook his head upon snapping back to reality thanks to Jocasta's words. “Right.” Abdel steadied himself. “My Skuggvars. There's no way we survive without them.” he looked at Jo. “Please!”

"I shall try to alleviate these symptoms as so to not divide your attention too thinly." Trypano answered back before she started sinking into the ground, drawing the earth below away until her head vanished, stone sealing away the top so as to block attacks from catching her from above, whether by accident or not.

From there she would make her attempt to alleviate the symptoms...

"Yes," Jocasta agreed. As the dragon approached, she grabbed the reins of spacetime and ripped a portal open. Qadira and Dayanara were on the other side of it.

"Wh-what the hell are we doing here?" Rikard exclaimed in a panicked voice. "We have... no chance against that thing without you!" He'd fought monsters before, of course, but they hadn't necessarily looked like monsters as this one did.

Then, the ground itself began to shake and separate.

The moisture in it condensed and froze into dagger-like crystals that grew explosively in every direction.

"Sophomoric," hissed Evil Eye, melting the ice. She superheated the water and then rapidly froze it, raking the beast with thousands of tiny, razor sharp cystals. The Skuggvars synchronously belched out corrosive steam to melt the nearby ice and render the frosty useless. The beasts” skin glistened in a thin coat of mucus to help with the heat. Abdel kept his distance, and thus remained safe. Rikard managed to blast the ice crystals away by depolarizing the water crystals within them.

Abdel drew from some of the steam from his Skuggs to create a makeshift layer to evaporate the remaining ice projectiles Trypano could not stop. Then, the Skuggs launched a barrage of spikes from their tails toward the big threat.

The enormous dragon whipped up a cyclonic wind to push the projectiles away. They were redirected at Trypano.

Trypano might have been beneath the earth but she could detect the oncoming surge of energy. She attempted to draw the moisture away from her pocket so the ice could not form. However, several spikes made their way not forming in the air but punching through the soil. She braced for impact but a surge of heat managed to melt them away in the nick of time. How thoughtful. She just hoped they weren't putting themselves in danger just to help her.

The barrage of spikes was scattered more or less effortlessly. However, one slipped through to stick right between two of the enormous white beast's scales. It let out a frosty hiss of annoyance and batted at the tiny skewer. Then, it had to deal with Rikard.

A ball of lightning shot towards the dragon, but it opened its vast maw and sucked all of the energy out of the attack. The air grew colder.

Annoyed by this tiny human's efforts and recognizing Jocasta as the greatest threat, the dragon disappeared.

Jocasta slowed time and created a physical shield around her, but it wasn't enough. As she slipped away, the barrier shattered and her ankle was caught in it and broken. There was no reaction, but she knew about the injury.
Meanwhile, Trypano attempted to bless her allies with a boon as the frigid dragon loomed over them, readying its new assault.

"You should probably try to hit big ugly," Evil Eye grumbled. However, she tried something else instead. "Your eyes are not yours."

The dragon blinked. It seemed unaffected. Evil Eye swallowed and took a step back. But then something came from behind to attack her.

Elephant Mouth's explosive attack was absolutely colossal. A mushroom cloud rolled up into the sky, lightning snaking and writhing about it. The heat was phenomenal.

Qadira ran in front of Evil Eye, used her big fat blubber to defend from the shockwave. Evil Eye was able to handle the rest, drawing locally to escape the effects. "Holy.... shit." She twisted to regard the Ogauraq girl, alarmed.

Then, a tug of war over the blessing Jocasta sought to bestow onto her allies, between the caster herself and the dragon. After an intense showdown, the warmth had cooled into nothing, but left the serpentine creature vulnerable. The chemical magic was dispelled and, with it, Yalen seemed in trouble not so very far away. It appeared that Ash had brought... friends. Jocasta shot them a bereft look and disappeared.

They were on their own.

A wave of cold and poison sought to sap the group of their strength. Qadira was in a vulnerable spot. Abdel, knowing this wasn’t winnable without his beasts, actively sucked the poison toward himself rather than let his Skuggvar be weakened. He released a wheezing cough afterward, falling to his knees.

Evil Eye lifted her eyepatch, revealing what was beneath. The shrivelled powergazer eye let loose a stream of reddish-gold energy.

The dragon was pinned down by the pair of skuggvars. It was only for a moment, but it was all that Evil Eye needed.

The dragon writhed and twitched in place. But it wasn't enough. The beam sliced its head clean off. Its eyes went dark as the massive chunk hit the ground. Its body fluttered and collapsed like a falling ribbon.

Trypano, upon feeling the familiar forces of the draw upon her lines the walls of her pocket with flesh before letting her blood flow freely, replacing it as it leaves her body to try and keep the pool inside her fresh. It seems her hypothesis is correct, diffusing the weight of the forces on her mana and alleviating the symptoms of the sickness.

Smoke streamed from Evil Eye's titular eye. Dried blood was caked all around it. She wobbled and dropped to her knees, breathing heavily. "Go to hell where you belong, you piece of shit." Everyone watched for a moment, not quite believing that they'd actually killed this monster.

♫

They were right.

The corpse twitched. Black blood began gushing out in three great streams. The blood congealed into swarms - swarms of demonic insects. They piled one upon the other. The heat was unfathomable. The dragon’s skin began to blacken and crisp. A sickening stench pervaded the air.

The wicked heads - warped, twisted, and burning - form where once there was one. Three pairs of glowing red eyes opened, casting their bale case upon three separate targets. The dragon rose once more, long trails of flame working their way down the revived behemoth's back. It arched its middle head and released a colossal screeching roar.

♫

---

The horrible monstrosity that emerged from the infested, decapitated body of the Frost Dragon had shifted its attention to another target: The Golden Dragon’s enemies. In fact, both avians had switched positions, bringing the one-armed golden beasts before Abdel, Rikard and Trypano while Evil eye made quick pursuit of the creature she had previously decapitated.

In exchange, they got Golden Monkey in his ever brilliant shroud of gold.

The dragon's arm quickly grew back, incomplete and fleshy, but functional. The moment that it sighted the new threat, the dragon plunged for it, releasing a mighty tower of flame in Abdel's direction.

♫

Abdel was still recovering from the foul sights he had actually seen. No longer were these horrors mere images, they came to life right before him. He absently tended to Dayanara, relieving from her recent contamination. The arrival of the golden dragon had finally come to, and he barely had time to prepare for the mighty spiral of flames coming right at him. An improvised shelter of stone was in order!

The Skuggvars intervened, coating themselves with a protective mucus oozing from their pores to protect from the heat. They piled over the shelter made by Abdel, protecting themselves and their master from harm. They then drdw as much as possible from the tower of flames, and spewed back massive globs of burning, napalm-like fluid.

The dragon conjured a massive wind to blow the gobs away. They scattered and it remained in place, utterly unperturbed. The sight of the strange egg annoyed it, so the golden dragon redirected the burning gobs towards it, enhancing them with chemical reactions of its own.

The gobs splashed against the egg, but they lacked quite the sting that they should. Trypano is rudely melted out of her refuge, but was otherwise uninjured. Rikard had gone virtually unnoticed in the commotion, but he was hard at work on something.

There was something inside the egg that was even more displeasing than it. The dragon decided that it needed to die.

As the tail collided with the placid looking yet perpetually annoyed binder the ground quaked with the force of its impact, little to be seen as she's buried beneath it. As it slid it's limb away however Trypano appeared to be laying flat, completely intact as she was pressed into a soft cushioning mould she formed out of the ground below. "You know, you are making it quite difficult to sympathize with your plight when you attack non-aggressors." She retorted flatly, a subtle underlying tone of snark beneath her icy response.

The dragon ignored her completely. "A healer of the enemy is no friend," its voice echoed through her head and those of others within its range.

The dragon glared at the Sanguinaire that had caused him much grief. It was going to show him what true, unadulterated power truly was. The beast lunged forward and attempted to ensnare the speedy Golden Monkey.

Golden Monkey wretched the scales like a spiral, drilling into it to make it release. The dragon was enraged. It inhaled with a high pitched screech as a very brief warning to those unfortunate enough to walk under its shadow. A massive wall of flames descended upon the group!

All managed to pull through with minor burns. Dayanara, groaning in frustration from the mild burns, launched a barrage of quills toward the dragon’s eye. Monkey took this opportunity to strike. He warped underneath it and launched a heavenly right at the wound he had previously created.

The Golden Dragon sneered at the coming quills. They were yet another petty attempt to harm it. It was about ready to redirect it like it did the blobs of flaming mucus but ... It was a distraction?! That Yasoi seized this opportunity to return the favour. A Heavenly lance destined for its very neck, ensuring a fate just like the one of its comrade.

At this moment, the dragon closed its eyes. Everything slowed down.

Then, it radiated a brilliant gold, a light that could blind those that stared directly at it.

Fortune was its true power. Fate was rewritten.

The lance missed and the quills hit its robust scales.

"You cannot fight he who can manipulate fate itself." It shook its great maned head. "Surrender now and pledge your loyalty and I shall allow you to live. I do not wish for more death."

“How do I know this isn't just another lie?! Your leader did just that! Lie right to our faces!” screamed out Abdel.

"There are some truths for which the lesser races are unprepared. This is a burden we must bear for you."

"My allegiance is to my word. I shall sustain my colleagues until we return, regardless of their choices." responded Trypano.

“You are arrogant. That is how you lost ReTan! Just STOP!” pleased Abdel.

The dragon said no more and leered the youngest of the group. The one that reeked of something unnatural.

Rikard blinked. Uh-oh.

A cloud of white smoke erupted from its nostrils and surrounded the kid. And with a simple amber from the crunch of its teeth, the whole cloud ignited in one grand explosion.

Rikard called upon the powers of deep magnetic magic to stome the attack before much more than a bit had been issued, and it came out far less powerful than it could've. He was barely more than slightly singed.

Then, it was Abdel’s turn, as a spire of flames descended upon the boy. Abdel inhaled as he saw the flames befall him. The thunderchild focused deeply at the centre of the tower of fire. Sparks of electricity danced around his being as the searing pole of death splitted in the middle as it reached him, while he maintained the air around him cooled enough to not succumb to a heatstroke. But as courageous as he had shown himself, he could not stop it all. His extremities were burnt to the second and third degree. Still, he kept a strong face. Abdel did not falter this time. Caught off guard, he meekly tries to move his damaged body, but it is too late. The dragon used this chance to close distance and trap him between its claws. The dragon prepared to end this child’s life. A simple burst of flames would have sufficed, and yet it took its time to charge. Like it was hesitating.

In the nick of time, Rikard and Monkey were capable of conjuring a thunderous attack that would have annihilated the beast on the spot at the potential expense of Abdel. In response, the dragon shined once more, and gave Abdel another lease on life. The boy scampered off, still hurting from the burns. He tripped near his Skuggvar, growing increasingly exhausted.

Abdel Rose. Burnt, wheezing and broken. But not defeated. “We cause a lot of trouble for lesser beings, don't we?” he coughed, and readied his attack. Sparks flickered around him once more. The recoiling dragon could barely hear him after eating Trypano’s and Rikard’s counterattack right at the face.

The clouds above swelled once more with power after Rikard's use of the Heavenly wrath. “Heh. No way am I gonna be outdone by a guy obsessed with boobs.” he joked, and then coughed again.

Meanwhile, the Skuggvars lined up and drew as well. They were to attack from below, while Abdel ushered hell from above. Flames leaked out of their thick lips from an excess of corrosive and flammable mucus. Bombs capable of obliterating a quarter of a small village were about ready to be shot.

The thunderbolt crashes upon the dragon, forcing it to fall onto its underbelly. Right before it were the Skuggvars with nothing but rage in their beady eyes. And just as they were about to claim the head of a second dragon, they froze. A voice called out.

“STOP!”

The animals obeyed, more so from his magical control over them than a willingness to listen to him. Still, the magical tug was enough for them to be dissuaded. “Enough.” he panted. “Enough. You're all going to lose this country if you just keep killing each other. You're going to DIE for NOTHING!” he clenched his burnt fists. “How can you be so proud as to lose so much for NOTHING?!”

The dragon was quick to rise, deeply wounded though he clearly was. "Then I will die for a noble cause. These men are tyrants and those who serve them have been won over by their honeyed words." He coughed, and it was great, wracking wheeze that echoes in his chest and resounded across the ruins of the imperial gardens.

"They rose to their thrones through lies, murder, and genocide. Yet every one of you would fight alongside them." The enormous reptilian shook his head. "I would rather fight for the light than live on in your darkness."

"If it means allying with some who are less than savoury, then I will hold my nose and bear it. Perhaps they may yet be redeemed or, if not, then they too will be brought to justice."

“And yet Wu Long lied to us, is keen on murdering everyone here and wishes to genocide the Sanguinaires.” Abdel limped toward one of his Skuggvars, Dayanara, and began to a slow healing process of the beast. “There is no light at the end of this tunnel if we just keep killing each other, Golden Dragon.” The boy sighed. “And could not these current rulers be redeemed either?”

The dragon shook his vast head sadly. "You foolish child." He let out an exasperated snort. "I have lived a hundred of your human lifetimes and I have seen what these sanguinaires are capable of. Others have warned you of them. I have now warned you of them. You have no idea how black their souls are, what they are capable of, the brutality and depredations, the shameless depths of lies that they use to get what they desire." He let out a long, pained groan. "The only good sanguinaire is a dead sanguinaire. I do not want you to realize the truth of my words some years from now when their evil spreads yet further. I am not saying this for the satisfaction of being right. THEY. ARE. AN. EXISTENTIAL. THREAT. Do not be fooled. Please!"

"In the end why put faith in humanity achieving better?" She grimly remarked. "Your faith in the very people who bought their lies and cast you down will lead to disappointment. In the end it is simply a condition of their design, to trust that which resembles them over the unfamiliar, To betray others for short-term benefits, to cut and to eat away regardless of how much harm they bring." As she readied to heal the wounds it had left her she let sift through her grit teeth a weary sigh.

"There are greater evils in this world, dragon. Those that stem from the very origins of things we now see. I cast my concerns to the very fate of this world. This, however, is mostly just an exercise in disappointment... For yourself, and for I."

Just then, some distance away, the great white dragon that had become a black monstrosity fell, erased from existence by a phenomenally powerful atomic blast. In a different direction, the Black Guard Cold Soup fell at the hands of a ronin with a spectacular sword. At least a handful of ogauraq lay dead about the battlefield. Many others, from all sides, were injured. The Progenitor himself held Sleeping Carp by the neck, lifting him off the ground. They were killing each other: killing each other for reasons as varied as deeply set beliefs, the love of friends, or simple mercenary gain.

An equally sad look washed over Abdel's face. His fresh, fifteen year old view of the world was consisently challenged and demolished. Entire peoples were worthy of being hated and killed, and ancient and majestic beings staked their lives to put an end to them. It all felt so insidious. So wrong. The worst part was how he could relate to this dragon, a mere instrument to grander schemes. Abdel sat not too far from the pained dragon, he himself barely coping with the burns he just started to heal. “... But these ones are going against the tide you've known for centuries.” Abdel recalled the visions. Were they all fabricated? He did not know. He felt as though Carp could be trusted. Somehow, there was a genuineness to that man. A mysteriousness too, but something trustworthy that made him recall Ranger Manuel Escarra. “I've seen evil too. I know I'm young but I've seen evil.” Tavio Ortega, Huarcan Frannemas ... “I don't believe this to be true.”

Abdel shot a look at Trypano. He wasn't angry, and if anything he was a tad disappointed at himself. But that smugness in her words always rubbed him the wrong way. It did to most. “What is that darkness with many arms that looms over all of us?” asked the Tethered boy, seemingly out of the blue. “Wu Long's master. Your master.”

"It is order, boy. It is not darkness. It is what keeps this world from coming apart at the seams. It is something that has the power to destroy us - all of our combined abilities, all of our strength - as if it were nothing." His great coils were settling now. He was flagging. "They are the Knowers - for they know all - a primordial force beyond the mysterious sirrahi and the sanguinaires, the wildbloods, even your Quentic Gods." He shook his great draconic head weakly. "They are neither good nor evil. they simply arbitrate this world and others. If they find us wanting, we shall all be erased." He bowed his head, as if accepting something. "This is why I was made. This is why I serve."

Rikard staggered back, eyes wide and brow furrowed. He was not certain if this was a profound revelation - some deep truth beyond his understanding - if it was the blathering of a mad beast, or if it was a programme of lies designed to corrupt his reason. The idea of simply accepting - of bowing to the arbitrary whims of some self-appointed greater beings - rubbed him the wrong way. Was not the very essence of life to grow, to discover, to learn, and to thrive? Simple acceptance of a status quo led to stagnation. That, his storied many-greats uncle had impressed upon him in one of their few meetings. That, he held as true. He wrinkled his nose in subtle, silent disgust at the preachings of this dragon, for they were not truth - not a truth that he would accept, anyway.

"I am aware of the Knowers." She replied, finally satisfied to start cutting to the heart of this grand conspiracy. "I had spoken to one, or so the five had told me."

She looked to the chaos enveloping the scene around them. She had to do something to help the others, despite the insignificance of her abilities overall. "Perhaps, if the damage to the timeline could be mitigated, one could go back and warn of what these choices will have brought us all."

It was a dangerous suggestion. She loathed to manipulate time in such a way as it threatened the stability of the timeline. If one such creature would know the consequences however, it would be this one.

"I still stand by my words earlier, that there's a better choice than to clash here and now, leaving so much of value lost to the ever-cleansing tides of inevitability. I know not how best to save what is lost, only the regret that comes with witnessing it."

“And so you remove one tyrant,” Abdel muttered, just loud enough for the dragon to hear. “for the sake of an even worse one, holding us hostage so we follow their design.” this did not terrify him. It actually felt like he knew this, in a way. What he had seen had told him this, but his mind could not understand it until it was put into words. “I ... Resent this - this existence. I do not want to just take it. And we are stronger now, Golden Dragon. Stronger than you all were lifetimes ago.”

The dragon's great head came to rest on the ground. His breath came in gasps and wheezes. "You are making the gravest of mistakes," he rasped. "The hands of time. It is exactly such interventions that invite the wrath of the Knowers, for they are otherwise benevolent and even -" A deep shudder vibrated through his serpentine body. "kind."

In the background, fighting continued. A colossal explosion of pure darkness emanated from the direction where the Twin Emperors faced down Wu Long. "Yes, you will find them kind. No," he gasped, struggling to shake his head. "No, you cannot fight them. You will see. I hope you do not see, but you will if you..." He let out another wheeze. "If you persist."

The air around them, then, seemed to waver. It grew light and electric. Space seemed to lift itself from time for a moment. "I am sorry I could not save you," the dragon wheezed. "That I could not beat you with mercy - a mercy you have not shown me. I have doomed you." Foam began to collect about his lips. He uttered one final word: "Run."

♫

The dragon appeared to be about to expire. However, sensing accurately was very difficult. The air roiled with a strange, rich sort of energy. You cannot properly sense it though it is there. You cannot draw from it. You cannot use it.

Trypano, seeing that the dragon had made it's final choice, decided to heed it's words. She looks quickly to see if anyone else requires aid in fleeing before she turns heel and makes haste herself.

Abdel stood up, still unable to run, and limped back until he could straddle Qadira. “Dammit ...” he cursed, upset over the unfortunate outcome. He had shown mercy, and yet this beast - no, this individual was still dying. And by the looks of it, something else was at play. Thoughts on the ways of the world were put aside in favour of his own survival. He and the Skuggs made as much distance as they could.

Rikard, genuinely unnerved, senses something that he doesn't understand. In many cases, his natural curiosity might take hold. In this instance, caution wins the day. "Go!" he screamed. "Go! Go! Go!"

♫

The sky opened like a massive eye of the purest blinding white.

The Hourglass Order

_{Present: Ashon’amar’loiyang @Ti, Cal’tuuro’jaros @Suicharte, Casii’fyret’alan, Dorothea Hohnstein @Jasbraq,
Kaspar Elstrøm von Wentoft @Wolfieh, Edyta Łaska @Force and Fury, Ymiico’luun’yoru @CaliforniaState, Taleja Drakenknecht,
Father Jacques Dubosque, Brother Baudile Dubosque, Viktor Strauss, Laura, Cristophe Wiliken, Margot, Denis, Juan, Ricardo, Juulet}

---

---

♫

Dory’s arrival turned out to be a bad omen, as soon after the melancholy spread throughout the group. The jolly Ashon had turned glum and Casii froze and reverted into a deep silence. The poor girl had lost her arm, seen so much death and was hated by most in her group for the tragedy she had caused. And now her only friend, only ally, only Isii was now gone. The emotional shock did not elicit an immediate breakdown. Instead she kept to her corner, eyes fixed on the shattered pavement before her feet.

Juan abstained from adding anything else. He had said enough and any more information could only lead to more danger to these youths. The merciful dragon slapped his tail onto the ground, signalling his pet Froabas to wind up its wings a couple of times before taking flight. “I am sorry for all that you have gone through.” he lamented, head lowered as he addressed the group. “I promise you, had I been here earlier, I would have intervened.” the avian circled the ruins, awaiting further orders. “Now, I can only try to salvage what remains.” he let the lightest of chuckles escape him when Ashon brought up Tyrel and her fallen cousin. “You will likely see those adventurous girls before I do, young Monkey.” he shot a knowing grin at Ashon. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see their Constantian friends again.”

“I will stay, at least until you do what you need to do.” Baudile stood before the dragon. “My place is with my brother, at least until I know he and his people are safe.” the Conde canted his head and scratched his chin. “Once again, how can I deny a Stresian with my record?” he shrugged. “Very well. Maybe a familiar face would make this work far better than some Tarlonese envoys. You are not with them?” Baudile shook his head. “I came here to do my own investigation. I’m … Not done yet, but I have more important things to handle right now.” to which the wildblood nodded in understanding.

“Is very nicemuch but-” Margot wanted to add her piece. “Magot got her fill.” she shook the sack of gold she had gotten from the recent ransack of the boat, or whatever remained of it. “Get gooden stuffs in there, can always usemany to hire Margot, yes?” she then shot finger guns at the group, Schleim on her shoulder and Tock flying overhead, at a lower altitude than the imposing Ricardo. “Ah, Danke Schon! Danke!” the grateful highwaymen bowed his head to the roguish little creature. She turned her back on him and gestured in dismissal. “Yeah yeah. Favour Margot and live, okay?” and then, with her hood on as dawn grew strong, she darted into the forest with a light blush on her face.

The student group was privy to a final discovery, with Cristophe and Denis joining them on the occasion, under the family cemetery adjacent to the ruined courtyard. Juan stayed behind and so did Baudile, at first, but he eventually caught up after exchanging a few private words with the Conde. The crypt was easy to find: A singular stone edifice with mermaid-like carvings gave way to stairs that led to the tomb. At the bottom was a door with a large keyhole rattling open. Inside was a small, stone room with multiple stone sarcophagi that held the heads of the Kapperstel family dating back since the times before the Oriflamme - before the legend of the Beast of Mandelein ever came to be. Back when they were but a minuscule nobility in Dudgunze.

There was nothing. “Not even the boxes hold anything other than withered skeletons.” the monk remarked thanks to his keen use of blood magic. “So why did …” Baudile speed walked out of the room to look at the only metal door. It was open, but they had a key that had been safeguarded for what seemed like a long time by Juan. “The secret is not here.” he concluded, greasy and wet hair pulled back as he gestured for the others to come. “Everyone out. I think I know what this is.” once the rest had complied, he closed the door. “Mister Ashon, to you goes the honour.” his flat hand pointed to the keyhole. “Whatever they have hidden, it's not nothing if they’re using something so big.”

When Jamboi turned the lock, he could sense before all the others a shift in the flow of time and space. A ripple that fit the frame of the door so perfectly, it was as satisfying as seeing the right block put in the square hole. Then, he opened it again, and inside was an entirely different room. One that looked more like an armoury than a crypt. “Well I’ll be damned …”

Two sets of armour stared right at the group that dared to enter the premises. The one to the right was rusted with the toll of time overly apparent, the other in fine condition as if it had been maintained. Both wielded a large Zweihander sword, with the one to the left being a good bit larger with the armour proportionally bigger to accommodate. The other blade was darker in colouring, about as big as one would expect a such a greatsword to be, but there was a peculiar aura to it. Baudile recognized it immediately.

“That-” he stuttered, eyes wide and his knees weak. The Stresian walked an unsteady gait toward the ancient armour and reached out, his fingers just an inch away from the sword. “That’s the War God’s arsenal! Eshiran-Zept’s Sword!”

Somewhere, maybe far, maybe close, was this small collection of goods gathered by Hübert Kapperstel, second renown Graf of Mandelein. With the blessing of Conde Juan, the students were permitted to claim their share of spoils. It was entirely up to them, of course, to decide who got what and whether they should even take these things to begin with. There were weapons, accessories and riches, all of which could be identified by Baudile.

White Scar

A giant 10 foot tall blade of Trivalium base is far too large to be wielded by anything other than the otherworldly. With a large blade thicker than the head of a hammer, this sword weighs over 300 pounds. Yet even in its gargantuan size, the blade still has a strange regal aura to it as the blade has a gorgeous lustrous white that has shimmering with gold.

Once wielded by Graf Hübert Kapperstel, Protector of Mandelein, it was the blade that delivered a decisive blow in the defeat of the Huntress, one of the ten Elder Sanguinaires. Hübert was an Original and an exceptional duelist, recognized by many magical covenants in the Twin Continents.

Requirements: Mages that can hit a 24 or greater with their max Kinetic or Magnetic roll. Wildbloods in 3+ Moons. Sanguinaires experience severe burns to their hands by touching it.

Manas: 24 - Maladyshield

Effects:

When the blade is wielded, it will begin to warp the area around it, nearly creating an optical illusion around the blade.

❖ Anything struck by the blade will be warped and incinerated. Making any wounds done by the blade unable to be healed or regenerated without massive additional damage being done to the target. (To heal damage the target done by this blade, the target will take 1/2 the damage again before they can be healed)

The blade's natural sheen that is often known as its regal aura seems to grow brighter when in the presence of the great evil known as Sanguinaires and will outright attack them.

❖ The manas within the blade, a strangely aggressive form of maladyshield that was bred to target Sanguinaires, begin to attack and draw from a Sanguinaire being within 5 feet of the blade, dealing 2 damage to the Sanguinaire until they leave the area.

❖ Anytime a Sanguinaire is dealt damage by the blade, the manas within the blade will draw from the manas within the Sanguinaire, anytime this happens, the Sanguinaire will roll a d6 and gain one of these debuffs:

1- Lose 1 RAS tier until the end of the Scenario.
2- Lose the use of 1 manatype until the end of the Scenario.
3- -2 to all actions until the end of the Scenario
4- -2 to the Sanguinaire's next attack and defense
5- -2 to the Sanguinaire's next attack
6- Nothing

The Beast’s Pistol

A particularly large crossbow that, in theory, qualifies as a ballista. With the punch that it carries and its weight, very few are actually capable of effectively wielding it. It is made of wood and bark of the Divine Tree of Kerremand with a consistent banana-odour to it. The metal parts are of the same Trivalium used for the White Scar.

Graf Hübert Kapperstel was an avid hunter and made use of his inhuman strength to bring the tools appropriate for big game. This habit served him well in his grand duels against his kind’s archenemies.

Requirements: The ability to hit 24 with Kinetic or Magnetic magics. 20 with Binding or Blood magic. 3+ Moon Wildbloods. An enchantment to the weapon causes the ammunition to grow out of Sanguinaire flesh if wielded by one.

Manas: 12 - Juggernaut

Effects:

A specific category of bolt can be fired each time it is loaded. The Ballista requires one turn to reload once a shot is fine, however one can still act during that turn as the reloading is automatic. Binding can be used OFFENSIVELY with this weapon (Used to create a stabiliser to reduce recoil to compensate for strength).

The type of bolt inserted is determined by the wielder. Either by manually inserting it or letting the automatic enchantment do its thing.

❖ Regular Bolts - They are used with a normal dice level with a skill value of d8, and can be combo’d with ONE extra skill. They can be shot without a magic school to add to unpredictability.
❖ Acid Bolts - Roll a 4d10, any hit cannot do more than minor damage. A dot will apply by rolling a 2d3 for four turns. Can be cured by sacrificing an action.
❖ Scatter Bolts - A bolt shot in the air that splits into a rain of normal-sized bolts. Roll a d4 for how many targets it can hit. Uses Magnetic, Kinetic or Blood to use as primary school.

Die Mauer (The Wall)

A large set of light whiteish grey Full plate armor with no luster or shine, much like stone. Each piece of this armor is incredibly heavy, making even the gauntlets of this armor weigh in upwards of nearly 20 pounds. However once one dawns the nearly 400 pounds of armor the manas within will begin to attune to the user, filling the user with untold amounts of power and lightness. Yet any one piece being missing will take away all benefits (to an extent.)

Graf Hübert was an exceptionally talented Duelist, and nearly unbeatable when becoming one with Die Mauer. Some say, had he not fallen to the beast many years ago, he had the potential to even surpass Sleeping Carp, and maybe even the Progenitor himself.

Requirements: ‘Agile’ fighting styles are not viable, but there are no innate requirements. The armour adapts to the size of the wielder. Yes, even in sudden shifts.

The size and weight of the armor provides the user with greater defenses, providing them these benefits:

❖ Reduces damage received by 1 tier.
❖ +12 additional hp
❖ Minimum defense modifier is 3d.

The armor is made of the ever powerful and dense metal known as Tungsten, providing the user these benefits:

❖ +4 to hp
❖ +4 to defense

The manas within this hulking armor are numerous, providing the one they attune to an additional 56 manas and numerous additional features. Such as, when attuned the armor will reshape and size itself to fit the wearer, no matter the size or shape of the wearer. If a single piece is missing/severely damaged, all effects (including Tungsten bonus) are negated and the armour will only provide 28 Manas.

This kinetic energy can then be channeled throughout the armor, as when an attack hits the user, the energy can instead be directed to the attacker.

❖ When the user successfully defends by themselves, the armor will shoot the kinetic energy at the attacker and give them the 'Shaken' effect. The next action taken by the attacker will be done at a disadvantage.

Finally, when the user focuses all their energy into the armor, the armor will draw in all energies around it and reflect it back out to make the user nearly impervious.

❖ Once per scenario, the user can sacrifice all actions in a turn to be completely invincible. (Not always applicable, GM discretion)

Original’s Ruby

A beautiful Ruby worn by Hübert Kapperstel in his endeavour to destroy all Sanguinaires serving the Huntress. An insurance of sorts should he fall or end up in a position of vulnerability. He always wore it on his person.

Manas: 4 - Maladyshield

Requirements: Don’t be a Sanguinaire.

Effects:
A jewel that takes a long time to attune to a wielder, but once it down, it ‘instructs’ the manas of the holder to absorb at capacity when they’ve left the body for more than a minute, causing them to violently explode. This is used as a countermeasure against Sanguinaires that would drink from the user.

The is an out, and that is by remaining at close proximity to the jewel, however when it exercises its second effect to nullify the order to explode, it also aggressively targets the vulnerable manas of the Sanguinaire, causing them to burn up as if they were exposed to the sun.

The Sword of Eshiran-Zept

Here Rests the Will of the War God.
May one baptised by the battlefield raise its edge and smite in the name of Eshiran-Zept.

A pristine Zweihander of relatively normal size held pointed down by a hollow and rusted armour that has long since passed its use, let alone its prime. Nothing can be remarked about this blade beyond the perfect craftsmanship that’s gone to the hilt, metal and edge.

It awaits its next wielder, silently. Patiently.

Various Treasures

Other valuables that can be sold and/or appraised are the following:

❖ The Rusted Armour - Can be appraised, maybe there’s more to it than one thinks?
❖ Old Cutlery - Can be worth a pretty penny, or used for home making.
❖ Gold - Easily 3000 Magi worth, Cristophe and Denis are laying claim on a portion of it, if not all.
❖ The Portrait of Graf Hübert Kapperstel - Faded with no signature.

---

♫

Jocasta reached out and sensed a heart in that being: a moving, beating thing. Breath entered and left lungs. Blood flowed. A mind pulsed and burned with the chemical signatures of thought.

Yet, she drew to her full capacity, so much so that she could feel the pressure building within the half of her body that functioned. The purgatory of her waistline tingled and her eyes grew bloodshot. Then, she squeezed.

The enemy reeled and staggered, but then it fought back. Jocasta poured more into her spell, wrestling with that living heart, hammering that living mind. Drawing and casting in a neverending loop, channeling, straining.

Then, there was a split second. She lost her lock on the target and she knew what was about to happen, but she was emptied and there was nothing that the tethered could do.

It hit her with unfathomable force, snapping Jocasta like a toy. Her insides disintegrated and the broken thing that was her body hurtled and crashed through saplings and undergrowth before splattering against a great old tree trunk.

Then, she was back, and quicker this time. The monster materialized beside her and Jocasta was already rocketing out of the way. A thicket of trees evaporated where she had been and the sheer heat from it singed her and set her dress alight. “Using temporal, I see,” laughed a mocking voice. “That’s cheating.”

But then Jocasta was turning the forest around her assailant into a thousand splinters and hurling them at her in endless waves. She grabbed the bitch in a kinetic fist and hammered her into the ground. She called forth the fires of all five hells and melted the entire vicinity until the ground was glass.

Then, she was ripped through time and inside an inferno not of her own making. It took all of her power to counter the flames and there was still more: trees writhing and snaking as if they were the tentacles of some great beasts, the tips of branches turning to steel, wrapping and stabbing and… she had to fight them all. Anchors. She laid down anchors. Then, she made the trees melt from the inside. Time stopped. She reached for and grabbed the enemy in its grasp and turned its wheels.

“Wither, you cunt!” she snarled, and she could feel the power of this one. Never had she been forced to strain so hard, not even with Augusto. Volto Certosa glared into the eyes of another person and pulled still more. For a moment, there was uncertainty - even fear. Youth began to face. Lines appeared on a face and grey hairs took root. Skin grew sallow and the enemy let out a scream. “WHY DON’T YOU!?!?”

The crackling in Jocasta’s waist flared and began to creep up.

The visage before her passed middle age.

Her midsection grew numb and indistinct.

The hair was now near-completely grey.

The tethered struggled to feel her chest.

The enemy entered old age.

Jocasta’s fingers curled and withered and it crept up her arms. She fought back the rising panic. Strong! How could anyone be this strong!? There wasn’t supposed to be! She released her deathgrip and hammered the bitch with a flattening wave of gravity, but then she could feel that they were not alone. “Suurax,” purred a venomously sweet voice, “Qiithoi.”

Back. Jocasta pulled it all back. She was gripping the monster again, in space and time, but she knew what was to come and she released. Instead, she let loose with an internal chemical assault, powerful enough to erase everything in the bitch’s brain - enough to melt it from the inside. But then her time was up. Two other massive energies were there, closing in on her, and one let rip with a bloodcurdling howl that made her weak and numb. Lightning leapt from the other’s mouth and it was all that Jocasta could do to ground herself.

“Oooh, you’re a feisty little bitch, yanii,” the yasoi laughed. A trickle of blood traced a deep red line from her nose, pooling at the corner of her mouth. “‘specially for a cripple. I’ve gotta hand it to you.” She licked it up and an unsettling grin split the lower half of her face. “But you are fucking with a literal God.”

There were no Gods: only people who called themselves such. Jocasta reached out for one of the monstrous bodyguards who had arrived - bodyguards, she knew - and squeezed its wrist with bonecrushing force. It howled and she grew faint again until she pulled on sonic magic once again to counter whatever it was doing. Then, she ripped the arm clean off. “Oooowww!” screamed the beast. “Oww oww oooowww! It hurts!”

Then, the yasoi had a hand on her and it went right through Jocasta’s shoulder as if she were made of pudding. The tethered hurtled away, healing herself as she went and she could see or at least sense all three of them giving chase, the injured one’s arm growing back even as he moved. This was insanity. The school needed to know! A mad -

There was an opening. The bitch was slow in closing. Jocasta stretched time and held herself back in it. Her full-draw arcane lance took the yasoi clean in the chest, shoulders, and face, and she howled and dropped, flesh cooked, steam rising from her broken form. It hadn’t killed her, though. How? Jocasta couldn’t say. Had she really absorbed nearly all of it? A nine? the tethered wondered, but she knew the answer. nine-two-five!? This animal was more than that, however. Not as strong as her in pure capacity - nobody was - but closer than any she’d ever seen and… She stood, face half-melted away and, already, she was healing. Batshit crazy Jocasta realized. A laugh - a maniacal laugh - erupted from her throat and she began stalking forward. “Hurt me!?” she hissed, “Why do you wanna hurt me, you monster?” Her eyes widened to unnatural size, even for a yasoi. “Don’t you know you can’t!?”

She was shaken, though. Jocasta knew it because she felt it too. This… creep had never faced something as strong as her either. There was a tremble in the yasoi’s voice - both of fear and of rage.

“I’ve been hurt enough already,” she growled, but there was a weak, whiny note behind it. “I’m fucking immune to more!” she roared. The draw was immense and sudden and their casts more or less canceled each other out.

Jocasta came to, staring up at the trees. Her ears rang with tinnitus. Her body felt like it had been tenderized, and she struggled just to move. Binding She reached out with her senses but there was nobody close by, and nobody like the threat she had just faced, wherever it had gone. The others were fighting in Mandelein, but they would win and she… She gathered matter from her surroundings, healed her wounds, and returned to Ersand’Enise, her world a bit colder and more uncertain than it had been just five minutes earlier.

---

♫

It was early in the morning in Hyparii, although many of the dregs that lived in the area could hardly keep up a normal diurnal schedule. The smell of Virangish coffee permeated the air of the isolated, rectangle-shaped room with no windows or greenery. An entire breakfast meal was served on an old oak desk, likely imported, consisting of two croissants from Perrence, a mug of coffee from the Palapari exploitations, jam from Miatto and butter from Kerremand. A delectable combination that was hard to come by even for the elites of this world.

Through a wide and flickering portal came out Viktor Strauss and his accomplice, Laura. Their filth-covered boots stained the clean rug patterned in a distinctly Tettari style as they made their way to the desk. The armchair behind it was empty. Viktor, before doing anything else, merely raised a brow at the vacant spot and spoke up. “Games again, Juulet?” and in a snap appeared a Yasoi. The same, wicked Yasoi that Jocasta will have lasting memories of. “gAmEs AgAiN jUuLeT?!?!” grimaced the girl with the violet and crazy eyes. “Why the fuck are you here, shady Vik? Little DikVik.” Juulet leaned forward, arms crossed over the desk and stretched her neck to keep closing the gap between her and Viktor. Her hanging, black hair came dangerously close to the coffee mug.

Viktor placed the set of miniature canisters onto the wooden surface.

Juulet didn’t flinch, and instead canted her hair as she scrutinised the offering. “What is?” one of the metal vials was tugged out of the holder to be inspected, sniffed and glared at by the Mad Avatar. It got her to lean closer, and consequently some of her hair dipped into the coffee. “Oh shit! Crap dung! RAH!” the side-shaved girl, no older than eighteen, let the vial drop and roll out of the desk in favour of her now caffeinated hair.

“Job’s done. The formula’s a success. Where is she, Juulet?” Viktor kinetically drew a chair right behind him for a seat.

“Who?”

“The Boss.”

Juulet’s eye twitched. “I am the boss. Who’s above THE Avatar of Fortune?!” she threw her arms in the air and let them fall onto the arms of her chair in a relatively loud thud. Viktor opened his mouth for an answer, but. “Huh?” she cut him off in the most obnoxious manner. “HUH?!” the arms raised again, this time like they were lifting something up. Her whole demeanour was challenging. “That’s right, no one.”

Laura, standing like an awkward tree in the background, scooted ever so slowly toward one of the couches nearby. Unlike Viktor, she was visibly anxious in the presence of this girl. And for good reason. “DON’T TOUCH THAT! THAT IS MINE, FUCKO!” Juulet stood up with her own, good leg, to hurl the bottle of jam right at Laura, who luckily ducked just in time. The corner it was, then.

Viktor sighed. “The higher ups want this handled by her. The faster we do this, the faster you can enjoy …” he gestured at the general direction of the lavish breakfast. The sentence wasn’t finished.

Reminded that the food existed, Juulet, without even looking at it, seized a croissant as she descended back down to aggressively eat it. “How can you Yaniis like this? It’s like bread, but softer. Fatter. No wonder you’re all so soft.” still, she quickly wolfed down the second one after chomping the first. “BLEUGH! Piss water!” she tried to down her food with the coffee. “You willingly drink this?!”

“To help you wake up, and it grows on you.”

“Yeah, well, sleep’s for the weak.” the mug was dropped, not hurled like most things in her hands, and nearly tipped over. But, with Viktor’s intervention, it kept itself upright.

“She’s not here.” admitted Juulet after an awkward minute of her examining a second vial and dipping her fingers into another bottle of peach jam to suck on them. “Something about an arrival from Tarlon. She trusts me to handle things.”

Viktor pursed his lips. “Is Kaumo here, then?” the muscular hunter stood up with one of the six canisters taken for himself.

Juulet shrugged. “Prolly.” then she gestured in dismissal. “We done, I guess? Alright, nice seein’ ya’ Diktor.” then, something hit her. “Wait. What the shits happened to that pisshole yanii town? Where’d the big, loud prize dog go?” she leaned back into her seat, chin supported by her palm.

Viktor didn’t stop his trajectory to the door, but he answered accordingly. Laura awaited him at the door. “If the Church or the Kerremans don’t wipe the place out, the higher ups will. We don’t need the Priest when the formula proved its worth.” and with that he was about ready to open the door, only for it to be stuck. Exasperated, he turned to face the young tyrant.

“And the brats? The ones with that- That …” her jaw shifted and her fist slammed into the wood before her. “BLONDE CUNT?! I’m gonna fuck her up. Oh yes I will. NOBODY fucks with a GOD. Oh yeah, tots, you’re mine. Ain’t NO WAY!” luckily, most worldly things were spared from this tantrum.

“A few are dead. Most are alive.” he said as flatly as he could. “The School’s Pet lives too, I believe. Orders were to leave them be.” a stern look was shot at Juulet. “This applies to you too. Off-limits until new order.”

Juulet blinked, sunk into her chair again and exhaled. “‘Kay.” and then she flicked her idle wrist. “Now kindly leave. You’ve distressed my Godly routine enough as it is.” the door was opened and a gust of wind encouraged the two humans to leave. Outside, they were greeted with endless animalistic noises that would make Zarina’s menagerie sound like nothing.

They were underground, with many massive tree roots seen above. The two were on a large, stone balcony overlooking a large portion of rocky surface illuminated by copious amounts of lanterns. At the bottom of the big hole were rows of metal containers. From inside came the myriad of animal screeches, except they never sounded quite normal. They were all distorted in some manner, like the pitch was never quite right. And there were just so many, thousands perhaps in this singular sector, with a few attendants wearing odd, white coats tending to them. Viktor and Laura overlooked it all on the stone railing that connected Juulet’s lofty ‘office’ to the system of tunnels that led to different parts of the grandiose operation that was being run here. Viktor appeared unphased by it all, but Laura’s nerves were getting her to sweat more and more.

“Viktor, VIKTOR!” a woman called out for him with a Kerreman pronunciation. The hunter stopped to grace the caged beckoner with an indifferent look.

“You Pig fucker! I will fuck you and all your monkey friends!”

It was Annette. Except she didn’t look like the bandit leader our heroes had met. Fully naked and changed

“I’LL FUCK YOU I’LL KILL YOU HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME YOU’VE RUINED ME!” her hands were not human anymore, replaced with wood-like growths. Some were piercing the unchanged flesh.

“DAMN YOU ALL! I TRUSTED YOU! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING! AND YOU GIVE ME TO THE MONKEYS! THE SAME THAT TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! FUCK YOU!” whatever she was turning into, it was slow and extremely painful. Maybe some would believe this to be justice, she was, after all, a nasty woman. But did she really deserve this?

“VIKTOR! VIKTOR! Please, Viktor … AHHHH!” she gurgled and screamed in agony. Her right eye had been sprouting something, preventing her from blinking. “Please help me! No more! NO MORE! Kill me!” she pleaded from deep below.

Viktor turned to face forward and walked away.

Odd, woody roots constricted her sides and poked deeper in her the more she writhed.

“Viktor please! I need you …!”

“Cristophe! Denis! Ralph!”

“Papa! … Viktor … Papa …”

_{“Save me … Please …”}

Annette’s screams continued for another five minutes before they claimed her voice.

Three days later, she had reached full maturity. Subject T-104 had shown promise, but didn’t survive. Hopefully the new batch would show as much promise.

FIN.

Final Tally

The lone and remote town of Mandelein would not survive the night of Assani 21st. Many of its people were killed in the mass rampage that occurred and most homes were left desolate from the carnage. Still, the community endured under the leadership of the surviving Fr. Jacques Dubosque, accompanied by his brother, Baudile Dubosque. Their ultimate fate remains a mystery, for now, but the Conde Juan has given you his word and promised to send an update to those involved.

❖ The Town of Mandelein

Initial Population: 673
Deaths in the Span of the Week: 92
Child Deaths: 6
Property Destruction: 49% of the town is destroyed, including the castle.
Remaining Population: 581
Notable Deaths: Constable Franz Leonhardt, Hermann Bauer, Inès Baum, Lark Weber, Manfred Hohenfelter Von Mickelin-Thaudau, Ismet'ych'lahiin'dichora, Qasem Laghmani.
Missing: Annette Huber, Viktor Strauss, Laura.

❖ NPC Survivors

Cristophe Wiliken: Lost an eye. Jaded. Alive. Left Mandelein with the student group. Has an idea of gathering old friends to reform a group.
Denis Borman: Unscathed. Hopeful. Alive. Left Mandelein with the student group.
Margot: Overall fine. Alive. Left Mandelein before the rest of the group. Intent on finding work elsewhere.
Baudile Dubosque: In good shape. Alive. Remained in Mandelein until the people could be moved and to protect them until then. Will return to Ersand’Enise to inform the students in the future.
Jacques Dubosque: Alive and fully healed. What happens after he awakens is unknown.

❖ The Students

❖ Ashon’amar’loiyang

-Used Kinetic Magic as his primary tool to fight off threats: +1 Kinetic.
-Consistently was in the forefront of battle, taking hits to help his teammates. A relentless warrior: +4 Max HP.
-Asserted dominance over the Alpha Cannoneer Gorilla and established himself as the near leader of the pack: Can command that specific legion + Double advantage to all Monkey-related interactions. This includes great apes.

❖ Dorothea Hohnstein

-Made extensive use of kinetic magic to enhance her rifle shots, successfully taking down many wolves in the process: +1 Kinetic
-Ate a ton of damage as Vedil’s puppet, surviving Manfred’s attack and practically returning from the dead. She’s near unkillable: +4 Max HP.
-Has a good eye for gun: Obtained the Koppelman 211, it can now hit any large target guaranteed, and only requires above 1 in a d5 to hit normal sized targets.

❖ Alaric Weber

-Had an advance in his points due to an error, but his proficiency with blood has given him a symbolic point: +1 Blood magic.
-Ate shit while being a pivotal member in the big fights. Would have been far harder without him: +4 Max HP.
-Extensive use of dark summon as a demoncaller has given him the ability to guarantee the summon of ONE of the demons he called upon during the mission (no rolls required).

❖ Sister Edyta Laska

-Conjured up frigid blizzards by combining her deadly arcane with an increasingly proficient Kinetic magic use: +1 Kinetic.
-Sacrificed a lot of her health to ensure her flock survived, leaving her extremely vulnerable: +4 Max HP.
-Got away with the time manas.

❖ Taleja Drakenknecht

-Made excellent use of atomic magic to dispatch her enemies before more casualties occurred: +1 Atomic
-Took a lot of damage while doing daring plays: +4 Max HP.
-Because of her rigorous research in the archives and eye for details despite a late arrival, she’s gained in scientific intuition: +1 to all perception rolls.

❖ Cal’tuuro’jaros

-Clever use of chemical magic to take down one of the biggest threats to the group’s wellbeing: +1 Chemical.
-Stayed behind most of the fights, keeping it safe despite a few scratches: +2 Max HP.

❖ Ymiico’luun’yoru

-Died and came back from the dead: Can now respec as she wishes with 12 points to distribute.
-At a crap ton of damage, to the point of nearly dying twice. Such extensive and repetitive damage have left scars that can’t be fully healed: +2 Max HP.
-Schizo-mode go.

❖ Casii’fyret’alan

-Became an avatar of destruction through uncontrolled user of blood magic: +1 Blood.
-Lost her arm in the final fight and nearly lost her life, however her staff of life merged with her to create a new arm: +5 Max HP, permanent advantage in plant magic.
-Lost her lover without saying goodbye: -1 Max HP.

❖ Manfred Hohenfelter

-Fought bravely for what he believed in and for his lover.
-Was already dead many months ago.

❖ Ismette / Leluun

-Entered Mandelein as the all too familiar Ismette, died as the cold stranger Leluun.
-And yet it doesn’t quite feel like she’s completely gone.

❖ Qasem Laghmani

-Killed by Manfred the moment he conspired against Dorothea.
-Fought to the very end for a cause greater than himself, hoping to take down an evil keen on destroying everything. He failed.

The Hourglass Order

♫

The pleasant air of the morning sifted through the desolate castle ruins. Peace had finally arrived in Mandelein after so long. All the dangers, all the death - it was all asleep. There was the Conde, considerably bigger than anything they had encountered in this adventure, an enforcer of the peace and to some a reassuring presence. It was hard to imagine anything could get past him, especially with a mature Froabas a dozen metres behind him.

Taleja broke the ice with her first question. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you? Fearless. I can see it in your eyes.” his loooooong form curved as to have him level with the Kressian, reptilian eyes to her emeralds. “I will answer your questions in reverse order, if that is alright with you.” he bowed his head in politeness whilst keeping eye contact. Then, he straightened himself, although his comically long body had been reduced considerably, though he still dwarfed Dubosque.

“This man was not turned by any animal. No, this has nothing natural about it. There doesn’t exist an Alpha Canine with anything so advanced. Not since an era far before the age of man, anyway.” the jolly Juan had gotten serious and his look sterner. “Alphas. You’ve seen some before, have you not? Bigger beasts, born to be, sometimes literally, the top dog. This trait that distinguishes so much in a living being is the remnant of a commonly existing trait among the strongest in species to directly coordinate and control their peers in order to ensure the greatest chances of survival. Essentially, force their wills onto their peers through the use of the Gift.” he explained with infrequent voice cracks, with some of his words sounding much deeper than they should be. “By the age of man, many of these species had lost the need for it. But some learned and remembered. Made it their own. And today only one institution officially holds dominion over such an art. The Quentic Church.” he chuckled. “I say officially, surely some other groups have an understanding, but no other entity has refined it quite like they did.”

Juan’s massive feet began to move, taking big but slow steps toward Baudile and his slumbering brother. The Conde lowered himself once more to examine the wolfman. “Somehow, he’s gotten an ability that hasn’t been seen among us Wildbloods, us Originals, for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.” he rested his palm over Dubosque’s chest, while Baudile watched with visible unease. The draconic man then retreated back to his normal standing position. “Yes. That is what we are. Wildblood. We Originals are an organisation of men and women like he and I. A covenant that has fought alongside with the Sirrahi long ago to repulse the true threats of this world.” he said so solemnly. “And as one of the oldest living Originals, I find it to be my duty to extend a helping hand to my brothers and sisters, especially at a time where we are … In the midst of rebuilding our unity.”

There then came the bickering between the human and the Yasoi, with Ashon bringing up key points Juan hadn’t fully expected youths to know. “So you know about Tarlon, young man?” then, for a moment, he paused. He realized something. “Please! Tell me your names! I feel akin to an Aristocrat with little self-awareness!” he collapsed his hands together and beamed down at the group. Anyway, back on subject. “They will not live on the mainland, but instead on a safe island, should they accept. Because, yes, young Yasoi, I will not take them if they do not wish for it. It is, and always has been, a core belief among us ever since our Founder’s first endeavour against the world’s enemy. Freedom! It does not matter how well one will be or how many lives a certain order may save. We must consider the heart too!” her tapped his own chest with his fist. “Without it, what is the point of being human, or Yasoi, or Sirrahi, or Cazenax …? We would merely … Exist.”

Ideas of using the people as weapons, or being prisoners in some form were flung. The Conde waved his hand in denial. “They will be secured. It will be a form of prison, for their own good and the good of everyone else. At least until we can understand what’s happened to him.” his chin gestured toward Dubosque. “They will be studied, but only from a distance, except for him, of course. But they will always have a choice. And I have no intention of drafting confused peasants. That would be awfully gauche … Awfully Constantian.” he sighed, his arm slumping back down. “In the end, you have little reason to believe me other than my word. My word as a fellow Wildblood. My Word as an Original. My word of a man who could so easily decide and take but promises he will not move a finger without consents. Other parties will not be so merciful. Whether it is the Church, the School that sent you or the authors of this sordid experiment seeking to cover their tracks.”

Then came Kaspar’s input. Juan, with his reptilian, thin eyes leered right at the boy. Pale, dark hair, with a clear grasp of the local language. “Friends? Maybe even family, yes?” the tone had softened, the unnaturally deepness of it fully asphyxiated as the Conde tried his hardest to sound as human as possible despite his imposed form. “I am sorry. In the first months or even years, that will not be possible. For their sake, more than yours.” it clearly bothered him to say this. His claws dug into his sleeves and met the robust scales that covered his flesh. “Pero, I will make a case for you. It is not often that youths survive not only the rawest of our kind, but an entire town of them? Historically unheard of! Surely, some of my comrades would wish to meet you, and it would be an opportunity for you to see your loved ones - or at least make a case.” he smiled brightly.

“And what if they refuse? What if some want to stay back? What then? How can this all be decided in just a couple of days before the executioners get here? HOW can you even move them?” an exhausted Baudile had found the energy to speak up and did not hesitate to challenge the Conde.

Juan took a few seconds to study the monk. “I will not force anybody to do anything. If half the town wishes to stay, then they shall. My only condition is that your brother agrees.” answered the Wyrm-man with an adamant look. “You’d let them all die if he refused, then? So this isn’t about saving them, in truth, but about getting a rare speci-” Baudile was cut off by a deep, bellowing voice. “WRONG!” everything went silent for a second, and then the world returned to normalcy. “The people of this town do not experience normal transformation. My associates informed me that some turned at the absence of moons, and I’ve seen for myself that they’ve undergone a five-moon transformation when there are only four out.” the more he spoke, the longer he seemed to get again, like a natural instinct to make oneself look bigger when standing one’s ground. “I need someone that can control such chaos. And he is the only one. Without him, there’s too big of a chance they’ll kill each other, and kill my people too.”

The idea of waking Dubosque for his answer was then engaged, and the dragon-man wagged his index finger. “Bad idea.” he pointed straight up at the very moons he had mentioned before, still visible in the slowly illuminated clear-blue sky. “I do not want to be swarmed by the town and be forced to kill more should he take exception to my proposal. I will wait until the night to awaken him.”

It was around this time that Dory had found the group. The Conde seemed unperturbed and unsurprised, having likely detected her a while ago. “Greetings, little lady!” he even shot her a thumbs up. “Now then,” opposing digits met as he mused for a brief moment. “What to tell your superiors …” his nictitanting membrane flashed as he looked to the group. “Perhaps simply tell them the truth? Tell them the tale of Mandelein, and how the town was just … Swept away by a beautiful dragon after surviving the night.” he let a self-indulgent chuckle escape him.

Then, he reached for the inside of his overstressed top that didn’t take too kindly to his form shifting. Out of it came out an old key. “Hübert had hoped for his son to have this but …” a regretful look befell the ancient but well kept item. “Anselm was a peculiar man. Discreet. Never wanted to get involved with things beyond his land. Never was quite the same after what happened to his father, really.” literal steam erupted from his nostrils. Big draggo-sighs. “I was hoping to give this to him. But now that this town is a goner no matter what, I only find it fitting that it falls onto the hands of those that courageously fought against impossible odds, and still stand strong.” the key then rested flat on his palm. Juan descended down and offered it to the group. “It’s what Hübert would have wanted. That honour-bound fool. Ever the pompous warrior. Better let his memory live on through those he would have admired than bury them, or be used by his enemies.”

Acquired: The Key to the Kapperstel Family Tomb.

The Hourglass Order

♫

Khaliun, along with Fritz the Landkenecht and Sugawara the Ronin, was particularly keen on dumpster diving the collapse. More so than the rest of the group. Aggressively, she pushed to venture through the depths and reach the bedrock of the bedrock with minimal regard for the risks. “Kuso …!” the darkness even got the exceptionally skilled Ronin, causing him to badly sprain his ankle. “Must we stop?” inquired Khaliun, her tone cold and judgemental as were the shining hues in the dark. “No. I just need to gather my bearings.” he refused to show weakness. “If you say so.”

Eventually they hit the abyssal zone. Pitch black and with frequent rockfalls. The map the Strazi had previously purchased was serving this small group well in navigating the semi-collapsed tunnels and sniffing out the true treasure hidden deep down. “Shhh, I hear something.” Fritz drew his spear. “I do too.” Khaliun hovered over to a piece of matter that didn’t fit with the rest of the stony mess. “This should be one of the vaults …” she mumbled to herself. Indeed, the quantity of metal that could be found had been suspiciously abundant. Something had been built here.

Then, she found it. A box containing none other than a Chaos Marble. “Here!” squeaked the royal sentinel. A radiant smile graced her expression as she covered the box from random debris. But just as she thought she was home free, a Thresher burst through the dense, hard earth below and attacked the intruders! “Big Bug! We need to leave now!” warned Fritz, but Khaliun wouldn’t budge. “Keep it busy! I’m almost done.” sweats accumulated quickly on her tanned forehead. Meanwhile, the Ronin and the Landskenecht did their best to repulse it.

Sugawara successful stung the creature, prompting its retreat, buying Khaliun just enough time to extract the spherical mass of pure destruction. She had the power to hold it, albeit imperfectly. Next was the insertion into the hammer. The mighty weapon that had been hovering behind her was dragged toward the levitating orb, and soon they merged together to create an instrument that could even make mortals dance with Gods. By then, the beast returned and caught the bodyguards by surprise. Rocks began to fall and retreat became more and more difficult. Contract or not, was it worth a suicide mission?

♫

They didn’t have to worry for long, as they too could feel the immense pressure coming from the now fully empowered Indigo Fury. A wicked grin grew on her face as she held the weapon with both her hands and dragged the face through the cold, dark stone. “Good job.” she congratulated her associates. “This is perfect to test it out!” Khaliun hovered, and then darted toward the armoured creature, the dragged hammer leaving a mild gust of pebbles behind it. Even a stupid creature could recognize the threat, and attempt to burrow underground rather than ward off the danger. But, it couldn’t move. Gravity suddenly became unbearably heavy for it and its movements seemed constrained by a force that bent space around it. It couldn’t even properly move its claws to protect itself. Aided by an unseen external force, she striked with no hesitation.

SPLAT!

A single upward strike right under the head had over half of the beast’s body utterly annihilated and sucked in by the marble. It was clean and contained in a small radius, preventing any sort of massive shockwave to condemn them. Not that a collapse could do much to someone with a hammer.

“HO HO!” Khaliun gleefully watched the result of her work. “Blyaaaat.” giddy, she scoffed at the many thoughts that crossed her mind. Just how fucked up it was to such things actually existed. “It’s as good as they said.” the tip of the hammer was dropped to the ground as she turned to her associates. “That’s your first contract fulfilled.” she looked down to the two, hovering high enough to have her hand rest over the pommel of the gigantic weapon. “Now, for the next one.” would they dare say no at this point?

---

Khaliun and Fritz were stationed about a kilometre away from the monastery, while Sugawara was placed near those that entered the lion’s den. “I don’t often ask questions about a well-paying job,” he began, prompting a raise of brow from Khaliun, but her eyes stayed on the remote building she locked her senses into. “but why are we even considering attacking a holy site? It doesn’t feel right.” still, there he was despite being briefed on the gist of the job. “A lead has brought us here. And conflict is inevitable with these ones.” answered Khaliun in a matter of fact way. The Landskenecht scratched his chin. “The monks?” he asked, to which Khaliun responded with a shake of her head. “The children.”

First offensive draw was sensed. The fight had commenced. “It’s begun.” the Tethered announced, prompting the bodyguard to draw his blade. Support was offered to those in need, however they would have to fend for themselves soon enough. Behind Khaliun appeared the gold-cloaked Abbot - the most powerful she had sensed - attempting to freeze her innards. “Watch out!” Fritz swiftly drew his blade to break the clergyman’s focus, allowing Khaliun to repulse the man before any fatal attack could be made.

♫

“Who are you, blasphemer?!” the abbot bellowed. “Begone!”

“New management.” Khaliun sneered, hammer raised over her head. “I will give you three seconds to leave the borders of Kirimansk.” the power was swelling at an alarming rate. “One.”

“Two.” all forms of energy were being devoured by this instrument of unadulterated destruction. Khaliun's bodyguard knew exactly what was coming and made some distance BEHIND her, while the abbot was right before the levitating menace. A smirk pushed at the corner of her lips as the supposed clergyman desperately drew the scraps of energy he could find. Finally, at the zenith of the charge, there wasn't even sound to be found in the vicinity. Except, of course, for Khaliun's singular word. “Three.”

The hammer descended down. It was not an explosion of all-consuming death that befell the earth it struck, but instead an implosion so severe, even the temporal flux the abbot attempted to make use of to escape was disrupted. He could BARELY warp out of the death radius, at the expense of massive internal damage, ranging from a broken femur to various bruising from pops vessels. He could still stand, albeit with growing difficulty. “Shall we do this again?” uttered Khaliun as she lifted the hammer over her shoulder again. “One.”

“H-hey wait! Let me at least leave!” called out the panicked Kerreman who knew just how crazy that hammer could actually get. “I can still help from afar!” but the abbot was having none of it. In a flash, his wounds restored themselves and a kinetic blast interrupted the mercenary’s escape. Then, he drew from the hammer itself.

“Tw- Cyka …” she instantly felt it - the loss of connection between the power source and the tool. The abbot had damaged the hammer enough to partially disconnect it from the marble. A hateful glare was shot at the goldcloak’s direction. “Two!” she would not falter.

♫

The abbot crossed his arms and awaited. He could foresee the future without temporal magic, as Khaliun’s frustration made her predictable. The hammer was raised and … Nothing! The marble failed to respond, prompting her to improvise. “Three!” and she missed. There was no epic blast, just the normal thud of a normal, oversized hammer. The abbot laughed. “Out of tricks, girl? Not counting anymore?” and despite this brief opening out of sheer arrogance, the Landskenecht narrowly missed shoving his spear into the man’s skull.
Khaliun's eye twitched. "I only need to get lucky once.”

“You look like a lucky person …” the abbot replied.

The hammer’s vigour returned, and multiple minions of the monastery had been taken care of. It was at this juncture that the abbot’s eyes grew wide and manic. “None of you understand! You fools! You saboteurs! We are trying to save our nation here!” A massive nuclear reaction thrummed into existence. The power was spellbinding. Incredible. “If we die, you die with us!”

Both Khaliun’s and Fritz’s eyes widened and their pupils retracted. They both simultaneously knew what was coming. Both tried their best to limit the chain, but …

It was at that very moment that …

The magic just … Stopped.

For a flicker of time, the abbot’s eyes widened. Perhaps he remembered his gods.

No magic. No control. Even Khaliun dropped to the floor.

This was a nuclear reaction. A runaway nuclear reaction, now.

“Make a shelter, quick!” the pale and terrified Khaliun sprang into action. Her cloak was dropped - it got in the way, just like her braided hair she undid out of pure panic and frustration - and she floated there thanks to an unseen aid. There was no stopping this. “I’m going to move it. We are going to move it.” she said with frigid confidence that her hired sword did not buy, but all he could do was hide.

The hammer was readied once more, this time readied to her side. A deep breath. She could not do this alone. Another force, one far away, gorged her with additional strength. Strength that matched her almost identically. “Боги желают …” she ascended and readied her chaos hammer. With a mighty swing that nearly ripped her shoulder ligaments, she unleashed a blast of pure, gravitational energy that could not only displace the catastrophic chain reaction, but do it fast enough to avoid total obliteration.

Still, the blast was titanic.

For a moment, there was a complete absence of sound, as if it had left the world.

Then, there was a roar.

And head. And light so intense that eyeballs melted in their sockets, skin peeled away. And flesh. And bones.

A gigantic mushroom-shaped cloud rose over the Vossoriyan wilderness outside of Kirimansk.

But then the magic was back. Too late for the abbot. His eyes melted out of his head and most of his skin peeled away. Khaliun, on the other hand, was snagged by Fritz just in time as she fell to the ground, keen on being paid and partial to letting a girl that saved him just die.

Such was the force and fury of this cataclysm that, even channelled in the opposite direction by two very powerful mages, it was nigh-irresistible. The student had a chance to resist, though. It was a slim one, but there was a chance!

The dust settled and they lay strewn about the countryside, as a group of hegelans poked their heads out of the damaged temple.

Marz was among them, and many other faces that the group did not know. They two groups sighted each other. The false monks had been defeated. Kirimansk had been freed... in theory, but there was far worse news.

Their activities here had drawn attention.

The Hourglass Order

_{Present: Ashon’amar’loiyang @Ti, Cal’tuuro’jaros @Suicharte, Casii’fyret’alan @Pirouette, Dorothea Hohnstein @Jasbraq,
Kaspar Elstrøm von Wentoft @Wolfieh, Edyta Łaska @Force and Fury, Ymiico’luun’yoru @CaliforniaState, Taleja Drakenknecht,
Father Jacques Dubosque, Brother Baudile Dubosque, Viktor Strauss, Laura, the Mad Avatar, Cristophe Wiliken, Margot, Denis, Juan, Ricardo}

---

An explosion interrupted the brief exchange between Viktor and Dorothea, coming from the Northeast. The flames of the crumbling castle Mandelein ignited the horizon and added a tint of orange to the dark sky that reigned over this deadly night. “It looks like your friends are putting up a fight.” remarked Viktor, the vial he came for was pocketed and the one survivor of the ordeal fully secured. It was a good night for the man who was going to get away with it all. He couldn’t help but smirk as he turned to look at the destruction ushered in by Jacques Dubosque. “You should leave. Follow the river, the beasts shouldn’t intercept you. Keep a lookout, still. Should your friends survive, it would not look very glorious if you tucked tail and ran without them.”

He pointed to one of the many hills near the castle. “Wait there. And remember.” The hunter took a few steps back with Laura mimicking his movements. On cue, a bright portal opened behind him, one far too bright to see anything other than the shadow of something. “The Mad Avatar. They will understand. Until then, however.” the odd silhouette definitely appeared humanoid but … The lower part of its body, it looked like it only had a single leg. Not quite like Penny or Tyrel. One, bulky appendage kept it upright, and at about the size of Casii. “Just listen, and you’ll know what to do next.” Viktor tapped the top of his head with his finger. With a final, cheeky wink, the portal closed, taking everyone but Dory out of the scene.

---

The End of a Nightmare

Dubosque was interrupted by the scholar of the group, Taleja, prompting him to lower the vial he appeared keen on consuming. His green eyes leered at the cold Kressian, at first he felt disdain for her, but his features softened as her string of questions continued.

“I owe you explanations. It is, after all, my own shortcomings that have led to this.”

"If you wanted to defend your village, why work with outsiders such as the smugglers?"

“The smugglers. They work for the spider that instigated all of this. You've met him. There is a good chance he will try to finish the job, should I fail.” he looked down for a moment. “Mandelein was essentially a hostage, and our only safe link to the outside was through them. Food, supplies, medicine ... They brought it all, so long as I kept the town in check.”

"Did Dragon skeleton in the dungeon belonged to the Graf?"

“One of them is. A few others are part of the Lord's family, from various generations. They have 'succumbed to the beast', as they say.”

"Why did Herr Müller work with Kazau-Dessef, and why you continue this work?"

“I do not know for sure. Herr Müller was known to be ambitious, and had very deep ties with Varennes.” he scowled. “I worked to undo the thirty years of misery that followed his leadership.”

"Is this the joint venture with Comte Mirabeau?"

“Mirabeau.” he scoffed. “His mother knew Müller. He has many stakes in the commercial activities of Dami's Eye. I've no doubt he knows about the bigger operation.”

"Why did you effectively cause a genocide of the people you were meant to protect?"

“I did not. And I will protect them even now.”

Laska had nothing to ask except, "Do you have a preference for which hell you go to?"

“Dami's.”

“I've made my peace, Sister. I hope you are able to after those doubts.” he eyed both her and his brother, the latter devastated by what he had heard. He wanted to say something but the truth before him was too much to bear. He would have to kill his own brother, lest he be killed along with all these people that came to help.

“And now, you will either join us among the accursed.” he raised his hand, telegraphing the inevitable drinking of the strange elixir. It'd be so easy to stop, if it hadn't already shattered in his palm. “Or perish, freed of this nightmare once and for all!” the substance was absorbed into his body via advanced chemical drawing. It did its work and nullified the plushtail mix made specifically to dampen his affliction. Then, he began to transform.

Gashes burst out of his body and blood gushed about. His bones crack and ripped through his flesh as he underwent a rapid transformation. The screams, at first, were disturbingly human, but they quickly distorted into a bestial shriek that shattered nearby lanterns and windows. The mangled body of Jacques Dubosque was covered in blood, and soon the absence of skin became patches of fur that aggressively enveloped his growing body. When he reached his peak, he was about as tall as Leonhardt, albeit a tad shorter and leaner. He looked much like the others, except that he stood upright much like a human, and his eyes were unchanged. They were eerily human, by their shape but also by the way he looked at others: The exact, same stern look her shot them as a human.

“Kneel before Herr Jacques Dubosque.” a distorted voice called from the excessive steam that erupted from such an abrupt transformation. “And receive the curse that has protected this land for centuries.” he marched toward the group, each stomp of his massive, semi-canine feet reverberating through the castle. “Or die.”

♫

For the first time, they had encountered a beast with the mind of a man. His eyes gave it away, they were never tunnel-visioned onto a singular source of stimulation, or shifted about to find the next target for its aggression. Each time he locked eyes with someone, there was visible scrutiny given to their form, an attention to detail that only a human mind could formulate. Whatever this thing was, it had a whole lot more Jacques Dubosque than they would have initially thought.

“Surrender yourselves, and you shall be spared Eshiran’s judgement. Your fate will be Mandelein’s.”

Immense strength, overwhelming mana capacity and expertise in many schools made this monster near-unstoppable, had it not been for the blessing of the Twin Birds. Kaspar, Ashon and even the moon-blessed Ymiico were the frontrunners of this race to victory, with the others serving as fragile support. Although the paradigms of the fight shifted quickly when they were once again afflicted with a mana-constructing echo from the beast itself. A sensation that was undeniably the forbidden school of the Church, and yet it felt more raw - far less refined as there lacked any sort of true ‘command’ verbally expressed.

“Behold the true power, Sister! The voice that conducts all the power in this world, in its purest form!”

The battle of attrition was hardly stable, and with one slip-up leading to the capture of one of their heavy-hitters: Ymiico. Desperate attempts were made to save her, but they were not swift enough to prevent her from getting impaled by a row of claws. Her abdomen was pierced with considerable blood loss from the start.

“May you find peace, young Yasoi.”

The ninja’s body was tossed aside like it was nothing, and the battle continued. If it weren’t for Casii’s intervention, she would have been a goner, but Ymiico made it against all odds. “It is time we finish this. It will be quick.” Dubosque gathered an immense amount of energy and matter, compromising the castle as a whole, in order to prepare a devastating finisher. Just as he was about to unleash an explosion of power, he’d come to the realisation that he had been duped by none other than Sister Laska. The flames inside the castle had made for an easy source to create a light-based illusion just long enough to conceal the final attack from the beefed-up duo. Right as the priest moved to counter, it was already too late. His entire left arm and a portion of his chest were gone from an implosion, while his right leg was consumed by a wall of darkness.

A loud shriek escaped the beast as he tumbled back. The scream had caused all the other beasts to fall and curl up in what looked to be pain. If any of them had the range, they could sense them all essentially ‘shutting down’. They didn’t die, but they had stopped moving for the most part. The energy he had gathered unleashed all of a sudden, taking the form of burst sequences that laid waste to the foundations of the castle. And, inevitably, it’d come crashing down onto him while the students made their escape. Castle Mandelein had been left as nothing more than a massive pile of burning rubble with only the extremities and the tower barely surviving.

Outside, in the rain, Brother Dubosque, the wolf’s brother, did not stop to mourn. His duty took precedence, and he tended to the critically injured Ymiico. But the flames didn’t stop - they actually grew. And he noticed that increasingly disconcerting fact. “No …” he turned around and shouted. “GO!” but it was too late. Bursting out of the hill of stone and wood was the Alpha Wildblood, his arm partially restored with the skin and fur still missing, while his leg had mostly grown back.

“There will be NO remission for your SINS!”

♫

He was on fire, but the fur never withered away and the skin consistently healed even at his peak. Both damaged arms slammed into the earth below, causing the courtyard to fissure and shatter into a massive hole beneath their feet. Those that could fly were met with overwhelming gravitational force and excessive smoke coming from the pyre that was the basement. Everything was on fire in the dungeon, with the old Graf’s skeleton blackening into nothing soon enough, and the massive wooden hourglass symbol behind the burning beast slowly turning to ash as well.

“Die! DIE! You WILL die!”

His eyes were no longer the same. They were indistinguishable from all the village fodder. Dubosque’s voice had become far more distorted too, as if he was a beast trying to mimic speech. With the basement slowly turning into an oven where the walls were becoming molten, the group had little time to put an end to this nightmare.

Ymiico, Casii and Cristophe would sacrifice the most out of the group to offer a chance to the power-duo to finally back the seething creature to a corner. But no matter how hard they hit, it just kept coming, faster and faster with even more violence. That was until Taleja delivered the final blow, with the accursed blood that ran through her veins serving as the perfect disruptors to the magical aberration this man had become. Finally, he could not heal to an obscene degree, nor could he even stand anymore. The explosion of hyper-stimulated manas in his body caused various parts to downright burst like bubbles of blood.

Father Dubosque had finally been put down, and with his rage silenced, the flames began to die down. But the struggle wasn’t over. Cristophe had ribs that pierced his lungs and his eyes had been seared completely. Casii had her arm torn off by the beast’s maw, leaving her with very little blood left in her system. And Ymiico, who had barely hung on in the first place, had been struck hard enough to have multiple internal bleeds, and eventually catastrophic organ failure. They were all in trouble, with only Sister Laska and Brother Baudile capable of emergency aid during the few precious seconds they had left.

There was another heavily wounded party - Father Jacques Dubosque. Burnt to a crisp, his leg sliced clean off and his breathing was nothing more than an agonising wheeze. Baudile, upon healing the outcasted Yasoi’s stump and restoring some of her blood reserves, turned to his fallen brother. The battle was finished and Venomhand had very much blocked off magic use, if only briefly. He eyed his comrades, and made the split decision to dash to the dying beast, serving both as a barrier to any intervention from the others, but also a means to keep the monster out cold. He placed his palm onto the heaving chest and dosed Jacques with enough drugs to make a Begemot sleep. “It is over.” he said, barely hurt compared to his peers, though his Stresian outfit had been completely burnt to nearly nothing. “This night has seen enough death.” he looked to Laska in particular, his eyes pleading for a mercy that would likely never come to be.

“Move.” said Cristophe, limping over to the near-dead Priest with his flamethrower in one hand. Baudile didn’t move and actually stood before the man, glaring right back at his one remaining eyes in full confrontation. “No.”

Kaspar sat back on his heels, sweat dripping from his face as he stared at Ymiico.

The one they couldn’t save.

Well… That no one else could save.

He was exhausted, and at the same time, exhilarated. The boy knew it was possible—he had studied the theory on it more extensively than many other things—but had not expected to practice it for… years, at least.

Not for the first time he put into consideration, What a fucked up school this is. Might’ve slaughtered my parents and resurrected a mangled classmate in the same few hours. If he’d been alone, if he’d had the time for it, Kaspar would’ve laughed himself into his grave. He simply didn’t know how else to process it.

But… Processing it would have to wait. He’d been half-paying attention to Baudile’s swift movement and Christophe’s demands, but it seemed they would require a more rapt audience.

The boy stood, his singed and bloodied fur cloak settling heavily around his body, seeming to move in nearly the same way he sighed. He picked his way across the rubble-strewn ground, sharp eyes taking in both men before him.

He didn’t know Baudile well, but he certainly knew Baudile better. Still… Christophe’s solution would undoubtedly be the cleaner, easier route—as oxymoronic as it sounded. The logistics of leaving Father Dubosque alive gave him a headache to even consider as an option.

And yet.

He understood, from a raw-edged place inside his own chest, Baudile’s feelings. Rage nearly boiled over at the simple thought of Lyra, crushed beneath the charred rubble of a church. An uncertain fate, and a child he had only just met. He didn’t know anything about her. She had tried to kill him. But he was willing to destroy the lives of those who hurt her. Just like he’d threatened a Marquis of Helbahn for a sleeping baby boy that Kaspar couldn’t even claim by blood

Hand moving slowly, he stashed his cherrywood wand back into his vest pocket. Baudile almost certainly knew what he was capable of without it, but… That was the most passive, non-threatening gesture he could offer at the moment. His crimson eyes landed to Brother Dubosque’s face, wondering briefly what depths he would fall to for his brother.

Taking a steady breath, just loud enough for the others to hear and hopefully follow the lead of, Kaspar drew calm openness into his voice and posed to Baudile, “What would be your plan for making sure this—or something like it—does not happen again?”

"Humph."

Casii uttered weakly through the concussive fog. She was down, the image of the beast tearing her arm from her bicep playing over through her head. The image slowed as she was finally felled. Her arm gored in the maw of the beast and tossed across the room, the Living Staff tumbling to the ground out of the grip of her severed arm. It felt strange to be departed from that extension of her. With it came her feeling of the green and living around her as the world grew around her grew dark. Like life was being snuffed around her, but the beast still snarled, her allies still fought. It wasn't them dying, not yet, but her.

[color]"That gonna... be... it...?"[/color]

So much of life went unexplored. She wasn't going to feel a thing, no more in this dark, dark.....

...

...

Casii gasped, the stirring of life flooding back as if small flame grew outward from her. It wasn't just her life that she felt but the others, the survivors, around her as her life came back. Her eyes opened and her sensory feelings came flooding back. She was in a room, no longer dying. Her ability reached out to feel the others, dying, dead, and some still living. The beast was...

She leaned up, her body sore and trembling from anemic starvation that she could only manage to lift her neck for now. She caught Baudile scurrying away from her and towards the collapsed yanii priest. The monster that put her down. Tried to.

Her gaze drifted to the Living Staff, reaching out with her right hand for it... only nothing came forth. There was no right arm of Casii anymore, with only but a stump around her shoulder remaining. How long had she held that staff in her right hand? A year now? It had felt like a lifetime, becoming a part of her. The very same hand that went missing entangled inside, so they could feel each other's blossoming life.

Co-Existential Bliss.

How could they separate now?

♫

There was no feeling, no high, no thrill comparable to the strange bond she had formed with the God Tree's Sliver. She struggled, writhing on the ground, to turn over and crawl towards it. Her pained labor going unnoticed by the rising tension of the room, settling on the fate of Father Dubosque's fate.

A yearning, something beyond her normal addictions, drove her on, crawling and gasping towards her staff. She reached out with the stump of her arm and her Greengrowth mana, those that endured so much flared channeling their energy outward to the staff, encouraging it. The Living Staff trembled, recalling that touch like a faint memory reinvigorated by the touch. Tendrils reached out like live roots, crawling and searching for what it wanted. One managed to touch Casii's extended amputated limb, finding a sense of relief. The other tendrils closed around, and the Staff pulled itself in.

They could feel one another again and subconsciously, perhaps, Casii's mind thought of her missing arm and the Living Staff, eager to repay its bountiful host latched onto this feeling and molded into the form of an arm, mirroring that of Casii's missing limb.

Casii couldn't feel it at first, first tendrils that had gripped the remnants of the arm had dug into the stump of her right arm and embedded itself, so it could be more connected with her. It wasn't until Casii's curious and bewilderment lead to her thinking of closing her right fist that the Staff's roots in her arm tingled, obeying and letting the arboreal hand close in a fist.

The Yasoi sat, watching her new arm move and react to her thoughts. It felt so right. She braced that arm down on the ground, pushing herself up to her feet. She staggered, shoulder slamming into the remnants of a burnt wall, burnt ash falling like flakes on her. She looked over at the argument.

"Don't go'n lose yer own life, Baudii. Not fer him." Casii muttered, hunched over, requiring the wall to lean against.

Cristophe lingered for a dozen or so seconds before capitulating. He would have finished the job had he not been in such a pitiful state. He turned whist still glaring at the monk, and slowly paced his way to a piece of a stone he could sit upon with difficulty. The man was at the brink of collapsing, with only the drive to finally end this nightmare keeping him running.

Baudile raised a leg from his initially kneeling position, but only kept that one knee raised as he looked to Kaspar. His long hair, now wet from the falling rain coming from the hole above, hid a good third of his face, but failed to hide the anguish he couldn't bottle up. “I-I can't. I can't guarantee anything, Alaric.” he peered at his wounded, but healing, brother. “But all I know is that with him gone, the town may as well be considered a goner too.” a pleading look, one quite pathetic, was shot at the dark mage. “If not for him, or even Mandelein, consider those that matter to you.” and with these words, he address the wounded Cristophe as well. “You too. You have close friends and comrades. We can't just condemn them! This outbreak cannot be contained without him!”

Then came Casii's soft words. Far less intense than Cristophe's gaze or Kaspar's question. She was just sitting there, still in terrible shape and recently transformed into something not entire Yasoi. “I'm not giving up on my brother. Or these people. I stayed in this town knowing the risk. I'm not going to take the easy route now.”

Taleja surveyed the aftermath left by the Father Wolf and his pack of Wildbloods. The devastation was unjustifiable, a stark reminder of how this once thriving town had fallen into ruin over the years. The stagnant air carried the stench of decay, a tangible reflection of the corruption that had taken hold. Now, it was overrun with diseased creatures, former humans twisted into grotesque abominations, mere pawns in the dark schemes of the Perrence Nobles who sought to unleash unknown terror upon the world.

They had come to this town seeking answers, striving to uncover the truth, yet they were met with hostility at every turn. They had even dealt with the smugglers, a problem that the townsfolk had failed to resolve repeatedly. But instead of gratitude, they found themselves under constant attack, forced to fight for their lives time and time again.

There was only one choice to make, and it was a simple one.

"These monsters must be eliminated. We must purge this infestation before they inflict any more harm."

Ashon's expression turned solemn as he scratched his head, contemplating the gravity of the situation. The idea of purging the town of Mandelein with holy fire was not something he expected to hear from the alchemist instead of the sister.

"Let's approach this from a different perspective," Ashon began, his voice filled with empathy. "Think of it like this: Father Wolf, as you so eloquently put it, is the shepherd, and these people are his flock." His words hung in the air, their impact slightly diminished by the mangled corpses of the wildbloods surrounding them. "Now, let your imagination guide you. Imagine being a town that has been through hell and back, facing constant harassment from smugglers, and attempts to hire mercenaries to get rid of them failed. Your people are transformed into wolves, forced to kill each other by sick individuals who find pleasure in such twisted acts. You find yourselves held hostage, oppressed, and left with no options, knowing the world outside hates you for what you are."

He painted a bleak picture of the town's plight, highlighting the despair and hopelessness they faced. Ashon continued, his voice filled with conviction, "Now, imagine strangers appearing on your doorstep. They are outsiders, and they are also the ones who fought and defeated the mercenaries you hired to protect yourselves. They came into your lives because they wanted to stick their nose into other people's businesses, to air out your dirty laundry, and throw the baby out with the bath water."

Moving toward the father’s injured body, Ashon gently lifted the wolf's head, his gaze reflecting a mix of compassion and determination. "So, why not take a different approach? Show Father Jacques that he was completely wrong about us. Let's demonstrate our mercy and prove him and others like him that they were mistaken. Besides, I don't fancy the idea of resorting to murder and violence, even though Taleja seems eager to add another wolf pelt to her winter clothes collection."

Taleja turned her gaze towards the Yasoi, who argued for sparing the creatures and maintaining a hopeful outlook.

"These creatures are not just a threat, they are carriers of an infectious disease. We cannot afford to ignore the risks and hope for a harmonious outcome," she retorted firmly. Her piercing green eyes locked onto his, conveying a sense of determination. "We need to approach this situation with pragmatism, not naive idealism. Burying our heads in the sand and relying on blind faith in the Pentad will not solve the problem. We must take action and eliminate the carriers."

She gestured towards the motionless Father Wolf. "Do you honestly believe he will appreciate our mercy or commend the Yasoi for defending him? No, he will see us as fools, a grave mistake on our part. He and his pack will not be satisfied with what has happened. They will hold us responsible and seek revenge. They will learn from this experience, and the next time outsiders come here, they won't bother with accommodations. They will simply slaughter them. We have inadvertently shown them how much of a threat outsiders can be to this place. The death and destruction will persist until those of us who understand the severity of the situation finish the job we started."

Taleja turned to Baudile, gazing toward him. “The one who used to be your brother is no more. You know this to be true. We need to get rid of this abomination who once wore his skin, and now gnashing like a rabid dog.”

Kaspar’s eyes closed as Baudile addressed him. There was pain clear across his features, though only the Brother would know the root of it. His head tilted up, eyes opening narrowly as rain pattered against his skin, slicking back his own hair.

There was a past here, something stabbing and volatile, for Kaspar. Something that had haunted him since childhood, dogging his every step and crawling through the back of his mind. Something he could purge with flames, if he’d just let himself. If they weren’t already, the people who had known him could be vanquished, nothing left but ash. Memories heaped to a sacrificial pyre, freeing him from who Alaric Weber had been. For one moment, he let himself dream that it could vanish.

But it couldn’t. Not until Kaspar himself was within the ground. The memories would always plague him, with or without Lark and Ehren somewhere in the world to remember. He’d dreamed of that blood he’d spilt far too often to ever forget. To ever be free. Spilling more could not erase the stains behind his eyelids.

He swallowed thickly and took several strides forward, not far behind Ashon. He reached a hand out, hesitating for a moment, before settling it softly on Baudile’s shoulder. He turned towards the others, listening to Ashon’s opinion, and aligned himself with mercy.

“I will not harm a citizen of Mandelein. Not again,” he said, voice so hoarse it was nearly a whisper, soft enough that the others may not even hear. He took another breath, trying to force back the emotions he’d been keeping at bay this whole gods-forsaken trip, hoping Baudile didn’t notice the way the hand on his shoulder shook.

Louder, clearer, he spoke, “Wildbloods are not just abominations.” He thought of Zarina, of the night she was almost put down, and wondered if Laska was thinking of it too. He thought of Lyra, trapped somewhere in a ruined church, fate unknown. Of taking her home with him, wildblood or not, and trying to give her the kind of loving life he’d never had.

“They are people. If we can save these people, we should do it.” He glanced down at Brother Dubosque, and then turned a harder gaze to the others. “And if Baudile says Jacques is the key to that, I believe him.”

Casii's head wearily dipped, turning away from the survivors and onto her arm. Why did it have to be like this? They were outsiders, through and through, coming through and causing chaos. They lost but so did this town. What was the point of Ersand'Enise sending them here to meddle? Her hands balled tightly into wrathful fists and her teeth gnashed. That school had given and then taken and she was done playing their game.

"Cud'al'broa'soi'suuthi..." She cursed in her native tongue loud enough for the room to hear her muttering. Jambii was right. They didn't belong here but were sent all the same by that damn school. She turned, glaring at the yanii'abost. They were all right and wrong. Abost'soi had to be contained and they were until all these students started poking around and causing grief. But they weren't going to be the last ones to ever arrive here. Others will come, Casii even knew a few yasoi who ventured out this way. What if they got infected and went back to the their homes?

"Baudii." Her eyes shifted to meet his. "Jambii's right'n all. We ain't never should have come but we ain't gonna be the last ones. Others gonna come stumblin' in'n risk gettin' bit. They go'n head home'n then someone else gets bit." She paused, catching her breath and to let the sequence Casii was implying to sink in. Other towns could become infected if they weren't careful. "Yer sure yer not goin' to let it spread even with yer brother?"

She shook her head as she spoke. "Can't go'n let any outsiders in. Can't let it git out. Yer all livin' I know'n ain't right to kill but I ain't likin' leavin' the rest of world to chance on you'n yers openin' to outsiders one bit."

Edyta Laska said nothing. This... thing should not have existed. Perhaps it had once been a good man, but not so good, in fact. He had blasphemed horribly. Given the chance to ask for help from people who'd have helped him, he'd lied and denied before lashing out and trying to destroy them. He'd crossed not one, but many moral event horizons and she had been given no good reason to believe that he would not do so again.

These people hadn't asked for their curse. They hadn't asked to be made inhuman, but now they were and that was that. It was unfair. It was bitter. Some she'd known and respected some. Baudile, she'd... felt close to. A few locks of reddish-blonde hair spilled out of her habit and, absently, she tucked them back in. All of these townsfolk, in a place not so different from her home of long ago: it made her sick to do what she knew she had to.

Most of her fellow biros spoke naively of mercy. Not that she was against mother Eshiran's mercy, but this man who they seemed willing to place their unquestioning trust in had fallen once, and how!. The Rezaindian's experience taught her that he would almost surely do so again, and the consequences could be... disastrous. Kaspar and Ashon were shortsighted: eyes only on this singular place. How about the surrounding villages and towns? How about the city of Harmoln? The yasoi lands, broken in governance? How would they mount a coordinated defence when these people-turned-beasts rampaged? How about, even worse, if the Dubosque that they'd seen here - not the one that they remembered from before - was all that remained and he led them?

Kaspar and Ashon did not think of that, at least not seriously. They considered only best-case scenarios and they trusted in a man who had demonstrated himself utterly unworthy of it. Should they prove right, of course they would gloat at her moralistically. They would either mock her or try to 'reach out' to correct her 'misguided' views. They would glare in the hallways of Ersand'Enise and point out that "shouldn't a nun be trying to save lives?" She was. That was what she told herself.

Yet, Edyta could not bring herself to openly oppose them. For all that she held up stoically, it hurt. It hurt to be the one to always have to say 'no'. It hurt to be the one to always choose 'death' instead of 'life', but such was the path of the Rezaindian, and she had chosen to walk it. For a moment, something stuck inside of the nun. Had she truly chosen? She shook her head to clear it. Now was not the moment for that. She would stand apart from these other people her own age who could see only good while there was undoubtedly evil in the world. They would not listen to her. They never would, and those who did had their own reasons - often self-serving or reprehensible - for doing so. The yasoi was a coward and a murderer, the kressian a venomhand who dabbled in foul alchemy. Besides, she could sense a fight brewing if they were to oppose Kaspar and Ashon, who were a good deal stronger than her anyhow.

So it was that Edyta Laska took the only course of action remaining to her. Before they could go on all that much more, before they could stop her, she slipped into grayspace and was gone. This was a job for her superiors and she wasn't so proud as to deny it. She would counsel mercy. She would pray that Mother Eshiran might stay her dread hand here and that there may yet be a way to save these monsters who had once been people. She commended that choice to the wisdom of the Quentic Church, however, and to the Gods themselves.

The fate of Father Jacques Dubosque, and consequently all of Mandelein, was to be decided by the survivors of this long night. The beast’s chests kept on heaving loudly, with only excessive numbing agents keeping the now healed monster from rising again to finish the job. This meant Baudile could not break off from his brother, as any distraction could allow his brother to break free of his shackles. He could only stare at the others and give his piece.

Taleja was the most dangerous of the group. A soulless witch with nothing but a gaping abyss inside her green pupils. The monk had met people like her - they were disturbingly common among Stresians and Rezaindians, often driven by personal gain or seeking out experiences they could not elsewhere. Luckily, the Yasoi commonly called Jamboi and Kaspar pushed back with fervour. “Thank you, Alaric. Thank you.” his head dropped in humble recognition.

The other Yasoi, Casii, and a social pariah among the group, was beginning to flip too. “I-” he hesitated as he looked up to the maimed girl’s visage. “I can’t promise anything, Casii. Maybe it will become worse. I will not lie, there is a good chance this gets out of control.” he confessed. “But I will die before I let it corrupt anything else. And I will make the men and women responsible pay.” he clenched his teeth, grimacing in anger. “We’re so close to getting to them too.”

Dawn began to break. It was easier to see despite the clouds above still pouring mild amounts of rain. The Stresian Philosopher sought out the one he believed to be the greatest proponent to his own stance - Sister Laska - in fear of what she would have to say. But she was gone. For a moment he raised his guard, but he soon realised had she tried to do anything, she’d have done it before anyone noticed her disappearance. “Shit.” he muttered to himself. Baudile slammed his idle hand onto the stone pavement. “It won’t matter, however. The Church is going to find out. They’ll be gone in a matter of days, and this whole place torched.” again, she slammed his fist to the ground, causing some skin tears. “FUCK! I should have kept my eyes on her!”

---

Dawn was breaking, the long night had finally ended. And yet none of the misshapen beasts were returning to their human forms. It was as Taleja had said, it was not contingent on the day cycles, but on the position of the moons. Even if they could not be properly seen, they were still there exercising their influences. Because of this, Baudile couldn’t move from his spot, while others were too injured to move and the few remaining would not be enough to track down someone like Sister Laska.

“You know what will happen once the Church knows.” the wolf-bound Baudile grit his teeth. “It’s all screwed anyway if she gets away! Find her!” an angry and panicked young man barked at even those that sided with him. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed as though he couldn’t make a dent on the fate of these people - the fate of his own flesh and blood.

“Good.” scoffed Cristophe in his broken Avincian. “No more death. No more like Cris.” he coughed in his corner, still gravely wounded despite being stabilised. Baudile snarled in his direction. Fueled by rage, he began to draw the same way Casii had back in the boat. It was maybe the first time they’d see this man use magic so aggressively to harm. Cristophe said nothing, like he was ready for it now that he had at least found his son, with his only regret not being able to find the true culprit. But alas, he knew he was but a small man.

“HEEEEEYYYYYYY!”

A familiar voice, enhanced by sonic magic, was focused on the ruins that were once a beautiful castle. It was Denis! But, the voice came from the … “Friends! HALLO!” the sky?!

Up above, circling over the group as the rain began to thin and eventually die down, was something much bigger than Denis. It was a Froabas! A type that was definitely out of place in the area, as it would neither be a coastal or mountainous sort, but a Dune Sea Froabas that Kaspar would recognize quite easily from the size (it was an Alpha), shape and its unique cry as it roared during its descent. The flat courtyard was good enough. Once landed, Denis hopped off the ornate saddle on the beast. Behind him was another person, a shorter and more discreet form. “Still aliving well, huh?” it was Margot, the prisoner Dory had rescued back at the boat.

“Denis? Wie hast-? (Denis? How did-?)” Cristophe struggled to talk, let alone move. “Ja. Ich war kurz davor, von diesen Tieren gefressen zu werden, aber diese Dame hier … (Yes. I was about to get eaten by these animals, but this lady here …)” he pointed his thumb toward Margot. “Sie kam genau rechtzeitig, um mich zu retten. (She came right on time to save me.)” Margot waved in dismissal. “Nah. Nah. Them beasties were in Margot’s way. But you owing real good now.” she half-jested. The good mood faded quickly when she saw the unconscious body of Dubosque.

It was a jolly reunion, but someone had to ask. “Thank Dami you found safety, Denis.” Baudile smiled, but his attention was on the unusual steed. “But err, where did you …”

The monk did not have time to finish his questioning as a sudden earthquake suddenly befell the area. Not strong enough to cause any collapse, but mighty nonetheless. Something was coming, they could all sense the massive energy source snaking underground. It was fast and dead set on joining them. Margot, Denis and even the Froabas did not seem too surprised beyond slightly losing their footing.

“An enigma to be sure!”

♫

A voice echoed from all directions, one with an accent that didn’t resemble anything the people involved had ever heard before. It was an Avincian that sounded more old than regional.

“Who can bring such a beautiful beast out in the big Eye, cause heavy earthen rumbles, save poor vagrants from the clutches of death and look astonishingly great while doing it?”

Within the hole that Dubosque had created that led to the basement, a long entity was emerging and then plunging back through the walls, revealing portions of its draconic and excessively long body in the darkness. It was getting higher, and soon it was going to burst out of the courtyard.

“Don’t be shy! No penalty for trying! A right answer will earn you eternal life and free Barbecue Sauce!”

The grassy field near the landed animal fissured and burst open to reveal an excessively long … Creature. With the colouring of something that Kaspar and Casii had seen once before. It was a Royal Sand Wyrm?! Except, it wasn’t nearly as big as one, and its arms were longer. As it fully emerged, the appendages could be examined. That thing, it was wearing clothes! Custom-made, too. With its limbs appearing a little larger relative to its body. It also had the most dapper, white wig ever.

“It is, obviously, the one and only. Conde Juan Antonio Mendoza-Cardenas. Proud Original and Advisor to the Tantas Empire. Slayer of Leviathans and Bloodsuckers. Chronicler of Wildbloods and Scholar of their life cycles!” his arms opened up triumphantly as he made his entrance. He was easily twenty metres tall without even stretching, although he quickly compacted his form to be closer to seven meters. “But, nowadays, it’s really just … Juan.” he sighed.

The beast shot a brushing look at the errant group. “Ah, I must apologise for the theatrics.” arm to his ‘chest’, he performed a small bow. “I was under the impression Hübert’s son was here. But the rumours were true, it seems.” the arm rested behind his back with the other as he began to pace among the group. “... Which is even more impressive to see you have survived! Bravo. Muy bien! Très bien!” he stopped before Dubosque and his brother that kept him sedated. “What you have managed to subdue, my new friends, is something the world has not seen in a very long time. Longer than this old sack of bones.” he cleared his throat and wiped his reptilian snout with the back of his hand. “The only other living human with such a power being our very leader.” he shook his head. “I should not be saying that, or he would have my head!” he let out a belly laugh. “Well, he can try, anyway! These two really need to, as the kids say ‘chill’.”

An obscene quantity of energy was drawn, from matter and earthen heat, Juan concentrated it all on the tip of his Wyrm claw and then shot what looked to be a dart into the wolf. “This should last a few hours.” he chirped and nodded to Baudile. “You can let go, my son.” Baudile was still shocked by Juan’s manoeuvre, fearing that his brother had been euthanized without him even getting to say anything. But a basic draw and sense confirmed that the wyrm was honest. “How do I know you won’t just wake him up if I let go?” to which Juan replied after a big shrug. “I am here to help, brother. I would not dare double cross a Philosopher! Shune has enough to resent me, bless their hearts.” his reptilian eyes closed for a moment after he made the sign of the Pentad and opened again. “If it makes you feel any better, I think Ricardo alone could finish you all off without my help. I really don’t want to hurt anybody today.” his tone deepened a little. He was more serious. Baudile, after some hesitation, let go.

“Now, you youngins,” he turned to acknowledge the youths that had taken down the great menace, his body stretched out a little more, but his head snaked downward to bridge the natural gap between him and most humans. “what is it you intend to do now that you’ve captured the big beast alive?” he looked at each individual - gave them a good sniff too - and studied them thoroughly. “This town will not live for very long now that the secret is out. Do you not agree?” he looked to Ymiico in particular. With a loud exhale, he had cast a mid-level binding spell to help with her recuperation. “Would you trust a slithering, old snake-thing you’ve just met if he said he could hide them from this cruel and unforgiving world? Under the protection of those like them?”