Tackytaff

Fear and Loathing in Gotham City: a One-Shot Crime Adventure

Hullo I have an interest

The Hourglass Order

Qasem Laghmani

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_{Castle Mandelein II}

It was a snug and cozy fit for all the Biros to stay within the few provided rooms and beds given them. But Qasem was accustomed to lacking accomidations in remote places, and lost little sleep from it. He was the first one out for breakfast, though conversation with the locals in the inns main hall was sparse due to his ignorance of the local dialect and their barely-veild distrust and discomfort of his pressence.

If their prejudice bothered Qasem, he concealed it well. He greeted his fellow students with open arms and welcome words as they descended to join him and got what little information they could from the innkeep before making plans to investigate for the day over their meal.

"I should like to see the ones that accosted us the other day," He finally spoke once Manfred announcied his intentions to head for the barracks first, where the highwaymen were being held. "We never really had the chance for a proper introduction after all."

The Barracks

The Barracks were where they had entered the town, at the base of an old watchtower. Ragged but built to be stout, it seemed to have recently taken a blow but stood strong regardless. A middle-aged man in a raincoat studied the group before opening the door, however Ismet would first get a hand rested on her shoulder. She, unlike the others, would be ordered to rid herself of anything that could be used as a weapon. Qasem got a simple glare, but wasn’t accosted.

Inside, there was a room with a table in the centre and two young constables playing a game of cards. One of them was the female assistant to the man called Leonhardt, and she was playing against a fellow female worker that looked to be just below her twenties. Their coats hung by the entrance and they were relatively plain clothing one would expect from lower merchants/artisans. Except of course for the multiple guns they kept close to their persons and the knives attached to their belts.

“Ah! I knew you’d come!” said the older girl in what sounded close enough to Kerreman, “If you want to talk to the boss, he’ll be back after his patrol. But for now it’s just me, Strigenroth, and loser Baum here.” she informed them before placing a winning card to what seemed to be a very simple game of war.

There were a few doors that led to different, unknown rooms in the building with one of them undoubtedly being a small armoury. The cells were, on the other hand, very much visible from the main lounge they played in. Most of the highwaymen were in trios within the few cells available, along with an extra older fellow that sat in the corner of his cell. Annette was awake but didn’t say a thing, nor did she even look at the group. Her fixation was on her wrist. Cristophe kept his eyes on them, sat on his bed with a wary look, “Do you want to talk to them?” Stigenroth emerged from her seat and adjusted her belt, “They already told us everything. They’ll pay a fine and get back to work soon.” she nodded toward Cristophe, “You will also need to pay a fine for their losses, however.” she brought up, arms crossed in a defensive manner, “The human losses, I mean.”

Whatever surprise Qasem felt upon hearing the guard’s words and commands, was kept carefully concealed behind a veneer of cordial politeness. Whatever strange and sideways looks the small party gave him were readily ignored and returned with polite half-bows upon each introduction.

“We will be only too happy to assist however possible, but first we too will be needing some formal documentation please” As soon as the translation was finished, Qasem turned to his pack and produced a loose-bound notebook; rather official looking, with the embossed seal of the Greyscale Charmine order on the covering leather and written in flawless Inipori script inside.

“Firstly for the Inipori Charmine Order will need full reports on those who threatened the life of a serving brother to be preserved and recorded with the writings Ar'qush.” He flipped some of the pages. "My colleague, being a holy sister of the Pentad, has already gone to give her side of the report to the Quentic authority here, but I'm sure they too would appreciate hearing another account."

“Of course the free city of Ersand’Enise will be needing its own filing for student records. As well, the noble houses of the Marquis Elstrøm von Wentoft, Graf Hohnstein, and not least the Hohenfelter Reichsgrafs require notice of the endangerment of their kin and heirs.” His smile remained as wide and pleasant as ever while he waited for his partners to translate. There was not a trace of insincerity about him, as one by one pages were selected from the back of the book and placed on the card table.

“Some translation will be necessary,” He continued, almost apologetically, “But I’m sure by the time your captain has finished the paperwork, we will have the requested funds at the ready”

Manfred had been seething, at first, but now, he worked hard to hide a smirk. This Darhannic monk was good: really good. He crossed his arms, translating more or less word for word and adding his own notes and addenda. ”You shall, of course, have our full cooperation so long as we can be assured of yours. Surely, you’ll understand the need for a full report of the attack perpetrated against us for when we forward these expenses to the academy.” He smiled agreeably enough, doing his best to match Qasem’s masterpiece of self-control, before clapping his hands in a businesslike manner. “Well, I hope that settles that. Now, onto other matters.” He adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder. “I imagine you’ve been briefed as to why we’re here, but first…” He began moving over to where the rifles leaned. “I just need to take a moment to admire this thing.” He focused, in particular, on the older of the two pieces: an aged but magnificent wheellock. “Is this a Koppelman 49?” he wondered.

The wheellock in question was bigger than the rest of the weaponry available, “Ah ja - One of our older ones.” Stigenroth made her way to the weapon and hoisted it up with both her arms. It looked a bit heavy for her, “It’s an old variant, mostly used for Skuggvars. We used to have many lurk in the Teufelssumpf.” she presented the weapon in an inviting manner toward Manfred.

He took and spent a good while inspecting it and talking shop, here to provide muscle, gravitas, and - most importantly - translation if needed, but recognizing how much better cut out Qasem was for this sort of thing. At the very least, he could make a positive impression and see if there were any openings for information gathering that presented themselves. “Skuggs, hmm? They aren’t still a problem? This strikes me as prime turf for the big ugly bastards.”

The girl shook her head, “They were a problem for years but recently …” as Stigenroth got a little chatty, her younger associate flicked her shoulder to snap her out of it, “Ah ja. They migrated, most likely. After a few hunts they must’ve … Lost interest in the territory?” her lying wasn’t great and her shrug was exaggerated. The silent partner sighed from her nose and shot a disappointed stare at the older constable, “But the gun is still good enough to shoot coal toads! Especially the big ones.” she added, cheerfully. Manfred was not fooled for a moment, of course but he appeared to accept the clumsy coverup, and perhaps it was a mutual understanding that they both knew that the other knew and nothing would be said of it for now.

In the meantime, the young associate of the vice-constable had been noting down the translated demands of the Darhannic foreigner with great rigour. And once all the bureaucracy was put on the table, literally, the mousey worker scampered through one of the closed doors, only to emerge with a folder with a couple of papers. The information was tightly compacted, barely readable AND in Kerreman. They were clearly saving on paper, and the information they’d find there would likely be incomplete. “There was no time for a copy. If you want it faster, you can borrow the report if you copy it in here.” proposed Stigentroth, “If you want to interrogate, you may. Constable Leonhardt has allowed it.”

"Thank you," Qasem said to the steward then began providing the documents. He scanned the indecipherable language only briefly before looking to his partner. "We'd appreciate the chance to question them most certainly. But I think first we have some for you. Where is it they will be sent off to work? What is to prevent them from attacking us again? Is it common for Constable Leonhardt to grant access to prisoners?"

Manfred crossed his arms and nodded. He had his suspicions, but they were best not voiced yet. “Are they going to Drachenkopf or somewhere else?” he inquired. The Dragon’s Head was an ancient and notorious prison in the west of Kerremand, not actually that far away. It was the obvious choice and he could likely send a letter that way and check their claims if necessary. It was growing in him. These weren’t necessarily bad people, but they were hiding something. They were up to something.

The younger constable took the lead while Stigenroth tended to the gun Manfred and herself were admiring, “Back to the roads. They’ll pay a bigger fine if they attack you again. Yes, only after a night to sober up and if they’re local. Outsiders stay isolated until interrogated and judged.” she rapidly fired responses after Manfred had translated. Her Kerreman had a thicker regional accent than Stigenroth, and she spoke quickly! But, she was a very understanding mousey little lass and accepted to repeat as much as needed, “They work for us. Why would they go to the big prison? They’re punished with a fine and harsher punishment will come if they continue.” she smiled.

"I see." Qasem said curtly, giving the barest side-look to his companion before closing his own page book. His expression quickly returned to impassive politeness. Foreign as the people and their language might have been, Qasem knew a corrupt bureaucracy when he saw one. Not that this group seemed particularly worried about hiding it.

"And Constable Leonhardt," He pressed the least addressed point. "He answers to your local lord or governance?" A sheepish smile of innocence came to his face as Manfred translated the words. "Please excuse my ignorance as a stranger; unfamiliar with the laws of this place."

Stigenroth was about to say something, but Laura, the meeker constable, spoke up, “Constable Leonhardt will be here soon.” she said, “He will answer that better than we could.” again, she smiled.

Qasem reflected the hollow smile back to the woman before looking at Manfred "Let us interview these... decommissioned guardsmen in the meantime, yes?"

There was a pause and Manfred was less than thrilled with the entire situation. He was beginning to see why this place had required attention, though just what was being hidden, he did not know and was not certain that he could handle. “Yes,” he agreed, already moving. “Let’s.

The cells held the familiar faces of the defeated bandits, most of them recovered from their injuries. Some were sleeping, a couple played cards with one-another, and a female had been giving the group the stink-eye. The red marking around her eyes indicated she had been crying.

Even more familiar were the two heads of the group: Annette, referred to as ‘Haken’ by the Constables and the associates that were Cristophe. She did not glare as intensely as the distressed thug, but she hadn’t let Qasem out of her sight for a moment, as if she was eyeing prey from the bed she sat upon.

Cristophe was playing cards with a male inmate, appearing somewhat disinterested in the presence of those that had captured him. The cells were closed, although they seemed to have access to water, food and even some moonshine.

Seeing as they already had her attention, Qasem moved to stand opposite Annette first. "I'm glad we have an opportunity to try for a less painful introduction," He smiled as he nodded at her reformed hand, willfully ignorant of her obvious disdain.

"My name is Qasem Laghmani," His own right hand reached between the cell bars in greeting "and this is my associate."

“Manfred.” The large Kerreman with the magnificent mustache did not offer his hand or so much as uncross his arms.

"Just so," Qasem continued, "Might we begin by asking why enforcers of the law patrol the area under the guise of highwaymen?"

Annette stared at Qasem’s hand, and then at hers. No response from her, nor from the group locked up behind bars. Cristophe didn’t let this attempt at a conversation interrupt his card game. “Uhm,” Strigenroth’s more timid voice spoke up once it was clear the prisoners weren’t keen on simply cooperating, “they are not actually men and women of the law.” she explained, much to Laura’s annoyance, “They were hired to help keep the roads clear of beast attacks, and to add some additional safety to ease the minds of the townsfol-” as she spoke, Annette chuckled and spoke over her, “You’re not scared of any beast, little girl, it’s just a legend your dead grandparents loved to tell to scare you brats.” she hissed at the young constable but her eyes remained on Qasem, “You want to keep these fucking Affen and other foreigners out. And we agreed, these rats cause only grief to good Kerreman towns and homes.” she then snorted before spitting into an empty cup that once held some moonshine, “Better choo them away before change excites the creatures that don’t take kindly to that.”

“Tell me,” asked Manfred of his partner. “How much harm am I allowed to inflict in order to extract information?” He reached into his cloak and extracted a set of studded brass knuckles. creatures… he pondered. They would not give the information away freely, of course. “W-what?” Stigenroth’s hands started to shake. She looked for comfort in different places, although Laura seemed indifferent to the proposition while everything else evoked more anxiety. Meanwhile, Annette stared down the big moustache, “Continuing what your Affe friend started?” she taunted, “Come in this cell. I’ll give you a good time, child.”

Cristophe lowered his cards and paid attention to what was going on. The Constables were not intervening, likely from a lack of experience, or even care, of such extreme circumstances. It wasn’t often torture was on the table in this quaint little town, or it would be handled by higher forces. Where was Leonhardt? Stigenroth clenched the Quentic pendant, “You cut her hand off and she didn’t tell you anything,” Cristophe spoke up, “you’re going to alienate the few of you that pass as Kerreman by getting so trigger-happy.” He sounded quite eloquent when his native tongue was used. “Why are you giving him advice, Cristophe? Looking for a new son?” scoffed Annette, prompting a glare from the older blonde man. He didn’t add any more.

"Thank you for the clarification," Qasem withdrew his offered hand to nod in thanks towards Strigenroth, but fell quiet again to observe the effect of Manfred's implied threat. "I think enough harm has been done already," He finally spoke, "we came here to help these people after all." His focus turned from the woman to the blonde man. "Your son was one of the ones killed?"

“Nein.” answered Cristophe before pointing at the still weeping dreg of the group, “Her husband.” he uttered in Avincian. And he left it at that.

"I see," Nothing in Qasem's demeanour softened, and he made no effort to comfort or make apologies to the woman, instead continuing the line of questioning. "The device you used on us that silenced magic, where did you get it from?"

“From an Affe’s ass.” answered Annette, seemingly losing interest as she slouched on her creaking bed.

Qasem sighed, "The beast then. Anything you can share about that?" He looked to Annette, then Cristophe, and finally Stigenroth for an answer. "Do you think we could be allowed inside with them?" He asked the guards and gestured to the locked cell door. Laura stood from her seat with the keychain in hand. The cell was opened without a word, giving access to Cristophe’s cell, which contained three other male inmates. They all just stared at Qasem. “Anyone else want in?”

Manfred narrowed his eyes. “The yasoi,” he interjected, shooting Qasem a quick apologetic look, “I understand that things are not so good between you and them as they once were, but I am not from so distant a region myself. Did you not once call them brother? Where does this palpable hatred originate from? What have they done to earn it?” He looked at Annette in particular. “Unless it’s because you’re just a cranky old bitch, of course.” He sneered in her direction before shrugging most unbothered. “That’s always a possibility.”

Annette sneered at the boy, “Courageous words to say to a woman behind bars.” not that she couldn’t do something about them, but it seemed there was a deterrent keeping the more competent mages in check. “The fucking Affe. Heh.” Annette looked away, palpable rage building up inside, “Those animals are far worse if you step into their shitty land. They deserve to be smacked out of our own.” she spat again into her cup, “Now that their home is just so shit, they’re spilling everywhere. Spreading their disgusting habits and degenerate behaviours.” she continued to rant and did not hold back on the strength of her voice, “And before you know it, your lifelong crew’s gotta get in bed with these fucking junkies. Fuck. Them. And fuck these old ‘friends’ too!”

"I can see what you mean," Qasem said solemnly as he stepped into the cell. "That spitting- it's quite similar to the habit of Casii isn't it? The white haired Yasoi this one lost a hand over?" He asked Manfred almost conversationally, and moved to place a hand on Cristophe's shoulder. Cristophe aggressively shrugged his shoulder when he was touched, but he was indeed touched by the Darhannic interrogator.

“What did you say, sand-man?” Annette growled. Stigenroth reached for her baton in anticipation of the worst. As usual, Laura did not give a shit.

Manfred merely grinned, tightened his grip on his weapon, and started to draw, subtly, of course, in the way that magusjaegers were trained to.

"The truth.” Qasem replied coolly, "We’ve come to you in good faith despite being unjustly accosted in your lands, yet your prejudices have made you too blind and stupid to accept help you are clearly in need of.”

“And nobody asked for you here, worthless goat-fucker!” Annette hopped off her bed and smacked her palms against the bars, “Lemme outta here, Stigenroth, I’m not gonna kill him. Just set things right.” she began to draw, wordlessly threatening to snap the bars off. “Why do you even care, Haken?” finally, Cristophe interjected, “These aren’t our people. We’re just paid to do this.” he looked tired of it all, enough to tell off his supposed leader. “Why are you defending them? They killed two of-” “Maybe you should pick your fights better, Annette.” the woman was left flustered by that response. Static began to accumulate around all those within the barracks. Harmless but very noticeable static. “And you’ll end up alone like you did half a year ago. Or dead. If you don’t shut your mouth.” in turn, Cristophe pushed back with his own magnetic magic. He essentially sucker punched her with a sudden dose of electricity using her own flexing to finally sedate her. She wasn’t unconscious, just dazed and back to sitting on the bed.

“Let’s make this quick before she wakes up again.” Cristophe spoke to Qasem, his posture straightened and hands on his knees. Stigenroth was shaking in obvious fear, while Laura had been pointing her rifle right at Annette’s head the whole time in the background, finger on the trigger.

Qasem again waited for the drama to play out, quietly observing the reactions of those around. He nodded in thanks to Cristophe before speaking again. “The attacks that caused need for your employment, what can you tell me about them? What were you watching for?”

Cristophe shot a glance toward Stigenroth who didn’t reciprocate, and then to Laura who calmly looked back with eyebrows rising slightly. The highwayman pursed his lips before speaking, “You heard of a beast, yes?” the whole group of inmates were all looking at the lieutenant at this point, “We were to keep a lookout for that thing and ensure travellers wouldn’t fall victims to it.” he explained, actively gesturing with his right hand while squeezing his knee with the other, “We’ve never encountered it, but we’ve heard it. Many times.” again, he looked at Laura and then kept quiet. It definitely looked as though he wanted to add something to that answer, “Annette believes it to be hogwash.”

“We heard… Something on our way here.” Qasem replied, looking to Manfred as memory of the inhuman roar resurfaced with Christophe’s words. “Have people died? What evidence is there of attacks?”

“You should ask the people that live here.” Cristophe answered plainly, arms now crossed, “We get paid by the Lord of this land. Maybe you sh-” a loud, wooden slam shut Cristophe up. It was Laura who practically slammed her rifle onto the table, “Enough of a mess has been made. We should clean things up, before Constable Leonhardt comes back.” she flashed a hollow smile at Qasem. Stigenroth, after gathering her bearing, nodded in agreement, “Maybe we should continue later, ja?” she rubbed her arm that held the baton, her feet pacing anxiously.

“As you say” Qasem nodded to Laura with a tight-lipped smile “We wouldn’t want to cause further trouble.” He offered his hand to Cristophe one final time before leaving the cell. Cristophe did not take it and just stared at the man before him. They were not friends, and these people had still killed two of his own.

“Do you know when the Constable might be returning?” He asked the women. Laura shrugged, “Maybe in five minutes. Maybe an hour. Patrols can take longer when it rains. Or if an animal causes a ruckus in the farms.” she paused and tilted her head, “Not that there’s much there anymore.” having clearly lost interest, Laura relegated herself to cleaning up the small mess made by Annette while Stigenroth kindly escorted the group outside.

Once they were out they’d find the rain had calmed to just droplets with minimal winds. Stigenroth made sure they were far enough to bring something up, “That woman, Annette or Haken or whatever,” she continued to pace toward the town with the two young men, her eyes focused on her dirty boots as she talked, “she used to work with some bigger group that smuggled things through the Irrgarten, causing us grief for a few years. But then …” they were nearing the square where a few merchants had opened shop since the morning, “we just haven't heard from them since, around when our problem started. I’m not sure why they stopped, or why she left to work for Graf Anselm.”

Manfred had gone quiet as the questioning had continued, Qasem clearly being the better of the two at this sort of thing, but now he paused to consider. He’d seen seeming coincidences like this before, and it was almost always misdirection. If Haken - Hook - had been working for smugglers before, and only changed employ around when the problem had stopped, she was almost certainly still part of it. “There some way we can speak with the Graf? As a graf of Meckelin-Thandau, I suppose it would not be too hard to arrange a meeting, even as reclusive as he’s supposed to be.”

Stigenroth panicked a little fumbled her words a little before replying, “Uhhhh,” cheek scratching ensued, maybe a bit too hard as she’d be left with deep, red marks, “you should speak with Herr Dubosque.” she nodded, looking toward Qasem to avoid meeting eyes with the noble young man, “He is the liaison, I think. Yes, liaison. They work together for the town. Thanks to him, the incidents were reduced by a lot!”

"Problems. Incidents." Qasem repeated skeptically, but he'd given up on getting further explanations of those events from her. Directly at least. "How long has Mandelein been your home lieutenant?"

Stigenroth hesitated as if this was some sort of trick question. Qasem could feel her anxiety spike. She probably thought it was her turn to undergo an interrogation, “A-all my life?” she looked at both men expectantly, hoping for validation.

“But of course,” Manfred acknowledged, smiling in her direction. “A charming town in a unique region of our shared country. I want nothing more than to help it flourish, and that means solving what remains of this issue. Even lessened, it will still be enough to prevent a return to Mandelein’s former glory.”

Qasem returned to the inn with Manfred, and watched as the Leutenant continued fuirther down the street and around a corner.

"A dissapoitning endevour, but not enirely fruitless." He confided to his temporary partner. "Shame they weren't more forthcomming, but it seems we'll need to go to higher athorities to get anywehre." He checked the sky for any sign of that drizzle plauging them since stepping through the protal might let up, but found none. "We'll hear what the others learned from the church and the town, then try reaching Garf."

The pair spent the remainder of their afternoon investigations asking the frequenters of the inn and it's owners for whatever information they were willing to provide about the handfull of names they'd managed to gather: Herr Dubosque, Annette Haken, constable Laura, and Graf Anselm.

The Hourglass Order

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_{Silas Rieger@Tackytaff, Yuliya Ilyanovich Vasilieva @Suicharte, Nazih Iqbal@Ziegenkonig, Esmi’nesta’tawaar@BlackRoseSiren, Yvain de Berbignon@jasbraq, Penelope 'Penny' Pellegrin@Force and Fury, Sven Bjørnsson}

The Final Morning of Mountain Travel

Marz scoffed as he set his hand on his side, right on top of his hammer, "Might as well see who it is. Standing around gives us nothing but more questions".

Silas nodded at the Hegelan, but made no motion to do anything beyond stand in the same place he'd been sitting.

While the rest of her group discussed and bickered, the Yasoi amoung them was naturally the first to take action. The cliffs might not have been Esmii's native terrain, but they provided more than enough holds and ledges for her to move up and out of the other's sight before most notice she'd begun at all. Once some fourteen feet from the ground they'd begun on, she turned around to observe the object of discussion below.

Sure enough, a young boy was sitting cross-legged atop the rock, staring back at her. It didn't take long to recognize him as the stable-hand from the few days before; unmistakably filthy and small. A small trail of crumbs lead from his mouth down a soiled shirt, and finally to a small pile on the rocks between his thin knees; the remains of their rations, it could be presumed.

Silas's not-eyes stared, unseeing, back at Nazih "He wasn't doing nothing before" He replied with a shrug, then lifted his own pack to be inspected. Unlike most of the others, it was free of obvious tears and holes, but none the less empty. "Stole whatever the rats didn't get." Silas' face turned upwards to glare at the figure still sleeping beyond the overhang.

Yuli brushed herself off from the dust of the mountains and the steppes. She was hungry, both for blood and for food at this point. Being a nomad did not suit her lifestyle, and she was half tempted to subsist off the mana brews that she'd bought in the hegelan city. Still, her annoyance was peaked by the powergazer. She had first felt endearment to the lad, when they had undergone their plan in the trials, but he was a known shifty character at this point, and she couldn't help but feel as if he was responsible for some of the troubles that had been plaguing them thus far.

"Why is your pack fine? Is empty, but no damage. And why would not say anything? You aren't even supposed be here! she shouted accusingly at the lad. Were she not famished and angry at the situation, she might have chosen a more stealthy approach but the time had passed for such measures in her mind as she was very ready to beat the snot out of this would-be informant just to make herself feel better at this point.

Once realising that it's a boy from the stables a few days ago "If you lot are finished discussing whatever it was. It seems we were being followed by one of the stable-hands that we met. And it seems that he is covered in crumbs." she informs the group below her

Ah, a fight between a merchant and a commoner breaking out might be just the entertainment the Perrench lad could use at a time like this, however there was no need for hostilities still. "Perhaps he just got lucky. Even if he is not supposed to be here a helping hand is always appreciated."

A smug grin appeared on Yvain’s face after he finished saying his piece. "Oh, if you do choose to fight with one another. He paused. "Then I will have to be forced to end said quarrel and I promise I won't be gentle."

Silas’ face darkened with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Some fear too, if he was honest with himself; he’d gone to great effort to avoid Yuliya at all costs for some time, after all.

“Just told you- I got robbed.” He shook his pack in demonstration, nothing but a cloth and two bennies fell out; the latter of which the boy quickly scrambled to collect again. But Yvain’s words didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m supposed to be here much as any of you!” Silas spat out incredulously, “Ain’t nothing to even end- snail-sucking prick.” He finished, the last of his anger spat at the Perrench boy. It wasn’t fair. None of this was his fault, and offering help had gotten him nothing but condescension and more blame. He glared and fell back to his initial seated position, arms crossed and indignant, as Esmii’s shouts echoed from above.

Being ignored by the others, Esmii rolls her eyes and scoffs looking down at her group bickering with each other. "Boys..." she mumbles to herself. "As I was saying. A boy has been following us, he came from the stables a few days, and he's covered in crumbs. Did you hear me that time?" she shouts down once again, next time, she'll throw something at them.

Marz heard the constant bickering of those behind him, and let out a sigh as he rolled his eyes. He was about to turn and bark out until he heard the short long foot call down with information about who is following as he threw her a thumbs up.

"Ya, I hear ye".

Marz began to leave to confront the child, "While ye all bicker and try to keel each other, I'ma see our rat".

The child continued to observe Esmii on her first call to the others, but on the second he made to scatter. In one sudden motion, he was crouching, the debris of his stolen breakfast scattered as launched himself away from her on all fours, disappearing under the ledge. Rather than immediately fall, he gripped tightly with his fingertips, swinging his narrow frame with enough momentum to launch him self to another handhold in the rock some feet further in- still in clear view of the students below, but safely out of reach. Or so he’d assumed. Forgotten amongst the shouting, Marz was already half-way up to where the boy had just been, and within arms reach of his shoeless, callused foot.

Marz saw the little bugger scampering about, seemingly to maybe try and dodge the many prying eyes. Using reflexes and skills of an experienced climber, he expertly came right into Marz' hands as all Marz did was reach up and grab the boy by his foot and began to try to pulled him down while saying, "And down ye come".

Esmii says in a worried tone " Marz, be careful with the boy "

"Chied! Chied!" The boy screamed as his foot was grabbed, throwing his balance and sending both tumbling to the rocky ground. The child's screaming didn't end, even after nearly crushing Marz upon falling atop him. "Tall strangers tried to kill me! Vagrants! Liars! Criminals!" Yuliya had the grace to translate the heavily accented Hegelan for the others at first, but soon gave up as it became clear the boy intended to do little more than hurl insults and curses at them.

Marz had taken falls before, stone is where he was born from. Earth is his home, so a small fall of 20-30 feet meant nothing, especially when magic was introduced.

Merz however was angered on how now the boy hollered to the wind like some banshee. Marz' face contorted as he yelled at the boy in Hegelan to hopefully shut him up so an interrogation can actually begin, "Shut up! You follow and steal from us, and we're criminals? The least of your worries is a little tumble!"

The fluent language was enough to quiet the boy for a moment at least. He stared up at Marz, as though just realizing that he too was a Hegelan. "Not you!" The boy replied with shock and indigence- as though these strangers would ever be worth following. "Ilvir follows the Margukh." His eyes scanned the area for the beasts in questions, but they landed on Nazih first and narrowed. "Protect Margukh"

Marz sighed and shook his head, he looked to those in his party, "He's here for the animals. Making sure they don't get injured and can make it back".

Sven blinked. "All life is sacred," he said. "Of course we will protect these animals that have helped us. Why wouldn't we?" He patted his big goat. He'd become rather fond of her. "If you're here to look after them, why didn't you just say so?"

Ilvir stared blankly at the tall Eskandish while the others translated for him. "most ousiders don't know how to respect a Margukh" He replied, withering gaze falling up Nazih again as he kicked the loose stones at his feet.

"Chorily gave orderes to keep away from the strangers, so Ilvir keeps alone, travels only with the Margukh." Sure enough the familliar sound of the boy's voice alone was enough to draw two of the goats towards the group to investigate.

Esmii climbed down from her stone vantage point, she came close to losing her footing a few times on the way down, but she recovered. With a couple feet from the ground she jumped to land on he feet where the group is. "There we go." she says, dusting herself down.

Hearing what the boy was saying. "What do you mean?" she asks him.

"Well, maybe you can teach us if you let us talk to you," Sven answered. "I love Marghuks already, but I really don't know much about them, so I'll probably make some mistakes unles syou correct me." He paused. "You know, maybe it was the same for Nazih." He gestured toward the darker-skinned boy. "He doesn't have any where he's from." He raised an eyebrow, glancing between the other two. "What did he do anyway?"

"Obviously something very wrong, though I was just attempting to give the Marghuk's some relief from all the dirt their coat is ridden with." Nazihs shuffled himself over so he was crouched down next to the second, smaller boy, "I too wish to know more about how to care for the Marghuk. I'm sorry for earlier."

Ilvir backed away at first, eyes darting between Nazih and Marz as the older Hegelan translated for them. He seemed to relax a little once it was done, and picked one of the pelts of moss that made up most of his clothes and draped it over Nazih's outstretched arm.

"Moss." He said. "Marghuk's need the muck to grow the moss. Keep warm from the wind." He shook his head and let out a sigh before looking to the horizon, squinting at the well-past-risen sun "Lowlanders don't know much, should have taken the east route last day- a climb then would save time now. Won't make it down before dark."

Nazih blinked in surprise a few times, wondering if something was lost in translation. The thought of needing to be covered in dirt to survive was not one he wanted to entertain for himself, but he started to understand why the beasts needed the moss.

He turned to examine the coat of his mount more closely, "Intriguing, I never would have guessed."

"I get it. I hate it, but I get it."

Silas, who had remained quickly sulking behind the rest of the group, had decided enough was enough when both the Darhanic and Eskandish tried to make nice with the stowaway.

"What do we care about the cows?" He complained and pointed an accusing finger at Ilvir. "He still stole our food!"

Marz spoke up once more, now stopping his own translations, "Blind one has a point. He stole our food. And if he was actually here for the beasts and following us, he'd have brought his own".

"That is a bit of an issue," agreed Penny. She counseled herself patience. Commons like this one clearly was always seemed to act in bad faith, but it was often because they did not have it so easy as she did. He'd likely been hungry. "If you were hungry," she began, glancing apologetically toward Marz, who she hadn't known well before but who'd be an absolute gem as a translator. "Why didn't you just ask us for food? If this was your job," she continued, "Why didn't they give you anything to eat?" She still skewed more sympathetic than accusatory, but she let her confusion show too.

Whatever tension had been brewing in the young boy for being accused, evaporated at Penny's comment; which sent him into a fit of laughing.

"Ilvir hungry on a mountain trail! Do fish drown in the lowlands? Birds forget to fly?" He shook his head to regain some solemnity. "Low food on low ground belongs to the rats, soft-head. It's the them Ilvir took from- rats don't mind difference between Hegelan food and mountain food." He shrugged but offered back the soiled warping-cloth that had once held Silas' rations.

"Well he sort of has a point there, the rest of our food did get snatched by rats." Nazih poked the holes in what was once a sturdy bag. "But wait; if we had the Hegelan food, what did you mean by 'mountain food'? Why didn't you eat this mountain food instead of ours?" Nazih was hungry.

"Moutain food is best for the Marghuk and birds. Rats don't appreciate Zuri's cooking like Ilvir." The boy shifted his weight to lean on one of the goats that had approached him, in turn the creature nuzzled the hip where his other hand was placed. Almost miraculously, he produced three berries for it to gobble down.

"But if lowlanders are hungry, mountain food is better than no food" He considered something intently for a moment before nodding to himself, and taking two steps forward put himself in the centre of the group. "Ilvir can show where to find mountain food, and how to get down the steppe quick, if the tall strangers can keep quiet about Ilvir to Choliry."

The discussion that followed was a short one. Silas alone protested the other boy's entry to the group, but the elder Biro's dismissed his concerns as the hungry grumblings of a robbed thief.

They didn't mount their Marghuk for long, instead following Ilvir through twisted crevices that Sven and Nazih would struggle to pass at times. The goats were indifferent to their struggles; gracefully leaping upon the more open cliffs overhead, those gifted in climbing or kinetic magic might have a better time following their lead, as Ilvir did.

The tight spaces continued for what felt light hours, and just when the hunger and claustrophobia might have broken their spirits; the group poured out to a small opening. Cliffs surrounded them on all sides, but looking directly upwards showed clear blue sky far past the rocks. Under their feet was, while not actual soil, wet clay; nourishing enough for thorny bramble to take root and latch itself to the stone surroundings. The sound of running water was everywhere, but the numerous tiny rivets of water coursing down the walls were easy to miss at first glance.

The brambles, while cumbersome to navigate, were spotted with large dark berries similar to those they’d seen Ilvir feed the goat. He later showed them how to uproot the plant without hurting themselves, and how to clean and cook the long and thin roots over a fire made of the thorned branched themselves. Nothing was wasted.

While the group stopped for their late breakfast, Ilvir paced the small area, picking through the few plants they’d left behind for more fruit. The whole time he muttered to himself, glancing up on occasion to check on the Marghuk or stare curiously Marz. Their guide was a good more subdued on the remainder of their journey, directing them to follow the sound of water through further caves and canyons.

The sun was setting, but still lighting the sky when the party emerged from the base of the mountains to the misty, cool air of the upper steppe. ”Ilvir and Marghuk will stay here until twilight before going home.” He said as goodbye, clearly not intending to follow them into the human village.

Summary

The biros discover a young Hegelan by the name of Ilvir has followed them. An expert in mountain flora and fauna he led them to food after finding their breakfast stolen by vermin in exchange for not telling anyone they found him.

The Night's Disscusion

It was late when their audience with the village elder ended. Nikolai led them to yet another building they were meant to spend the night. There were only two rooms available, and two beds in each. It would be up to the group to decide who would be spending another night sleeping in a bedroll on the ground. Before that, they had a final chance to speak with Nikolai, ask him any questions about the begemot and give him a final answer as to how they intend to proceed.

Silas sat some ways away from the others. Silently munching a thick slice of bread over a steaming bowl of stew while discussion began around him; his sulking attitude had persisted all day. The only time his mouth had opened was to make a snide comments and half-audible insults. But the proper warm meal and warm fire of their resting spot seemed to have brought back his voice at least.

"Why stick around at all?" He asked of the others "The big ol' monster ain't what we're here for, I say we take the boat and keep on our way."

Penny paused with her bread - dipped in stew - halfway to her mouth. "You know," she admitted, glancing at some of the others, "He's not wrong." She shrugged. "We have a purpose here, and it's not to get caught up in the animal troubles of some random village. We're not soldiers or mercenaries. I imagine they have a government or lord for this." She shrugged. "Sounds selfish, I know, but we have to trust that we're here for a reason and that reason is urgent." With that, she stuck the fast-cooling food in her mouth and ate it.

Nikolai's nervous hand-wringing habit kicked up again while he stared between Penny and Silas, very clearly not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

"None will stop you from leaving." He admitted, "But as I said, this place it remote. It is a town built on trade, not warfare. I am the beginning and end of any magical talent to be found here, any 'guards' we have are little more than a militia of dock workers." His nerves seemed to wain as he spoke, replaced with frustration and deep resentment. "Help will come for us, but it will come too late. More will die and our food stores will not be full in time for next winter."

His settled and remained on Penny, able to actually look directly into her eyes. "You leave, people die. It is that simple. But helping would not be a charity, there is payment waiting for you."

Yuli sat and contemplated as she enjoyed the first hot meal in a while. On one hand, these weren't her subjects. On the other, they had her people's names and spoke their language. And were they to help, then they'd either have quite the mount for the rest of the way, or ample food and fur supplies.

"I think we should help. I tired of eating bread and leaves. Meat would be good." she spoke, looking at the others. She would be fine if they just left, but this would be a good test.

Penny frowned. Since when had she been afraid to help? Only... it wasn't fear. It was a weird sort of antipathy. She was ever being roped into things that were, quite frankly, not her concern: putting her neck on the line for others in often-thankless endeavours. It was difficult to forget the previous year's misadventures on Isla D'Amato, the thefts of the auction house items, and the events of Bloody Victendes. Yet it was her forays into the Workman's Quarter that smarted the most. She'd been insulted, assaulted, and nearly killed simply for... existing as she was and trying to help. Her entire life, she'd been sympathetic to the commons, imagining them an underserved class. She'd wanted to make common cause or at least help uplift them but, time and again, they had proven that they were violent, hard-hearted, impulsive, and simple. She hated them, in truth. It was the same kind of helpless anger that she'd felt for most of her life towards her family and even towards the Gods. She could not love those - why should she help those - who refused to love or help her back and, in fact, did quite the opposite!?

Yet, Nikolai and his small, isolated village were not her enemies. Here they were housing and feeding her and her... fellow students. She would hesitate to call any of them friends save Yuliya and Yvain. They were offering payment as well, and testing herself against a Begemot sounded... Dangerous! Deadly! oddly exhilarating. Then, Yuliya spoke and it was more weight to swing the other way. Why was she listening to Silas anyway? Had she felt some misplaced kinship with him because he, too, was viewed as disabled? He was merely proving his common simplicity and selfishness. She was a princess of Perrence! Was it not her prerogative - nay, her duty! - to behave in a manner befitting her station?

"I have perhaps spoken in haste and judged the situation too harshly and without complete knowledge." She took a moment to shift as she sat. "It is true that we are here on urgent business of our own, but I am not opposed to finding and either driving off or slaying this beast in the morning." She nodded in Nikolai's direction. "I am happy to offer that much of my time for a matter that is clearly of great importance to the people of this place."

Sven scowled. He was seated beside Esmii, with her snuggled into his side, but he could feel her shift at Penny's words, and then Yuliya's. For a moment, their eyes met, full of concern. It had never occurred to him not to help, and then he realized that most likely those here were out for blood. They were fixated on killing the great creature without even bothering to understand why she was doing what she was. "I believe we should help theshe people," he said solemnly. "But I believe there ish a more elegant sholution than 'shoot first, ashk questionsh later.' Thish ish highly unusual for a Begemot, at leasht to my outshider knowledge. There ish a caushe. We may not need to shed blood here: hersh or oursh."

Esmii sat next to her boyfriend. Enjoying her food that she was given. Breaking small bits of bread off to feed her loyal dormouse companion Sage, who was sat on one of her shoulder. She agreed with Sven, wanting to try to at least help them with this Begemot situation. "I think we should help them. she says looking to the group. "It might be beneficial for us to help, I could also help treat people even the citizens if they get hurt." she says to Nikolai with a little smile. Her smile slowy fades. "That's really all i can do, Heal. I feel so inadequate, especially with inability to fight. Can i not do any more?" she mumbles to herself.

"I am an emissary sent by St. Yuri's to ensure Vissoriya's interest in the trade through the Kirguz and good relations with the people here. In turn I provide them with services in the Gift, and... educated council. Nikolai replied to Yulia in rapid Vissoriyan before returning to the other in Avincian.

"I thank you for your reconsideration." He nodded towards Penny then Sven where his gaze remained. "But I fear I cannot promise reward without clear evidence the creature will not trouble us again."

"Well good, because I think we need more information before we decide how or even whether to approach this. Perhaps you have a hunter that can give us more details about the beast or how to best subdue it?" Nazih prodded

Penny nodded agreeably and twisted to regard Nikolai. "Any edge you can give us will make it easier to figure out how or if we can help you."

"I can tell you what I do know, but it is little. The Begemot is fully grown by all accounts, some say say up to fifty feet in height," He hesitated before continuing. "They also claim it's developed a taste for blood so," He splayed his hands in display of his own blindness to the truth of the situation. "It's strange enough that one's travelled so far north higher than the lower steppe. That it's come directly to our farms, attacked other animals is almost unheard of. There are farmers you can speak to, witnesses, but I warn you these trying times have awakened a... provincial irrationality causing them to invoke all sorts of ancient superstition."

Esmii thought to herself, about the information that had given to her and her group. "I wonder... She placed a hand onto her chin. "If its traveled so far north, something must have happened to its habitat. Something that has forced the creature to leave. Like hunters invading and it defended itself or its nest, that could explain why this had a taste for blood. But why it's up here, its could be out for revenge or looking for something. " this idea was based on it happening a couple of times with some of the Beasts in the swamps of her homeland.

"I cannot imagine any hunter- even an entire guild, being foolish enough to engage a full-grown Begemot. But there has been word of troubles on the lower steppe... Nikolai shrugged. "Begemots are occasionally hunted for their tusks- useful in magical crafting and very valuable, but rarely is such a task taken without a number of certified mages and notice to the surrounding areas. If someone was desperate enough though... Well, I wouldn't completely rule it out."

Sven tried not to speak over Esmii or make her feel invalidated, but he had taken something different from this. "Jusht what short of 'provincial irrationality' and 'ancient shupershtition are we talking about?" he questioned.

"Desperate times have people searching for explanation and reason. We've lost much is what should be a time of plenty. The cold first, then the begemot. The people here look for sense in it all and find the gods' anger." Nikolai's face tightened and darkened a shade, though it was difficult to tell whether from frustration or embarrassment. "Of course, that these events happened shortly after word reached us of a curse plaguing the lower steppe greatly fuelled the superstition."

Marz had been contemplating and thinking about something, it was only when Nikolai spoke of the Begemot Marz' face lit up, "Akay, I think taking care of this Begemot business should be good".

Nazih sat in deep thought, "Who do we know that is an expert on the local fauna and flora? Someone who has shown us to be very knowledgeable in the ways of the mountain..." And then, it dawned on him. He spoke up, "Maybe we can consult with the goat boy? He did know a lot about how to survive on the mountain, and he hasn't left town yet. It's worth an ask at least..."

"Goat boy?" Nikolai frowned. "If there is another with you, the Elder should know of it."

Esmii looked to Nazih, " Great idea, he was able to tell us a lot about the area, his input would be good to know."

"He should be one of the firsht we shpeak to," Sven agreed, and Penny nodded along. "I'm in favour. And you, Yvain?" She looked to the only one who'd not yet spoken.

Yvain, having kept quiet for most of the discussion. Nodded along with a shrug. "If he can tell us how to deal with it quicker, It's worth a try."

Yvain, having kept quiet for most of the discussion. Nodded along with a shrug. "If he can tell us how to deal with it quicker, It's worth a try."

Penny leaned over and hugged him from the side.

Yvain looked rather surprised, soon showing a warm smile. "To what do I owe this, Penelope?"

"Doing the right thing! she chirped.

"Oh dear me, You make it sound like I never do the right thing. I am not completely heartless." He hang his lip in a teasing manner.

Nikolai's look of concern only deepened as the students talked to each-other. "I will come with you." He announced, "We should not have strangers coming to our lands uninvited and without announcement." He added reproachfully.

Esmii kinda of agreed Nikolai was saying, they are strangers after all after finishing her meal, she gave Sage a little pet as she sat in her usual resting place, while cuddling into Sven. "Do you keep track of the people who have permission?" she asked him

Nikolai's words pricked Penny's suspicions and she worked to hide a scowl. The people of Kyrguz were either more xenophobic than she'd thought - though, technically, Nikolai wasn't even one of them - or there was something being hidden here. She leaned in towards Yvain and switched to Perrench, making sure to keep her tone and expression artificially light. "Something is up. I don't trust him."

Silas kept quiet, he'd made his desires known, even if the others had chosen to ignore is obvious wisdom. Let them throw their lives away, he was more than ready to go home already. But when they mentioned their new found accomplice only hours after promising to keep his presence secret, he spoke up again.

"Damned animal lovers," He forced out a laugh with his words, shaking his head. "Grown so attached to our mounts they really think they can talk to them now." Once he turned away from their host to face the Biros, his cheerful expression changed to one of icy judgement.

"But it would be good to make sure they're on thier way."

Nikolai's words pricked Penny's suspicions and she worked to hide a scowl. The people of Kyrguz were either more xenophobic than she'd thought - though, technically, Nikolai wasn't even one of them - or there was something being hidden here. She leaned in towards Yvain and switched to Perrench, making sure to keep her tone and expression artificially light. "Something is up. I don't trust him."

We're here to help and this is the reception we get? Yvain thought to himself. Then upon hearing Penny speak in their native tongue to him to switch over as well, smiling as if she made A joke. "Oh? What makes you say that? Being unwelcomed guests doesn't sit right with you?"

She'd noticed Esmii looking over and wasn't completely sure what to make of the yasoi. She shook her head to clear it and responded. "Not even just us. He's referring to goat boy - Ilvir, was it? - and his tone.... he's asking for help with a problem he won't reveal more about, yet they don't welcome unannounced guests and he basically wants to supervise us talking with someone we know. Sounds like they have something to hide. If you have any abilities in chemical, I would check for foreign substances in our foods."

Then, however, Silas spoke and Penny'd had enough of him. "Silas, let's walk and talk for a second?" she advised, rising. The look in her eyes made it clear that this was not an offer.

Nikolai did nothing to hide the fact he was staring at Penny, clearly uncomfortable with her shift to a language he did not know. "Kyrguz is a small country surrounded by larger powers. Tagayungri is smaller still and struggling through hard times. Maintaining borders and relations with our neighbours is of the greatest importance." He answered Yvain, while staring at his cousin. He replied to Silas as well, before shifting his gaze from her.

"Margukh? From the Hegelan lands? I'd be very interested in seeing a tamed one up close." He did nothing to break the rules of politeness, but was clearly instant in coming with them.

Nikolai's words pricked Penny's suspicions and she worked to hide a scowl. The people of Kyrguz were either more xenophobic than she'd thought - though, technically, Nikolai wasn't even one of them - or there was something being hidden here. She leaned in towards Yvain and switched to Perrench, making sure to keep her tone and expression artificially light. "Something is up. I don't trust him."

Esmii ears twitched as she heard Penny whisper to Yvain, luckily she was able to understand what they were talking about. While hugging Sven, she whispers into Sven's ear, " Penny has suspicions about Nikolai, be on your guard, do you think everyone else will catch on."

Silas looked between Penny, Yvain, and Nikolai "Alright," He acquiesced to her with nod, taking the remains of his bread with him as he stood to leave from the table and follow her outside.

Niklolai stared after the departing pair, but made no comment except to call after them. "We shall leave to visit your goat friends within the hour."

Sven leaned in and lowered his voice, nuzzling behind her so his mouth was hidden as he spoke. "I am not shure she's right. I'm not shure we should trusht her either. To be honesht, I trusht neither. Let'sh wait to shee how this playsh out."

"We should really check with Ilvir before we let anyone see the Margukh, especially since we don't quite trust this one yet." Nazih said, quietly enough so Nikolai could not hear.

Marz looked at his food, with his helm on his lap to act as a small table, his bowl sat atop it. Marz took a bite yet he seemed to have been lost in thought. He began to look around as he continued to eat and watched everyone.

Some people spoke of going and talking to the Mountain Rat, Silas knew exactly what they did and tried to deflect, yet others continued to speak of the Rat and let Nikolai know of him.

Others seemed to begin speaking among each other and even seemed to speak in other tounges. Possibly doubts of what is going on, and possible worry of things.

All Marz did was continue to eat as he heard the conversations, many of which he couldn't understand. Yet something felt off, this was good for him, materials he needed for his work were right in front of him, yet it seemed strange with their mission. What would cause all of this, Marz couldn't know but it bothered him.

Marz continued to eat, silently, while he lightly tapped his helm. His gaze seemed to have been caught in a 1000 yard stare.

Sven leaned in and lowered his voice, nuzzling behind her so his mouth was hidden as he spoke. "I am not shure she's right. I'm not shure we should trusht her either. To be honesht, I trusht neither. Let'sh wait to shee how this playsh out."

Esmii smiles joyfully with Sven nuzzling her. She kisses him on the cheek, before pulling away "Ok, We'll wait before making a decision. It would be best to keep our guard up. Just in case." she whispsers then kisses his cheek again.

Silas looked between Penny, Yvain, and Nikolai "Alright," He acquiesced to her with nod, taking the remains of his bread with him as he stood to leave from the table and follow her outside.

Penny led him a short ways away, outside and out of earshot before turning to face him. "Silas, for Dami's fucking sake," she sighed, still more concerned and exasperated than angry, "What's going on with you? Who pissed in your porridge?"

Silas stared unseeing at Penny, shocked the near stranger of a girl would speak to him so. But it didn't take long for the surprise to shift into anger. "I didn't get breakfast if you don't remember. On account of it being stolen" He folded his arms and scowled at her. "I'm just trying to keep myself alive and the thieving rat a secret- something the rest of you promised too."

"For someone who seems so angry at him, you sure are putting a lot of energy into protecting him." She tilted her head to the side. "Why's that?"

"Like the smiling host trying to get us to throw ourselves at a monster even less." Silas replied.

"For what it's worth, I agree: something's up with him and I wanna find out what, but... Fuck. I dunno. I should've kept my mouth shut about Ilvir, but once Nazih started, I just... forgot." She paused. "You're also avoiding the question, though."

"For what it's worth, I agree: something's up with him and I wanna find out what, but... Fuck. I dunno. I should've kept my mouth shut about Ilvir, but once Nazih started, I just... forgot." She paused. "You're also avoiding the question, though."

A shadow of a smile flashed across Silas' face. "Maybe I just have a soft spot for all the small vagrants of the world"

"Even when you wanna strangle them, huh?" Penny couldn't help but display a wry grin of her own. "Help me out here, Silas. Like - Ipte - I barely even know you, but you're the only other one who didn't just totally go with the flow. This stinks, Nikolai stinks, and I can smell it from a mile away." She shook her head. "Doesn't it make you just wanna bust it open? Just because these fuckers are trying to make us dance?"

A full smile broke through and Silas' head began nodding vigorously. For the first time since Harrachora's damned bird, someone was speaking sense. "Need to know more 'bout our puppet-master here first." He jutted a thumb back at the building they'd come from. "Keep him talking and walking slow and I can get Ilvir hidden away before you get there."

Penny nodded and, in eager anticipation, began to turn. "Leave it to me. I'll either broach the subject of dragons with Sven near, hammer him with well-meaning questions, or..." She was already moving away, but she glanced over her shoulder. "Worse comes to worst, 'Oops! Oh no! The girl with one leg needs help!'" She winked. "You just get our smelly little... friend? outta there."

Magic lit the groups path back to the mountain path, the reflection of the moon on the rippled waters of the late providing a pretty sight, but little to see with. Nikolai produced the glowing orb himself, arm raised above the others, still nearly coming short of Sven's full height. Even so, it was hard to see amongst the shadows, and near impossible to keep track of each student travelling with him. The short walk was uncomfortably quiet, none entirely sure what they would find upon arrival.

They needn't have worried. The small inlay where they'd left Ilvir was empty. Hoofprints and marks on the stone wall made by the Margukh horns the only evidence they'd been there at all. Nikolai frowned, his light growing to illuminate further as he investigated. He did another count of the students, but all were accounted for. "Well," He finally said to them, "It's unfortunate that your friends have left you, but it is likely for the best they did not linger long on the border.

Silas wasn't entirely sure the boy would re-appear again; their communication had been made mostly through poorly interpreted gestures, but he'd arrived, scowling atop the back of a single remaining Margukh. He muttered something in a language the Constansian boy didn't understand, and another series of violent gestures ensured until the Hegelen was dismounted and following back down the path out of the mountains. Over the flat of the steppe, the faint light of the rest of Nikolai's party could be seen, just in time to disappear inside the building that acted as their home for the night. Silas urged his companion to follow his lead, gripping the smaller boy's arm in a tight grip. But he was near as quick and silent as Silas himself, and the other students had been gathered in Marz's room for less than ten minutes when the pair rapped upon the shuttered window to announce their arrival.

"Things are bad here." Ilvir repeated the same phrase, but Marz and Yulia gave it meaning to the others with translation. "There isn't enough grass- trees should be sprouting by now."

The students told them what they'd learned, the mere mention of a Begemot had excited the young boy, but word of it's violence and supposed destruction upset him more.

"Lies!" He almost shouted, prompting the others the quiet him lest their host come to inspect any noise. "Begemots are solitary and wise, have no need for humans. Not unless they bothered it first." He glared reproachfully at the surrounding group, as though they were somehow responsible.

"There wash a shtorm," Sven offered, "They shaid it whiped out mosht of the new plantgrowth- maybe itsh just hungry?"

Ilvir shook his head after the translation. " Begemots are tough and smart, they can wait through the longest thaws without-" He stopped, leaving his translators and listeners confused as an idea dawned on the small boy. "Ilvir can help you," He said, suddenly standing in-front of his seat on the bed. "Take him to the places the Begemot went- help find tracks, markings in the steppe. Listen to Ilvir and Begemot will be gone; day after next."

Sven was quick to seize on the idea. The problem was that they didn't know exactly where beyond Nikolai's vague mentions of it attacking some of the farms and possibly killing animals. "We should track it tonight," he suggested, "if we can find our way to theshe farmsh. Anybody else in favour?"

Esmii stood talking with the rest of the group. She jumped a little bit from the boys outburst since he was behind her. Her heart, pounding from fright. She wanted to punch him, but refrained since he was just a child. After some deep breaths, she regains herself "What makes you say that? " she asks Ilvir.

When Sven offers if anyone else wants to join him on his suggestion, Esmii smiles putting her hand up. "I'm in.

"You all really just going to go jumping at this kid's offer without questions again?!" Silas stood from his cross-legged position on the floor, he was taller than the Hegelan boy, but still not by over-much. "That food he lead us to this morning was barely food at all- he hasn't even told us what he wants to do." He scowled and folded his arms across his chest. "I still say its a waste of time and we take the boat out come morning. If Ilvir feels so strongly for the monster let him deal with it."

Penny quirked an eyebrow. There was too much inconsistency for her to ignore it anymore. "You bend over backwards to help smuggle him away from Nikolai and now you wanna disregard what he's saying? Which is it, Silas? What gives?" She turned to Ilvir, glancing at Marz and Yuliya along the way. "He has a point, though. What is the plan? You can't expect us to just take it on faith when we hardly know you."

"Keeping the kid from getting smacked around by Nikolai doesn't mean I want to spend the next three days doing his busywork." Silas jut his chin out to compensate for the red flush his face had taken under direct confrontation. "But I can't take the boat alone either, so if we're going to deal with the monster I'd much rather avoid fighting it."

"Ilvir needs only two days to lead the Begemot away" The Hegelan boy interjected. "Find tracks, make lure, no more problems for the lowlanders by tomorrow." His eyes darted between the students as he bounced in place, either excited or nervous about the prospect of his self-appointed mission. "Yous can't be telling Chorily about this either though." He added.

Perhaps feeling a bit guilty for carelessly messing with the child's friends back in the stables, or perhaps just because he was curious, Nazih wanted to pursue this avenue.

"I'm inclined to trust Ilvir here, but it can't possibly be as simple as making a lure. I vote aye, only if we can get a little more information about the plan; namely, what we do after the lure has been made." He directed the latter sentence towards Ilvir.

Marz said, "Eh, yer just a pansy who's used to not needing to eat a traveler's food. Ilvir brought us to something to eat. It's hard, sure, but it filled ye up, no?"

Marz then looked to Ilvir, "What will you need us then? You seem to have it handled, no?"

Ilvir scowled at the Darhanic boy. "No." He shook his head. "You can help keep the lowlanders away but only Ilvir goes near the Begemot." His attention turned just as quickly to Marz, when he finally realised the older boy had been speaking to him, not translating.

"Need meat, if she's gotten a taste for it. Ruce seeds, and any other food that can be found. Gotta find tracks too- anything with her scent, fur, blood waste." He gaze shifted to each of the group again "That being your jobs so Ilvir can stay hidden."

Yvain was looking around to see the other's reaction. "And what if it ignores the lure? Or maybe it just returns to it's normal path after it has taken it."

His noblesse oblige was kicking against his better judgement. "Going in alone against something like that could turn dirty if it goes wrong, no?"

Sven shrugged. "There'sh alwaysh danger." His eyes roved about the room. "Thingsh will probably go the way we plan, but they might not. If we were here to do what wash eashy, then we wouldn't be here in the firsht place. Our prerogative ish to do what ish right: what will shave the mosht lives with the leasht harm. That ish clearly thish option if it worksh. If not, we explore othersh." He rose to his full height and stretched, prepared to get moving. "I have spoken my piece. The resht of you can do as you wish."

Ilvir shook his head emphatically. "Can't go wrong if Ilvir is the one alone with her."

Silas snorted at the translated proclamation. "If the rest of you want to spend the night looking for monster shit go right ahead; leaves a bed for me." With that, Silas yawned, stretched and took leave to the second room assigned to them.

Ilvir scowled after him, but quickly shifted his attention back to Sven. "Helping the Begemot is right." He assured him. "Plan should be easy as, except for finding Ruce seeds, too early and too close to the water for them."

"Could've mentioned that bit earlier," Penny grumbled to herself. "Well then, where are we supposed to find them?"

Ilvir's frown returned "Does she want Ilvir to chew and spit food for her to? Ask a farmer or beastmaster."

Summary

The biros discuss with Nikolai what little is known about the Begemot, the group decided to ask Ilvir what to do, and they come up with a plan to get rid of the troublesome beast without killing it.

A second agreement was reached, of a sort. With Silas and Yuliya bothing being markedly absent from the small room, the rest of the Biros agreed to help the Hegelan boy with his mysterious plan to lead the Begemot away from Tagayungri. Between them, the students would need to find meat, ruce seeds, begemot tracks and waste, and whatever other smelly food that could be procured for making a lure.

Nikolai would be found waiting for them with breakfast in the morning. While dissapointed to learn they oppted for a less permenant solition he promises to aid as much as he can, though he warns he cannot speak for the rest of the village which might be less understanding of merciful plans towards the monster that had terrorized their homes.

Indeed, when they were escorted to the surrounding effect farmlands, work was already well underway to move the remaining livestock and crops further north and into the mountains where it could be protected from the monster.

"If Ozodbek won't help us we'll have to find way to protect ourselves." The farmer they'd seen arguing with the elder yesterday explained to Nikolai on their arrival.

"No need for defenssiveness Dastan, I understand the troubles you face." Nikolai replied before explaining the situation to the farmer.

The latters face darkened as the steward concluded the plan the biros had explained to him. "You want us to sacrafice more of what little we have left to that monster?" He spat on the ground and glared at the students standing behind Nikolai. "No. Kyrguz will help her own. We will protect ourselves untill real help comes."

Action Oppertunities

This is scavenger hunt mission. Its up to you as a group to decide who is going where to get what. Keep in mind Yulia and Silas both need to be informed as to where to go as niether were there when the plan was set in motion.

Once you have decided what your character is after, I will DM you the obstacles in your way. Some rolls may come up, but mostly I will be judging the contents of your post on how successfull you contribution was. Multiple failures will result in a failure of Ilvir's plan and potentially drastic consiquences.

It is suggested you keep in groups, as ONLY Marz and Yuliya will be able to converse with locals in a reliable manner. Nikolai has offered his services as a translator again should you decided to use him.

You need:
- Meat, an amount to temp a dragon-sized monster
- Ruce seeds, a seed more commonly grown in arid lands, is commonly kept by livestock farmers
- Begemot tracks, where it has been, the direction/area it came from
- Begemot sent ie bits of fur, blood, or waste of the animal that can be found
- More food, the condition of it isn't important, so much as there is a lot.

This cycle deadline is set for April 22nd 12PM EST.
Please don't forget to reach out to me if you need help getting started.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

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_{Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean}

The Homecoming Trials #1.39: Step by Step(II)

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_{Interaction(s):@Jarl Coolgruuf @Roman}

Previously: N/A

"So, where are you from?"

Makenna made herself comfortable, tucking her skirt underneath her and a stray hair behind her ear before leaning over to place her head upon a hand as she leaned on their shared arm-rest.

“I came from out east: A nice, cozy life up in Connecticut before getting dragged out this way.” For all her bitter words, she smiled warmly at her seating partner.

“And you…” Her head tilted slightly, finger tapping her cheekbone and she surveyed him and attempted to pinpoint his accent. “I want to say lower Midwest? Nebraska maybe? I'm also wagering you're a voluntary member of our merry band of misfits.”

---

"What do you do?"

Makenna looked up from trying to make sense of the tent instructions. For a moment, she just stared blankly at the other girl before breaking out in a short laugh.

“Well that’s the first time anyone's asked me that way,” She grinned in reply, before throwing the package to the ground where if slowly began to unfurl and self-inflate. “Got a thing with voices,” She continued casually. Except the next time she spoke, it was Dr. Lehrer’s voice that left her mouth.

“Esoteric expulsion ability seems to have produced a malleability within the vocal cords. Paired with the student’s exceptional ear for key and tone, it creates a unique opportunity for mimicry of voices and sounds.” She decided it best to leave out the part about using HZE ions to create sonic blasts. That seemed more of a second-night together sort of thing.

Makenna began circling the tent as it took shape, kicking the corners slower to inflate. “That’s the long science bullshit version they gave me anyway. How about you?”

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The Hourglass Order

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♫

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_{Silas Rieger@Tackytaff, Yuliya Ilyanovich Vasilieva @Suicharte, Nazih Iqbal@Ziegenkonig, Esmi’nesta’tawaar@BlackRoseSiren, Yvain de Berbignon@jasbraq, Penelope 'Penny' Pellegrin@Force and Fury, Sven Bjørnsson}

The Biro’s departure was as prompt and informal as their arrival had been. Except this time, rather than the rapid and novel transport of interdimensional magics, they were lent a more archaic means of movement.

A breakfast was provided: thick porridge of boiled grain, mixed with mushrooms and an unfamiliar purple ingredient reminiscent of a root vegetable, though much saltier and toothsome. It was offered to them in mugs, ladled from a large cauldron that was clearly meant to feed the entire bunkhouse. However meager and unceremonious, the first steaming fresh helpings were graciously offered to the foreign visitors before being brought to the usual residents.

Chorily awaited them in the stables, her partner from the day before nowhere to be seen. She gave them a brief guide to Marguhk care. Brief, for there was little too it apparently; it was a familiar route for the creatures, and they’d follow it without guidance. They’d fair much better foraging for food in the mountains than any of the group could hope to provide from their own lean rations demanded by the journey, and most importantly they would manage to guide themselves home without aid or obvious magic. No mention at all was made of the occurrence in the stables the day before, and Chorily gave the students no time to question it before hurrying to see them off at the city gates.

---

It took them three days time in total to move from the colossal mountains of central Callanast to the rocky plateau of Kyrguz. In their quiet wisdom, the Marguhk had led a path around the worst of the terrain so that their journey was far from perilous, if not a bit more uncomfortable.

Unfamiliar fauna and flora for the Constanian natives passed them on the journey, sparse though they were at high altitudes. Thin and twisting trees of grey bark with the occasional bunch of wide leaves broke through the stone along the way. The flora had no apparent regard for verticality, fertile soil, or keeping their roots hidden underground. Birds were plentiful, flying from the south to make nests within the mountain caves for the warmer months. During their second day, a herd of wild Marguhk was spotted some distance off, scaling a sheer cliff to feast on the leaves of one of the twisted trees. The last morning of their journey rudely awakened them with theft; burglary by one of the mountain's most infamous inhabitants, rock rats. The short-tailed rodents chewed into their packs and ate most of their rations in the night. It was a long and ill-tempered last day of travel as they descended from the last of the rocky hills into misty harbour of Tagayungri.

---

If they were expecting a warmer welcome in the human lands than the Hegelan city, they were left sorely disappointed. A boat awaited them along with two armed guards and a man in black robes. Their conversation in the local foreign language stopped as soon as the Biro’s were in view.

“Welcome friends,” Began the robed man in Avincian, accented but not nearly as halting as the Hegelans’. “My apologies for the inconvenience, but the Elder Ozodbek has granted you an audience; before your departure, if you may.” His smile was wide, but his eyes wandered and hands wrung themselves nervously; a silver ring could be seen flashing between his fingers every few seconds. The two men behind him snickered, and whispered something in Vissoriyan that made the mage flush.

“I am Nikolai Kozlov, graduate of St. Yuri’s and steward of Tagayungri. If you’ll follow me...”

He didn’t lead them far. The village leader’s residence was a house, differing from the others only in size; the walls high enough to accommodate a full loft above the main room. A rather wasteful display, given its owner.

Elder Ozodbek sat upon a large wooden chair in the centre of the lower floor. True to his title, the man appeared to be at least eighty, withered and barely moving, saved for the shaking tremble that came with each breath. His eyes were closed while he spoke, giving the impression of blindness in addition to his naturally perceived feebleness. He was speaking with a man; a local farmer named Dastan, they would later learn. Out of the members in the party, only Yuliya could follow the argument being spoken in their native tounge.

“You and yours survived the cold and more, our people have withstood worse.”

“Survival?” There wasn’t the respect you’d expect to see from a subject to their sovereign in the farmer’s tone. The man was angry, and shaken. “Five have died! More will follow - and our fields, our tools, the livestock - how are we meant to produce!?”

“I offered you aid before without request before. I know my role well enough, remember yours.”

“Three weeks and we have heard nothing. There will not be enough harvest to prepare for another year at this rate, we need -”

“Argue with me no more Dastan, help has arrived. Go home to your family and wait for the problem to be solved.” With one hand, the old man waved the other away, all while beckoning the group of Biro’s closer with the other. His eyes remained closed.

“Closer!” He shouted out in Vissoriyan towards the group of newcomers. Nikolai flinched, but moved past the farmer to stand in front of the elder.

“The mages we were told of have arrived,” He confirmed to his master, “Come far from the twin continents where Avincian-”

The elder brushed his councilor's explanation aside, before returning to his native tongue.

“The world has gotten too large for me to follow. You will translate for me, Nikolai, so these strangers might understand.”

Kozlov nodded obediently, and explained as much to the group.

“We had a late storm three weeks ago,” The elder began, his words repeated by their guide.
“Cold enough to freeze the harbour over again for three days. Bad omens to start a new year.” There was a solemnity to the elder’s voice that was not carried through by Nikolai, who seemed hesitant to even repeat the superstitions.

“Whatever southern curse has come and reached us - the storm was the first thing. Next, came the beast.”

“A Begemot was spotted two days later, it tore through a farm not long after. There have been four rampages so far. Five people killed, and the year's crops will have to be resown - if there is even time after rebuilding from the monster’s destruction.”

“I will pay you to take care of this problem for me.”

“Nikolai!” Their interpreter jumped at the sudden acknowledgement of his existence again. “Answer their questions and see to it that they’re taken care of for the night.” The ancient man made no motion to move or dismiss, but none was required to know the audience was over. Nioklai urged them back out the way they came until the smell of fish and boats from the docks surrounded them once more.

“You’ll excuse the elder, this place is… remote.” His hands twisted again, spinning the ring on his middle finger. “But the Begemot is a problem, curse or not, and I will aid you however I can in defeating it, so please, ask me anything.”

Action Opportunities:

Please keep an eye on the discord! There will be two mini-events in discord this cycle:
> one takes place during the mountain journey to the harbour town
> for the other, your group must decide how to proceed with the Begemot

Action Opportunities: (Pick any number of actions)
- Interact with each other or your environment on the journey
- Ask Nikolai any questions you may have. Feel free to search for answers from other residents, though none are likely to speak a language
anyone other than Yuliya or maybe Marz can understand.
- Determine your character’s personal plan for what to do about the Begemot, if anything
- Your characters haven’t eaten all day and are hungry, should probably take care of that

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

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_{Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean}

The Homecoming Trials #1.28: Step by Step

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_{Interaction(s):@Jarl Coolgruuf @Roman}

Previously: N/A

Makenna kept half her attention on the final proceedings, the rest on one-handedly typing out text messages on her phone; tucked unseen in the bag strapped across her chest. It wasn't as though there was much to hear from their team lead and his lackey they didn't already know. The arrival of Eclipse team briefly interested her, but aside from the one obvious beastly member, there was nothing to identify the abilities of the others and thus no reason to give them much consideration. The small display between teaching assistants finally forced an eye-roll from her.

“Rivalry, spirit, go team.” Makenna wiggled a fist as high as her shoulder, just in case the sarcasm hadn’t come through her dead-pan tone. Didn’t these graduated adults have better things to do than play camp councillor?

She wasted no time moving towards the back vehicle with Tad, having decided well ahead that Jim’s get-friendly attitude was not for her. Jim, Tad, Ryan. It seemed anything more than four letters was too complicated. The moment one tried to pin her as ‘Ken’ she’d officially have to bail. She scanned the small car for a seat, opting to sit with Trevor, one of the younger boys in the group and someone she assumed would be easy to manipulate. If they were going to be participating in some childish competition- she’d at least win.

“Oh hey,” She began, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered a mile wide as she gave her duffle bag a final kick underneath the seat with surprising force. “Mind if I sit with you? A bit tight on space,” She gestured to the surrounding cabin, but didn’t wait for a response before taking the seat next to him - close enough their knees bumped. “Trevor right? - Makenna” She introduced herself, pocketing her phone before reaching out a hand, still all smiles as she gave the boy her apparent undivided attention.

---

It was an impressive display on Makenna’s part to keep from further eye-rolls or sarcastic remarks as I’m-Just-Like-You councillor Jim tried again to initiate some form of comradery among the young adults.

“No red meat,” She called out to Tad with an innocent smile, just as the group began to break.

Already people were pairing off. Makenna considered her options. The bitch and nut job she’d been stuck with at the intake house were the first off the table. She had no interest in doing work on behalf of the wheelchair bound girl, and alternatively found the impressive Afrikaner too intimidating to actually approach.

”Hey Luce,” She decided by taking a step toward the blonde, realizing too late she knew next to nothing about the quiet girl.

“Mind pitching together?” She asked, “Think I might have spotted the one spot slightly flatter than the others.” Her thumb pointed over her shoulder to indicate the tent in question, the other hand blocked the sun from her eyes as looked for a reaction to her cheerful greeting.

The boys from the carpool were left forgotten with the others. For all the flirting, Makenna was engaged. Happily, even, at times.

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The Hourglass Order

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Cold Comfort I
_{Interacting with @jasbraq}

It was rather dizzying, being warped from the clearing to his room, back again, then through a portal through to yet another Hegelan city. The nasuea it gave him seemed more than enough punishment for his outburst- if it could even be called that. Far as he saw it, Silas had simply asked a question after being dragged around for some nonsense game half the night. Harrachora had more in store for him through. He'd been brought back for a thorough scolding, only to be sent along anyway.

"Nothin', but a waste of everyone's time." He grumbled to himself, not paying nearly enough attention to their guide as they were taken through the city.

After their tour, Silas followed the others in splitting up; using his most basic of knowledge in the Hegelan language learned from his short time in Hogh Munkhelad to navigate the city. He managed to barter himself three prime shots and four brews, only to find himself quite lost three turns later.

The main road forked into two direction from where he stood- and a colossal statue lay at the split's apex. A perfectly round sphere. Even to Silas's vision, it was strikingly precise, if not totally smooth. He reached out to inspect- and found the surface to be etched in unfamiliar symbols. He opted to remain in the area for a time- in part due to curiosity, part in fear of further losing himself.

It was nearly a relief with the stuffy Perrench noble of the group rounded into range. "Yvain!" Silas rushed to the boy, dragging him quickly to the monument. "What do you make of this?"

If the Perrench was to follow the blind boy, he would have a chance to inspect the monument's markings; the strange language still foreign he would at least estimate that they were names, but underneath the sphere lay an unusual symbol; a circle, surrounded by a diamond with a line striked through.

The Hourglass Order

Qasem Laghmani

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_{Castle Mandelein I}

The rain reminded Qasem of home. Unfortunately, that was where the familiarity stopped. Kerrimand smelled of mud and moss, and the water only served to seep into their clothes and leech out what little heat they still had. Curiosity alone kept his spirits from falling completely. Qasem made no hurry to keep up with the others; for all the discomforts of their journey, there was novelty and discovery to be had. He plucked the sun-burst fungi, cutting small pieces into vials for later examination. Moss from the sides of yew trees made it into his sack as well- as did the carnivorous plant’s leaves.

He almost regretted not having the time or ability to sketch the origins of the collected samples. Not that there would have been time to do so, he had fallen behind already, but before he could move to catch up, another distraction came. A small salamander approached his foot in an attempt to debilitate him with his tail, and devour with his toothless maw.

“Hello small one,” He cooed, reaching down to scoop the creature up. The sticky coating intrigued as much as it disgusted him. Qasem rubbed the substance between his fingers before smelling it, and eventually putting it to his tongue, hoping either the taste or interaction with his own body chemistry would help identify its properties.

Once finished his analysis of the animal, he reached out, so that the infant salamander hung over the large pitcher plant- a sort of offering, in an attempt to discover its reaction to a potential meal.

The Hourglass Order

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♫

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_{Silas Rieger@Tackytaff, Yuliya Ilyanovich Vasilieva @Suicharte, Nazih Iqbal@Ziegenkonig, Esmi’nesta’tawaar@BlackRoseSiren, Yvain de Berbignon@jasbraq, Penelope 'Penny' Pellegrin@Force and Fury, Sven Bjørnsson}

The city the Biros appeared in wasn’t all that different from the one they’d arrived in to chase Harrachora’s flying messenger. Even the portal they had emerged from was nearly identical to that in Hogh Munkhelad, save the missing colossal statue they had waited at. The buildings were just as small, the sky remained a dark stoney ceiling, and the people milling around them were the short and stocky beings they’d come to know as Hegelans.

Two in particular stood ready at attention not five feet away- waiting for them.

“Welcome to Hoch Dorumvir!” The first greeted, in a voice that revealed her to be a woman despite the magnificently dark beard that was broken only by a wide smile of white teeth. Both her hands shot upwards upwards in greeting. Her right reached to Yuliya and her left towards Penny; the first pair to have stepped through. The second of their welcoming party remained silent, arms and brow crossed as they regarded the single Yasoi in the group warily.

“I am Chorily MochMurdo,” Their first continued, vigorously shaking the arrivals hands in a surprisingly strong grip. “My partner Moira and I have been directed to welcome and guide you to our city.”

“Missing one,” Moira finally chimed in, tugging upon the reddish mutton chops that framed her wide jaw. “Meant to be eight of yous.” Her penetrating gaze fell upon Marz next, and the sight of him seemed to give her pause.

“It’s no matter,” Chorily hurriedly continued, bringing her hands together in a loud clap. “There is much to do and-”

The portal flickered to life for a brief second; spitting out a single smallish figure before vanishing again. Silas staggered forward, running into Nazih, and beginning a domino effect within the group that nearly sent them all to the ground.

“-Damned condescending stuck-up prick” He muttered, kicking loose gravel and spitting in the place the portal had been before spinning to face the group. “What’d I miss?”

The Hegelan ambassadors lead the Biros through the mercantile district of the city. Vendors of all sorts shouted out to the foreigners, promising goods at exorbitant prices. Chorily headed them to pay no mind, and went so far as to point out the shops that would offer them good quality Hegelan brews and artifacts for their Constantian coins at decent cost between her other chattering comments on the city: Its great history, the unfortunate separation of the Hegelans, and most importantly how Hoch Dorumvir was truly the pinnacle of Hegelan society in culture, craft, and knowledge.

Their final destination proved to be a bunkhouse clearly designed for travelers. The ceilings and doorways were higher, so that all save for Sven and Nazih were able to move about comfortably without crouching. Even the beds indicated to them at the far end of the long hall were larger than the rest. Only the smell; something damp and musky that permeated the entire building, tempered the hospitable atmosphere. Even Moira’s stoney countenance was shaken after being in its presence for more than a few moments

“Irkned Margukh.” She grumbled, making a show of covering her nose with a sleeve. “I’ll be outside once you’re done.” Without waiting for confirmation, she spun and walked out the door.

Chorily’s polite smile increased doubly as if to make up for her partner's manners. “Many find the smell uncomfortable, but it cannot be helped,”[/colour] She motioned for the group to move towards a second door, opposite the entrance. Past it was a stable; or something that resembled one. Everything was made of stone, from the pens to the trough, even the floors had no hay to soften them.

There was only one sort of animal housed inside - though there were dozens, kicking and bleating in stalls. Goats - the Constantians would recognize first, thought not like any others they had seen before. These were larger beasts, with impossibly thin legs and narrow hooves supporting a mass of hair and horns; the latter of which curled ornately in perplexing twists so they reached far behind the creatures’ heads.

“Marguhk.” Chorily explained, “They’ll take you as far as Tagayungri. A safe journey this time of year, doubly so with these friends taking you.” The Hegelan woman reached towards the closest stall, where a muzzle appeared in front of strange eyes with cubed pupils. The Marguhk regarded the hand, and failing to find a treat there, began to make for the woman’s beard.

“Chied! Chied Remok!” A small pair of hands from some unseen person reached from within the stall to pull the Marguhk back by the horns. It relinquished the woman gently, causing Chorily to giggle excitedly. “Not to worry! They’re sweet creatures, well mannered and trained - Will even find their own way home after taking you where you need to go.” She gave the animal a final pat on the nose before ushering the Biros out back the way they’d entered. “Best speak to Moira,” she urged, pointing to the door leading outside, in case they had somehow forgotten. Then she too left, back into the stables where faint sounds of shouting in a foreign language could just barely be heard.

Moira was waiting for them outside, leaning against a stone wall and licking a stone that appeared to be made of amber, which she quickly stored away in a pocket upon seeing them.

“Harrachora told me what you’re to do.” She began, already hurried to be done with the group. “In ten hours you’ll take the Marguhk through the southwest corner of Kyrguz towards Tagayungri - there’ll be a boat to take you from there to Kirimansk. Bring the cargo back upstream again and we’ll have transport to bring you back up the mountain as well. Questions?” The final word came out more as a challenge than an offer of help.

“Why all this traveling?” Penny spoke up, “What was the point of using teleportation magic to take us only part way?”

Moira sighed, and rolled her eyes before looking towards the one-legged girl. “Outsiders don’t use that magic in Vossoriya.”

Penny frowned at the non-answer, “What about the cargo then? Will you at least tell us about that?”

The Hegelan glared at her, produced the amber again, and popped the entire stone in her mouth. “Strange words from down south,” She muttered around the object, her words even harder to understand than usual. “Don’t know and ain’t my problem. Less we have to do with outsiders the better.” And, apparently deciding that was the end of the discussion, Moira left, leaving the Biros to their own devices for the few hours they had remaining before setting off.

Action Opportunities

Action Opportunities:

You have arrived at Hoch Dorumvir where you will be staying the night before heading south towards your final destination.
Stock up on any supplies, Hegelan or otherwise, you might need for your journey;
Investigate the stables;
Investigate the city;
Pry for more information from your hosts;
Discuss what you do know with your teammates and begin forming a plan!

The Hourglass Order

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Interlude II - A Year in Passing

Silas didn’t think it possible, but the following semesters were busier than even his first; desert excursions to dragon battles notwithstanding. Ahora was stubbornly good on her word for tutoring, to the point where her visits were met with nearly as much dread as excitement. But progress was made, only for more more work found awaiting Silas on the opposite side of literacy. He was behind. Well behind, as most of his Zenos were more than happy to remind him on a daily basis, along with diatribes of his good fortune for admittance and continued enrollment at the academy at all. As though the victory he’d carried through the trials had meant nothing.

In truth there were multiple diversions that kept Silas from focusing on studies. His extra-curricular activities found a sharp increase, along with a sudden change of direction in the new year. Not that his old habits could be entirely shaken. Before Caldares had chance to arrive, Silas had freed many possessions from his classmates.

Yuliya and Desmond had both been hit within the same week, the former as pre-work for Nox Arcanum, and the latter as pay off for the distraction that came the night of.

The Magic Box

It was early for Silas to be robbing a place as public as the merchant dorms. Dozens of students were still moving through the main doors and more waited in each of the hallways. But facing the entirely of them still seemed a better bet than waiting for Zarina or Yuiliya to return. It had taken days of small talk and following Ayla to determine when the three would be together again close to the night of Nox Arcanum. He did his best to blend in with the other student entering. It took some time to navigate his way towards Zarina's room; he was accustomed to reaching it from the outside. His attention was focused on the door next to it however, and after a final check to make sure no one was watching too closely, Silas took out his lockpicks and began to work.

Inside, what SIlas perceived was not exactly what he expected. In fact, it looked like somebody had already robbed the place. There were piles of various clothes on the floor, a desk cluttered with various books, a chest that seemed open and a couple of empty glass bottles lying on the floor. He did pick up an energy signature, a decently sized one that proved to be a grape dragon, although much fatter than others he's seen.

Silas did his best to move nimbly about the mess without making it worse. Most of his attention remained on the grape-dragon, ensuring it wasn't going to attack or alarm. He first searched the desk surrounding area for anything that might tempt the creature should it's demeanor suddenly change. He left the desk and its potentially trapped drawer in favour of the coats and hat stand. It seemed incomprehensible for one person to possess so much clothing. His original plan of not adding to the mess was quickly forgotten as he brushed most of them aside and onto the floor to inspect each of the hats.The very fat dragon rose from the nest of clothes he'd made for himself onto all fours, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously.

"Don't give me that look- Didn't come here for her underclothes." Silas pulled a face at the fat little dragon and returned to the desk. Kinetic magic pulled at the drawer, urging it to slide out while Silas himself remained a foot away, having well learned his lesson from meddling with Desmond's things.

As silas pulled on the drawer, it rattled and he felt something fall over inside. However, it remained shut as he noticed that it may have been locked. The dragon began to inch closer, seemingly agitated by the random person and no sight of its owner.

Silas glared at the desk then the dragon in turn. "Shoo. " He waved it towards the window. Patience and care exhausted, Silas yanked at the drawer with all his might and a blast of kinetic energy for good measure.

As he pulled kinetically on the drawer with the amplification from his kinetic pull, it came straight off the hinges and landed on the floor. The dragon was not pleased by the violence towards the furniture and began to breathe flame toward Silas, who clutched the drawer to his desk as he rolled away as fast as he could.

Not wanting to push his luck any further he books it for the window, taking the entire desk drawer with him on exit. The dragon attempted to bite his ankle as he leapt out of the window, not wanting to let this intruder leave. Silas could nearly taste freedom, but a sudden bolt of pain stopped him just as he began to lurch from the upper story window. The grape dragon was fat, but not quite large enough to support the small boy and both teetered dangerously as Silas wailed in pain, kicking wildly for his attacker's head.

He found purchase, and was free to plummet to the ground on a street-full of people. He landed on the bitten ankle and nearly cried out again- but already there were people staring at him. The drawer had cracked and splintered, its contents strewn around him. With no time to waste, he gathered what he could and sprinted for the backstreets, where he could lose anyone that might have tried to follow.

Mementos

"I thought Desmond was your friend."

Ahrora stood at the entryway of Silas and Desmond's room, surveying the clutter and boy within as the latter worked to clear a path for her. They'd both lost the bulk of their finery form the Nox Arcanum party, left mostly in their underclothes, hidden by only their coats, and fled to the dorms without so much as a goodbye to the others.

"He is." Silas replied casually. "The clothes you came in are in here if you want 'em."

She moved towards the indicated pile. "Seems a bit odd you're stealing from the only friend you got."

Silas hesitated at the slight reprimand in her voice, and scowled. "Yer one to talk. Like I didn't notice three of my buttons missing tonight. Or you wanna tell me I lost 'em in the soup?"
She scowled in return. He could sense it even between her movements dressing herself.

"Not the same. He wouldn't go to all the trouble of hiding this if it wasn't something important"

"Let it be a lesson to him then; if you wanna keep something hidden don't make it so damn suspicious." He gestured to the cleared space beside him, in front of the locked cabinet in question. None of the three types of vision between the two could discern what was inside, or how to even go about opening it in the first place.

"Will be traps," Silas warned, and passed her the journal he'd found on Desmond's birthday. "See if there's anything helpful in there." The boy was nearly vibrating with excitement. Ahrora looked at him a long moment before swallowing the last of her miss-givings and turning her attention to the journal while her partner inspected the cabinet for signs of a lock.

The whole setup seemed to be simple, just a simple drawer on his desk. Yet they both knew something had to be in there. Silas knew some of Desmond's traps now, it could be a good time to put some of them to the test. For Ahrora, as she looked through the book, it was filled with...a strange writing she was not used to. She tried to flip through and found only dates on the top of the pages, and a few words that seemed to be shared with Avincian. It was a choppy translation yet she could understand it well enough.

"Okay I think I'm getting the hang of this. This page seems the easiest to figure out so I'll try to start here", she said, clearing her throat before reading, "I had the same dream last night, all I could think about was that time". Ahrora read as she mused to herself, "Hmm weird, maybe this is some kind of dream diary, I wonder if he had inspirations else where for the lock".

There was a beat of silence, while Ahrora shuffled through pages for another decipherable passage. "Oh! This might have it; "A lock that...closes like a...flower! And will lock...like a flower opening. Cute", she mews to herself as she read more. With a gentle tap and light charge against the drawer Silas could sense the ever slight difference of the metal plates in the shape of petals when told about it.

"Real cute," Silas scoffed, unamused at the impossible small inner workings of the lock. Hi's patience was already worn thin from waiting for the poor translation. "So I'll open if I close it. Doesn't seem complicated at all-"

"Wait!" But Silas had already begun pushing the petals of the flowers left so each overlaid with the one next until they could be collapsed inwards.

As Silas used his kinetic magic to move the pedals within the drawer, he noticed they moved smoothly. As once they were all moved in a counterclockwise motion, he sensed them interlaying with each other. And then, a slight shifting happened as it felt like the bud moved back as the drawer shifted forward showing it was open. Ahrora was stunned for a moment before she let out a sigh, afraid Silas may have set off one of the traps as she lightly jabbed him on the arm, "Scared me there". She tossed the little book off to the side and was now more curious what was hidden within this locked case.

"Why?" Silas laughed at Ahrora, nerves given way to giddy excitement all at once. "I'm a professional."

Silence fell between the pair as Ahrora attempted to look past the case with her enchanted eye, while Silas compared the lock to what was in his lock-pick set.

Ahrora could see nothing within, maybe because of certain materials made it difficult to see into. While energies within were inert inside, maybe it was special chemical and arcane magics to conceal and cancel out energy sensing and sight. Yet either way it was something that could easily get passed, Silas had met another lock he was slightly familiar with, the same friction lock pins that he had seen at Desmond's shop, yet he noticed something different, there was a few chemical signatures within, and even a few magnetic charges popping in and out.

Silas groaned. "Damn tricky magic." He complained to Ahrora, pointing out to her the chemical and magic parts of the case.

She looked between him and the box. "You're sure you want to do this?"

"The hells yah think we're doing here?"

Ahrora's one good eye rolled back, but she reached out in an attempt to dissolve the entire contraption with blood magic.

The contraption was destroyed, the locking mechanism and the possible traps disabled, it would be quie obvious they had been there. However it was open, as when pulled open the drawer revealed it was a space of normal size. Nothing like a large secret compartment, nothing magical otherwise, just a drawer. What it held within was yet less interesting. 500 magus in coins and precious materials, another small note book, an old wheel lock pistol that seems to be engraved by a moderately skilled hand, the engraved with flowers on branches with a word on the back near the top of the handle, Sakura. 3- A wooden box that is empty, but has many engravings on top, as it says 'Dream Box'. 4- Finally a small leather pouch holds within 3 old wooden coins with metal inlaid to make a slight design, each with a letter on it, and different number of small gashes seem to be put around the edges of the coins:

D- 22 gashes around the edge of the coin as it seemed multiple chips were put into the D.
S- 15 gashes around the edge of the coin. This one has an X put through the S and light carvings are put into the coin to make a flower.
L- 16 gashes around the edge of the coin. This one has a large gash put through the coin like it was stabbed through.

The excitement of freeing the box's contents was short lived, as the pair came to realize the poor worth of each item. The coins alone might have made the effort worth, had they truly come with the intention of robbing a friend blind. Silas passed her the second notebook. "See if it's got anything about debts in there. My name and stuff."

He himself focused on the wooden coins. Worthless, except for their novelty he supposed, careful to count each of the notches on the edges. He even managed to feel out the letters on their surface, much to Ahrora's approval. It didn't take long for the inspection to finish. In all the pair only forced Desmond to part with 80 Magus, and the wooden coin with the letter S.

Ahrora began to read, looking for Silas' name, yet another name beginning with S caught her eye. The same one on the but of the pistol, "Hmm, Sakura. That's Nikanese? Have you ever heard Desmond speak about knowing Nikanese or talking about knowing someone from Nikan?" Ahrora continued to read, "This is weird Silas. It's like he made this seems off. Like this isn't some kind of record book". She began to flip through the pages as she is now looking for names with S, none of them being Silas, Sakura seems to show up much more.

She looked through it more and more as there were pages going all the way back to, "This entry was from 4 years ago; Saki and I were sent to take out a mage who was causing the war line to be pushed on our side. Loui was sent to wreak havoc near the main line, typical. It should be a quick in and out, nothing more". Ahrora continued to read, she felt strange like something strange must have happened, as she looked at the coins, it felt like it was trying to tell her something. "Saki and I celebrated my Birfday away from everyone because we are out on watch. It was calm. Nearly 2 decades, and this is okay. Saki and I are still out looking for this mage, we haven't heard anything on Loui either"

Ahrora went silent a moment while she looked at the book and said, "Uhm, hey Silas, maybe you should leave the coin. It seems like it is important, you know, real important". She put the book down, as she seemed to have read something she shouldn't have.

"You want me to go without a souvenir?" Silas whined, but his curiosity was again piqued. "There was a Yasoi, around his birthday. Whats so special about it?" He asked, leaning over her shoulder to trace what little of the illegible scribbles he could make out.

"I'm unsure about the Yasoi thing, I haven't seen anything on that, however I think that coin might be of someone important to Desmond" Ahrora said while lightly guiding Silas' finger over the name Sakura as she spelled the name out for him. Ahrora continued, "I read a bit in the little book, about them, they seemed close".

“I can not get their faces out of my head. Why was it Loui? Why did he do it? She died and I couldn't do a thing. So much Blood. I have to kill him. He killed her. I can not let him get away with it. He killed Suki-" as the pen seemed to have scratched the page, like it was written in frustration.

Silas took the notebook from her only to place both it and the coin back inside the desk drawer without a word, unspoken agreement they may have gone too far. While it was impossible to undo the destruction the intrusion had caused, they at least left things in an orderly enough manner and re-locked the flower on the desk before moving to leave.

"Don't much like the idea of being here when he comes back to find this mess." Silas grumbled, still rather disappointed with their discoveries. Ahrora was much more relaxed and cheerful now the deed was done and they hadn't been discovered or destroyed anything in the process.

"Don't be so glum. I've been wanting to revisit that barn loft down in Miller's Hook." She grasped his hand and whispered in his ear until Silas forgot entirely what had made him quite so peeved by the time they exited by the room's window.

Stolen Trust

There weren’t many students left inside Ersand’Enise when Calderes rolled around. Most had retired to their homes; even most the Darhanic students had taken the time for travel and adventure. So it was left to the small number of students who had nowhere else to go to fill the city's streets. Not that it needed much help, the lack of students was more than made up for by the increase of trade that came along with Upta’s new policies. The end of year-celebration held at the Vermillion Swirl was packed so the crowd was nearly spilling out to the snow-dusted grounds surrounding the Silk Gate.

Silas and Desmond were one of the lucky few with seats at the bar inside, allowed in through the back by their employed friends. Whether it was the wine, music, or spirit of the season Silas felt oddly mirthful and close to the older boy, enough so to let a question that had bothered him for some weeks slip out.

“Who is Loui?”

Desmond had taken a drink of his wine as he seemed lost in thought for a time, long enough to forget somethings, yet when he heard Silas’ voice, his eyes sharpened, ”I don’t know who you’re talking about”. Desmond took another sip of his drink as if being done with the conversation, maybe trying to dodge the question, either way it seemed Desmond got his own information, who broke into his locked drawer.

The quick dismissal only piqued the thief's interest more. "Saki then?" He tried, sipping from his own mug.

Desmond’s hand tighten onto his glass when he heard Silas speak once more. Desmond had lighty grinded his teeth together before he set his glass down as he seemed to try and dodge it once more, “Not sure”.

Silas frowned and shifted his weight. Desmond had gone silent and cold and it made him fidget with discomfort, until his booted feet tucked onto the seat of his chair so his free hand could pry at the frayed laces.

"I-" The apology got caught on Silas' throat. He hadn't really done anything wrong after all. Even left everything behind, good as he found it. Or near as such. "You can tell me y'know. I could be helpful."

Desmond’s head flicked to Silas, ”In what? Breaking into more of my things? It was the one fucking rule I had, it was the only thing I asked. How could I trust you when you do that?” Desmond seemed absolutely upset, as in his voice, it can be round, he is hurt.

Silas kept his chin on his knees as he silently took Desmond's reprimand, the darkening of his face the only sign he was listening at all. The rest of the noisy party felt oddly distant. "Thought it might be a game- some kind of trap you set for me." It sounded stupid, so much so that even as the words left his mouth Silas's face reached a final flush so red he had to drink to cool himself.

"Shouldn't have done it- knew that soon as it was done. Put everything back as well as I could. Haven't told a soul neither- wouldn't." He stopped as the barmaid came to refill their cups and give him a thorough glare for getting his boots on the furniture.

"I'm sorry Desmond. He finally said. "But sorrys and regrets are worth 'bout as much as shit in Mudville, so let me make it up- let me earn your trust."

Desmond was holding his glass as it nearly broke, his teeth were clenched in anger, yet as he listened to Silas, he felt himself slightly waning in anger. ’he’s just a kid in the end’. Desmond let out a sigh as he took a drink of his wine and ran his hand through his hair. Sweeping it back for a moment before it came back down.

When Desmond turned to Silas he could see on his face, it was resolve, as Desmond let out one more sigh as he finally spoke again, ”Okay,”. Desmond drank the rest of his wine as he continued, ”-I have some ideas”. Desmond called over for another glass of wine, as he then continued, ”I’ve been having some need of help. I always do”.

Desmond took a drink as he then spoke, ”I need information, lots of it. I have plans and ideas, but none will work if I don’t know who I’m dealing with. So I need someone who is connected enough into more underworld trades here to steal information”. Desmond took another drink as now leaving room for Silas to respond.

The blind boy nodded eagerly. "I can do that. Been working on my reading and everything." He felt himself relax enough to let his feet drop back to the ground, or near as much as they could reach, and sip his replenished drink. "Got a name?"

Desmond nodded slightly, ”We’ll start with something we both care about, Pelova Fascino & their emporium, as well as their owner, Yuliya Vasilieva”. Desmond took another drink as he continued, ”She and her shop is backed by quite a bit of capital and power that I can’t fight, I need to know what their aim is. I have a bad feeling things are going to get very messy in Mudville and I feel left in the dark. I need you to help ease that for me”.

Desmond then turned to Silas, asking him the ultimate question, ”Can you do that for me?”

While his nodding continued, Silas hesitated in his ready agreement. Yuliya was dangerous, and if he were to get any closer to what was alreadying going on in Mudville…

"I can get you info." He finally decided. "Already been doin' what I can with some friends to keep the Pelova a 'work in progress' if you catch the drift." He smiled widely, feeling almost comfortable in Desmond's company again.

"Good to know I’m not the only one on this side of the fight." It was more an absent thought than a comment, and said so quietly as to barely be audible over the rest of the celebrations around them. He turned to face Desmond and asked, louder; "How many more of those does it take to get you drunk?" and nodded at the other boy’s glass.

”Too many”.

The empty plot that had held Moli’s for so many years was bought up by some wealthy noble who had sought to buy up and push out a third of Mudville. His ill-gone visit with Bianca had taught Silas that his home had already been lost to him once; when he’d run and not looked back. But too lose it again, have it reformed to serve the aristocratic class that had stepped on them for too long proved too much to bear. The Mud Rats hadn’t started as a movement, or even real group. First it had just been Silas, reunited with Ishto and a few other old friends, bitter and angry about the injustice done to them by the city, Moli, and just about anyone else who wasn’t them. They spent nights camping out the Mudville docks, relieving ships of construction supply deliveries as soon as they made it ashore. The deal struck with Desmond showed the first real increase in their efforts, but as the weeks went on, and more of the citizens of Mudville found themselves pushed or priced out of the only home they’d ever known, the rag-tag group’s numbers grew. Eventually it became rare for a night to pass where more work wasn’t undone than had been completed the day before on the newly funded-projects.

He may have been burning the candle at more ends than he had to light, but nodding off in class wasn’t such a problem when the teachers weren't expecting to see your eyes anyways.