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[sub][b]Present:[/b] Ashon’amar’loiyang [@Ti], Cal’tuuro’jaros [@Suicharte], Casii’fyret’alan [@Pirouette], Dorothea Hohnstein [@Jasbraq],  “Ismet’ych’lahiin’dichora” [@Force and Fury], Kaspar Elstrøm von Wentoft [@Wolfieh], Edyta Łaska, Manfred Hohenfelter, Qasem Laghmani [@Tackytaff], Ymiico’luun’yoru [@Salsa Verde], Jocasta Re, the Menacing Interloper, Lycans, Father Jacques Dubosque, Brother Baudile Dubosque, Constable Laura, Ines Baum, Viktor Strauss, Cristophe Wiliken, the Highwaymen[/sub][/center]

[hr][hr][center][h2][url=https://youtu.be/--YPEfURUDg]♫[/url][/h2][/center][hr][hr]

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[hider=The Summit of Clergymen]
Dorothea Hohenstein’s secret had been partially made by brother Baudile Dubosque after their first encounter. The details mattered little as to the crown’s true nature - it was demonic and it had to go. He had made arrangements to meet with the young woman again in the hopes of gathering intelligence on the sinister headwear, but alas it hadn’t come to pass. The next best thing was to stick to what he knew best: The Church.

Sister Laska was part of the group and a fellow clergywoman. Her extremism made the outcome of such an exchange predictable, and in all likelihood extreme measures would be necessary in these unfortunate cases, but he needed more: Another perspective.

Enter Qasem, a Darhannic envoy and by all accounts an accomplished investigator. An objective and considerate view was what Baudile hoped of the man. Differences had to be put aside when the wicked was in play. They were all men and demons did not discriminate by faith.

Finally, Manfred was tugged into the coming exchange with little information. Qasem, having worked with him previously, was the best to lead him into the ‘trap’. It would be at the same defunct tavern Baudile had met Taleja the night after the beast hunt that he’d gather the three for an impromptu summit to decide their action against the unseen evil that went far beyond just Mandelein.

[color=#6EF2F3]“My apologies for bringing you all in after this crazy day.”[/color] said Baudile in all his suaveness as he stood behind the old bar, arms rested like a bartender making small talk. [color=#6EF2F3]“But I felt there was no time to waste and everyone being distracted would give us some peace.”[/color]

Qasem did not sit. He had a hard time convincing himself to trust the monk and his intention, but he had also seen this crown for an extended period of time. Something was wrong, and at the very least he’d gain some insight. [colour=DDA0DD]“Has this even been verified? It could be a lot less than what you’re speculating.”[/colour] questioned Qasem as he leaned against a wooden beam, thorough as ever. [colour=DDA0DD]“The last thing we want is to turn on each other without good reason in a town that has shown only hostility toward us.”[/colour]

[color=#6EF2F3]“It is, at the very least, related to a demonic entity. My better, Père Forestier, had been tasked to investigate an incident in your school involving a team that sought out an item of similar nature.”[/color] he explained as he reached under the counter and remained crouched for a moment. [color=#6EF2F3]“Without a doubt, the signs are there. And you would not be here if you didn’t suspect it too.”[/color]

[color=6ecff6]“I, too, have worked with Dorothea,”[/color] added Sister Laska. [color=6ecff6]“By Eshiran’s will were we able to slay the beast in the forest.”[/color] She made the sign of the Pentad, seeing if a couple of others might follow. [color=6ecff6]“By and large, she used a rifle, but she was not incapable with her magics and…”[/color] She took and released a breath, scanning the other faces in the room. [color=f26522]“I saw with mine own eyes that she employed Dark Magic.”[/color] Those same eyes then turned to Manfred. [color=f26522]“You know her best and you must know that you would not be here if we wished harm upon her person. Is it not so?”[/color] she asked. [color=f26522]“Does she not use Dark Magic?”[/color]

Manfred had been told that this would be a meeting of great import. In truth, he’d thought it would represent the near-culmination of their work here, with only some smugglers left to deal with before an imminent departure. Instead, three members of various clergies were conspiring against his beloved and had thought it wise to invite him. The magusjaeger kept a poker face. In truth, his feelings were mixed. The crown was a source of immense evil and it had sunk its figurative claws disturbingly deep into Dorothea. Yet, he also saw, in Edyta Laska, the absolute worst species of dogmatic extremist. Perhaps the rezaindian would [i]try[/i] to excise the crown nonviolently. Perhaps she would make [i]some[/i] attempt not to harm his beloved, but Manfred was under no illusions that, if harming Dory was ‘Plan B’, it was only by a fine margin and she would be very willing to sacrifice the host to stop the cancer. [color=2E8B57]“It is true that she has used magics I am unfamiliar with,”[/color] he answered unhelpfully, crossing his arms and leaning against a table. He glanced at the other two.

[color=#6EF2F3]“There it is!”[/color] brother Baudile emerged from the dusty bowels of the counter with a whiskey bottle. He poured a glass for each participant, with Qasem promptly gesturing in refusal with a brow raised. [color=#6EF2F3]“So it is confirmed that she is a dark mage. And the crown is undoubtedly wicked.”[/color] The monk nodded to himself before chugging the drink in one swig. [color=#6EF2F3]“Then there’s no mistake. That thing, my friends, is a seal - an anchor - for a demon. And that girl has it digging deep in her soul.”[/color] He began to pour again. [color=#6EF2F3]“The question is how advanced this has gotten.”[/color] his gaze went to Manfred, and the rest watched him expectantly. All fell upon him to answer, if they hadn’t gotten it from his classmates already.

It was difficult to hide a scowl. That was it then: confirmed, in his mind. They were eager to destroy her, as he had once - briefly - been. Manfred would do this his own way, but he could not let them know. [color=2E8B57]“If that is your expert assessment, then I thank you for it. I am but a simple magusjaeger, at the end of the day, and not so very knowledgeable on these matters.”[/color] He still needed to seem as if he were on board, though. He needed to engender some degree of trust. [color=2E8B57]“But I [i]have[/i] noticed a change in her of late. She wears that headpiece quite often, especially when she believes she may be in danger. I do not believe that she does so consciously. She certainly seems to have become more confident and gifted in her use of magic…”[/color]

[colour=DDA0DD]“As his lover, do you know [i]how long[/i] she’s been wearing it?”[/colour] Qasem turned his leaning body to face the real reason they were here: Manfred, and what he could provide so they could take action. [color=#6EF2F3]“A timeline is good, si. It doesn’t always mean progression, but if her magic’s improved …”[/color] Baudile raised his eyebrows as he eyed his glass before taking in his second shot. [color=#6EF2F3]“She has made some sort of deal with it already. Removal might be both difficult, but also fruitless, if it’s progressed too far.”[/color] the man ended with a sigh, the drink still hadn’t drowned out the growing gloom in the room.

This, Manfred knew, was a test of sorts: a statement delivered in his presence to elicit a reaction. If he appeared too reconciled to the possibility of his beloved’s killing, it would be suspicious. Yet, he did not want to spit fire and brimstone either and set them on edge. Instead, his eyes widened appropriately as these devils in clerical robes spoke. He appeared shocked and lost for words. [color=2E8B57]“You…”[/color] his tongue tripped. [color=2E8B57]“You mean… you would [i]kill[/i] my Dorothea!?”[/color] He shook his head vigorously, [i]vehemently[/i]. [color=2E8B57]“I tell you this now, sirs, I will not have it!”[/color]

Sister Laska, who had pounded back one drink and a second as if they were nothing and whose cheeks now glowed rosy and red, leaned forward, a lock of tawny brown hair spilling from her habit. [color=f26522]“And if [i]your[/i] Dorothea is responsible for bringing about a nation-destroying calamity?”[/color] she hissed. [color=f26522]“I have said, already, that I will avoid doing her harm for all that I am worth. My primary oath was to Eshiran, but rest assured that I swore a vow of honesty to Dami as well.”[/color] She took a decidedly broad step to the side. [color=f26522]“If we are to assess,”[/color] she warned, [color=f26522]“If there is to be hope of a solution that can save her, you need to be honest with us.”[/color]

Baudile shook his head. [color=#6EF2F3]“Our only goal right now is to get that crown away from her.”[/color] he said in an attempt to pacify Manfred. [color=#6EF2F3]“Even if it’s latched onto her, keeping the item far away will often be enough to prevent the worst.”[/color]

Qasem, on the other hand, opted for brutal honesty with such dire matters. [colour=DDA0DD]“Do you understand the gravity and risk of this situation?”[/colour] He crossed his arms as he stared down the Kerreman, [colour=DDA0DD]“Thousands, if not millions, could perish by the actions of one young woman when a demonic item is at play,”[/colour] he warned. [colour=DDA0DD]“Manfred Hohenfelter, be ready to accept drastic measures to be taken, and soon. Whether it’s us, the Churches, or the Gods themselves, be ready. A lot of this may depend on you.”[/colour]

Manfred narrowed his eyes. [color=2E8B57]“It has been eight months.”[/color] Never quite taking them off of the Darhannic, he lifted the glass to his lips and downed the liquid inside of it in a single gulp. [color=2E8B57]“Do not worry, Truthseeker, I will do whatever is necessary.”[/color]

[color=#6EF2F3]“Have you tried stealing it?”[/color] asked Baudile, halfway through a third drink. He began to appear as rosy as his colleague. [color=#6EF2F3]“Only way we’ll know anything for sure is if we mess with the thing. But-”[/color] he finished the drink and then slammed the glass onto the counter. [color=#6EF2F3]“It will warn the demon. Dorothea will know. And it will put you at risk, Herr Hohenfelter.”[/color]

Manfred scowled. [color=2E8B57]“I will do it,”[/color] he offered. [color=2E8B57]“And none of you will [i]dare[/i] act until I do, or you will find me [i]most[/i] disagreeable.”[/color] He did not have any more to drink, much as he loved drinking. He needed his faculties too much at the moment. [color=2E8B57]“If my cause is just, Aun-Oratz shall protect me.”[/color] He regarded the gathered clergy. [color=2E8B57]“Dare I say he will bless us all.”[/color]

Soon, they were three in the abandoned bar. Baudile had abandoned halfway through his fourth drink and needed to sit. His teen years had accrued a great tolerance to the stuff, but gone were the days of the permanent fiesta and the harsh realities of the job stared right at him. [color=#6EF2F3]“No matter what, the poor girl’s in for something dark,”[/color] he lamented, eyes on the counter and arms limp over the wooden surface. [color=#6EF2F3]“If we request an exorcism, what are the chances our betters side with safety?”[/color] he asked Laska, eyes throwing her a mere glance before he stared at nothing again.

[color=6ecff6]“I gave my word that our first option will be to do this bloodlessly,”[/color] she replied, nursing her third drink, [color=6ecff6]“and I intend to keep it. I shall give him his chance, though he lies, without doubt.”[/color] She shook her head, sipping some more. [color=6ecff6]“Should he fail, I have… resources among those who would perform such a task.”[/color] She glanced down at her glass pensively before downing the last bit. [color=6ecff6]“If the demon is of the third tier or less, I believe they will be able to exorcise it without much fuss. A fourth tier is tricky.”[/color] She set the glass down on the table nearby with a clack that was not loud but seemed so. [color=f26522]“If it is above that…”[/color] She let her words fade for a moment. [color=f26522]“Well,”[/color] she snorted, [color=f26522]“regardless of vocation or creed, let us pray that it is not.”[/color]

Qasem had closed his eyes since Manfred had left and stayed quiet. Regardless of how one looked at it, the only real hope they had was if the demon wasn’t even worth sealing away to begin with. He sided with realism and preemptively braced himself. [colour=DDA0DD]“I wish you both a good night. May the Gods favour us in these uncertain times.”[/colour] and with these words, he departed.

[color=#6EF2F3]“And I thought today would be a good day after you caught that beast.”[/color] chuckled Baudile as he slid the near-empty bottle toward Laska. [color=#6EF2F3]“Here’s to us, the thankless vanguard against the wicked.”[/color] he raised his half-empty glass  in pure sarcasm before taking it in. [color=#6EF2F3]“Sometimes I wonder if my brother was right. I am way out of my depth.”[/color] Another, self-pitying chuckle escaped him as he rested head head over his forearm. He was just about ready to fall asleep.

Edyta regarded him for a moment and… she kept on regarding him. Brother Baudile was quite drunk, she realized, and so was she if she were to be honest. [color=6ecff6]“Every day is a blessing so long as we still draw breath and have purpose, br -”[/color] She sniffed, and it might’ve been a hiccup. [color=6ecff6]“Baudile.”[/color] In truth, the young rezaindian felt herself a mess. She was speaking with far too loose a tongue, and her hair was spilling out almost freely at this juncture. [color=6ecff6]“It… sometimes bothers me too that few understand us and few… love us,”[/color] she admitted, tucking some hair behind her habit again. 

She might’ve stopped there but, instead, she turned to him earnestly. [color=6ecff6]“There are times when I wish that Dami had chosen some other path - [i]any[/i] path for me because the things we must do…”[/color] She trailed off, absently picking up the glass and just staring into its empty depths, squinting softly until the glimmers of lamplight that reflected in its translucent surface blended together. [color=6ecff6]“I do not [i]want[/i] to hurt people,”[/color] she squeaked, feeling some great mass build behind the dam of her eyes. [color=6ecff6]“Even if it [i]is[/i] for a greater right. How can we mere mortals ever truly be sure of the Gods’ inscrutable will anyhow?”[/color] A single tear slipped from the corner of one eye and left a little wet track down one cheek. [color=6ecff6]“And…”[/color] she sniffed and avoided his eyes, staring down at her shoes. [color=f26522]“I do not want to be lonely. It is a fool thing to say, I know -”[/color] she caught herself, [color=f26522]“- but I have said it and it has been with me for some time and I must speak it or else go mad. It is unfair!”[/color] Her voice rose in a near wail. [color=f26522]“It is unfair, I say, and I do not [i]want[/i] it! Why cannot the Gods spread their burdens equally among people? You are Stresian, right?”[/color] she pleaded. [color=f26522]“Surely you must know! Or… at least have some idea.”[/color] It was all a mess now. Sister Laska - Edyta - had come undone and allowed this man to see the weakness and doubt that lay beneath her cool surface. It was unbecoming. It was entitled and unfair to him and she resolved to do penance for it tomorrow and through the coming week. And yet… her teary-eyed gaze slid his way and she failed to disavow her words. At least he was half asleep, or appeared to be.

Halfway through Edyta’s sinking into near-despair, Baudile had straightened himself and felt a twinge of fear of what was to come. A rezaindian confessing in a drunken state, one could not predict where this could go. He was far too drunk to hide his look of bewilderment. He sucked in his lips and looked away when a silence finally lingered and Laska expected some sort of answer. But what could he say? Deep down, he felt the same in most ways. He wasn’t cursed with killing threats like she was, but instead cursed with knowledge. He knew things that could blacken a saint’s soul and that could topple regimes, including his own Church’s, partially from his position but also from his own insatiable curiosity. [color=#6EF2F3]“I-”[/color] he shook his head and eventually looked back at the nun. [color=#6EF2F3]“I cannot say, sister. I cannot. Because I’ve been asking myself the same.”[/color] no, this wasn’t right. If he truly wanted to know, he knew how to get answers, even if it was difficult. That lie he forced out in spite of his state gnawed at him, so he corrected himself. [color=#6EF2F3]“That’s not true. In truth I could get my answers. I could be told why my role is as such, why we serve such a noble creed, but … I’m afraid of facing that truth. To realize that, maybe, I’m doing it all for myself, or even worse, for no reason at all. Because how do we know what we’re doing is ever truly right?”[/color] he sighed and nodded to himself. [color=#6EF2F3]“You could always ask them, Edyta.”[/color] he smiled, [color=#6EF2F3]“Ask those whom you serve above all other mortals, why indeed. Why must you suffer through it while so many others can live in ignorance? Why you? Ask them. All ten of them if you must.”[/color] he reclaimed his empty bottle and tried to shake a few drops out into his glass. [color=#6EF2F3]“Will you cut me down for uttering such blasphemy?”[/color]

[color=f26522]“I would have to cut myself down as well, then,”[/color] she snorted, [color=f26522]“and I would go to hell for it, for that is a sin.”[/color] She let out a sad, bitter little laugh. Baudile laughed as well, but with far less bitterness. He seemed to enjoy himself in this shared despair, and he received something like a smile and a rueful shake of the head from his younger colleague. [color=6ecff6]“Gods, you know, I would hate to be those smugglers tomorrow,”[/color] Edyta remarked. [color=6ecff6]“I swear it truly: I am going to take so much pent up rage out on them…”[/color] She let out a bark of laughter. [color=6ecff6]“Certainly not repressing anything here, Mister Criminal-Whose-Face-I’m-About-To-Smash.”[/color] Edyta dabbed at her tears and blinked a couple of times. [color=f26522]“I suppose you’re a man of the cloth,”[/color] she sighed, pulling back her habit momentarily to gather her hair properly in anticipation of covering it once more. [color=f26522]“And hair is not a sin.”[/color] A wavy reddish-brown mane spilled over her shoulders and she combed the tangles from it with her fingers.

Looking at Laska let loose made the monk feel conscious of his own, increasingly greasy hair that was far too long for a man. His hand sloppily brushed over his hair to pull it back. [color=#6EF2F3]“I’d be quite damned if it was.”[/color] he snorted, [color=#6EF2F3]“Try not to go too crazy on them. These middlemen did not come up with their devious schemes on their own. Pirates never think long term in the Eye.”[/color] a moment of actual good ideas had stuck him despite how tipsy he had gotten, [color=#6EF2F3]“Whatever they are doing, Edyta-”[/color] he had gotten quite comfortable with her, as he hopped over the bar - nearly killing himself in the process - to discreetly impart some knowledge onto her. Knowledge he likely shouldn’t share with anybody. [color=#6EF2F3]“it spreads far beyond here. Or Kerremand. Or Constantia. And it goes as far as last year in Ersand’Enise, when we lost many of our brothers and sisters.”[/color] the jovial air had since been rinsed from his being and concern for her, and by extension the other students, were taking precedence over the moment. [color=#6EF2F3]“I need one of their leaders alive. No matter what.”[/color]

Sister Laska watched him hop over the bar and, for a moment, she was ready to reach out with the Gift and catch him if he needed it. In the event, he didn’t, and she merely smiled, excited. There was a pleasantness about him: an eagerness, earnestness, and keenness, and how she needed that! But then he began speaking smartly and the warm glow of alcohol’s effects and perhaps other things she had not considered began to fade. Edyta’s brows came together and her gaze flicked between her antsy fingers and his eyes as she listened. She was not in much of a state to think strategically, but she had been trained to listen to people more intelligent than herself and she would remember this too, at least. The rezaindian was not [i]that[/i] inebriated. Finally, when he was done, she simply nodded. [color=6ecff6]“It shall be done,”[/color] she assured him, but she was [i]not[/i] done, however. [color=6ecff6] But…hhould you know more, friend, I beg of you please tell me.”[/color] She placed a hand over her heart. [color=6ecff6]“I will speak to nobody whom I should not of this matter. I will exercise the proper restraint. This, you have my word on and, as I have probably said too many times for you to care to hear it again, that is not something I contravene lightly.”[/color]

[color=#6EF2F3]“You have yet to break your word, so it remains golden.”[/color] Baudile leaned back after saying his initial piece, looking for a solid surface to lean against before vertigo got to him. [color=#6EF2F3]“All I know for sure is that certain interests converged onto our late Brother, Lamb, a year ago. And one of the trails diverged,”[/color] his hand briefly balled into a fist and then expanded to illustrate said convergence, [color=#6EF2F3]“Tarlon. ReTan, Inipor … But one led here. Specifically. Why? I’m here to find out.”[/color] his words were slightly slurred as his muscles numbed, but his mind was there and he sounded the most coherent he had ever been. [color=#6EF2F3]“For anyone else it’d just be … Kerremand. But, this place. I knew this place. My brother’s here. So I had to go and see it for myself, off the books. You know better than I do, we don’t have the resources to spare ever since Bloody Victendes.”[/color] he rubbed his sweaty palm over his pale face and sniffled a few times. [color=#6EF2F3]“Hmm, I might be catching a cold.”[/color] 

[color=6ecff6]“Well, then you should get your rest, dear brother,”[/color] she chirped, finally tucking her hair back into its hiding place, [color=6ecff6]“and take care of yourself. Though, if it progresses, I am not an inept healer even if I am no Dordian.”[/color] She rose, taking both glasses and bottle and swaying her way to the bar where she left them. [color=6ecff6]“Now, are you alright to walk under your own power or do you require the shoulder of a friend?”[/color]

[color=#6EF2F3]“My pride wants to say this isn’t my first time, but-”[/color] Baudile raised his arm, ready to be ‘helped’ back to the Church with a cheeky grin on his face. [color=#6EF2F3]“I won’t say no to a friendly shoulder.”[/color]

Edyta let loose a giggle, and it was a soft, girlish sound. [color=6ecff6]“Well then, a friendly shoulder you shall have, good brother, and tomorrow, we shall start the unraveling of this grand conspiracy, Shune and Dami alike bless us.”[/color] She did not feel all that holy and it did not much matter, but she made the sign of the Pentad, settled her shoulder under his arm, and led him on his way, cheeks still red and rosy.[/hider]

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[hider=Laska & Dubosque Part 2]Fr. Jacques Dubosque simply nodded at Laska’s answer and said nothing more. The polite greetings and warm hand shakes to his folk continued while the Quentic nun remained at his side. 

She waited patiently until there was a break in the procession - so like some great merchant meeting his friends in the market square - and an unease began to take her. [color=6ecff6]“I shall offer you the same degree of candor that you have shown me,”[/color] she began. [color=f26522]“I know, and have known since I saw the grotesque skeletons of human-dragon hybrids in the castle dungeon, that there are wildbloods within this town. They walk among you and all have been untruthful about it.”[/color]

He did not say anything to her until they neared the brewery, where a boy no older than twelve was helping his father load in goods into storage.

[color=#23A6B1]“Ah! Guten Morgen Herr Dubosque! (Ah! Good morning father Dubosque!)”[/color] the kid dropped everything and went on to greet the leader figure, both hands reaching out to Dubosque’s much bigger one.

[color=#E1F36E]“Ralph! Ihr Griff wird von Tag zu Tag stärker. Bald wird dein Vater endlich eine Pause machen, oder?” (Ralph! Your grip is getting stronger by the day. Soon, your father will finally catch a break, eh?)”[/color] the jolly priest with the moustache beamed at the boy.

Ralph then turned to Laska. He definitely looked shy, but unlike many of the adults, he did not have their look of distrust on his heterochromic eyes, one hazel and the other more bluish. He nodded to a near bow before her and then returned to his duty. The rezaindian’s return bow was… delayed.

Dubosque, before continuing his stroll, reverted to Avincian and gestured toward the pre-teen, [color=#E1F36E]“He is one of them. Cut him down.”[/color] he ordered, his voice cold and stern with an almost censorious gaze shot at his fellow clergywoman. But his smile persisted. No one nearby would understand what he had just said.
Edyta watched the boy for a moment longer. She watched Fr. Dubosque, eyes narrowing and energy beginning to gather. The boy laughed at something his father had said and walked off carrying an empty barrel. Her glare snapped back to the priest. [color=f26522]“Do you think I want to do this?”[/color] she demanded, [color=f26522]“That I do it because it is anything but necessary?”[/color]

[color=#E1F36E]“Is it truly, sister?”[/color] he inquired, his smile all but faded once the boy had retreated inside. [color=#E1F36E]“This boy, Ralph, hasn’t hurt a soul in his life. His father is incredibly proud of him. Why is it a ‘necessity’ to end his life, should he be afflicted?”[/color] he demanded in return. They both began to walk again, and they would find a tranquil, low-activity part of town to lower their emotional veils. [color=#E1F36E]“As a Dordian, and Priest of this town, I have a sacred duty to ensure these people’s wellbeing and preserve life, no matter how imperfect it might be.”[/color] he solemnly stated. [color=#E1F36E]“And you have a duty to take lives that pose a greater threat. But tell me, sister, which path takes priority here?”[/color]

[color=f26522]“Oh, it seems an easy answer for now, so long as he has never killed, but how about when he does?”[/color] she demanded. [color=f26522]“Not [i]if[/i], father, but [i]when[/i], because he [i]will[/i].”[/color] She shook her head. [color=f26522]“I do not like it. I wish it were not so, and I grieve for one so afflicted, but the only way that your approach ends is in tears: whether two days or twenty years from now, it [i]will[/i]. More will die because of your desire to save.”[/color] She shook her head adamantly. She would not strike down a child in the middle of a town - she was neither that stupid nor cruel - but she would not be dissuaded from the necessity of her path either. She [i]could[/i] not be, for it was part of her oath as a red rezaindian: to do the jobs that others could not stomach, to clean up the messes that their misbegotten sense of mercy created.

The priest sighed out of his nose. They were clearly of two different worlds, but he wasn’t blind to his own biases either. He wanted to agree with her pragmatism, but it seemed both of them knew, deep down, there was something wrong about it, no matter how good the cause was. [color=#E1F36E]“Just as many tears will flow by Eshiran’s methods as they would with Oraff’s. We both fight for a brighter tomorrow, sister, and I’ve yet to give up on the future these people can still build.”[/color] He spoke with resolve, but his disposition didn’t suggest an actual challenge toward Laska. [color=#E1F36E]“But we can both align when it comes to Dami’s will - The wicked that have cursed these people must be destroyed.”[/color] he stated as they neared a bench he’d sit down on, exerted from his bad leg. [color=#E1F36E]“We will handle these uncomfortable matters afterward. Is this agreeable?”[/color]

Edyta paused a few steps from him, not interested in seating herself. [color=6ecff6]“It is… not disagreeable,”[/color] she allowed. With that, she offered a shallow bow in his direction and a soft smile with no happiness in it. [color=6ecff6]“Eshiran spare you, father.”[/color] Then, she left.

[hr][hr]

There was a monster with eyes that did not match, and Edyta knew what - or [i]who[/i] - it was. [color=6ecff6]“Please,”[/color] she murmured beneath her breath. [color=6ecff6]“Please do not come nearer.”[/color] It did not stop. Those familiar eyes were filled with primal rage and the same hunger for flesh she had witnessed countless times. She reached out with the Gift and tried to slow him, she tried to lower his metabolism, to make him sluggish. [color=6ecff6][i]Stop![/i][/color] she screamed at him inwardly. [color=f26522][i]Stop, you little bastard![/i][/color] She gritted her teeth and pulled in right up to her capacity, rocketing away from one of his swipes with a kinetically-enhanced leap. [color=6ecff6]“Please.”[/color] She didn’t realize that she’d spoken the word until it had already left her mouth, but it was too late. Her magic failed. The monster who had been a boy kept coming and the downed figure of Father Dubosque was nearby. [color=f26522][i]You fool,[/i][/color] she cried inside of herself. [color=f26522]“You fool,”[/color] she whispered.  [color=6ecff6]“I told you it would end in tears.”[/color] With a small, sad sound, Edyta Laska did her duty.[/hider]

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[hider=A Menacing Interloper]
[color=ffdead][i]What the hell [b]was[/b] that!?[/i][/color] The thought hammered at the walls of her headspace again and again. Things like what she had seen - that laugh: it still echoed through her - were not supposed to exist. Her hands shook and her breath trembled and she was okay. She was okay, but so was the enemy. She had struck it with decrepitude but it had rewound the spell and even… she had felt the fingers of time upon [i]herself[/i]. She shook her head. She was Volto [i]fucking[/i] Certosa. She had forced it to leave but… she had left as well. Had it been out of fear? Had she run? Had she abandoned them?

[color=ffdead][i]And totally, ruthlessly, anguishingly insane.[/i][/color] It was connected. There had been the other two: the wolves. She would warn the others. Just - she breathed in and breathed out - not yet. [/hider]

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[hider=A Town in Ruin]Devastation had taken Mandelein. Two dozen had been killed at the very start of the attack, and a good dozen more during the whole chaos. The casualties were massively limited by the intervention of outsiders that were antagonised by the very citizens they saved earlier during the day, and Fr. Dubosque’s swift interventions in different hot zones of town. This didn’t include the beasts themselves, with twenty two being the final tally, and about half were rendered unconscious rather than killed. 

The coldness in the eyes of the people had completely melted as the foreign youths did their everything to help, during and post-attack. There were so many injured and many homes utterly destroyed. But with the binding capabilities of people like Casii and Kaspar, reparations were well under way while the more martial like Manfred and Viktor patrolled every street to ensure the security. Everybody had a job to do and there was always more. The day was easily swallowed by the ordeal. More than once would the students find themselves offered baskets of food and other helpful supplies by villagers that couldn’t properly communicate with them. Most of them were kids, but a few adults swallowed their pride and extended their hands out to the outsiders.

With a current lack of leadership, everything went by Constable Leonhardt who had only sustained minor injuries during the stand at the Barracks. Peace was brought to the streets, but the cries of grief were loud throughout the day. The unconscious beasts were ordered to be sealed in the castle's basement, including the kids, by the barely conscious Dubosque. It had contained great beasts before, it could do so again temporarily.

The priest of the town remained mostly unconscious until the evening, clearly strained from his intervention that resembled nothing any had seen. Only Laska and Dory could feel a vague similarity to the eerie call of the first beast they encountered. Brother Baudile, when he wasn’t helping treat the wounded, was tending to his brother, never leaving his side with only concern in his usually chipper face that often came with a suave he thought was more charming than it was.[/hider]

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[hider=Brothers]It was when the hours of Dami were looming that Jacques Dubosque awoke fully from his slumber. On the opposite side of his room was his half-brother, Baudile, sat on a small wooden chair, nearly asleep himself, with a leg over the other and a book resting over his lap. The awakening of his brother caught him by surprise. [color=#6EF2F3]“Ah, Jacques, you’re up. I feared I’d have to sit here another-”[/color] Baudile was quickly cut off. [color=#E1F36E]“What happened? Have the beasts been quelled and the town secured?”[/color] Dubosque’s demanding voice came with an intense glare directed at his brother. Taken aback, Baudile stammered his response at first. [color=#6EF2F3]“Y-yeah, we put the rest in the condemned basement like you said. We got them all.”[/color] he smiled as he dragged himself and his chair closer to the bed. Jacques nodded.

The older of the siblings seemed out of it still, but when Baudile got too close, he raised his hand to stop him. [color=#E1F36E]“I’m fine, Baudile.”[/color] and after a few grunts, the clergyman rose from his bed and limped over to his cane. Again, Baudile tried to help but was promptly rejected. [color=#6EF2F3]“Hey, let me at least get you some food, yeah?”[/color] though he was met with silence by the priest, he did it anyway. He returned five minutes later with warmed soup while the priest sat before his desk, too weak to move beyond his ascetic bedroom. [color=#6EF2F3]“Voilà! Just like they make it in Segonia. Though, with less shrimp.”[/color] Jacques looked at the meal and pursed his lips. [color=#E1F36E]“Thanks.”[/color] he answered nonchalantly.

A few spoonfuls later and the elder Dubosque let an awkward silence reign supreme. A silence Baudile couldn’t bear. [color=#6EF2F3]“Jacques.”[/color] he beckoned, and he got a prompt reply. [color=#E1F36E]“Baudile.”[/color] he then took another spoonful, his eyes on the scripture before him. [color=#6EF2F3]“What’s going on here?”[/color] he asked after a moment’s hesitation. [color=#6EF2F3]“Nothing adds up. The people yesterday, they were not invaders, you know this. The people will know soon.”[/color] his tone completely changed, showing serious concern for the matter discussed. [color=#6EF2F3]“I need to know if I can help. You know I-”[/color]

[color=#E1F36E]“I know what, Baudile? I don’t know why you’re actually here. Is this an investigation, my brother?”[/color]

[color=#6EF2F3]“What? No. I mean- Yes, but not, you know, of you.”[/color] taken aback, Baudile leaned back against a wall, arms crossed as his brother looked at him.

[color=#E1F36E]“And just you, alone while you’re still tailing your seniors like a pup in the hopes for a big break. Ersand’Enise wasn’t enough, was it?”[/color] Dubosque’s tone became accusatory as he glared at his brother. Before Baudile could answer, the older man continued. [color=#E1F36E]“We haven’t talked in years. In my most recent memory,  you were far too busy enjoying your youth. And now that you’ve found some intrigue in my home, you’ve suddenly decided to reconnect. Is that it?”[/color]

[color=#6EF2F3]“What- Jacques? What the fuck?”[/color] Baudile’s heart beat fast and his facial features tensed. He felt attacked. [color=#6EF2F3]“I’m here to [i]help[/i] because I know you, and want you to be well.”[/color]

[color=#E1F36E]“That isn’t you. You’ve always been the one with an angle. The fact that you took on the cloth still baffles me to this day.”[/color] the frustrated Jacques Dubosque nodded and scowled. [color=#E1F36E]“Still squandering that potential of yours, chasing thrills and becoming a Philosopher to have as much freedom as possible. YOU had the potential to be a Somnian, and a very good one. One of the elites that speaks the holiest of words. But, here you are.”[/color] the man snarled.

Baudile was surprised at first, but it didn’t last. This hadn’t been the first time they’ve butted heads, and the more Jacques spoke, the more he matched his older brother’s grimace. It was getting to the point where he pushed himself off his happy place and got closer to his sitting brother. Jacques painfully ascended on his feet and looked into his brother’s eyes in a confrontational manner.

[color=#E1F36E]“I don’t need you here, Baudile. Everything was under control until you and these people came.”[/color]

Baudile wanted to say so many things, but he couldn’t. His mouth was stuck and his scowl got more exaggerated by the second, like he was desperately holding things back.

[color=#E1F36E]“The problem will be solved tomorrow anyway. You’ve done your part. I appreciate the help and putting yourself out there for my people. But this is where it ends.”[/color]

[color=#6EF2F3]“Jacques.”[/color] said Baudile with a voice meeker than what he wanted. [color=#6EF2F3]“I just want to help my brother. Help people. Nobody else is coming.”[/color] a relief to hear.

[color=#E1F36E]“I honestly don’t care, Baudile.”[/color] Jacques shook his head. [color=#E1F36E]“The truth is, I never really did. You’ve never mattered all that much to me.”[/color] Baudile’s pupils dilated a little more, his body less tense as he took the bomb. [color=#E1F36E]“You're my brother. I love you. But I think we’re beyond being close. It’s been over years ago. I’m sorry but-”[/color] he reached out to pat his brother’s shoulder before turning back to his desk. [color=#E1F36E]“I’m going to ask you to leave by tomorrow, when they’re done. I do not want you upsetting more of my flock.”[/color]

Shocked, and honestly heartbroken, Baudile was without words. Past errors in his ignorant youth and his clashing personality to his stern brother’s felt like they were being punished at this very moment. And, deep down, he felt like he deserved it. He recalled his exchange with Laska, his fears to confront the real him and his motives. The truth, the one he perceived and hid from, stared him down under the form of his brother. He was never truly accepted by both his family and the Church, and only pursued these creeds for his own, personal motives. ‘Angles’ as his brother would say. Sleazy, melodramatic and downright indecent for the prestigious ranks of the Church. He did not need Gods to tell him his purpose was non-existent and he was but a farce of a man.

Dejected, he just nodded and turned to the door. [color=#6EF2F3]“There’s more soup in the cauldron.”[/color] he said as parting words, only to get an indifferent ‘Mhm’ from his brother.

Brother Baudile was gone, completely torn inside, but Father Dubosque wasn’t the only presence - and he could feel it. There was sister Eberl he recognized in her quarters, soundly asleep already. But there was something else. Something nearby that did not want to be seen.

[color=#E1F36E]“I will not be stalked in my own Church. Have the decency to show yourself.”[/color][/hider]

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[hider=A Father]Cristophe was one of the unlikely heroes of the hour. Considered a goon for his affiliations, he was expected to run like the rest of his troupe. And yet he fought in the farms, partially from already being there but even as the opportunity to escape presented itself, he remained. When the fighting had ceased, he continued to do his part and primarily helped repair homes the best he could and carried the wounded for triage. He did not speak much Avinvian, and his Yasoi was also relatively basic, but he got around with a few phrases and by simply acting rather than talking.

But once calm had returned to Mandelein and the sun had set, the one thing that rang in his mind since the day prior was acted upon once more. In a barn not too far from where he and the Yasoi battled laid the corpse of the supposed ‘Beast of Mandelein’. He had been looking at it for an accumulated two hours between the morning and evening.

That uncannily human face - there was no doubt about it in his head. He sat by the corpse, blue eyes just staring as if he was expecting something. But nothing came of the vain endeavour.

Dory, thinking it might have been for the better to keep an eye on the slain beast of the forest. Whilst returning to the corpse for her patrol she found herself a familiar face, although not one she was too pleased to see. Clenching her rifle, keeping it at the ready she approached the man. [color=86608E]”What are you doing here?”[/color] The tone of her voice was calm.[color=86608E]”Where’s the rest of the group? Shouldn’t you be with them after such an event?”[/color]

[color=96374E]“I wanted to see the beast.”[/color] Cristophe answered in Kerreman without deigning to look at her. All that seemed to matter was the cadaver before him. [color=96374E]“They are not friends. Just colleagues. I spend my free time how I see fit, away from work.”[/color]

Dory lowered what little guard she had and swung her rifle on her back [color=86608E]”Anything of note on the beast past it’s face?”[/color] She closed in towards the beast to inspect it as well. 

[color=96374E]“Nein.”[/color] he answered before reaching for a booze flask from his coat and took a swig.

[color=86608E]”Mind if I have some too? I’ll owe you one in return”[/color] She said with a reassuring tone.

Cristophe extended his arm toward Dory, only conferring her a very brief glance.

She took a swig from the flask before giving it back. Then remember the happenings in the forest. [color=86608E]”Was the beast’s den known to the town?”[/color]

Cristophe shrugged. [color=96374E]“They knew it was out there.”[/color] he mentioned before retrieving his flask for another sip. [color=96374E]“It was Viktor’s job, and someone else’s.”[/color] he got quiet from there.

[color=86608E]”Did they not come back?”[/color] She tried to not say too much. [color=86608E]”What was their name? Viktor has not mentioned them.”[/color]

Cristophe shot a cold glare toward Dorothea. [color=96374E]“A man called Cristophe, before all this became a mess.”[/color] he answered as he exhaled from his nose. The question seemed to have exasperated the man more than Dory’s presence. 

Cristophe?... The girl grabbed whatever she had found from the den. The skuggvar tail would tell much but the watch given to her by Laska might tell a story. Inspecting it for a while before the initials clicked with her. [color=86608E]”C.W?... A Cristophe, perchance?”[/color] She thought aloud.

 The ticking of the watch Dory revealed caught Cristophe’s attention even before it was in sight. His head turned and he looked toward the Feskan for longer than he had the whole exchange. Then, when he finally acknowledged it, he hesitantly reached out with a shaking hand. [color=96374E]“Wiliken. Cristophe Wiliken.”[/color] he said as he seized the watch and just looked at it the same way he did the corpse - with a sense of loss mixed with immense focus. [color=96374E]“Cristophe Wiliken Jr.”[/color] he muttered silently as he brushed his thumb over the watch’s old, stained glass. 

Dory began to potentially put one and two together and did not like the answers she was getting at. [color=86608E]”Your father?”[/color] Her voice got rough as her own thoughts about her own parents got mixed into her feelings.

[color=96374E]“My son.”[/color] Cristophe said, his voice uncharacteristically turbulent. [color=96374E]“My stupid, beautiful son.”[/color] he looked at the beast’s semi-human face. There was no doubt in his mind now. No more denial. [color=96374E]“I told you it was a stupid idea. You fool …”[/color] he bumped his fist to the body’s thick forearm. The man didn’t cry, he was beyond showing tears after all that he had lived through, but his voice and eyes sang nothing but tragedy and anguish. [color=96374E]“You could’ve been so much. But you chose small and easy.”[/color] Cristophe’s jaw clenched and so did his fist that was holding the watch. [color=96374E]“Just like your father.”[/color] a sniffle managed to pass the man’s barrier. [color=96374E]“But at least I found you, Cris. Finally, I found you.”[/color]

Dorothea stayed quiet, nothing she could say could make such a loss any less painful. The thoughts of what if it was her instead of her parents ran through her mind. Would they have cared as much as him? All she could do was ponder as his anguish resonated through her thoughts.

A good moment passed. Cristophe mumbled a few things that Dory couldn’t even hear before eventually placing the watch over the beast’s chest. [color=96374E]“Thank you for finding him.”[/color] he said after a sigh. [color=96374E]“And freeing him.”[/color] then Cristophe stood up and reached for his gun. [color=96374E]“You’re going to hit these smugglers hard soon, aren’t you? They’re responsible for this shit, that’s what you’ve all been saying?”[/color] he interrogated Dory, his figure far more imposing then her’s. He was direct and quite dry about it, but his disposition showed no hostility.


[color=86608E]”We will”[/color] She was not going to beat around the bush. This man did not deserve to be talked around. [color=86608E]”The smugglers won’t ruin this place any further than they already have.”[/color] 

[color=96374E]“Then I will come.”[/color] he stated without even seeking Dory’s input on the matter. [color=96374E]“I have a duty too. As a hired gun, and as a father. I will gather my men tomorrow.”[/color][/hider]

[hr]

[center][b][h2]Dawn of Assani 20th[/h2][/b]
[sub][color=#302c2c]1 Day Remains[/color][/sub][/center]
[hr][hr][center][h2][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNEtZ2lbdrE]♫[/url][/h2][/center][hr][hr]

Life continued in Mandelein. The calamity of the day prior did not stop mouths from needing to be fed, brews to be concocted and materials to be worked. Despite the tragedy, not everything was glum. More people smiled when they saw our student group, Ines was particularly receptive to them and a couple of constables volunteered themselves to assist in the inevitable clash with the outside force that had been plaguing them for so long.

Now they had a chance. They had young foreigners who had fought off the monsters, and they were going to help now that they saw a reasonable out. Not that many trusted them - far too many were older and grew comfortable with their isolationist views.

[color=E06CD7]“Sie brauchten Hilfe? Sie brauchen Zahlen, um eine Garnison niederzuschlagen, wissen Sie. (You needed help? You’ll need numbers to take down a garrison, you know.)”[/color] said Laura with a cheeky smile, accompanied by a middle aged man wearing a coat and carrying a rifle.. [color=E06CD7]“Viktor machte sich auf die Suche nach diesem Blutsauger, aber er ließ uns mit einem guten Koppelman zurück. (Viktor went off to track that bloodsucker, but he left us with a good Koppelman.)”[/color] she held said Koppelman 49 with her two small hands. The thing was nearly as tall as her.

[color=96374E]“Auch Sie werden unsere Unterstützung haben. (You will have our support too.)”[/color] it was none other than Cristophe and four of the highwaymen that remained loyal to him. [color=96374E]“Ob Sie es wollen oder nicht, wir haben mit diesen Leuten noch eine Rechnung offen. (Whether you want it or not, we have a score to settle with these people.)”[/color][/color]

[hider=Action Opportunities]
Welcome to Chapter 6. We’ve made it so far. Good job on keeping up!

This cycle, despite having a big objective, is actually quite ‘free’. You can choose whatever way you want to engage the big threat, if you even want to engage it. You will have the following available:
-Laura and Constable Hunds, they are trained and more or less reliable. However they’ve rarely had to deal with actual combat.
-Cristophe and four highwaymen, there is clear resentment for the group among the rabble but they’re actually experienced in combat.

You are free to reject help.

You are ALSO free to not join the raid and instead continue investigating loose ends. There might be things in your investigation that are missing pieces. So far a big connection has been made between the beasts and the hostile smugglers, and whoever they work for. But there’s clearly more going on here, and of course wildbloods erupting midday is not nothing.

For the Smuggler raid, I’m going to organise this likely as an interactive event, but one that’ll be kept simple. What will matter is the STRATEGY and then eventual TACTICS you use, and how you use the resources available. You are fighting a group that is fourty-strong, with some Yasoi that clearly aren’t red shirts with magic. Expect heavy resistance and consider prisoners in the boat, as well as other smuggled goods.

Brother Baudile requested one alive, but you are free to do as you wish.[/hider]