Thomas is awoken by the sound of an explosion and metal being torn asunder. The commotion of fear and battles echoed through the halls of the airship. Although somewhat groggy from being wrenched from sleep so suddenly, the song of blades clashing spurs Thomas fully awake.

Boarding and traveling was supposed to be simple once he swiped that boarding pass off a loudmouthed human adorned with expensive clothes and reeking of a stench only found on those of noble birth. A coin pouch too light for his liking compelled Thomas to employ every tactic to ensure the voyage was made with the least resistance and oversight possible. Blending in is not worth the risk, any witness regardless if they see Thomas or Tommy could be enough to put pursuers back on his trail.

”If I can just get to Khorvaire unnoticed, his men can’t follow me.” Thomas echoed this thought over and over, reassuring himself that this may finally be put behind him. A new life, a new chance, a new fate.

The chaos unfolding snaps him back to reality, no time to worry about the past. The door to the cabin remains locked as Thomas dawns his gear, taking a defensive position in the darkest corner of the room. Crossbow and sword in hand. The only light entering the room bleeds beneath around the door, if anyone casts their shadow into his current domain it will become a tomb.

The time drags by as the chaos from the halls fade, but the sounds of the ships groaning and straining have not gone unnoticed. The sounds of battle having subsided, Thomas risks venturing out to investigate the situation. Even if the Counts men have found him, these methods are too brazen even for his dogs.

Thomas pushed his hair into the hat, any small changes to his visage may assist in keeping his identity obscured. The ship lurched causing Thomas to feel lighter for just a moment, hum of the elemental energy wavering, he thought he could ignore it but more and more it became clear.

”If the ship's going down I don’t want to go down with it.” Thomas stealed himself and opened his cabin door. Crossbow loaded and sword drawn.

Peering out, he slowly peaked right then left, no signs of movement. Stepping out he peers back down the hall to his right. whap Something impacts Thomas in the head.

His mind races. ”An arrow, a spell? Is this how I go out?”

A moment passes, he glances back finding himself still alone. Confusion takes over, the impact had no weight nor does he feel the familiar sting of a wound. Reaching up he finds a strange object had attached itself to the side of his scalp. The oddity of the incident and with the ship not in freefall yet, Thomas returns to the room. After reengaging the doors lock he finds a mirror to see what has attached itself to his head. After a minute Thomas finds a hand mirror and discovers a small gemstone fragment stuck just above the hairline behind his left ear.

Thomas loses track of time trying to remove this stone from his skin. He finds the situation odd, there is no pain, no bruise, and no blood. Prying it out with a blade crossed his mind but getting the control needed with a sword was not going to work without collateral damage. After exhausting available options he elects to attempt another venture into the rest of the ship.

A crackle breaks out across the hall as Captain Jovik Cindrallis speaks into the ship comm system. Fearing the worst Thomas listens to the captain give all the information he needs to hear. We will be either landing or crashing in the Lhazaar Principalities.

A venture into the rest of the ship is now unnecessary but the danger of an unplanned landing loomed over Thomas. However, since the ship did not feel to be falling at the moment Thomas walked the cabin pondering how to increase his odds when the captain or ship decided to touch down. After a few minutes Thomas opened the cabin luggage compartment and stuffed it with as much of the soft bedding and pillows he could scrounge up. At least this way he did not have to worry about debris and being thrown across the room on impact. Despite being a small space now stuffed with pillows and bedding he is able to plant himself in the middle of it. He mused that this must be a hidden benefit of his halfling lineage. Soon Thomas felt the ship drop again as the comms crackled to life once more.

Captain Jorvik notifies the passengers that we are landing hard and to hold on to something. The jerky and rapid descent bounces Thomas around his padded cubby, the cushioning helps but nothing he could do would make this a comfortable ride. Finally the ship dives and levels just before the drawn out impact of the ship colliding with rock and stone. The noise pierced the very essence of Thomas's mind and soul, but soon enough the ship came to a stop. Some bruising and a persisting ringing in the ear is a small price to pay for what Thomas hopes is the worst ride of his life.

Thomas hears the captain over the comms again, calling everyone to the main deck. The damage sounds intense, doubting the ship will be in the air anytime soon Thomas makes his way to the deck.

Slowly making his way to the main deck, Thomas finds the aftermath of the battle, the blood stains the floor and air, a memory tries to surface but is shaken off as quickly as it came. Mixing with a group of passengers Thomas ducks away after making it to the open deck and finds cover from the islands and whatever may approach from them.

Thomas bides his time listening to Captain Jorvik discuss the situation with the passengers, most seem to be the types he dislikes. Frantic sheltered wealthy types with purses larger than their sense, although a few battered but strong types that stick out from the crowd.

A tall Warforged clad is Ivory and bronze. Strong is an understatement, that sword likely weighs more than Thomas. Odds are it's not for show, it’s armor seems well maintained and the etchings are well made. The sun on the chest would be the focus if not for the gem embedded in it. The same in appearance to the one Thomas now finds on himself. I don’t think the Count has any of them in his pockets, would he be safe to approach?

A Tiefling woman with a bow as long as Thomas. Leather armor covers her arms, legs, and center. Topped off with a cloak and an eagle. Seems to be the ranger type. Her hood is up and she seems to be looking either for someone or out for something. Thomas knows that look.

A Human man with loose clothing and battle wear. Moving around well enough but bandaged like he attempted hand to hand with a large beast. He seems to have some decent injuries but is healing a woman instead of himself. His head looks over revealing a glowing eye.

”No fucking way. Is he an Aasimar?” Thomas asks himself if it's just his imagination. Those touched with divinity are so exceedingly rare that Thomas would likely sooner grow a third eye than find another.

Thomas watches as the passengers and crew move about tending to the wounded and dead. Others join them, could be a party or just varying passengers that happen to be combat types. Thomas can’t quite figure them out before a trio boards the ship.

The one that calls himself "captain" speaks in threats and ego. Each of them seem to ooze arrogance, the large and in charge types. As annoyed at them as Thomas feels he knows better than to think the locals would let anyone else handle this task.
It seems they want a group to discuss the situation with a prince, the warforged and tiefling are being taken in bindings.. Thomas considered he may have been followed to the ship but now that it beached and most of its passengers confined to it….

”Fuck it, the island it is.” With all eyes on the departing group Thomas jumps the railing and climbs down the sea facing side of the boat. Slow and steady he lowers himself into the water and swims to the beach behind the boat. Once feet hit solid ground he disappears into the brush.

It does not take long to dry off with the heat of the island, weight and sound of moving in wet clothes would limit the options available. Lucky for Thomas spotting the Warforged is not difficult, it sticks out against the plantlife and shanty buildings. Thomas settles close enough to hear the man named Beckett give the group ground rules for the port and cut em loose. A shock to Thomas, cutting loose these people and with their weapons? This Beckett is either stupid or very sure of himself. The woman emerging from the brush posed the question Thomas had in the back of his mind. Which would be amusing if not for this Yuan-ti woman's capabilities in stealth seeming to match or exceed his.

As the group descends into the town the broad daylight will make tailing them difficult by the usual cloak and dagger means.

”Time to change tactics.” Thomas settles on a plan and moves to the edge of a less crowded area. Practiced and deliberate he tucks the cloak and hood into his weapon harness. Adjusting the crossbow and sword to be obscured within his facade,and releasing his still damp hair from his hat he ruffles it letting it fall down over the implanted gem.

It’s been weeks since he last performed this trick but it's too late to turn back now.

Corin’s arrival drew Meiyu into a predator’s hush, every muscle stilled beneath the silk of her robe. Her gaze flicked to him—sharp, measuring—taking in the gleam of his armor, the easy way he greeted the Elf. She watched, silent, as if deciding whether he was prey or threat.

"Corin," she said, her voice returning to its natural, cool precision. "It seems your friend has a talent for attracting the wrong kind of attention. Or perhaps exactly the right kind."

She let her eyes linger, just a moment too long. When Corin moved, the armor at his throat shifted, and there it was—a jagged shard of light, unmistakable, glinting just above his sternum. The gem, half-hidden, half-daring her to notice.

Recognition struck, cold and clean, but her face gave nothing away. Five now. Herself. Phia. Bastion. The Elf. The Soldier. One was a wound. Two, a warning. Five was a snare tightening around them all. Not to mention, she suspected the others of the ragtag group all had them as well. She hadn’t observed Minerva closely enough yet, but she would if only to confirm her suspicion.

A chill crept up her spine, untouched by the salt wind. This was no accident. The crash, the tavern, the way their paths tangled...something was pulling them together, threads drawn tight by unseen hands. Did the gems call to each other, weaving a net she hadn’t seen until now?

When Phia appeared, scolding them with that earnest, unhinged seriousness, Meiyu didn’t rise to the bait of an argument. She simply adjusted her gloves, her expression flat. "The ferret was attempting to rob me of my coin, Phia. I was merely performing a public service by ensuring his hands stayed where I could see them."

They moved toward the Kraken’s Wake, Meiyu gliding in their midst, her steps silent, measured. She glanced back to see Minerva scribbling furiously in her journal. Quietly, Meiyu slowed her steps so she was subtly beside Minerva for a moment. She leaned in, just enough to catch the scent of ink and the fever behind it. She caught a couple of things of interest, like the mention of Darius' home turf as well as Minerva still having her “playtime.” This only served to add to her suspicions about Minerva... and Wendel and this Darius character. She didn’t linger for long before moving back to where she had been before.

Inside the tavern, the sensory assault of sea salt and smoke was a wall of static, but Meiyu remained centered. She didn't lead the charge for food or drink. Instead, she claimed a seat at the periphery of the table, her back to a sturdy timber pillar, her eyes sweeping the room and noting every exit before settling on her companions.

Phia drifted to the bar, Arya hovered at the edge, all nerves. Meiyu’s attention stayed on Elithar as well as Corin and what she had spied under his armor. No questions yet. She leaned back, fingers tracing the scarred wood, waiting.

When Elithar shouted to the barkeep for a round for everyone, Meiyu’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Quiet your heroics, Ferret," she said, her voice cutting through his bravado like a blade through silk. She didn't look up, her focus remaining on the table. "You made a deal for two pints, not a banquet for a battalion. If our ‘friends’ are thirsty, they can find their own coin. I’m not interested in watching you go broke before you’ve answered a single question and risking you attempting to steal from me again."

She looked toward Corin, then back to the Elf, her gaze cold and proprietary. "The rest of them can fend for themselves. You owe Minerva for the bruises, and me for the time. Don’t overextend your welcome, or your purse."

She let the tavern’s roar wash over her, silent and watchful. The ale would loosen tongues soon enough. She needed to know; were they caught in the same snare, or were they the bait she’d already swallowed?

Tommy prepared himself to venture the streets and alleys, ready to meld into the cacophony. Despite the town's small size there are several nooks and crannies are available to obscure himself if trouble comes his way. Never a stranger to getting into or out of petty squabbles, the ports confined nature means any altercation could come back in force later if caution is not taken.

Main goals: Gather information and scout possible ways to leave this place, acquire more coin to secure food and passage, and find out why that Warforged has the same gem on its chest. Easier said than done, even with Tommy as a disguise these port dwellers might recognize a new face if he lingers too long or makes too much of a scene. People usually overlook the antics of a child but there is a limit, keeping between those lines is a Tommy specialty.

Observing the locals is an easy task, take in cadence and habits, adopt, and execute. Relevant information does not take long to cross Tommy's path, a few local children knock over a food merchants display. Among the cursing and hurling of threats from the street merchant, the kids scurry away with laughs and cheers despite the jeering of passerby's. Entertaining as the antics of children may be, their presence did give up something critical Tommy overlooked, his clothes were too clean and well made to blend in effectively. Even if he dirtied his shirt and pants that would not make up for the bags and gear.

"Still too noticeable." Tommy muttered under his breath. Sitting here would grant him no progress, he knows he has to keep moving if he wants answers. The chaos of the children's altercation has died down and the streets momentarily focus on the aftermath. Tommy slips out from the brush into an empty alley.



The alleys of Port Verge sell a vivid picture of poverty and destitution. The shanty itself being a patchwork of mismatched building materials gave a strong impression, but an underbelly often finds itself unwashed. Before Tommy lies rows and columns of filth and desperation. Dirt, waste, broken shards of wood and glass litter the ground. As if tragedy itself came in layers, a sight Tommy knows all too well. Tommy's boots treaded fast but cautious in search of anything that might improve his odds of blending in. A few gruff men cross the alleys ahead deep in conversation, Tommy ducks around a corner before the men can get a chance to spot him. Thomas was lucky enough to avoid the pirates when he entered the island but getting caught alone by anyone associated with Beckett would likely become a problem very quickly. As Tommy watched them pass he took note of a short sword sheathed at the mans waist, the other carried a mace tucked into the belt. Tommy could not be certain if they did work under the Prince or Beckett but better safe than sorry. After a moment the alleys were clear of unwanted eyes, Tommy took a moment to breathe.

The ports buildings are not laid out like Tommy was used to in the established city he once roamed. The alleys do not run in even straight lines, often it is difficult to find line of sight to the main road. Several times he finds himself at a dead-end, after an hour of skulking Tommy finds something useful. A patchwork shirt that appears old and stretched. The shirt looks to be handed down but on its last leg, years of repairs tell a tale of generational poverty. Despite being made for a human teenager it fits Tommy well, covering most of his well kept clothing and gear. A solemn feeling washes over Tommy, taking something like this may seem small to some but the people here seem to have so little that taking it felt like he was stealing from a beggar. Alas nothing short of leaving the shirt behind would compensate for the act. A bitter taste lingers as Tommy makes his way to the main road. "Stealing should always be done for good reasons and from those who have more than they need." Tommy muttered under his breath like he was repeating it from an old memory. Tommy moved to unite with the crowd under the light of the shining sun. The memories come and go but one stays at the forefront as if to grant Tommy comfort. "Anderl, what would you do?" Anxious, Tommy wipes his eyes and after months of running lets the world see his face.

Tommy would say his anxiety was under control, but stepping into the street he felt his heartbeat in his ears. The presence of pirates was staggering, Tommy wanted to dive back into the alleys with haste at the sight. The eyes gazed upon the pirates but Tommy's mind saw the guards of Stormreach looking to collect the bounty. For a moment the cold stone of Stormreach spread over the dirt streets of Port Verge and the shanty buildings turned stone and wood. Tommy wanted to flee, his blood ran cold screaming through his veins as if a great flood was let to run rampant. Only for a moment but as quickly as the visions came, they passed. Tommy had no idea if these pirates were as dangerous as the Bludhounds, but the dangers here were not looking for him. He wished this revelation calmed his mind and body, while the raging blood has started to calm his mind but still felt a lingering unease. It has been more than an hour since the Warforged was last in his sight. Tommy felt an urge to get the fellow ship passenger back into his sight.

"Gasp" A sharp pain nearly forces Tommy to the ground. Shuffling off to a less traveled spot he took a moment to catch himself. It does not take long to recognize the familiar sting, he had not eaten for several days. With the stress of the crash fading Tommy's other necessities were screaming for attention. “Some food might do me right.” The hunger pains were not constant but the initial sting was not something to be ignored. The wind wafts a scent of seared fish and meat along the street, despite the heat of the day warm food feels right to unburden a weary mind and body. Walking slowly it only takes him a few minutes to find a stall offering something hot and affordable, “The Salty Squid Skillet.”

A tall half-orc stands at the grill tossing squid and vegetables across the flame soaked pan, her tusks peering as she works the grill. A halfling's stature does not quite clear the counter of the stall, rather than standing out of sight Tommy steps around the stall to get the cooks attention.

"Um, scuse me miss?" Tommy's voice soft like a lullaby reaches out to the half-orc over the sizzling of the pan. Despite thinking it would take several attempts to get her attention, the woman pauses for a moment and spares a glance towards Tommy.

“Sorry kid, you’re cute and all but coin for food.”

"Kay, can I have a Kraken stew and a Tide tea please?"

After a drawn silence between Tommy and the woman she responds “Okay, that will be three coins kid.” Three gold, a tenth of all gold to his name. A big price to pay with no foreseeable coin coming his way, but staying hungry would be of no benefit. Three gold appear from under the cover of the patchwork shirt, reaching to the sky Tommy places the coin in a neat stack on the counter. Another moment crawls before a smile breaks across the half-orc's face, two tusks splitting the smile like a tall mountain breaks the clouds.

“Sure thing squirt! One tea and stew coming right up, don’t be going anywhere you hear? Mama Mara’s got you covered.”

A short nod from Tommy confirms he understands. Who in their right mind would spend the coin on food they intend to waste? He does not have the coin to squander on such games, but the twinge in his guts almost anchors him in place. Tommy kneels down to the ground and passes the time by drawing swords and bows in the dirt. Two loud thuds snap Tommy back to reality, the passage of time blurred as he waited but before he could address the sound two big hands scoop Tommy up by his armpits. In a flash he feels his butt hit the top of a stack of crates sitting on a makeshift tall chair letting him reach the counter where his food sat steaming. Usually the sensation of being handled like that would send Tommy into a panic, lucky for Mara he was too interested in filling his belly to protest. Mara returns to the stove keeping eye contact until Tommy takes his first bite.

The food is almost scalding hot, she must have moved the crates as soon as she plated the food. Despite the burning sensation the food is amazing, unsure if the flavor is a result of her craft or his appetite taking control. Mara must be satisfied since she has returned to the stove tossing what looks like eels into the smoking pan.

"Thank your miss Mara."

“Mara the Ironpan always takes care of her customers' squirt, you just let me know when you’re full. ” She huffed over the scream of the pan.

The stew settles his stomach assault, but it will take a bit for the food to fully put the issue to rest. While waiting for the meal to convince Tommy’s body it’s not in danger he nurses the tea to wash down the first hot meal he's had in over a month. Rhythmic taps echo off the makeshift chair as Tommy kicks his feet in instinctual satisfaction. Mara however did not seem satisfied with his demeanor, with the swiftness and grace expected of those with elven blood gets face to face with Tommy. “You full or not squirt?” The sudden aggression almost shocks Tommy off his seat, her expression twisted to a scowl.

"Sorry, I’ll just go-" “I ain't asking if you’re done, I’m asking if you're full. Growing boys don't need to be going hungry. ” Tommy’s silence was all the answer she needed before pulling out something wrapped in steamed leaves.

“This didn’t turn out right, take it and beat it before people think I’m a charity.” Her tone and look says it all, she needs Tommy to scram. After chugging the tea Tommy hops down and stuffs the wrapped item into his pouch. She was so pleasant when he paid but now her demeanor has flipped. It does not feel right to Tommy to not thank her but something tells him that putting distance between him and her is the right call. No pleasantries, no goodbye, and no kind words Tommy mixes back into the crown. After a while he peaks back and sees three pirates arguing with Mara at the stall. She didn’t want him caught up in whatever they were up to. A final act of kindness she could not explain to a child.

A short distance away a commotion can be heard from a stall, never a dull moment in this town. Although whether or not that is a good or bad thing is yet to be determined. Peering into the Odds and Ends stall a Elven man lay on the ground flanked by a cackling feline woman and being pinned by the Yuan-ti woman. Of all the passengers to run into, why did it have to be the one that scares the living hell out of Tommy? The situation seems tense and has the potential to get worse." I am not touching that, best try elsewhere." Despite the chaos that seems to follow them Tommy felt relief seeing another passenger. The sensation is strange but Tommy does not deny he has relaxed after seeing a familiar face.

Tommy spent more time than he would have liked trying to track the Warforged and the fellow passengers. This usually was a faster job with a home field advantage, not willing to risk exposing himself to the pirates at this juncture he often found himself ducking behind anything to keep himself obscured. With any luck anyone that did notice him would just assume this was the antics of a bored child with little to do. Any kind soul that wanted to check on Tommy would get the bug eyes and a quick excuse before he disappeared into the crowd or shadows with a giggle for flavor. A soft sensation squished under Tommys boot, a flower in the middle of this well traveled road was peculiar. Despite the oddity the flower shares its bed with grass and does not stand alone as it would seem an emissary of nature left a trail.

Sure enough after following the patches the shape and spacing is unmistakable, its footprints. When Beckett was lecturing the group and the Yuan-ti woman emerged there was a girl wrapped in leaf and vine, was this her doing? The thought itself was enough to lessen the maelstrom within his head, the longer Tommy scoured the port anxiety built like another weight holding him below water. The path did not stretch very far before someone else caught his attention.

“Bastion! Come to mama! We have much to discuss, my second-in-command.”

Uh oh. The loud feline's voice echoes out of “The Krakens Wake.” Tommy steps around the outside of the door to scan the tavern's patrons, finally the bronze giant appears. Around him the Teifling, Wolfman, Yuan-Ti, and leaf girl now in proper clothes are piling around a table off in the far corner. A man armored in gemstones and the elf that favors the ground have joined the group. Not all faces are familiar but the group Beckett took from the ship are all here, the odds of catching the Warforged alone has dwindled to near zero. But Tommy typically can’t just walk into a tavern, the barkeeps usually don't like unattended children in their business. The rum smell wafting out of the building might be enough to knock Tommy over.

Plan B it is. If he could not get a one on one he figures vetting the whole group would improve his chances of avoiding a less than ideal confrontation. Tommy slips around the tavern where less eyes can pry and take to the roof with a swiftness. It is quite fortunate the buildings here are not well made and do not muffle the sounds from inside, Tommy makes it to the corner where his targets sit and drink. It does not take long for something of importance to cross his ear.

”Do we all have the same stories from our little decorations? I might be a fan of gems, but these might be a touch too personal for my liking.”

“Oh, this is bigger than I thought.” The thought does not have time to settle before a loud creaking sound and impact so heavy it shook the building. A quick peek reveals the Warforged on the floor surrounded by what remains of a once well used dining chair. As funny as Tommy found the Warforged situation, he dared not laugh and give himself away.

Tommy sat on the roof listening to his fellow passengers drink and talk. As time goes on he unwraps the food Mara sent him off with, a mixture of uneven bread, mussels, and clams lay on the leaf. She was right that it did not turn out right, but even then it was pleasant to Tommy’s pallet.

Meiyu settled against the timber pillar, fingers gliding over a splintered knot in the table’s grain. Corin’s question about their so-called decorations hung in the air, unanswered. Silence was her shield; she would not barter secrets for cheap drink. Her gaze lingered on the knight, unblinking, weighing the set of his shoulders, the way he wore his burdens like old armor.

Minerva’s boisterous declaration of a "pecking order" drew a thin, ghost-like smile from Meiyu’s lips. To be called "bestie" by a creature as volatile as the kitten was a curious insult, but Meiyu simply inclined her head, accepting the label with the same grace she’d accept a poisoned needle.

“You have a high opinion of your own charisma, kitten,” Meiyu murmured, her voice barely audible over the din. “But a leader who needs to scream to be heard is usually just a distraction.”

Bastion leaned in, his bronze bulk swallowing the table’s space. The chair beneath him surrendered with a sharp crack, wood splintering loud as a thunderclap. Meiyu didn’t so much as blink. She watched the Warforged fall, eyes cool, dissecting the moment with a predator’s detachment.

The first cackle from Minerva was sharp, vicious—a true, unguarded laugh at her so-called second-in-command. When the rest of the tavern followed, the kitten’s mood turned on a coin. Fury twisted her features, righteous and raw, as she lashed out at the same laughter she’d unleashed.

Meiyu let out a long, weary sigh, her head tilting back against the pillar. The theatrics were becoming tiresome. As her gaze drifted upward toward the patchwork rafters, she found exactly what she expected. In a gap between the mismatched planks of the roof, a pair of eyes stared back.

The creature must be perched like a gargoyle up there, watching the "pack" with the same intensity Meiyu felt in her own gut. She didn't alert the table. She didn't reach for a needle. Instead, she locked eyes with the shadow on the roof and let a slow, knowing smirk touch her lips. Quietly, she whispered a magical message to him. I see you, little fox.

Her gaze dropped back to the table, face settling into its familiar, cold mask. She fixed Minerva with a look, catching her mid-tirade as the kitten railed at the pirates’ laughter.

“Sit down, kitten. Your outrage is leaking,” Meiyu said, her voice cutting through Minerva’s shouting like a chill wind. “You were the first to laugh at the poor beetle when he hit the floor. You can hardly blame the rest of the room for following your lead, lovely little leader. You provided the catalyst; don't pretend now that you're the only one allowed to find the 'second-in-command' a bit... heavy-handed. Or is it heavy-assed?”

She glanced at the ferret, then back to Corin as the drinks arrived. "A gem, you say? Now you have my attention. How did that fall into your hands...or chest...throat?"

---

Bastion

Race: Warforged
Class: Guardian
Location: The Kraken's Wake, on the floor, surrounded by fragments of wooden chair
Mentions: Phia @princess
Equipment:

equipment [+]

☼ Tower Shield
☼ Greatsword made of Glacium (A material as hard as steel, yet formed from eternally frozen ice.)
☼ Titan Chain – A reinforced tow chain housed in his left palm, functioning as a powerful grappling hook.
☼ Aged Leather Satchel
☼ Worn but cherished scarf
☼ Maintenance Kit .
☼ Heavy-duty rations (for companions, not himself).
☼ A delicate glass figurine of a bird—an old keepsake.
☼ A locked, timeworn journal—contents unknown.

Attire:
☼ Etched and weathered ivory metal plating with bronze accents.
☼ Fitted harness for carrying supplies.
☼ Worn scarf
Gold Balance: 36 gold
Injuries:
☼ Left shoulder was injured in the battle and is still leaking fluid.

---

For a moment the Warforged simply stood where Corin had placed him, large hands hanging at his sides as his arcane lenses adjusted to the shifting light of the room. The laughter that had filled the air only seconds earlier had already begun to dissolve back into the usual tavern noise.

As Phia moved towards him, his optics settled, the faint blue glow within them softening as they focused. She had moved quickly, weaving through the crowded tavern floor without hesitation until she stood before him.

“Bastion?”

The sound of his name seemed to anchor him fully back in the present. His head tilted slightly, studying her face as he clocked the concern in both her voice and expression.

“Are you hurt?”

The Warforged glanced down briefly at the shattered remains of the chair scattered around his feet. The fall had not really damaged him in any significant way. At least, not enough to cause any kind of malfunctions. However, parts of him were still in disrepair from the battle in the sky and the crashing of the airship. He looked to the wound on his shoulder that still had the slightest bit of his alchemical fluid leaking from it.

Then his gaze lifted back to her.

“I am… operational.” His voice carried its usual calm mechanical cadence, though it was quieter than before. After a moment he added, with mild analytical certainty…

“The chair appears to have suffered the greater damage.”

His head tilted again slightly, a small motion that resembled curiosity. For several seconds Bastion simply looked at her. Then, as though remembering something important, he asked in return,

“And you…are you unharmed, Phia?”

Meiyu watched the liquid in her glass settle, her expression as still as the water. Corin’s theory, that the pain and the gems arrived after the impact, was a comfortable lie she let hang for a heartbeat too long. She knew better. She remembered the blinding light of the floating catalyst, the way it had shattered beneath her fingertips before the ship had even begun its final, screaming descent. She felt the weight of Phia and Bastion’s presence nearby. They knew the truth and that she carried a mark of her own, even if it was currently tucked away beneath her silk and mithril. So she knew she couldn't keep it hidden for long if they spoke up.

"You have the timeline wrong for me, Mastiff," she said, her voice a low, level vibration. She didn't look at him, keeping her gaze on the table's edge. "The shard didn't wait for the ground. It found its mark while we were still in the sky, well before the airship met the earth."

Her gaze shifted to Minerva, who was currently dismissing the shards as simple blemishes. Meiyu’s eyes narrowed slightly, the gold in them sharpening.

"They aren't just trinkets to be picked at, kitten," she warned, her tone flat and final. "These shards chose us—a handful of survivors out of hundreds. Why it wanted a ragtag group... that is the part that should keep you awake at night. We weren't just hit by debris; we were claimed."

She leaned back, her silence returning as she watched the door. The truth was a dangerous currency, and she had already spent more than she intended.

"I see you, little fox." There was no question, Tommy was caught. The moment eyes of gold and emerald crossed a shiver ran neck to toe. Tommy was caught off guard by the whisper in his mind but not surprised she was the one that picked him out of the darkness. After all, game recognizes game.

"Of course it was you, Meiyu." Tommy whispered so quiet it barely registered as a footnote on the breeze. While the sudden message stirred his anxiety, the Yuan-ti’s message carried no hostility or malice, her smirk conveyed as much. It reminded him of how Anderl would call Thomas out during his training. "By the way I can see you bud." Before lecturing him on the ways of stealth.

Thanks to the feline's role call Tommy more or less knows the names of the group now. Thanks to Bastion's fall, Meiyu's message went through unnoticed, as well as brought the ladies at the bar within his line of sight. With the forest girl Phia rejoining the table with the tiefling of night his anxiety began to wane although it vexes Tommy that nobody has said her name aloud within earshot. The noise of the drunkards is proving more and more difficult to cut through as the night goes on.

"Whatever, I’m going to have to darken their path at some point." Tommy thought, resolving to make an appearance tomorrow.

Meiyu’s voice broke Tommy’s out of thought.

"These shards chose us—a handful of survivors out of hundreds."
"We weren't just hit by debris; we were claimed."

She expounded to the gem armored man Corin, something he said riled her up. While she keeps a neutral expression her words carry a tail of agitation. As she relaxed in her seat, so did Tommy, her words said just as much as what she didn’t say. This group knows more about these shards than he does, which updates Tommy’s objectives.

Meet with the other gem holders, get the full story of the gems and, the airships fall.

Meiyu words caused a memory to stir within Tommy.

"You may not yet fall still, another thread of fate has claimed you."

For the first time in months, a spark of life ignites within Thomas. Something to spur him towards instead of something to flee. He rests against the roof in quiet contemplation as he tries to quiet the maelstrom in his mind.

"Sigh... I should return that shirt."