[IC] The Hourglass Order

[Th3King0fChaos]

Something Found and Lost

The quiet sound of hammering filled what was a dark void, it was a darkness that seemed to calm the mind. Within the nothing, a person began to form within, slowly it was from the form of a man, then upon the skin, scars began to etch themselves, across the hands, the arms, the legs, and they began to cross the back in countless ways. Scars that were old, marked, and deep as they reached further and further up, as upon the back of the man's neck was a strange tattoo that slowly faded away to show then another scar, one that stretched to nearly under each ear. Then hair began to form, black hair which the back fell past the shoulders and the rest covering the eyes, the ears, and began to float in the ethereal nothing.

The hammering began to grow louder, as within the nothing formed a man, one who had many and few names; Young Wolf, Genius, Hunter, Fool, Faceless, Heartless. The hammering began to grow as within the nothing light pierced through, there stood the man in a workshop, hammering away at what seemed to be an intricately designed cylinder. At first, one would assume that was all it was, but as he picked it up and looked at it, what seemed to be intricate and delicate grooves dug into the metal with multiple holes that seemed to be drilled through the cylinder that goes the length of the piece. As he manipulated it and looked into the piece images filled his mind. First were images of the man running through a lively city, filled with melons that many others tried to claim, with him scooping up many as he had a big smile on his face.

Next came the many gorgeous views within this almost enchanted forest. Large almost impossibly tall mushrooms that bent to his command, moved to his will as he called not only upon mushrooms but the forest itself and even many animals which ran and moved with him. Within his dark armor and outfit the man could see past the mask, the hood, and the helm, he had such a great big smile, he laughed like a child and seemed to almost play within the forest. Seeming to even forget what was happening around him as all he did was play pranks on those within the forest and laugh.

Soon the forest faded as then it showed the same man now sitting at a table as he began to design some kind of strange contraption that looked like a large cannon pointing down, as he gleefully talked to the many people around him. Even into the dead of night there he was building the contraption, as the day came, they had this machine, that at first seemed to fail, yet at the moment it needed, everyone loaded up to the contraption and launched off, flying high, far higher than many as they reached a height that could only be said to be tamed by Dragons and the gods, and there the man had a smile so big that it seemed like his face was pulled back, it was as the force that was exerted was so great it forced everyone to be plastered to their seats.

The visions continued to fill the man's mind, fights that he thought he died in, different forms he had thought he took, then he remembered the tragedy, the death of an incredibly important and respected man in the city, and then things began to devolve into chaos. Sides were drawn, wars were spoken onto the wind, and strange events continued to happen. For the man, he had done things he believed were right, he's done the right things, he's followed his own beliefs, and he has chosen his course in life.

He knew…

He knew what he stood for.

He knew what type of man he was.

He was someone who would do what he believed was right. May it be good or not, that was for others to decide, but he did what he thought was right, what he knew would help himself or those he cared for, and nothing more.

There he then stood, on the grounds of a great and ominous keep, with a tower that reached the sky. A fog that covered the ground and stuck to the lungs, and a horrid feeling of uneasiness. Within there were horrid monsters, monsters that took different forms of animals, illusions that made themselves so real that they could damage the body, injure the mind without ever touching the body, and perform tricks to madden the mind.

Yet, almost like it was expected, he made it out of those deadly situations. By the skin of his teeth, from the bare moment before he would die, from just a second before he would lose consciousness, yet a moment passed and he rose again, now entering the almost looming tower in earnest.

There he moved up the tower, with friends he seemed to laugh with.

There they met a man, far stronger than his years aged him, and far more spry than his age proved, he was a monster in human flesh and fought like a devil.

As did the intrepid trio.

The 3 fought like mad, they attacked a man who seemed to fly and move through space like nothing, appearing and disappearing like the breeze. And yet the three fought and performed the greatest attack they could.

They combined their power as the Young Wolf, the one who struggled against everything, pulled his power, and laid it all down for then a friend to perform the deed.

There he fell, passing out and entrusting what was to be, a moment to remember.

Yet it was one he could not forget.

When he awoke from his slumber.

From the darkness.

He saw there stood a friend, and on the ground, another perished.

The man stood looking at the friend as they called out his name holding out an apple, there the man took it, looking at it as he sighed.

And took a bite.

[Echotech71]

Niallus Saberhagen

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Event: Interview with the Enthish Queen of Clubs.

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Characters Niallus Saberhagen, @EchoTech71 Tannifer Marbrand @YummyYummy

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The office you walk into is one you would expect to radiate gloom and imminent doom. At least, that’s what the rumours would suggest surrounding Tannifer Marbrand’s inclinations for experimental, some say dangerous, methods of teachings and the overbearing expectation she had for her students. But her office is anything but darkness with rows of three arched shaped windows on each side of the rectangle-shaped and spacious room. The drapes are pearl white with the sun’s rays shining bright through them. Where there isn’t thoroughly clean glass are paintings of green sceneries, some supposedly from her home, and others were portraits of people: One of an older gentleman, another of a man bearing a striking resemblance to Arch Zeno Vaughn Marbrand in his youth, one is of herself in a time matching her brother’s snapshot, and finally of a saucy seven or so year old with a mischievous smile that contrasts strongly with the rest of the solemn expressions.

“Give the door a good push, would you?” asks the middle aged Enthish woman with a matching accent. She sits behind an old Wyrmwood desk, one much older than herself, with a pile of folders stacked neatly to her right, a good half-dozen shoved into a bin a few feet away and only one set opposite to the stack. “Well,” she begins as she shoots you her first scrutinising look toward you. “Take a seat and introduce yourself.” she tilted her head slightly to the left with an expectant look and a demanding tone.

Niallus read through a couple of notes that he scribbled down. His hair was well kept, his attire was formal for these sort of things. He made it this far with it, might as well see how far he goes with it.

He took a deep breath before opening the door to the room for his interview. Seeing his Zeno group teacher behind her desk was a little intimidating. He knew this was going to difficult. He calmed himself after she spoke to him. "My name is Niallus Saberhagen." he stated, taking a seat while bowing his head a little in respect.

When Niallus arrived, Tannifer Marbrand was putting away the last file on her desk into her bag. It looked as though he was the last today, meaning he had little insight as to how many files had been kept so far. Only his file, and those on the pile that were yet to pass, remained and she quickly skimmed through it between the time of his arrival and when he'd take his seat.

"Saberhagen." scoffed the Zeno in light amusement. "Some must give you a hard time with low hanging fruit jokes." she jested, although her hawkish gaze reverted any sort of ease to the tension in the air brought by her cold voice and rigid demeanor. "Although perhaps schoolyard drama is the least of your worries when you so easily suggest lending your family's armed resources to another nation when your very own country is about to go to war." the tips of her claws hit the edge of her wooden desk and dug into the material. "One's left to wonder what sort of Zeno you would make with such 'intuition'."

The golden claws brushed through a specific page she had opened. "You were in ReTan. You made the decision to side with a government many would call tyrannic. And yet you make a stance against slavery in yours. How do you begin to reconcile these notions?" she raised a brow after posing her query. "Is it merely political or material gain?”

When Tannifer mentioned him lending some of his family's resources. He probably wouldn't be able to do it so that would be a bit much. With war looming over, they'll probably need all of his family's higher trained soldiers would be called for war. Placing his hand on his chin, he wondered before speaking. "With war looming over the nations, lending my families might be a bit difficult. I could possibly have a highly trained person to help train the soldiers."

When she asked about ReTan "I was in ReTan and I did." he weaved his fingers together as he listened to what she said next. "I know it sounds a bit stupid when you put it like that. I've made mistakes, so has everyone. I made my friends safety my main priority."

Tannifer scoffed. "You will provide no such thing if you wish to keep the little power your family has left, Saberhagen." the Zeno shook her head and roughly closed the folder she had opened. "Ersand'Enise is a neutral nation. Which leads one to wonder where your allegiences lie in these turbulent times. Are you trying to play a geopolitical game or are you merely clueless, young man?" her hawkish eyes did not leave his frame and the claw-tapping had been brought to an end.

The Zeno took a deep breath - too much anxiety was bad for her joints. "Anyway. You didn't explain your reasoning. I was expecting more, Niallus." the lack of any honorifics was staggeringly clear to any lord and she seemed completely unbothered by the unconventional practice. "Why did you actively participate in the revolution? I really am curious to understand your thought process, Saberhagen.”

Feeling her gaze on him was intimidating but he didn't let it get to him. Looking towards her. He took a deep breath in an attempt to help focus himself on her questions.

Tannifer scoffed. "You will provide no such thing if you wish to keep the little power your family has left, Saberhagen." the Zeno shook her head and roughly closed the folder she had opened. "Ersand'Enise is a neutral nation. Which leads one to wonder where your allegiences lie in these turbulent times. Are you trying to play a geopolitical game or are you merely clueless, young man?" her hawkish eyes did not leave his frame and the claw-tapping had been brought to an end.

The Zeno took a deep breath - too much anxiety was bad for her joints. "Anyway. You didn't explain your reasoning. I was expecting more, Niallus." the lack of any honorifics was staggeringly clear to any lord and she seemed completely unbothered by the unconventional practice. "Why did you actively participate in the revolution? I really am curious to understand your thought process, Saberhagen."

When she asked about why he took part in the revolution "I took part in it," pausing for a moment. "I actively took part mostly to help make sure the other students came back to Ersand'Enise." There was one person that took more priority than the others, he thought it would be best not to bore her with trivial things. "Originally it what we were tasked to do, to help build relationships with other nations with Ersand'Enise. Go to ReTan, find out information about the rebellion and bring it to justice." he wasn't sure if he was right or wrong.

Tannifer let out the briefest of chuckles. "I would have expected such a response. I can see that you are not the proactive type, Niallus. Are you sure it was not for the demonic artifact, young man?" she exhaled from her nose and pointed right at him with her gold claw. "You did not answer my second question, why did you side against the old administration during the revolution?”

Niallus sat there slightly worried about where she was going with this. "I did get a demonic artifact for helping the Emperors in ReTan. The same demonic artifact that I gave as a bargaining tool for Penny's safety."

"I sided against the old administration, because peoples lives were in danger because of this, I had to make a choice. Honestly I wasn't sure if the decision I made was a good one in the eyes of some people, but to me, at that point it was the right thing to do in my eyes." he calmly stated.

Tannifer Marbrand raised an eyebrow. "Why is that? Why weren't you sure? An extreme decision like this does not just come from a place of uncertainty, Niallus Saberhagen." not too impressed, the Zeno crossed her arms and leaned back on her seat.

"A part of me thinks it was the right thing. I helped rescue Penny, I also kept my friends and other students safe. There was no political reason behind it. It was basically a morality choice." he takes a deep breath, he focused once more.

"I understand it sounds stupid me saying not knowing the reason why. I shouldn't have said that before. I apologise."

Tannifer shrugged. "We all make mistakes when put on the spot." she said sympathetically. "However, your inability to articulate why you take up arms is concerning. You will be leading a select amount of courses as a Tan-Zeno, as an assistance and occasionally on your own." she explained with her claw-hand gesturing with elegant and calm motions. "After this exchange, do you believe yourself to be qualified for this program at this moment? Or should we wait?”

"From this exchange, it appears that I have a lot to learn. I don't want to risk people's lives based on my inability." he simply says, "I don't mind waiting, I think it's the right thing."

Zeno Marbrand nodded and offered him a warm smile. Perhaps even slightly motherly. "I'm glad you have the maturity to admit this." she reached down for a drawer and produced a caramel candy she slid to the other end of her desk. "If you wish to apply next year - I think we'll be doing this again - then I will gladly receive you, love." she winked.

He smiled at the Zeno for her praising him he took the Caramel from the desk. "Of course." he simply said to her question, before getting up.

[Jumbus]

Interviews & Consequences

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Interacts with: Silvestri @Force and Fury

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The Interview

Upon seeing all the valuables stored in the Forked Tower, ones he could only lightly loot in the revolution, he was filled with the sudden altruistic desire to become a teacher for the good of the children here. But before he could be given the keys to the castle, he needed the job. Putting his best foot forward, he was only lightly intoxicated as he entered with his Dark magic godsweave suit.

The was a bit of awkward climbing as he climbed the human sized seat. But he played it off cool by assuming a relaxed position. "The pleasure is mine." He replied to nothing in particular as he picked at the food on display. He did not have good table manners; he displayed a particular lack of caution in regards to his diseased hands and the finger food.

"Ah, I see you eat like a disgusting slob!" High Zeno Silvestri replied. "Refreshingly honest. The food is delicious." He circled round and clapped Cawuio-Zast lightly on the shoulder. "One shouldn't stand on ceremony." Neutralizing the effects of the mana disease with his chemical and binding magics, he nonchalantly took a bite of some focaccia. "Now, why the sudden moral awakening, Mister Zast? I'd been led to believe you were quite the mercenary sort."

"I take no offense, Mister Silvestri." Concluding his fit of recklessly engorging himself on finger food, Zast politely cleaned his hands with Chemical magic and adjusted his suit.

"The answer is quite simple really. The mercenary way of life has its costs. I've found myself with a sudden urge to help the children of this school as a way of justifying to Dami-Zept the purity of my character." He lied through his teeth. "Plus the wages are nothing to scoff at."

Giancarlo smiled. "One could even say... an epiphany, even." He nodded thoughtfully. "I have heard of people who've had those experiences. Why, did you know, in the temple of Ahn-Khamun in Torragon, just such a man is buried?" He continued to circle, skewering an eyeball-sized bocconcini and swallowing it. "Emperor Az-Mahur." He waved the bit of trivia away. "So, you would consider yourself something of a religious fellow, then?"

Zast had no clue what he was talking about. "Doesn't seem to ring a bell. I'm not completely foreign to your profession, but I kept my business more on the procurement sides of things." He did wonder about the weight of gold the archeologist would have taken from such a tomb.

"As far as prayers go, I like to keep them light. I never had much interest in servitude, but it takes a very blind man not to realise who holds the cards."

"Mr. Zast, I must say, you've impressed me." The High Zeno gestured around the room, to take in his various artifacts: those that were still in the process of being analyzed, catalogued, and placed in their proper context. "Though some have told me that I am easily impressed. So, I bring to you an offer: this very moment, you may walk out of here with either of those two -" One was a golden sculpture of the Xochi Sky Serpent and the second was an ancient sirrahi artifact of simple steel and complex manufacture. "Or you may stay and take your chances with this job. What do you say?"

Zast very visibly licked his lips upon looking at the two artefacts. But managed to restrain himself and grinned instead. "Now you are speaking business, Silvestri. I've always thought that our chosen professions were one and the same. You'd see them every so often in An Zenui, a bunch of Constantian 'archaeologists' who would go into the temples and just so happen to consider all the valuable items of 'great historical import' then they would whisk the jewels away back home. Not that I particularly mind; I respect the grift."

Realizing he had gotten away from himself, Zast straighten back up and continued. "But no, Silvestri. You'll find I can't be easily bought like that. I will take my chances on the job..." I'll be back. I'll be back and I'll be excavating them both out of your hands

"Also, you might want to check up on that snake statue ya got there. I bought a similar one just last week in Mudville." Zast reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out what appeared to be an identical statue, which he let drop to the ground. Of course, the statue was much larger than Zast's coat pocket to a comical degree as well.

Giancarlo tilted his head to the side, unreadable for a moment. "An interesting take on the field of archaeology," he admitted. "So perhaps you can answer a question for me." He poured a cup of lemon water for himself and for his guest. "A student brings to you a piece, recently acquired, that she claims to be of immense cultural value. It is, incidentally, of significant monetary value as well. However, you can tell that it is a high-quality reproduction. Most others, of course, would not be able to do so. What is your approach to the situation?"

Zast grinned widely and leaned back in his chair at the question. "Counterfeiting is a terrible thing, Silvestri. Makes a bad name for honest businessmen like me."

"But that's an interesting situation. If you let her go, who knows if she could get better? Maybe one day, you'll come across her work and you're no longer able to tell. Suddenly you've found yourself with a crime against history, making the past wrong."

Zast took a long sip of his lemon juice and pretended to look contemplative. "I would give her a job. Teach her about artefacts and things. I wouldn't let her slip away. Who knows, she might even pick up a respect for history and give up on her ways."

"High Zeno Silvestri," the head of the department corrected. Once was an oversight. Twice was intentional. "I worked hard for this qualification." He waved the concern away, however. "Teach her what and teach her how?" The High Zeno seemed suddenly quite interested. "What are your specialties and what are your methods?" His eyes narrowed. "What would you do with the false artifact?"

"Sure, I don't mind what you all like to call yourselves. I'll keep it in mind" Zast spoke callously and quickly shifted to the question at hand. "You'd teach her history. With a book, presumably. Seems you have a girl with an eye for quality, enough to replicate the things you're looking for. That's a talent you can use to actually find what you want instead of being used to try and scam you." He left a pause on that.

"As for my talents..." Zast said but interupted himself. "Say High Zeeno, you wouldn't happen to smoke would ya." He reached around in his coat pocket to pull out two cigars. But instead, he pulled out the ever-expanding marshmellow and a big, red stick of dynamite labeled 'ACME'.

The High Zeno arched an eyebrow. "That marshmallow," he pointed out with the barest touch of alarm, "you'll need to eat it right now or it will grow and it won't stop."

Zast frowned at what he had conjured up, these were not cigars. But no use crying over spilt milk when the situation could still be recovered.

Not knowing what the marshmallow is, Zast tossed it over to Silvestri. "No, you can eat it. I meant it as a gift." He tried his best to do a kind smile; his face was not predisposed to such an action. Then he pocketed the TNT. "This one's for me. I'll be keeping it for later."

The High Zeno tossed it over his shoulder, into an ornate vase in the Cheffylan style. For a moment, the eyes painted on it glowed green and it seemed to grin. Then, the marshmallow was gone. For a moment... did one of the tattoos on Silvestri's arm glow as well? "Well, Mr. Zast, it appears we're about finished here," he concluded, standing and smiling. "We'll contact you if you've made it to the final stage. In the meantime, do use that explosive responsibly, hmm?"

"Thank you Silvestri, High Zeno Silvestri at that. It's been a pleasure." He hopped off the chair, landed on his feet, and adjusted his suit. For a moment, he considered the statue he conjured. "Feel free to keep that. Have a look at it when you consider my application." He began walking out of the room but spoke one final thing on the way out. "It isn't in the girl's best interest for her to get the job, but yours."

The High Zeno worked his jaw about, considering a response but delivering none. Then, the small cazenax was gone. He walked over to the false statue, picked it up, and fed it into the pot.

---

Cawuio-Zast would later find out that he did not, in fact, get the job. Zast gave Silvestri his options, he communicated the consequences of the High Zeno's actions, and he still chose wrong (and called Zast a girl). There would be costs to such a choice, there were always costs to any choice. And while Silvestri may not see those consequences in his lifetime, or be seen in his grandchildren's lifetime, they would arrive regardless.

Consequences

Announcer: In various dig sites across the early Avincian Empire, artefacts were found that revealed a truth. One that many historians refuse to accept and one fewer have been allowed to know.

Panning graphic of an early Avincian map with red dots popping up in completely random places

Announcer: Evidence of a history in plain view has eluded the world for years. Could it be that aliens shaped the world we know today?

Fake image of Hugo Hunghorasz shaking hands with a floating robed Cazenax

Expert 1: The aliens that visited our world were actually early ancestors of the Cazenax. You can see the resemblance in the evidence.

Fake image of a UFO flying over the Forked Tower

Announcer: Across the Avincian empire, statues of creatures resembling Cazenax could be found in countless dig sites, despite the Cazenax civilization being on the other side of the world. This could be the work of something otherworldly, something extraterrestrial...

Expert 2: By looking at the statue, the resemblance to the Cazenax is really quite obvious. In fact, the only difference is that these aliens were really quite...

Image of the statue 'evidence' which depicts a very well-endowed Cazenax

Expert 2: ...hung.

Expert 2, who actually has a degree in history, looks depressed.

Announcer: Tune in to another episode of Avincian Aliens as we come on step closer to the truth. Only on the Silvestri channel.

---

[jasbraq]

[Saving this lil thingy for Yvvie cheese]

[YummyYummy]

---

---

It was early in the afternoon following the Trials. The closing ceremony had been a fiasco, with sonic mages drowning out the crowd's whistles and boos with canned applause. Marceline had no love for Perrence and its aggressive brand of nationalism, but they had a right to be angry and, at the end of the day, the academy's corruption had been laid plainly bare for all to see. Then, portals had opened and people had gone home, but not all of them. A solid half had stayed and would be here for at least another couple of days.

Some would be at the party. In fact, almost everyone who was someone would be. That was why she was here, in Zarina's backyard, setting up tables. The pets were playing. The sky threatened rain just enough to make her apprehensive, and that, in turn, was enough to make her forget her greater apprehension. She and Tku had baited the bull during the auction. Juulet would be coming for her at some point. She had all of the pieces ready. Now, she just needed to put them into place and execute the plan. She turned to Zarina. "So, what did we need from The Groove, again?" she asked, "I'm probably gonna head there once the tables are done." She glanced up at the clouds for a moment and then back at her friend.

“Uhh, like, the power to conquer the sun. And maybe some magic wine.” answered Zarina as she was rehearsing the roles of her animals for the party. Always keen on putting the family to work in the traditional Virangish style, it seemed her past experiences were transferable to the education of beasts. “If you can find some helper demon, or somehow bring a small ab here for a quick energy boost, I'm game too. But otherwise? I just need more Champagne, mi hermana.”

Osman's training was paying off, and as Marci was preparing for her departure, a successful delivery of wine and shrimp-on-cream biscotti was made. The confused mollusk had its beady, dark eyes look up to Marci expectantly.

Quickly, still bustling about, Marceline responded in kind to Zarina's teasing remarks. Then, ambushed as she was about to leave, she reached into the little pouch she'd taken to carrying around for Domino and pulled out a treat for Osman. "I guess you've earned this, huh, little guy?" She nodded in Zarina's direction and hurried upstairs, bounding the steps two at a time. It came with an ease and agility she could not have imagined two years prior when it seemed as if she were headed for a short life mostly spent confined to a wheelchair.

She made her way to her desk, caught her breath, and grabbed some paper and a quill. Dipping it in ink, she began writing.

Dear Zarina,

The first thing I want to say is sorry. I'm writing this because I don't know how to say it to your face and I'm worried that you'll try to stop me if I do. You're probably standing outside of our secure deposit box doing the weekly pickup right now. When you get home, we'll talk. Until then, I ask that you listen.

By now, there's a good chance that Juulet is either dead or there was an attempted murder against her. That was me. I didn't do it out of hot-blooded anger or some sense of justice. I didn't ask others, except for Fiske, to get involved, because I didn't want to put them in danger. In this case, the less that you knew, the safer you were. You've... always been the big wing under which I've nestled, the big sister protecting me, ever since we met. I never had a blood sister and you're better than any I could've ever asked for anyhow. I didn't tell you nothing because I don't trust you; I'm telling you now because I do.

This was something personal, though, and if I've been caught, then the consequences are mine alone to bear. In short, she murdered Manfred. It was Juulet. Dami knows she's done all manner of horrible things since. She tried to kill Fiske and, I'm quite certain, Xiuyang too but, first, she was there in Mandelein when Manfred, Ismette, and Qasem died. Dory was the only survivor of that ambush and, irrationally, I suspected her at one point. Then Jocasta confirmed that she'd seen Juulet too. Forgiveness doesn't matter here. It's about the danger that she represents. Juulet is a mad dog who needs to be put down, for our collective safety and because she took Manfred from me.

I know there was some speculation as to why I took the items that I did from The Trials and, hopefully, it's clear now why I did: the magic disruptor because, without the Gift, she's just some skinny one-legged girl with a god complex and twisted black heart, and the twenty-five hour copy of myself so that, if she somehow overcame that, it wouldn't actually be me dying during the ensuing rampage. I'd just have the awful memories from it. Here's hoping that didn't happen. Yes, I'm committing murder. No, I don't do it lightly. Sometimes, bad people need to go away, or be made to, and it doesn't just happen. Good people or, at least, people like me need to do it.

I'm sorry for telling you this way, big sis. I just love you and I was worried you'd try to talk me out of it and I'd listen even though I feel, right now, in my bones so strongly, that she needs to die for what she's done and the threat that she represents. You're just... so good-hearted. You're the best. I mean that, from the bottom of my twisted black little heart.

Love,
Marceline Hoh Escarra

With that, she let it dry for a moment, folded it up, and sealed it in an envelope. She grabbed the keys to the box on her way downstairs, offered a cheery wave goodbye, and issued a promise to be back soon with the goodies. Ten minutes later, she'd left the envelope where it would wait until Lepdes. She took a deep breath, turned about, and headed for The Groove.

---

♫

Zarina stood motionless before the opened letter box she or Marci checked every week or so, although the recent revolution had delayed the habit by a few days. Her eyes were wide, hollow and fixed on the unfolded letter. Her hands became clammy from holding the same position for well over five minutes and her back wasn’t appreciating the posture either. Eventually, as the reality of its contents set into the tired teen’s mind, her hands began to shake and her heart rate skyrocketed.

Marci is Dead.

That was all that rang in Zarina’s mind. That was the only way to explain what had happened. To suffer another loss in which she was completely powerless was utterly devastating.

Once again, she could do nothing to save her sister.

Lethargic, Zarina zoned everything out. The paper fell to her feet and many passersby stared in her direction in silent worry.

Marci cannot be dead.

Her next mantra sprang life back into her paralyzed body. She broke the unspoken convention of keeping temporal magic under wraps and brazenly teleported from to the limit of her range until she reached the one place she knew she could find information on Marceline’s whereabouts.

BONK BONK BONK

The pinkie-side of her fist pounded against the door of the commons dorm many of the Tethered lived in. “IZZY! LUISA! FELIX!” she yelled out with no regard as to how angry she sounded. Dangerous even. If she did not get what she wanted there, she had another, far less pleasant lead to exploit.

While Isabella did not live here anymore, Luisa was home. "Zarina! What is it!?" The door unbolted itself and the door swung open. Her eyes flicked up and down the unexpected visitor for a second or so, her expression one of worry.

Zarina stared at the wheelchair-bound girl that opened the door. She had the attention of the tenants. Now what?

“...” she needed a moment to catch her breath. “Marci ...” the Virangish's voice was meek and gravelly from the exertion. “Do you know where she is?”

For a moment, Luisa studied her, hands moving from her wheels to her lap and fingers threading themselves together. She swallowed. "You think she's dead?" the girl asked with some worry.

Zarina closed her eyes and let her head slump down. “Gods, I hope not, Luisa. But something did happen.” she looked up through her hanging hair toward the girl on two. “Something bad. You don't know where she is, then?” a rhetorical question. She slammed her fist to the door frame, magicless of course. “Fuck. I need to speak to Jo, then.”

"You should," Luisa confirmed. "Listen, Zazz." She took a push forward and reached up to rest a hand on the other's forearm. "I can't just say nothing. I can't leave you in the dark." She shook her head. "I don't know much, okay? Marci... messed with that yasoi maniac - I don't know why - and she lost. She's not alright but she is alive. Jocasta and Izzy have been looking after her."

Answers. All kept from her. It felt like betrayal. Wide eyes shot toward Luisa. “You all knew. Fucking ...” she unleashed steam out of her nostrils as a furious scowl took form on her visage. She really wanted to unleash something, somewhere with Luisa as an easy target. But she had an answer, and the girl looked racked by guilt already.

Wordlessly, Zarina turned around and disappeared. Jocasta's was next with twice as many rude knocks on the door.

There was absolutely no answer.

Zarina grit her teeth. Then, for a moment, she actually used her head. A little drawing was in order.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, and then there was so much energy that it felt as if she was under a thousand feet of water. Jocasta appeared behind Zarina and reached out a hand for her. "Come in. Sit down. Behave," she commanded, "and I will tell you what I am allowed."

Crushed. Utterly so. That was the almighty power of Jocasta.

The respect Zarina had for this woman was immense, but it would never be enough to pardon the condescension she felt in this moment. The angered wildblood had been forcibly pacified, but a look of resentment couldn't be so easily scrubbed off her visage. Still, she took the hand and found the nearest seat to compose herself after taking the Jojo blast.

“Where is she?” she asked plainly, slumped forward with her arms rested over her knees and her chest still heaving.

"Safe from prying eyes, where she needs to be right now. Where she's asked to be." Jocasta answered simply. "I'm sorry you weren't told. The world's been a bit crazy this last week and... she's struggling."

“Prying eyes? Ya'hma. I'm not just some random prying eyes, Jo.” responded Zarina, indignant. “What the fuck happened?”

Jocasta sighed, opening the door and floating in ahead of Zarina until she was seated in her wheelchair once again. "She made a twenty-five hour copy, but those things are exactly alike, down to clothing, thoughts, and impulses. I wasn't aware either until I'd checked." She pursed her lips and set hands to wheels, twisting halfway to head for the dining room. "I think she was convinced that she was the copy. She had a plan. It went awry. Here we are."

Zarina shook her head. The explanation did not make her feel any better. “I want to see her.” she demanded. “I want to be there for her. I need to, Jo.” she looked up to the Tan-Zeno with a mixture of immense frustration and growing desperation.

"First, Zarina, come here." She turned back and held out her arms for an embrace. "I'm sorry for the sudden crush. You were roiling with energy and anger and..." She paused. "I can't take chances anymore." She waved Zarina in with her hands. "Hug me. I need it too. Then we'll talk, okay?"

The anger was still there. It was painful to keep it all in. The hesitation to come in for the hug spoke volumes of how she truly felt.

But she still went in, her long arms coiling around the seat-bound blonde and lifted her slightly for a tight embrace. “I'm sorry.” she whispered, mouth and nose buried into Jocasta's shoulder.

"I'm sorry too, Zazzy." She squeezed tightly for a moment and sighed before releasing her friend. "I was scared." She backed up a push and turned. "Follow me. We walk and talk." She glanced over her shoulder. "Marceline doesn't want to see you." She held up a hand to forestall immediate protest. "It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with her." She shrugged tightly. "She barely wants to see me."

Zarina walked with her friend and listened. She kept her head lowered and her eyes narrowed slightly. She focused on every piece of information, and after clarifications and corrections, she found something to pick at. “But you still see her.” she said, bitterly. “So does Izzy. Why can't I see her? Even once?”

Jocasta took a deep breath and, all at once, she whirled on the spot. She stared up at Zarina, a dozen emotions flashing across her face. "She was forced to overdraw." She glanced down sadly at her lap. "You know what that does to tethered, and she is a tethered, whether she wants to admit it or not."

Zarina stopped and looked down to meets eyes with Jocasta. “You lose yourself faster.” she confirmed, arms crossed. “If you're all doing this then it's much worse than the feet getting prickly.” she clenched her fists and shook her head. “Doesn't change shit, I wanna be there for her. Same way you were.”

Jocasta took a deep breath and released it, her face regretful. She nodded. "She's..." She glanced to the side and her fingers squeezed the folds of her dress so tightly that it bunched up. Her gaze shot up to meet Zarina's. "Like me now, Zarina. She's on two and there's no reversing it and it's ruined her."

Confronted with the severity of the situation, she stood adamant with only her breathing getting louder - heavier. “... All the reason for her sister to be there.” she turned and began to walk again, stone cold and clearly bottling a lot inside. “Then I'll find that little rat that didn't stop her.” she muttered with unadulterated rage in her voice.

"Zarina," came Jocasta's voice from behind her, "Do you love Marci?"

Zarina stopped again. “Of course.”

"And so do I." Jocasta rolled up behind her. "Do you trust our sister?

Zarina exhaled loudly. “After this? I don't know.”

"Do you trust me, sister?"

“I do.” Zarina spoke with more confidence. “I always did.”

♫

"Then listen to me, okay? Losing half of your body like this -" She ran the edge of her hand across her tiny waist. "Is like nothing you can imagine. It's not just the inability to walk, but basic, bedrock things: your independence as a person, your sense of what makes you... you, your vision of the future and what your life will look like, the way you know other people see you and how you're always the one who's different, lower, pitied."

She shook her head. "Zarina, I use the Gift to turn myself over in bed and lift my rear off of my seat every hour so that my bones don't poke holes through my skin." She swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself. "And when I forget and they do, or when I break one of those brittle, weak things, like I have at least thrice since we met, I use binding to put myself back together." She grimaced. "But I don't even feel it right away - not until I check every few hours or until I start swelling up. And then there's the pain in my back: constant and agonizing from sitting all day, or how I have to cool or heat myself constantly because my body can't do it." Her face became awkward, disgusted. "I would piss myself and shit myself were it not for the Gift and how I was taught to use it to assist with those... matters."

Her cheeks flushed red and, after a moment her eyes flicked up to regard her friend. "Those are things people on four don't know, because they don't see them and we tethered don't talk about them. They're things that Marci is coming to terms with, learning her way around." She shook her head a second time. "I shouldn't even be saying this, but I need you to understand that this isn't about you. It's about her shame, her vulnerability, and her embarrassment." There was a weak shrug. "She needs time. She needs space. She needs to find her own answers." Jocasta swallowed. "Around us, she's 'normal'. She has people who know what she's going through, who can help her learn, who she feels won't judge." She held up a hand again. "I know you won't, but it's perception that matters here and not reality. She loves you, but she can't face you. She can barely face us as it is, so I am asking you, my best friend, to back off - please - for her and for me."

The restless Zarina grew ever more frustrated with not getting what she wanted. All that mattered was finding Marci, no matter what she had become, and be there for her. Because she was her sister. And she'd move the world for a sister.

But the reality of the situation unfolded right before her under the form of the woman she respected the most. Jocasta's accursed state of existence was the living proof she needed. Zaz's restless legs came to a stop, and eventually she let her rear drop onto the nearest convenient surface. “I let this happen. I was so up my own ass handling that Dami-forsaken party to pay attention.” she wallowed in guilt, jaw clenched and fingers pressed against her skull.

“I may not understand, Jo, but you know, right?” she looked up to her Tethered teacher and best friend. “You know I'd do anything for you guys, right? I'd stake my life for you, especially for Marci.” she shook her head and clenched her fist enough to have her partially mutated claws to dig into her palm. “I won't force myself into her life. If she's that determined to cope this way, then I'll respect it. But I ain't gonna do nothing.” the head shaking increased as blood trickled down her pierced hands. “That pathetic rat of a boyfriend of her's - he's fucking done.”

"We needed that party, Zarina." Jocasta was implacable. "Dare I say it may have saved lives." She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, but twisted back, thinking better of it. "And I know how much you care. That's why I both trust you with my very life and know that you need tempering sometimes." Jocasta's voice became firm. "Fiske is a fool and I'm no fan of him either but, if you care for Marci as I do, you know her well enough to know that she'd have done it with or without him and she'd not have been stopped." Jocasta sighed, casting another tired glance over her shoulder. She threaded and unthreaded her fingers in her lap. "She was riding a high: win after win - and starting to believe in the myth of her own invulnerability; the infallibility of her own genius." She locked eyes with Zarina, searchingly.

With no target to direct her grief and rage, Zarina shifted her gaze with a focus on keeping it toward the floor. The unhealthy clenching did not cease and the breathing only got heavier. “You're far too accepting of this situation, Jocasta.” spoke Zarina with unshaken resolve in unleashing her anger as she met Jo's eyes. The damaged palms had already healed, leaving only rapidly congealing blood on her hands. “WE could have stopped her. WE could have changed this, you and me!”

The angry teen seemed to be looking for something, and after failing to find anything to put in her hand, she stood up and mercilessly stomped the chair she sat on. She really need to break something in a tantrum. “FUCK! That sack of shit could have opened his cocksucking mouth! SOMETHING had to be done! I could have DONE something!” and after a show of brutality and releasing far more anger than stemmed just from this specific predicament, she fell on her rear and his her eyes. She was crying.

Jocasta reached down and swung her feet from their footrest. No sooner had they thumped limply upon the floor than she had pushed herself to perch at the edge of seat. Clumsily, she levered herself onto the ground beside Zarina, wrapping both arms around her from the side. "Feels unsatisfying, doesn't it?" she admitted. "Fuck, I know it does." Idly, she stroked Zarina's hair, combing some of the tangles out of it, but she wasn't as gentle as she might've been had not some anger sparked inside of her as well. "Would be so much easier to hurt someone for this and, for the record, I swear to you that I will rip Juulet limb from fucking limb." She squeezed a bit tighter and, even without magic, her arms were strong. Then, she pulled back.

"But Marci's alive. She survived something that, by all rights, should've killed her. You know I haven't sugarcoated any of what comes next, but we tethered have the Gift. We can manage, and she will too. Just... be ready for her. Don't treat her any differently when she's back but don't like... avoid it: her... disability." Jocasta shrugged awkwardly. "It's not always an easy balance to strike, but I think you'll get it." She managed a supportive smile. "You have a way with people, and it's just Marci, after all: cute lil' shit that she is."

Sitting beside Zarina, Jocasta straightened, pushing her bottom off of the floor for a few seconds. "At the end of the day, she's her own person and made her own poor decisions. The past few days, when I haven't been busy risking my neck for some change around this place, I've been watching over her, and everything that's run through your head, well... It's run through mine too." She shrugged. "I've gone over what I could've done differently so many times I've lost count. I've thought of smashing Fiske's face in for not stopping her. I've been angry at you, to be honest, but this is nobody's fault but hers, much as we both love her, and that evil bitch Juulet's."

Jocasta sighed, nervously tucking some hair behind an ear. "I know I maybe sound insensitive or apathetic. I'm sorry if I'm not validating your rage well. We all need that. I've just... had longer to think at this point and come out on the other side of it. She took a deep breath and released it. "Ahn-Dami punished Marci for a mistake, but Vyshta spared her life." She posted her weight on one arm and leaned to the side. "Our sister will be okay. She isn't right now - she feels stupid, broken, and shocked - but she will be, I promise, and she'll come back to us. She'll come back to you. I trust that little Brandæble. She'll sort it out. Okay?"

Copious amounts of sobs, tears and snot had to be go through before Zarina composed herself. Jocasta's delicate handling of the situation paid off, even if time was the biggest actor in making the young dragon run out of energy to spare for wallowing. She had held onto her blonde friend quite tightly until they were made to part.

Brushing her face from the unflattering mess of mucus and dried tears, she looked up to Jo with red and still quite damp eyes. “Fuck, I'm a moron.” she spoke like there was something stuck in her throat. “I was gonna do the exact thing she did. Take out my rage on someone and have it backfire somehow.” she shook her head while aggressively rubbing her left eye with the bottom of her palm. Sniffles. “I just wanna see her, y'know? It's ... It's a lot, after everything that's happened.”

The still whimpering teen reached her hand out to hold Jocasta's without ever pulling her in. It was merely to have a connection with someone - to feel someone she trusted. “I can't lose more. Not after Miret, and Tommy, and now Marci ... Even if it's not forever.” she clenched the hand just a little. “It's why I'm asking you to not go after that psycho. If she comes for us, we'll deal with it. But ...” her second hand cupped the back of Jo's hand. “I don't want to lose more people that I cherish. Especially not for wretched nations, old power mongers or foreign monsters.”

Jocasta didn't quite know what to do, so she simply hugged back. When they finally separated, she breathed deeply, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and forced a reassuring smile. "I'll speak with her, when she's up to it. For what it's worth, I agree that it isn't healthy for her to be shutting everyone out like this. I think she'll come around soon, even if we don't exactly see her around campus for a bit." Jocasta shrugged. "It's just a big adjustment - a lot to learn."

For a moment, they lingered there in silence. Then, came the second part. "I'm a target as long as I live, Zaz. That's the nature of it." She sighed nervously. "But I can promise that I'll never make any unnecessary enemies. My wild days are done. I'm with you. Okay?"

fter a few deep breaths, Zarina appeared to be coming to. There even was a trace of a smile when she looked back into Jocasta's eyes. “I won't lie, I kinda need her too. I don't have the patience to keep Zeno Bucks family friendly on my own.” she partially joked after a loud sniff. “She'll be in my prayers until she's ready.”

The Virangish then reached for the back of Jocasta's head, just over the nape and pulled her in. Their foreheads met before she spoke. “Then when danger steps into our home, we all face it together, yeah? Nothing good ever comes when we wanna bear all those burdens like fairy tale heroes, habibi.” she turned her head slightly and smooched her sensei's cheek. “Thanks for being the voice I needed. I'd be lost and do something terrible otherwise.” she beamed a genuine grin at Jo. “Remember, I'll always be on your side. Just like I promised back in Torragon.”

Jocasta returned the small kiss, though she blushed considerably. She gave a small nod to go with it. "I know you will." She breathed. "I know and you have no idea how much it helps to have that." She smiled back. "But I never want you to risk yourself for me, okay?" She swallowed. "You and Marci, Ayla, and Yalen: you're good people with bright futures. We stand together -"

She snorted at the irony of her word choice, but then continued. "If anyone comes to hurt you guys, but I won't have you go out of your way and risk yourself for the monsters who come for me. They're on a whole different level." She pulled back a bit and flexed her rather impressive biceps. "But I'm pretty strong, you know. Right?" She smiled and reached forward, placing her hands on each of Zarina's shoulders. "What I need most is your support, your belief, and to know that you're safe." She slumped back a bit and sighed. "The Gods crafted me as I am for a reason - I have to believe it. There's no two ways about it: I stand out and I'm not about to let that strength go to waste. I'll be the next Hugo Hunghorasz if that's what's needed, and I'll do better than he ever did." A determined look came over her face. "Fairytale time, suunei!"

“Fairy tale time, Sensei!” dragon Zarina just smirked at her. “... I'll get you a new chair, promise.”

[Ti]

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Event: Tan-Zeno Interview | Location: Ersand'Enise

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♫

An Interview with an Arch-Zeno

The doors are great and wide and a fountain splashes in a palm-tree lined courtyard. In the middle of it, at an ornate table in the Virangish style sits a stylishly-dressed man with long hair and round, tinted glasses. He looks up from his wine and the playing cards he had laid out upon the table. "Oh, welcome." He grins invitingly. "What do you think of card tricks?" He stops himself. "No, never mind that. Would you like to see one?"

Taleja arrived at the courtyard, her initial formal and polite demeanour giving way to relaxation as she surveyed her surroundings. She reached behind her head, as she pulled out a hairpin and allowed her hair to cascade down her shoulders. With an equally disarming smile, she approached the chair she assumed was set aside for her, gesturing silently with a "may I?" before accepting his invitation to sit. "A card trick? I would love to see one," she exclaimed, placing one hand delicately in front of the other in a manner befitting a noblewoman entranced by his demonstration, on her lips on the verge of a girlish giggle. "Even when one knows what is going on, the finesse and skill behind such things are masterful works of art."

"Ah, but isn't it so much more interesting when one doesn't know and has to discover?" The Arch Zeno dealt her five cards and then himself. "Tell me, Tally, what do you think of me? How is it that I'm an Arch Zeno?" He glanced up at her from above his glasses before raising his head, and smiled.

"That is the magic of it, the wonder and excitement of the unknown," she said, smiling charmingly as she gazed at the cards before her, mouthing an 'oh' at the mystery of it all. "Gladly, but I must first say, I am greatly honoured that I was selected by yourself." Returning her attention to the cards, she continued, "I would wager that being Arch-Zeno is not about playing with the cards you are dealt, but more about how you shuffle the deck," indicating the cards before her. "You are not here solely by the graces of Lady Reshta and her fortune," she added with a twinkle in her eye, speaking softly, "or misfortune." Returning to her usual tone, she said, "You are an impressively intelligent and cunning individual, which I personally find admirable." A blush coloured her cheeks as she continued, "I empathize greatly with your political situation as well; I find it inspiring."

Joao Fabio leaned back, downing some of his wine and glanced at her. He smirked. "Shit, you're good - pardon my language." He shook his head and then gestured with his chin at the cards. "You can flip them over, sweetheart. Please do."

Taleja smiled as she flipped over the cards. Her dainty gloved fingers flipped each one, one after the other.

It was all rather mundane. Her hand was a 2, 5, and King. His was an ace, 3, and 8. "So, where's the magic in that?" He swirled his wine a bit. "Oh, by the by, would you like some?"

Taleja peered over the cards and nodded. "You make an excellent point," she remarked. She silently mouthed a "please" and a "thank you" at his offer of wine. "The magic is not in the hand you are dealt, but in what you make of it." She moved her hand back to the cards and flipped them face down on the table. "Arch-Zeno, please give me the honour of providing me with a low number."

Joao Fabio smiled, neither confirming nor denying her assertion. "Four," he replied, pouring her some wine. All about them, birds chirped and life bloomed. The air was sweet with with the scent of flowers.

Taleja cast her hands over the cards as if performing a feat of magic. "These cards beneath these hands are magical; what number you say is vitally important to what comes next," she explained. Moving her hand to a card in front of Fabio, she continued, "In life, duality is important. The Anh and the Zept. The Male and the Female. Ourselves." She turned over the Ace and the Three. "You have chosen Four in this great mystery. These two cards create this magical number." Turning the Ace face down again, she moved to the card before herself, revealing a Five. "Together, this sum creates the number Eight. Double what it was before." She turned over the third card in front of Fabio, revealing the Eight, then turned the Three face down again. "The great thing about duality is that both halves create an even greater sum." Moving her hand to reveal the final card, the thirteen or King card, she concluded, "Together, we can make great things happen. All it takes is..." She turned over the final card, revealing the Two, and held it up before offering it to him. "Do you see the magic in that?"

The Arch-Zeno's face had gone from skeptical to intent, to amused. now, it was impressed. "You're a quick study, Miss Drakenknecht." He took a sip of his wine and his eyes seemed to focus on int momentarily: pensive. "Now, tell me, theoretically, how you would respond to being found out?" They snapped up to meet hers and remained there, unflinchingly.

"Why, Arch-Zeno, you shuffled the deck, did you not?" Her green eyes met his, a brow raised, and she simply smiled sweetly. Her hands moved toward the cards as her gaze remained fixed on his. She cleared the table and began to shuffle the cards within her hands, then laid them out again. Her gaze parted from his as she cut the deck into four fairly equal piles. She began to flip them over one after another. Two, Two, Two, Ace. She softly mouthed an "oops" as she moved her hand towards her glass. "The thing with tricks, as stated, is the magic of not knowing. If you are found out or make a mistake, the magic is spoiled." She leaned back, bringing the glass to her lips while revealing the final Two at the bottom of it, the one she had held in her hand earlier. "The magic doesn't truly stop until it is all over."

"And the trick," the Arch-Zeno responded, "is in the conversation and distraction." He shook his head. "Without that, nobody cares and everybody notices what you're doing."
He finished the last of his wine and looked about to say something else, but he shook his head and smiled admiringly. "You don't want them to notice, do you?"

Taleja's expression softened. "Play a trick too often, and the audience becomes wise and bored easily. So, you have to keep it interesting to keep their attention captured." She drank more of the wine, refreshing her palette with its taste. "If I recreated my academic display at the talent show for you, I doubt I would score as highly a second time."

"No, and I trust you to know that." Fabio nodded, rising with his empty glass. "By the way, the wine is poisoned." He pulled out his pocketwatch. "You have about a minute to solve the issue. If you do, you pass this interview. If you don't..." He turned on his heel and shrugged. "Well, it was nice meeting you."

Taleja's eyes widened in surprise. "Arch-Zeno, I had swapped the glasses during the last trick. Quick, the antidote."

"Well, I suppose you've just killed an Arch-Zeno," he tossed over his shoulder. "That's the end of you." He didn't stop moving, however, away from her with an almost-disturbing nonchalance.

"I lied."

She brought her glass to her lips and vomited the contents into the container, then used binding magic to clear away what remained. Grabbing a nearby plant, she accelerated its carbonization, then placed it into her mouth and swallowed it. Taking the other glass of wine, she began to examine the contents between them.

"In the medical treatment of poisoning, the first step is purging, followed by consuming charcoal. The third step is determining the source. The easiest way is to contrast between the mediums, although it becomes more difficult if both were poisoned. Given the advance notice, monitoring for symptoms would narrow down the possibilities, and compensate for the damage with healing to delay."

He snapped his fingers. "Well said." For a moment, he twisted and grinned. "I lied too. You had a good few hours. I'll see you soon, Tan-Zeno Drakenknecht." He began whistling as he disappeared behind some plants and through a door.

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Event: Tan-Zeno Interview | Location: Enise'Ersand

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♫

Interview with the Enthish Queen of Clubs

The office you walk into is one you would expect to radiate gloom and imminent doom. At least, that’s what the rumours would suggest surrounding Tannifer Marbrand’s inclinations for experimental, some say dangerous, methods of teachings and the overbearing expectation she had for her students. But her office is anything but darkness with rows of three arched shaped windows on each side of the rectangle-shaped and spacious room. The drapes are pearl white with the sun’s rays shining bright through them. Where there isn’t thoroughly clean glass are paintings of green sceneries, some supposedly from her home, and others were portraits of people: One of an older gentleman, another of a man bearing a striking resemblance to Arch Zeno Vaughn Marbrand in his youth, one is of herself in a time matching her brother’s snapshot, and finally of a saucy seven or so year old with a mischievous smile that contrasts strongly with the rest of the solemn expressions.

“Give the door a good push, would you?” asks the middle aged Enthish woman with a matching accent. She sits behind an old Wyrmwood desk, one much older than herself, with a pile of folders stacked neatly to her right, a good half-dozen shoved into a bin a few feet away and only one set opposite to the stack. “Well,” she begins as she shoots you her first scrutinising look toward you. “Take a seat and introduce yourself.” she tilted her head slightly to the left with an expectant look and a demanding tone.

Ayla pushed the door with just the right amount of kinetic magic, causing it to open smoothly, while a touch of sonic magic dampened the creak to a mere whisper. With a warm smile, the Torragonese girl entered the room, dressed in her formal Zeno-like attire, embellished with her colourful flair that reflected her personality. As the saying goes, "dress for the job you want." She carried her parchments secured between two boards, her quill poised and ready, a beautifully coloured feather accentuating her preparation. Gracefully gliding to the chair, she nodded appreciatively at the invitation before seating herself.

"Thank you, Zeno Marbrand. It's a pleasure to have been invited," Ayla began, her tone composed and confident. "My name is Ayla Arslan, and I'm here to demonstrate my suitability for the Tan-Zeno program and to show that I am worthy of your time." With a smile, she opened the boards, revealing the neatly handwritten notes she had prepared for the interview.

Tannifer gave a quick bird's eye view of the student file given to her. The duration of Ayla's introduction was how long time she'd confer to the task before she conspicuously closed the folder. A hawkish gaze studied the minuscule girl's composure. "Charmed. You won't be needing these." with only a flick of her pupils, she forced all of Ayla's preparatory gear to seal themselves. The Zeno leaned back without perturbing her straight and proper posture, hands crossed at the level of her wrist over her desk. “What do you bring to the table other than a name and a few 'successful' yet unsanctioned operations in foreign lands?” dry, direct and to the point, she had a whole pile to go through after all.

"Courage, compassion, creativity, competence, commitment, and curiosity," Ayla responded confidently, her lips curving into a smile as she met the Zeno's gaze. "These are fundamental values and foundational skills that can be applied to any situation we encounter." With a graceful motion, she set aside the sealed documents she had brought with her. "Knowledge can be acquired; if there's something we don't know, we can always visit the library and return with the answers you seek. However, what cannot be easily learned or changed are the qualities that define a person, and recent events have served as a poignant reminder of this truth."

Placing her hands neatly in her lap, she continued, "We are here to serve as your junior and aspire to become a future colleague you can rely on in your work."

Tannifer raised her chin as she appraised Ayla's structured reply. "A good answer," she decided with her eyes widened as she uttered it. But the lack of drop in her voice suggested a second part to it, and it came very soon after. "for a student. A Tan-Zeno entails both a role of learner and teacher, Lady Arslan." the two claw-rings of her right hand drummed over the old wood. "The question then isn't whether you would make a good Tan-Zeno or not - the answer is clearly yes, in due time. But would you make a good Tan-Zeno right now?" both index and major fingers hit the surface simultaneously to punctuate her question.

"Why should you, a quasidemon that has clearly dabbled with aberrations as a Fireblood with a RAS far above the norm, be given this a privilege that few in history ever had to chance to seize?"

"Carpe diem, Zeno Marbrand," Ayla began, her smile transitioning into a more serious expression. "There is a tendency to often postpone inconvenient tasks, hoping for a sunny day or a stroke of luck. However, reality dictates that we make our own weather. If it's raining, we bring out our umbrellas and face the storm head-on. Adverse conditions will not deter us from doing what's right, no matter how challenging they may be." She interlocked her fingers thoughtfully. "We understand that the Tan-Zeno position typically involves adeptness in each of the magic schools, with applications usually accepted during our fourth year. But extraordinary times call for extraordinary efforts, going above and beyond expectations. Zeno Marbrand, we have done just that. Whether it's through unofficial trips sanctioned by the late Paradigm and late Zenith or other endeavours, we have achieved more than what is expected of a Biro, and dare I say, even more than a Tan-Zeno. So, to whether we would make a good Tan-Zeno right now, the answer is yes. While our magical skills can be refined with guidance, we have consistently upheld our values and brought others together to achieve great things. The results speak for themselves."

With her final statement, her expression softened. "We all carry our scars. While some are visible, others are not so apparent, and as a consequence, we each bear our burdens. I am not here for personal gain or glory, nor have my actions reflected such motives. With power comes responsibility, and I am here to accept that responsibility and contribute positively to the academy we all share."

Tannifer Marbrand never once gave off the feeling of being disinterested. If she looked away it was to write something, and if she stared into one's soul, she literally did so. "I would recommend being more concise, as a tidbit of advice. I, too, had a tendency to inflate my answers." she spoke with the faintest hint of a smile. Memories of pleasant times, perhaps? "I will not disagree that you are battle forged, but so are others that have partaken in these expeditions, like you." remarked the Zeno with an increasingly inquisitive tone that revealed a growing curiosity within the woman with a reputation for her ruthless and challenging methods. "What makes you more deserving than those with a similar track record to yours? You are several, and there aren't so many seats to be taken, Lady Arslan."

"As much as we enjoy blowing our own flute, when it comes to playing in an orchestra, the quality is determined by the worst player. It's about nurturing, supporting, and even adjusting your performance to match the flow to produce a beautiful symphony," she expressed, her smile returning. "We may not be the tallest, strongest, or even the most academically brilliant person you'll encounter today, but we can guarantee consistent high performance and reliability in anything we set our mind to. We are determined to achieve what we set out to do, and when there are setbacks, we learn from them. We are not an ornamental gilded rose; this one is the real thing that grows."

Tannifer chuckled at Ayla's opening, leaging her with a lingering grin that eventually faded to neutrality halfway through the Arslan's answer. "You would make a good Zenith, one day, Ayla Arslan." the Zeno began to drum her fingers again, her eyes narrowed a little more as if she was trying to find something buried deep within the girl. "But I've yet to see that flame your lineage carries so proudly. Beyond this veneer of nobility you've been taught. You only have so much control over how others perform, but you have all the control when it comes to you. What makes you so special, Ayla? What would YOU do to make a difference to this school as one of the youngest Tan-Zenos in history?"

Ayla closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath, and then opened her vibrant blue eyes as she looked towards the Zeno. "Because we are that special. We are the rope that ties the sticks together and binds them. If you truly believe that we would make a good Zenith, then you know we have the makings of a great leader. One who leads from the front, inspires others, possesses the courage of a lion to make tough decisions, and takes pride in their work. Whilst we are not applying to be Zenith, and we have a long way to go before we could even consider such a position, the secret is, you don't need to be Zenith to be a great leader; you just do it, and we have done it time and time again." She extended her hand towards Tannifer. "Help me make this academy one we can be proud of."

Zeno Marbrand looked at the hand, chuckled and slowly reached for it with both golden claws pointed right at Ayla. "Whimsical and political, you remind me of someone." she reminisced with a smile, but before their hands could touch, Ayla felt her body momentarily paralyzed. She could only speak, albeit only when allowed. Tannifer stood up and brushed her hand upon the girl's cheek. "If only you weren't such a half-baked record of typical leadership and unity phrases." she frowned.

The room heated up and the sun shining through the windows faded as if the sun had suddenly dropped from the sky. "The truth is that you're not truly that rope, are you?" she raised her chin and spoke with a haughty and challenging tone. "No, you're not even on most people's minds. Outdone by the more radiant, bigger and stronger. Your friends don't rally behind you first, nor do they see you as particularly reliable." Marbrand let her sharp rings slide through the girl's red hair and stared in admiration. "A lot of promise, but much like your parents must have felt, your supposed friends and colleagues see you as none other than ..." she shrugged. "Disappointingly plain. Or perhaps ... Your Torragonese nature lies patiently in wait. We've been done in once by a spider that bidded her time, after all."

Ayla's eyes followed Tannifer as she stood paralyzed in place, listening to her words. Words that she had heard time and time again, especially from her father. A disappointment, a failure, someone whose only worth lies between her legs, much like her sister, except she had the attributes that boys like Rikard desired. She couldn't even do that properly. "Soy Torragonese, pero soy un Leon," the lion cub had her fangs bared. "People like to talk about how good they are at destroying things, the untold death and destruction they can cause. They see it as their birthright to trample others beneath them. Who can create the biggest explosion, proudly boasting about how many they killed in the revolution." Her eyes followed Tannifer. "We killed none," she stated firmly, her gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Instead, we led with the candles at Intaba's statue, we organized the relief effort, saving civilians, the innocent ones who just want to do their jobs and live a good life with their family. We limited the destruction and death that could have affected a great many more," she continued, her eyes returning to Tannifer. "Killing is easy; it takes far more courage not to do it. To brave the tough road, rather than continue to circle the easy path down the drain." The corners of her mouth formed a smirk. "They’re truly are the boring ones."

The room wavered around Ayla like a mirage in the hottest of deserts. Soon it fizzled out into the brightly lit office Zeno Marbrand enjoyed her work afternoons in. The illusion shattered once Ayla had given her answer, and she found Tannifer with amused grin on her face.

"You're not quite the pushover I was led to believe, young Arslan." the tip of her gold claw tapped her own chin as Tanny studied the girl opposite of her one last time. "Whimsical, over the top and painfully political, but genuine and robust. The quasidemon blemish ... Won't be overlooked, but we'd rather have a hand on that than leaving it in the hands of chance." she gestured upwards. "Rise. The interview's finished." she concluded solemnly.

The door opened at the end of the ornate and specious office. "Good work, young lion." Tannifer smiled before making a single, unseen mark upon Ayla's file.

Ayla blinked as the illusion faded, a soft mew played on her lips as the scene returned to normal. Ayla straightened out her outfit as she collected her belongings. "Thank you for your time, Zeno Marbrand," she said, bowing her head respectfully with a smile, showing her appreciation for the compliment, then moved outside the room. She had the decency to remember to use a touch of sonic magic once out of sight.

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[Force and Fury]

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Ch. 1: Age Old Equation

It was Lepdes the eighteenth, and bells were ringing. Puffy white clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky and signs of the coup that had taken place in Ersand’Enise a mere week and a half earlier were visible only to those who sought them out.

Kaureerah Wenhan, the eeaiko songstress who had contributed her all to the uprising, now sat, cross-legged, upon the battlements, plucking at a cello. The instrument was new to her, but what was life if not an opportunity to try new things? Besides, she understood the fundamentals. The rest could be learned.

Yet, as that young woman sat there, sun on her skin, wind in her hair, and an exciting new instrument at her fingertips, all was not well in paradise. To one side she looked, and there was the city: busy and bustling. Reaching out with both senses and vision, she picked out what she thought was Leon, having an outfit tailored. They’d spent the morning together before going their separate ways and she couldn’t help but think metaphorically.

To the other side lay Bath House, but it was not as it usually was. All along the Godsroad, from the foot of the Queensgate, on past the Animal Farm and Wildside, past the Vermilion Swirl and into the distance, lay hundreds of tents and hovels. Bring me your wretched, your wounded, your starved and your wanting, said Oraff-Zept, and I shall take them in my arms and make them whole. Kaureerah had always thought the Quentic, Darhannic, and Chosen gods a contradiction. In holy books and sermons, they spoke in ways that sounded almost absurdly altruistic. Yet, their actions were all too often self-serving, vindictive, and neglectful.

This, then, underlay the issue of the refugees: both of their similar religions at once decreed that they should be cared for, leaving them with an expectation of charity, but also tacitly encouraged self-serving behaviour from their would-be saviours, guaranteeing that they would receive little. Her gaze roamed across the tents before turning away. It was twice as bad on the other side of the city, even if it was less visible. Belleville had been flooded with refugees, and there they remained, barred from passing the White Walls but for a privileged few who had the wealth or connections. She scowled and plucked a few sour notes, pizzicato.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked… Penny. Usually, it was Yuliya up here with her but, ever since being outed as daughter of King Rouis, the Perrenchwoman had been increasingly avoidant of the greater scrutiny she found herself under. “Joost daumpeng aun yoor Quenteec releegeon,” Kaureerah replied with a snort, “Een my head.” She tapped her temple with a finger. Penny shook her head and smirked ruefully. “Charity?” she questioned, and Kaureerah nodded. “Eye heve meexed feelengs ebaut eet,” she admitted. “Helpeng peepel when yoo cen end eef yoo feel lyke eet es e good theeng. Eye theenk et’s e paurt auf oos.” She brushed some hair from her eyes. There was a bit of a breeze up here. “Baut mekeeng et en obligation…” She shook her head.

Penny seemed to consider, the wind catching her bronze-coloured hair and swishing it about. Sitting ‘cross-legged’, she pulled her foot in a bit close before fixing the mess. “It’s never been anything but an obligation for people like me,” she admitted, “but…” She shrugged. “I think you can enjoy even things that are obligations. The one doesn’t automatically rule out the other, right?”

Kaureerah considered as they sat, the sun momentarily disappearing behind a bank of clouds. “Yeah,” she allowed. “Meybee.” She nodded slowly, mulling it over. “Sey, Penny.” She turned quite suddenly to regard the other. “Yoo ever theenk ebaut Vaussooreeya?”

The Perrenchwoman furrowed her brow and nodded. “It’s hard not to. I died there, or I should’ve.” She threaded and unthreaded her fingers. “And I can’t help but think -” She paused and gazed out over the city. “That we left that place worse than it was when we arrived.”

Kaureerah plucked idly at a couple of strings and evaluated Penny. She swallowed. “Eye heve seemeelaur feelengs ebaut Retaun.” She stopped for a moment, watching as, down below, two men found themselves in a violent shoving match. “Why doo yoo theenk they sent aus?”

The one-legged girl shrugged, but then she paused to consider. “I think it was a way of having a force they could control on the ground, but one that they could also deny. We’re capable, but we’re young - naive in their minds, and bound to listen to them.”

Kaureerah snorted. “Shoold we heve?”

Penny shook her head. “They were stunningly incompetent, or just rotten otherwise.” Her eyes flicked over towards the Violet Enclave: under new management partially thanks to her martyrdom. Sometimes, Kaureerah thought that she liked Penny: the girl was smart, a good conversationalist, and a decent enough person. Sometimes, however, she couldn’t help but feel wary. Penny had known what she was going in for when she’d followed the Centuries at the soirée. She’d known and she’d done it. She was friends with almost everyone. She always seemed to be there when there was something to be gained in terms of power, and she’d managed to come out of the entire revolutionary ordeal squeaky clean: an innocent victim but not a pathetic one. While it was true that she’d emerged from her Tan-Zeno interview without an offer, Yvain had gotten one instead: a cousin who she cared about and a potential rival to the throne. Oh, how he would rise through the ranks here at the school: valued, respected, and safely apolitical. “I’m glad they’re gone,” she concluded, “at least as long as the new ones are better.”

“Whaut ever heppened too te ege oold equetioon thet ege eequels weesdaum?”

Penny smirked. “They did.” She shook her head. “They happened all over it. But, seriously, there are a lot of dumb old people. Age just gives you more experience. I don’t think it makes you smarter.”

Down below, the fight had been broken up by a trio of other yasoi. The city’s guards had refused to intervene in a matter outside of their walls. Kaureerah couldn’t help but think that it was about setting a precedent. The fight had been a fake or, at least she hadn’t sensed any of the anger biochemical signals that she should’ve. Intervene and you’ve acknowledged that they’re under your jurisdiction. Something about it disgusted her. She wasn’t sure why. How long can you just leave people that desperate, just hoping they’ll go away?

“Ya know,” said Penny, “I think the new admin is gonna act on things.” Kaureerah looked her way, arching an eyebrow quizzically. “I think they’re looking to reset some relationships and precedents: reassert themselves.” She nodded, unfolding her single leg, and stretched, letting out an unfiltered yawn. Her mouth stretched wide and open for a good couple seconds.

“Dregen Penny!” Kaureerah joked, and the other smiled. Another gust caught the eeaiko’s hair and caused it to billow. “Kaureerahbird!” Penny teased back, and they shared a chuckle. “Soo, prauphet, whaut doo yoo theenk thet’s goonneh look lyke?”

Dragon Penny smirked. She just smirked at her. “I think they’re gonna send us back into the field. I’d bet my title on it.”

“Yoo doon’t eeven lyke yoor tytel!”

“Well, that’s the point, birdbrain.” She flicked Kaureerah on the shoulder and the eeaiko shook her head. “Better then ‘feesh’ aull te tyme.”

“Nobody dares make fun of my leg anymore,” Penny sighed. “I kinda miss it and kinda don’t.”

“Shaut aup, creepel.”

“Fuck you.”

They both laughed, as Oraff gave way to Eshiran and ribbons of white smoke rose from the vast camps outside of the city: cooking fires at dinnertime. Kaureerah could see Penny watching them as well. Both young women watched. Soon, however, her mind wandered. It wandered back to what Penny had said: back into the field. Who would be stupid enough to accept after last time? Kaureerah pursed her lips, humming Green Perrence, and Penny punched her on the shoulder. Both grinned and shot sidelong glances at the other. Who, though, would be brave enough to refuse?

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Ch. 2A: An Offer you Can Refuse

They were seated in the arboretum, with one of those nice antipasto boards laid out, and a good deal of wine. Motherfucker, Kaureerah couldn’t help but think. You were right. Giancarlo Silvestri sat across from her, answering a question from Maura. Of course, she, Kaureerah, and Penny had gotten together yesterday and discussed the latter’s theory. It was easy for her two friends, who’d ended up in the same apprentice group after the reshuffle. Kaureerah had been placed with Leon, Tku, and two others who already bored her. Regardless, each member of their trio was prepared.

Act Six Apprentice Groups

Apprentice Groups

Olivier Masson: Zarina, Maura, Lunara, Guy, Penny
Luumelan'tarii'oscuun: Ingrid, Seviin, Ayla, Esmii, Johann
Mathijs Wolter Van de Waal: Fiske, Abdel, Ren, Mahal, Rikard
Uehara Daigo: Oksana, Yvain, Niallus, Tommy, Edyta
Malomen'antrii'suuzama: Cal, Taleja, Tku, Leon, Kaureerah
Fades-in-Moonlight:Trypano, Isabella, Jomurr, Marlijn, Cozo-Zast
Sectoxomactex: Yuliya, Ashon, Xiuyang, Marz, Sven
Jurgen Mendenhoffer: Desmond, Roslyn, Raffie, Dory, Ciro
Haurah Nekeenah Paireni: Tekah, Oweyn, Luisa, Felix, Tennaxi
Not placed: Marceline, Samaxi, Pete, others

“It’s a situation that requires some care,” the High Zeno was saying. “It’s an unprecedented wreck: easily five hundred feet in length and many thousands of tons. While salvage is a significant portion of the islanders’ income, it’s beached on an outlying atoll and they’ve no de jure right to the wreck.”

“But de facto?” Maura prodded, and their host scowled. “Traditionally, yes, but it’s something of a novel situation,” he explained. “The currents wash a lot of derelicts up in that area, but it’s remote, even for the islanders, and most salvage companies never bother. This find is incredible, though, and unique.” There was a twinkle in his eye, Kaureerah thought: a thrill. “The Royal Asper Salvage Company has filed for salvage rights with the crown of Palapar and been granted them.”

“Isn’t this in Kiluaho, though?” asked Mahal. “How does Palapar have jurisdiction there?”

“They don’t, per se,” Silvestri responded, rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose, “but what they do have is a naval protection agreement with most of their Parynesian neighbours, Kiluaho included.”

“That’s just a Virangish tool to have a navy in the area.” She scowled.

The High Zeno shrugged, not disagreeing but not engaging either.

“And they’re exploiting that somehow,” Maura observed, “right?”

He nodded. “There are at least three pirate vessels on scene, including the notorious Black Adam, which I think you may be familiar with.”

It struck Kaureerah, immediately, that this could be a tangled web indeed. She glanced over at Penny and Maura. All three, in fact, exchanged glances.

“The Aspers are well armed and have resources, and the pirates and locals are unlikely to make common cause.” He stabbed at a piece of cheese with a tiny fork. “Caught in the middle of it all - likely to be fought over and lost, portioned, and damaged - is what could be the most valuable maritime find in a century.” His gaze swept over each student in turn. “This isn’t a clandestine mission like they were in the past. We’re done with that.” He bit down on the cheese and swallowed quickly. “You would be official representatives of the school: neutral arbiters listening to all sides and protecting the find, first and foremost. You would receive a full briefing and academic credit as well as being paid a handsome salary for your services.”

“Ersend’Eneese needs too reessert eetself, dausn’t eet?” Kaureerah observed.

Giancarlo Silvestri sent an examining look her way, and then nodded. “We have a vital role to play in the politics of this world, like it or not: a neutral and empowered one, and we cannot remain absent for long. People are looking to see what we’re about after our recent changes. We need to show them. That’s why I’ve personally requested each of you: you’re the best and the brightest this school has to offer. You’re experienced, and you deserve better than you’ve gotten in the past.” He regarded them each in turn. “I neither can nor wish to compel any of you to pursue this offer, but it is my hope that you do. Tomorrow morning, at 2:00 HS, I shall be waiting in the gazebo on Hedda’s Island.”

In Castaway

Maura, Fiske, Tku, Marz, Raffie, Kaureerah, Zast, Mahal, Ren

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Ch. 2B: Standoff

It was the dead of night, and moonlight lay upon the reefs like jewelry. This was not a quiet time, however. Hundreds of torpedo threshers remained, in various stages of mating, spawning, or death. In truth, they were the sideshow this year.

All around the waters of Moatu Suva lay ships: great Virangish galleons and tenders, local catamarans and trimarans, Tarlonese thiis’elaaz, and even a Nikanese shuinsen. They were not alone, however. Hovering about the periphery were pirates: at least three ships, though it was hard to tell, for they often kept their distance and flew proxy flags. Not a week earlier had arrived the notorious Blue Adam, scourge of the West Ensollian, and it had proven the harbinger.

Now, it was a standoff, and torches - both magical and mundane - burned into the night. Crews moved about the decks. Spells and guns were kept at the ready and pointed at possible enemies, although who favoured who and which parties represented threats to which others remained unclear.

In the midst of all of them lay the object of their curiosity and desire, the very thing that had caused this entire standoff: an enormous rusting hulk, beached on one of the atolls, its massive slab sides towering above the broken palm trees and smaller ships. Five days ago, it had been claimed by the Royal Asper salvagers, after they had arrived and unceremoniously booted a small group of locals out at gunpoint.

But then, more had arrived, and the pirates with them. Now, the Nikanese and the Tarlonese. As of yet, none of the interested parties had gotten a look at what lay inside, and the Aspers had contented themselves with circling their ships and building a small fort and depot of reef rocks. They had not been seen to enter the wreck since they had started.

Maybe it was because they feared the pirates’ guns. Perhaps they were worried about angering the Tarlonese and Nikanese, both of whom had received permits from their own governments. Perhaps, however, it was something else. Some whispered that there were eeaiko in the water, but this atoll was too remote and their kind had never been seen around here.

Still, the torches and lanterns shone into the night. Focused beams swept the surface of the water. Every once in a while, they caught a glimpse of something moving. Rocks tumbled, occasionally, from the makeshift fortress and its still-setting mortar: too many to be incidental. Sailors gathered on deck, muttering amongst themselves that this place was foul and cursed. Locals warned of the ‘kanaka nahesa wai’ and left brightly coloured offering baskets on their quays and boats each night. Eerie noises, not unlike singing, could be faintly heard among the waves and wind, though there was every likelihood that they were merely manifestations of a growing paranoia. Yet, in the morning, when people woke, the fortress had been set back nearly a day’s worth of work and the offerings were gone.

Still, the immense wreck loomed over all, its metal hull burning with tropical heat, gulls and seabirds circling overhead, sharks and threshers hunkering in its shade or prowling about its battered lower reaches. Still, it held most of its secrets. It beckoned. It promised. It threatened.

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Ch. 3A: Victims

“It’s a situation that requires some care,” the hooded man was saying. “They’re important people: merchants from Oiyac and the only ones who still ship to and from human lands.” He shook his head tightly. “They got to jump the queue because they had connections within the school’s admin.”

“Old admin or new?” prodded Penny.

“What business of mine is it?”

She did not voice her suspicions, though she knew that precious little had changed. This man was a zeno - just who, she could not quite determine - and this was another clandestine bit of dirty work for the school.

“But I don’t think their innocent son should suffer because they might have some unwarranted inside connections,” he continued. She could feel the subtle disapproval radiating off of him and allowed that there was a chance this wasn’t just more of the academy’s skullduggery.

“Whatever your experience with the school,” interjected Seviin in that holier-than-thou voice, “Our mysterious friend here has a point: the baseline good is saving a life from some murderous criminals.”

Niallus nodded along, giving away nothing about his intentions or who he was agreeing with. Penny could’ve rolled her eyes but she did not, for this was his custom, after all, and she was well used to it.

“If nothing else, it pays well,” Abdel observed, leaning against a wall nearby. He’d developed a surprisingly revolutionary streak of late, and this seemed like more of a conscious return to his mercenary roots. Penny scowled.

“Well, here’s the notice,” said the hooded man, thrusting it into Dory’s hands. The Feskan nearly fumbled it, but she managed to hold on and open it up a moment later. “If you’re interested, you’ll be making the world a better place and helping a family.” He took a few steps back as the youths leaned in and read. “I think the academy will understand, maybe even be grateful.”

The Notice

“Gone,” said Oksana. It was a single word and, when the majority of the group looked up, their contact had disappeared. All that was left to do was to either respond to the plea or not. Weighty glances passed between them until, finally, Seviin broke the silence. “I will be going,” she announced. “These people, wealthy or not, are victims of my nation’s cruel war. I will not let them be victims again.”

In Ransom Demand

Dory, Abdel, Ashon, Xiuyang, Seviin, Niallus, Oksana, Lunara, Johann

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Ch. 3B: Brothers (and Sisters)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Emerii, but we have given you an entire month to pay us what you borrowed.” Cherii made a pouty face. “It makes Mamah ever so sad when her friends abuse her generosity like this.”

“What Cherii means, Emrii, is that we’s gonna break yoah knees.” A tall, mean-looking yasoi with ginger hair and a crooked nose grinned and pounded a fist against his open palm. “Well, Daiyet is, anyway.”

“But the funds!” wailed their victim. “I’ve almost got them! Only two more days ‘til my next paycheck! I swear it!”

Cherii shook her head sadly. ”I’m sorry, Mr. Emerii, and I hope this doesn't hurt too much, but that’s what you said last time, and I just don’t believe you anymore.”

“No!” the makeshift shop owner wailed. “No no no! I have a family! Please! I’m an asset, please!”

For a moment, Diayet, absolute giant that he was, looked over at his sister. Cherii pursed her lips. Then, she shook her head tightly, turned on her heel daintily, and walked away. “You got it, bawss.” Daiyet set his jaw in a businesslike scowl and stalked forward. Mr. Emerii scrabbled back until he was grabbed, quite roughly, by a grinning Fantas. “This’ll go a lot easiah if ya stay still, ye know.” He wrenched the man square. “No!” he screamed. “I beg you, if you’ve any decency at all! I beg you in Oirase’s name! Please no!”

“Say, youse got a kinda… limited like… numbah of woids. What’s that called again?”

“Vocabulary,” grunted Daiyet, as he swung his bat. It connected with a satisfying crack and their truant debtor shrieked. “Yeeeah. Yeah! Vocabulary. Youse got a real limited vocabulary, Mistah Emrii.” Fantas held tightly onto him as he thrashed and Daiyet wound up for another crack: all seven feet and five hundred pounds of him. “Ain’t nuttin’ pehsonal there, chief,” He huffed, connecting again. “You just decided to fuck with Cola Brothahs -”

“And sistahs,” amended Fantas, thinking of Cherii and Coca.

“Doesn’t have the same ring.” Daiyet stepped back and scowled. Mr. Emerii lay broken on the floor, whimpering. “Anyway, you decided to fuck with the Cola Brothers, and Ma.” Daiyet crouched, handing Fantas the bat. “and we can’t juss let that go, yuhsee, or everyone’s gonna start doin’ it.”

Fantas nodded. “Now you uh… quit yoah whinin’ an’ go find yuhself a good bindah, ta patch you up, eh?” He paused and scowled for a moment. “Oh, and that’s two moah Magus ya owe us.”

Daiyet crossed his arms. “Labouh an’ service fee.” Fantas twirled the bat jauntily. Daiyet let out a snort. They turned and left the alley for their next task.

Cherii, of course, had left it some time ago, remanding Mr. Emerii to the care of her brothers. She stalked through the port district, a few of the yanii shooting her dirty looks, a few dirty old men following her a bit too closely with their eyes. She kept an eye out for who of course. That meant she had a lever she could use to manipulate them.

Eventually, she reached the print shop. Stopping and scowling, she buttoned up her blouse, fixed her hair, and tried to hide her pointed ears beneath her hat a little. The Colas had been here for months before the refugees started streaming in. It was why they were so well-positioned and even integrated, but a particularly acute bout of racism had gripped the town outside the city of late, and yaniis’ memories were as short as their ears. She took a deep breath, forced a smile, and pushed the door open. “Good morning, Sarah!” she chirped, and the girl at the front desk looked up at her warily, tucking something behind it. “Morning, Cherii.”

Despite the less-than-friendly greeting, Cherii kept up her smile. She’d find out what was behind the desk later. “Is your dad in right now?” she asked, as if it were just a casual request, and Sarah’s eyes met hers. For a moment, a powerful urge to violence welled up inside of her. Those looks - those fucking looks. They’d been friends at first - two girls around the same age - until the refugees had come, until Sarah had found out what the Colas did to make ends meet. Judgy little cunt. Let’s see you walk a mile in my shoes.

“I think he’s in the back. He might be in the middle of something. I’ll go get him.”

Quickened breathing, sweat, paling. Cherii translated body language in her head and waved off Sarah’s offer. “Oh, no need for you to waste your time and leave the front desk empty,” she replied cheerily. “You might have more customers Besides, one would hope I’d know my way around by now.” She met the huusoi’s gaze and smiled, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I don’t really mind and he’s um -”

Cherii brushed past her. “You wait here, Sarah.” She laid a hand upon the girl’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “This is business.” She strode into the back, alone, undoing the top button on her blouse and freeing her hair.

Mr. Marchand was at one of his machines, but he looked up when Cherii arrived. “Ah! Cherry darling!” She came to a stop, eyes flicking down toward her boots and then back up. She batted her eyelashes. “Good morning, Claude!” she replied in a singsong voice. “I got your summons.”

“Oh, hmm, yes!” He leaned in to embrace her, planting a kiss on each cheek. “So very nice to see you.” He drew back and his eyes swept over her from top to bottom. Cherii darling remained smiling, as she always did in the sight of others, and waited. “Ah, mhm! So, I had a job sent over from the city - rare these days, you’ll understand.”

Cherii stalked about the room, turning on the spot, her face hiding none of her interest in the topic. “Oh, truly?” she inquired. “Well, colour me intrigued.”

Claude nodded, his eyes on her before they flicked to the window and then to a shelf full of papers. He made his way over and plucked one out. “A missing boy - well, young man,” he amended. “Jackson Soul Doridax.”

The yasoi tried not to grimace at his butchering of her people’s names. Jaxan’suul’doridax She pondered for a moment. The Doridax name was well-known. Jaxan, though… who are you? Maybe he was the rich boy who’d come here slumming. She’d seen him once or twice, the last time in the company of some one-legged harlot. If scuttlebutt was to be believed, he’d been feeding the addicts. “Mind if I take a look?”

He looked down at the paper coyly and then up at her. There was the tiniest little flash of magic, and the door's lock bolted. “For you, ma cherie, anything.” The toady little man licked his lips and, all at once, she lunged forward, muscles augmented by the Gift, and snatched the notice from his hand. Claude’s eyes widened, and he stumbled a step or two back. Cherii’s eyes scanned the page and they widened as well. Promptly, to make amends, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You are worth your weight in gold,” she chirped, And that’s quite a bit, in your case. “That’s why,” she continued, “We take care of you for half-price this month!” Cherii backed up a step, brandishing her smile. “This is very helpful, Mr. Marchand. We have to stay abreast of what happens in the community so we can protect it!”

If he was disappointed by her lack of interest this time, he soon got over it upon hearing that he’d only have to pay half of his usual protection fee. A rich kid gone missing in Mudville. Cherii’s mind was racing. Parents looking and willing to pay. She grinned. Pepsii, Coca, and Mama would have to hear about this one, posthaste!

---

---

Ch. 4A: The Enemy, Including Our Friends

“This is a genuinely urgent matter,” Penny decided. Zarina was there as well, looking over one of her shoulders. Yvain was looking over the other. Guy, she knew, would have already heard about such a thing and would be desperate to stop her from going. She would go anyhow. Ren Baykara, who Zarina had warned her about, was somewhere within the Groove, though the Perrenchwoman had not yet spotted him and had only description to go on anyhow. “And if we know,” she continued, “it’s likely that the enemy does as well.”

“The enemy, including friends of ours?” Zarina countered.

“Friends of yours, maybe,” Penny allowed, but then she considered Maura and relented. “The people we know on the other side wouldn’t be involved in something like this. They’re decent and sensible.”

“So does that mean we aren’t?” Zarina replied.

“You’re just racking up the points on me today, aren’t you?” Penny shot back.

Zarina grinned for a moment, but it didn’t last. The situation described was a serious one: a colossal raging beast that had destroyed ships in the region and threatened the welfare and perhaps even survival of a friendly port. A Revidian ship had been sunk and now the enemy was sniffing about. To what end, Penny did not know, but it bore investigation. “Says we get a portal to and from. Should be a short matter.” She glanced about at the others. “And I think all of us could use the coin around this place…” She’d settled upon it, in truth. She was going. She’d seen a similar notice for the Revidians and allies. There was more to this than there appeared to be and there was nobody whom Penny trusted better than herself and perhaps Yvain to handle it.

In White Thresher

Central Alliance: Leon, Ayla, Ciro, Trypano, Roslyn

Sovereign Pact: Zarina, Yvain, Guy, Penny, Taleja, Rikard

---

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Ch. 4B: Endgozu Coast

It was early in the morning. The fog rolling off of the ocean still coated much of Zengali in a thin, clammy layer of dew that sparkled as the nascent sun reached it. Yet, already, people were moving about. The last of the fishermen were still trickling in with their catches - sparse, as of late. The city’s three monasteries, up in the mountains, were already hives of activity, some monks and nuns bustling about on their morning errands, others praying with special fervor given what had been happening of late.

In the terraced fields of the foothills, where the jungle had been hacked and burnt back through the efforts of man, farmers were already hard at work, weeding the fields, planting what needed to be planted, and cutting what needed to be harvested. The city had become more dependent than ever on what they grew, after all.

Ships hunkered in port, well within the protected waters of Zengali Bay, and market stalls began to open. Print shops hummed, their presses stamping out the news and notices of the day and a couple of notaries dashed about, pulling old or unauthorized fliers from posts and notice boards, reusing the nails where possible to pin the new ones, still warm from the machines. While they would not last long in this climate, so hostile was it to paper, they were of the utmost necessity, given current circumstances. Already, insurers, travelers, and those ship captains who could read were gathering round. Hunters, sellswords, and whalers looked for any updates.

Out on the Endgozu Coast, on the far side of the peninsula that protected this great, remote city from the ocean swell, was a boy of about twelve. He was one of a dozen or so people - most human, some yasoi or eeaiko - who came down here each morning, as the tide rolled out, to pick through the detritus of the sea for all of its hidden treasures. The job had become grim, of late, given what was happening, but the finds had still been there, and so he and the others had continued to work.

The deep grey waters of the Australic Ocean frothed and pounded against the cobble shore, occasionally lapping over his feet. How many planks were now strewn across the beach! How many nails he had pulled from them, virtually unrusted, for resale! The fog gradually receded and the boy was not the only one who glanced uneasily out at the ocean. Planks! So many planks, and occasionally barrels. He glanced, and then he froze. The large rucksack he slung over his shoulder clattered to the damp ground and he just stood there. There were things - dark things - bobbing up and down on the waves. Presently, one thumped dully against the shore some twenty meters down. Already, crabs were picking at it and birds circling overhead. Bodies: dozens of human bodies. The beast had struck again.

---

---

Ch. 5: Instant of Insanity

It was a large, dark room. Its walls, floor, and ceiling were stone and there was something unnaturally cool about the place. Perhaps it was a wine cellar of some sort, though the series of steel doors, each one semicircular, each opening from the bottom, each regularly spaced along one wall, made for a rather odd place to store wine.

Then, there was the large locker. Separated by ghulthite bars from the rest of the room, it was filled with carefully separated articles, labeled and kept distinct. They were all sorts of things, really: clothing, weapons, personal keepsakes, cash, swabs of blood and samples of hair. Most queerly, perhaps, there were two apples: pitch black but not rotten. Each had a single bite taken out of it. These were kept near an unusually-designed pistol, in something like a small cage, with a note tied to its lock.

Every once in a while, this strange, dark little world was visited by people in uniforms and scientific types, one of the semicircular metal doors was opened, and a cadaver was slid out upon a bier and wheeled into another room. By and large, however, it had remained undisturbed since the flurry of activity immediately following the overthrow of the city’s administration. Of course, such a boast is an open invitation and, naturally, that was when there came a loud ‘clank’ - quickly muffled. The door opened, just a crack.

---

They were, by the reckoning of both Dami and Reshta, people utterly abandoned and, yet, they gathered in their multitudes before the Seagate these days. They were a sore sight: addicts, destitute, prostitutes, urchins, and war-wounded. Many were more than one at a time. Precisely why they had chosen Ersand’Enise as their refuge was the cause of much speculation and consternation alike, but the fact was that they had.

During the calamity of the uprising a week or so previous, hundreds had slipped into the white-walled city. Some had managed to stay. Most had been tossed back out, even angrier and more wretched than before. It was not easy for yasoi to fade into a human crowd and go unnoticed, after all. Even the school’s handful of yasoi students now had to carry around identification cards at all times. Already, there were fakes being sold in Mudville so that those young enough might have a chance of slipping through.

The night guard, following a brief reshuffle after the revolution, was back at full capacity, and they took their job seriously. If they were supposed to be more empathetic and equitable, the refugees would never have known it. So it was that, on this rainy night, they responded enthusiastically to the attempted robbery of a wagon waiting outside of the gate for the first hours of Shune. So it was that they left the regular guards to be temporarily supplemented by junior replacements. Finally, so it was that, when a fight broke out among the beggars closest to the gate - those too elderly, infirm, or juvenile to pose a threat - the junior replacements stayed at their posts but were suckered in and watched, while their seniors refrained from getting involved and moved to form a perimeter.

Thus, for a window of approximately ten to twenty seconds, depending on the potentialities of a number of confounding variables, only two lamplighters were left to keep watch over the Seagate. They did not pay much attention to the one-legged figure that rose unsteadily to its lone foot, hunched over and swathed in filthy scraps of cloth. Instead, they shouted as a second figure made a dash for one of the other guards, and the guard to the west side of the gate peeled off to go deal with him. That left only one and, when he noticed the beggar headed in his direction, he blinked and began to turn her way.

She found his kidneys. Adrenaline down eighty percent. She helped bind much of it away. In truth, she’d already been working on the guards at this gate, on this particular shift, for the past three days, passively altering their hormonal production. Their reaction times were a solid five hundred milliseconds slower than human average, and human average was already poor. In short, they were pathetic. Serotonin up three hundred percent. She helped spread it through the target’s circulatory system, and his production had already been spiked over the past hour. She bent the light around her, he blinked, and she was back sitting by the side of the road. He blinked again, considering sounding the alert but, all that emerged from his mouth was a long and drawn-out yawn. He’d barely slept the past two nights and the problem had resolved itself. He glared at the one-legged hag crouching by the roadside for a moment longer before yawning again and turning his attention back to the fracas before it was broken up.

Meanwhile, Ailet’yrash’andarii passed through the gate, her own adrenaline production up two hundred percent. She slipped to the side as quickly as she possibly could, disappearing from the main street and slinking through the back alleys of the Crafters’ District. After counting twenty seconds traveling at an estimated rate of 2.5 meters per second, she felt herself far enough from the gate to find a barrel, sit on it, and toss away her rags. She had optimized her breathing and heartrate using Tecniito models, but her heart still pounded and sweat still beaded on her forehead. The young woman scowled. Such were the energy inefficiencies of crutch-dependent ambulation.

Presently, she reached out with the Gift, sensing for any buildups of energy that might indicate a strong magic user, but there were none outside of the gate area and the rain dampened her own. The yasoi breathed and brought her heartrate under control, tamping down on both the adrenaline and endorphins. She drew from the materials of the raggedy outfit to both confiscate the evidence and create a pool of workable matter. Ailet did not wrinkle her nose at much - she simply inhibited her olfactory bulb when needed - but spending close to a week playing the role of beggar in those filthy scraps had done it. She stood, naked, in this stinking back alley, and synthesized a fast-acting soap on her skin. She let this seep in and drew the rain in a sudden cascade to rinse herself clean. A quick blast of heat finished the job before she pulled her clothing from the knapsack she had spent the past week using to simulate a hunched back. Not thirty seconds later, she was dressed and ready. Almost reverently, she extricated a pair of large, round-rimmed glasses from a little pocket and pushed them up her nose. She smelled faintly of lavender now, while the alley was a delectable miasma of smoke, mould, and the mixed excrements - both urine and feces - of a half-dozen species. Presently, she slipped on her gloves, adjusted the headband that conveniently hid her ears, and inhibited her sense of smell. There was a line, here, between alertness and masochism.

Emerging onto a larger road, Ailet had a good idea of where she was and, when she located Landmark 1A - the public forge - this solidified in its entirety. Senses alert, she made her way down the street at her standard walking pace, adjusted upward for some degree of excitement. All about her rose this supposedly great yanii city, and it was, to some degree, a wondrous moment. She had never been to one before, and Ersand’Enise was profoundly different from the Osaian town where she’d grown up. Her curiosity demanded that she glance in the direction of that colossal tower that seemed to hang above the rainy city like a sword. She scanned the little storefronts, translating in her head. The houses were so overlarge and singular, though, and the yasoi scowled. She was not here as a tourist. Perhaps someday, when the thousand year mission was complete. Then, she might relax. Then, she might travel as her ancestors had.

Reaching Rossoneri Street, she walked one further and turned right, taking the back route. Once again, her energy sense swept her surroundings, and there she felt two guards and an unnatural cold amid the constant disruption of the weather. One hundred meters west on Rossoneri. she remembered. This had to be it.

Stealth was easier in the dark and rain, and Ailet bent what little light she needed to as she walked. Coming to a stop some thirty meters from her target, she set down her crutches, sat beneath an awning, and created an energy amalgamation that could be a person heading into the house she was using for cover. Meanwhile, she diffused her energy signature as best she could and reached out with her senses. One guard was stationary, by the door, eating betel nuts out of a bag. The other patrolled the square complex clockwise in cycles of fifty seconds, with a standard deviation of two point five in either direction. That was… a lot of variance. Ailet pushed up her glasses. Fucking amateurs. She grinned, allowing seven minutes to tick by where she incrementally raised the serotonin levels of both guards while encouraging the patroller's cochlear hair to solidify. At the five minute mark, she began lowering and strengthening a sonic negation bubble around the complex. Finally, she waited until the half hour, when some change in routine would have been most likely and, when it was not forthcoming, Ailet palmed her crutches, rose, and strode briskly over, timing her approach to coincide with the patroller disappearing around the corner.

O-O

Kinetic for thrust. Arcane for heat. Binding for insurance. The door guard perked up, noticing her approach, for it was too much to maintain so many magics at once and her light bending failed her. Then, with a bit of help, the betel nut he’d just popped into his mouth shot back and lodged itself into his throat. He coughed and wheezed and, quickly, she drew the sonic bubble in tighter. Thirty seconds. Then, the other idiot would pass into visual range. She swept for his energies. He was tired. Good. Slow. Even better. The nut expanded, its fibres popping under a flash of heat. She encouraged that growth with her binding and, the next thing that the target knew, he was hammering at his chest and his eyes were bugging out.

Ailet bolted forward. Twenty-seven seconds. She passed the edge of the bubble. “Are you okay, sir!?” He was sinking to his knees and clawing at his throat. “I’ll use the Gift! I-I’ll squeeze it out!” Instead, she got behind him and slammed his head into the landing step. He slumped, unconscious, and she grabbed his keyring. Eighteen seconds. She’d already felt out the lock from afar and there were only two keys here that could fit it. She tried the first. Nothing. She tried the second. Pay dirt. Ten seconds. The door opened with a light creak and she returned the key to his belt. Hastily, with little time and expertise paling in comparison to Tarlon’s other agent in Ersand'Enise, she shut off his cortisol, scrambled some of his neural signals, and hoped that it would pass for short-term memory loss due to cranial trauma. Three seconds. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her just as she sensed the other guard rounding the corner, pausing in shock, and running over to his fallen companion. She’d already released the sonic bubble and, now, all that remained was to avoid detection. The eagle has landed. There was no hiding her smile, and it grew to truly enormous, even grotesque proportions. Ca-caw!

O-O

Quietly, the Tarlonese operative took a deep breath and exchanged her round-rimmed glasses for a pair of sirrahi ones she had found as a girl. Then, she went still, trying to diffuse her heat signature across the area. If nothing else, the rain all-but guaranteed that any kinetic energy from her direction would be near-impossible to detect. She waited in uncertainty, counting two full minutes in her head and wondering, absently, if the patroller would manage to save the door guard. Generally, Ailet only killed in the name of science. It was quite meaningless otherwise.

Once the time was up, she did a tentative energy sweep and, satisfied that there were two living figures outside - lucky bastard - and that neither was paying any attention to her, she set off down a pitch black hallway, navigating by energy sense alone and occasionally using her crutches as makeshift feelers. A little light won’t be the end, she counseled herself, conjuring a Torch of Shiin.

At the end of the hallway was a staircase, leading downwards, and that was where the bodies were. That was where all of the interesting things were. She made haste for it, barely remembering to stop and sweep for security measures, taking the stairs two at a time.

At the bottom was a door: a locked door, but it wasn’t going to stop her. Reaching out, feeling the mechanisms inside, she turned one, and then another, and then slid a bolt. It took Ailet a good three minutes to get matters right, and so fast did her heart beat during this period that she failed to even count them out.

O-O

Then… pay dirt. The door opened with a surprisingly loud ‘clank’ until she hurriedly dropped a sonic negation bubble. It swung open and a cold light from her fingertips illuminated the fog of her breath. The yasoi’s pupils dilated and she switched to her third pair of glasses. Her eyes flicked about the room. First, came the body. After a few false starts, she found it, perfectly preserved in Vault 7B. With a binder’s expertise, she went over it, but nothing was out of the ordinary. He’d been killed by a gunshot, clean through the head, at an angle, velocity, and spin rate that suggested a ricochet. She scowled and slid him back in.

It would have to be the articles, and it took her no more than a minute to jerry the simple padlock. Already, within a second cage, she could see the items of interest: two apples, each with one bite taken out of them. Ailet’s pulse quickened. They were perfectly black. She could feel the sweat from her palms on her crutch handles. She made haste over, cut the lock with a tiny, focused blade of fire, and tossed it aside. Already, she could sense the magics on these: dark and profound. How they hadn’t ended up in the city’s greatest vault was beyond her. There wasn’t a trace of rot and she took them, eagerly, in her gloved hands before sweeping the room for anything else of interest. The pistol was better than mundane, she supposed, though it did not particularly interest her. This, she strapped to her single leg in a thigh holster. One apple was carefully tucked into her bag. The other… she held onto for a moment longer.

O-O

She took a deep breath, allowing herself a triumphant smirk. Extraction time. She’d refrained from using higher order magics until now, as they might’ve alerted someone more formidable than a pair of regular guards. Besides, she’d always been rubbish at them anyhow. Ailet held the black apple up to her mouth mischievously, but she reached for the threads of space and time in earnest, finding them, seizing them, and…

Then, he stood before her: a monster among monsters. Though he was no taller than her, Joshe Intaba seemed to loom over the girl with a power and presence she could not dream of matching. “Put your stolen goods down and you don’t die here, Tarlonese.”

In what seemed an impossible small instant, he drew to capacity and Ailet could feel her stomach turn and her vision swim. How had he found her? How had he known or arrived so quickly!? Had it all been a trap!?

Joshe Intaba regarded Ailet’yrash’andarii, mighty and merciless. Ailet, whose reflexes had always been preternaturally fast and who could now, dimly, sense the surge of adrenaline roaring through her veins, suffered an instant of insanity. She began to raise her hands but, in the moment the apple was no more than two inches from her face, she lunged forward and bit it.

O-O

In Hellions

Tommy, Desmond, Edyta, Ailette

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Act Six Particulars

Welcome to Act Six of The Hourglass Order! The dust has begun to settle following the revolution. Is the new administration any better than the old one? While they certainly seem to think so and are asking some of us to help them prove it, many seem skeptical, and not without cause. Ultimately, however, the world doesn't keep safe and orderly of its own accord and, once more, we are called into the fray? Will you answer or have you finally had enough?

This arc will cover the rest of our sophomore year and consist of a pair of short missions, separated by an intermission period that will see Jocasta's and Yalen's wedding (finally!) take place and will also see us undertake some... social activities. In terms of the missions, characters filtered into each have been selected based on preference or, if none was given, based on storyline potential and group distribution. While some positions are pointedly flexible, others are definitely preferred. If you'd like to make any changes or are new and wish to be placed, talk to myself or a Co-GM before the missions start and tell us why. We'll try to accomodate you if at all possible, of course!

That said, from this point onward, though we'll be coordinating, the two halves of White Thresher will be handled by none other than our own @dragonpiece while Ransom Demand will be run primarily by @Suicharte and @Jumbus. Please be nice to them and communicate if you won't be able to post for whatever reason. As this arc will be largely forum-focused as opposed to discord, there will be strict deadlines in effect to keep things moving, and players are actively encouraged to post more and shorter content. While longer posts that sum up discord events and add new material have the advantage of being rewardingly literary, they do not work well for quick back-and-forths and multiple actions that involve coordination with other characters. Keep this in mind and we should all have a great time with these missions and our sixth act. Below, you'll find the apprentice groups reposted for your convenience. Happy writing!

Act Six Apprentice Groups

Apprentice Groups

Olivier Masson: Zarina, Maura, Lunara, Guy, Penny
Luumelan'tarii'oscuun: Ingrid, Seviin, Ayla, Esmii, Johann
Mathijs Wolter Van de Waal: Fiske, Abdel, Ren, Mahal, Rikard
Uehara Daigo: Oksana, Yvain, Niallus, Tommy, Edyta
Malomen'antrii'suuzama: Cal, Taleja, Tku, Leon, Kaureerah
Fades-in-Moonlight:Trypano, Isabella, Jomurr, Marlijn, Cozo-Zast
Sectoxomactex: Yuliya, Ashon, Xiuyang, Marz, Sven
Jurgen Mendenhoffer: Desmond, Roslyn, Raffie, Dory, Ciro
Haurah Nekeenah Paireni: Tekah, Oweyn, Luisa, Felix, Tennaxi
Not placed: Marceline, Samaxi, Pete, others

Mission Groups

Mission Groups

Castaway: Maura, Fiske, Tku, Marz, Raffie, Kaureerah, Zast, Mahal, Ren
Ransom Demand: Dory, Abdel, Ashon, Xiuyang, Seviin, Niallus, Oksana, Lunara, Johann
White Thresher: Leon, Ayla, Ciro, Trypano, Roslyn; Zarina, Yvain, Guy, Penny, Taleja, Rikard
Hellions: Tommy, Desmond, Edyta, Ailette

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[BlackRoseSiren]

An Interview with Giancarlo Silvestri for Tan-Zeno

Place: Giancarlo’s Office
Time: One week after the rebellion

Esmii was wearing a nice long length dark green dress with white flower patterns, with a white knitted cardigan over the top. Her hair was plated with dark green and white ribbons, Sven and Roslyn had helped her choose what to wear and done her hair.

The office is large and cluttered with crates, artifacts, and stacks of books and notes, organised with a sort of idiosyncratic chaos that smacks of academia. The windows are large and dusty, arched at the top, and golden light streams in through them. At the far end of the room, silhouetted within the open balcony doors, behind a great mahogany desk, stands the head of the Archaeology department: Giancarlo Silvestri.

On the desk is laid out a luxuriant antipasto platter. Upon seeing a candidate enter, he turns and smiles, hands clasped behind his back. "Please, come in, seat yourself and help yourself." He gestures. "I do apologise in advance for just how tough I'm going to be on you, but let's do it on a full stomach, no?" He smiles and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkle warmly.

You could see that the little yasoi was nervous, she tried to take a deep breath, then she smiled and took some of the food that was offered. "Pleased to meet you, thank you for the lovely food." She then takes a seat.

"The pleasure is all mine," the High Zeno replied, plucking a slice of salami cacciatore from the tray with a tiny fork. "If we're to digest such matters of import, it might be best to have more than just those to think on." He chewed thoughtfully and knitted his fingers in front of himself.

"Now, onto matters of business, let's begin with something simple and straightforward: why do you want to be faculty at this school? What drives you, and please no bottled answers."

When the high Zeno spoke to her, straightened herself up in her seat. Placing a finger on her lips thinking about what to say for an answer. "Well, I want to benefit the school." she stopped for a second trying not to say anything negative about herself. "I want to help people. I want to help the school.
After the chaos that happened, I was able to help people's injuries and heal them with my magic." she continued "I know how to treat people, with and without magic. I can make remedies. I want to teach what I know to future generations, so that they can survive and learn. " a little smile came across her face "Being here my teachers helped me gain more confidence in my abilities, I want to do the same for others." she stopped herself in case she rambled by taking a drink of water.

Giancarlo Silvestri, warm but cold, inviting but intimidating, drummed his fingers on the desk, leaning back to take a sip of his lemon water. "That sounds lovely," he allowed. "Now, I want you to tell me, honestly, why it might not be a good idea to make you a Tan-Zeno."

Esmii straightened herself once more trying to look professional at this interview. She took a moment to think about the answer, not wanting to rush it. "There are moments where at times where i become hyper focused on one specific task." she let out a little sigh, as she continued

"Unlike my other peers. I am not very good at offensive magic. I mean I have some, but not a lot. So if the school ever got attacked again I wouldn't be able to do much to in stopping the invaders" feeling her confidence waver for her admitting that "But I am working on it." she said to help boost her confidence.

Some of the twinkle went out of the High Zeno's eyes. "And you would say that your judgement is usually good? There aren't any lapses you regret?" He swirled his water before taking another sip.

Esmii sat in her chair trying her best not to fidget in it. "Well, there was one...incident where I didn't think about what my actions would cause." she frowned a little bit. "I... paid for that mistake and I have learnt from it, that I need to think everything through before I act. I know that I can't just act on impulse alone." she reached for her glass for a drink. Thinking about what her boyfriend had taught her on that very subject.

Giancarlo Silvestri nodded, scribbling something on a paper. "I see." He tapped his quill a couple of times and looked up. "So let me ask you a hypothetical question. There is a raging mother froabas, beyond reason, rampaging through the school. While there is a slight chance that you may be able to locate her nest and placate her, civilian casualties are quite likely. Instead, you can eliminate her and there is next to no risk of civilian deaths." He tilted his head to the side. "Which path do you take?"

Esmii listened intently, as she felt like he may ask her a question like this. She sat back in her chair and thought about what she would do if this ever did happen. "Even though I love animals, I will not risk the lives of civilians. I would do everything I could to stop the raging animal, and to keep civilian casualties to a minimum." She then looked at Giancarlo to see what he would say and do.

"And of the dragon's young?" he prodded, brow furrowed.

After he said his question, Esmii suddenly realised that she had forgotten about the young dragons. she thought for a few moments then stated. "Well with the mother being dead I would look for the nest with help from people who are good at tracking, but I would also ask for help from people who know more about dragon than I do and I want them to be in a safe place away from harm."

She took a moment as she had thought of something else. She then carried on. "However if the mother was incapacitated and still alive I would again ask people who know more about dragons for help and people who are good at tracking, to help locate the nest, then move both the mother and the babies out of and as far away from the city as possible."

He nodded slowly, considering. "Alright then. Thank you for that thoughtful answer. Now, let's switch our line of questioning, shall we? If you were given the opportunity to teach here, what would you be teaching and why would you be qualified?"

Esmii nodded "Yes," she have scribbled down some of the classes that she would be able to teach or at least assist in teaching. "Well, I could teach First Aid classes. When I helped at my families clinic where sometimes I would give first aid for some minor injuries that wouldn't require Binding. I can also teach people how to preform first aid on themselves, such as applying bandages and ointments."

She thought about what other classes that would be suitable for her to teach. "For magic classes I could provide assistance in Binding and Chemical classes, mostly just the healing and buffing side of those magics."

"For the other classes I could help with Gardening and Plants, I have some knowledge of plants mostly because I often make herbal remedies for various things, aches, itches, burns, nausea, even something to ease pregnancy symptoms. Which I learned from my time in the clinic and from reading books." she gave a little smile, hoping that she had provided enough detail.

With that, Giancarlo Silvestri nodded and rose. "Well, that's certainly something we can work with!" He held out his hand. "I will most certainly keep you under consideration.”

Esmii smiles happily, and shakes his hand. "Thank you Zeno for your time and for considering me for this opportunity. I will take my leave now, enjoy the rest of your day."

She then takes her leave. After she has closed the door she does a little happy dance, then stops and quickly makes her way to to Roslyn and Sven, to tell them what happened.

[YummyYummy]

---

---

Velles 19th

_{Location: Ersand'Enise
Day of the week: Victendes
Time: Daytime
Characters: Abdel, Dayanara, Qadira, Seviin @Force And Fury, Penny, Johann, Xiuyang @Emeth, Lunara @BlackRoseSiren, Niallus @Echotech71, Oksana @Ti, Ashon, Dory @jasbraq, Fibonacci, shady Zeno.}

---

When it was Abdel’s turn to read the document, he feigned indifference. The name Doridax was well known among the Yasoi and the decently informed. The young tethered had cut back on his part-time investigative endeavours for more spare time once his finances were in order but the connections he had made on the job remained solid.

A rich kid in Belleville. It feels tailored for me. he looked up to give a general glance to his potential associates. All were of a higher class or foreigners. Except perhaps for Ashon whose Yasoi-ness would have its boons, and Seviin should there be any sort of Tarlonese encounter. I’ve got a good hand here. Let’s see where this goes.

“I can check with a couple of guys I know, see if they can give us something more about any unusual activities in Mud- Belleville.” Abdel spoke courteously with a consistent air of neutrality befitting the image he sought to project: Normal and non-partisan. The money was good, but the Doridax name could be a pipeline to things money couldn’t buy. Goods and information alike. He smiled at the others, to Seviin in particular. “But I agree with you, Sister. I think this city is in need of more citizen behaviour. We did put our necks on the line for it.”

With that he turned away from them. “We can meet at that Terrace in a couple of hours and work from there. Gear up and all that until then.” with that, Abdel walked away.

---

“At least three thousand magi? Really?” a flabbergasted Abdel Varga was sitting before an old table in front of a Thalak souvlaki shop, Zeno Bucks in hand, with a middle-aged gentleman wearing a worker’s beret.

“Not just. I'll I've been sitting on this but I do owe ya' after what you did for my kid.” spoke the man with a husky voice. He leaned in to whisper the next bit. “They’ve taken a few gems that didn’t belong to them from monkey-land.” he snorted and spat by his foot at the mention of anything Yasoi.

Abdel, unfazed by any additions made by his contact, peered at the old parchment piece covered in folds. “And this is legit?”

“Sikes and a few others say they’ve seen some Yasoi kid a few times. As far as I can tell, the kid never made it back over the wall.”

The tethered teen bit the nail of his thumb as he pondered. Their meeting was soon and he had to make a decision. “Wouldn’t hurt to check, then.” he concluded with a shrug before chugging down his drink.

“Hey Cap’n Skugg.” the man that reeked of tobacco reached out for Abdel’s shoulder as he stood up. “With this sort o’ money at play, you may wanna watch your back.” the warning was enough to get the young bounty hunter to sit back down. “It’s bound to get many eyes on it soon. And if you’re going to belleville …” he looked over his shoulder, clearly wary.

“Spit it out, Fibonacci.”

“Watch out for these long-ear Cola-guys. Complete ball-breakers. If they’re not behind it they’ll definitely want a piece of that cake.”

An unimpressed Abdel cocked his brows. “I’ll be sure to watch out.”

---

Armed with two Skuggvars and an attire that made him appear no different than the average workman’s quarters dred, although with much better hygiene, Abdel presented himself to the residence indicated on the invitation. He instinctively removed his worker’s beret once in view of it, revealing well groomed, dark hair he had combed to the side. His perfume was also of higher quality than his projected look - a Maura perk, perhaps?

The two beasts he had with him dismissed any notion of Abdel being just a common street dweller - this was the hunter with the massive hounds, one that was hard to ignore when he was on duty. “I was told some folks needed a person finder?” was his introduction, one he had used a few times before when he found a job, with a toothy smile that went wonders with his growing acne on his chin.

---

_{Loadout:
Gear: Hungering Helm, Slayer's Helm, Black Beast's Blade, Unruly Dragon's Bridle, Screamer's Collar, Skuggvar backpacks.
Currency: Ỽ1
Consumables: Risotto al Formaggio di Capra di Mare.
Familiars: Dayanara, Qadira}

[Ti]

---

---

Event: Act Six: Missions | Location: Ersand'Enise

---

---

♫

Ayla had advanced to the next round of the Tan-Zeno process, but the victory felt somewhat hollow. Tannifer had hit a few nerves, and she was eager to prove her worth. The task related to the sinking of a Revidian ship seemed to be just the right fit. Cross-factional troubles requiring a touch of diplomacy? Check. A rampaging animal requiring a gentle touch to subdue? Check. This had all the hallmarks of another Ayla success she loves to do, or more accurately our success. With the others who had signed up, there was Leon, the great performer; Ciro, the friendly merchant; Trypano, the brain in a jar; and Roslyn, who when it comes to anything bad, she wouldn’t do that. This could be a potential recipe for something beautiful.

---

Taleja walked, the heels of her boots clicking on the floor as she dressed down into a far more functional outfit for the trip and grabbed a travel bag filled with prepared supplies. As she took note of the task at hand, learning what she needed. It seemed to be simple enough to formulate a solution if you removed any unnecessary variables. However, from one glance of her green eyes at her travel companions, it was clear that unnecessary variables would occupy most of this trip.

Though positively with the beast master, Zarina, on their side, dealing with the creature would essentially resolve itself in her care. An obvious delegation. As for Rikard, she knew he was a simple boy when it came to these things, an effective hammer for any nails as long as he kept his eyes on the task. The group's biggest problem was the Perrench, who would undoubtedly use every opportunity to make the situation political and all about themselves. They were unreliable and foolhardy, each of those present already having a reputation for it. It was awkward enough that she had already felt their eyes on her and heard the mutterings under their breath at her presence. Two out of five; she had worked with better odds than these before.

---

Ashon looked toward the flyer as he scratched his head. It seemed there were those from his homeland with more bennies than sense. Apparently, this situation would be of great import to the academy, and Penny took an interest. It made sense for him to watch out for his fellow Yasoi, as this is an opportunity to create new beginnings and take root in Ersand'Enise. It also brightened his mood to see Seviin here, wanting to help out. Despite her background and odd character, but he couldn't exactly dislike her attempts. Besides, he couldn't leave her unescorted, as he doubted her goodwill would be appropriately returned with ruffians around. He would have thought Esmii would have attended as well, but she seemed to be nowhere to be found.

What surprised him more were the other characters involved. Why were they so interested in the affairs of the Yasoi? Or were trinkets and baubles dangled in front of them motivating them so much? Even more surprising was the likes of Dorothea and her known dislike of his people. At least Xiuyang made sense; she had always been a Suunei, though her temperament had changed a little since their visit to Yarsoc, and her fascination with her 'saviour' was a cause for concern. Another surprise was Oksana, who seemed to be hanging around the academy more, even when her people had returned home from the trials.

Regardless of their intentions, he will aim to preserve his people.

---

Oksana watched as the man disappeared. It didn’t make sense for her to try to lean in, as she was still working on her letters. The others provided useful information for the task at hand. It seemed a refugee, someone like her but a Yasoi, was engaged in charity work, but some troublemakers had kidnapped the do-gooder. The fact that she was here without any real source of income and being rewarded for her good deeds made it simple enough for Oksana to sign-up. Knock a few heads together, perhaps make these bandits lose a few teeth, and they would certainly think twice about attacking any innocents in the future. She smiled warmly towards the rest, as she cracked her knuckles, not that she heard it of course, “Save do-gooder.”

---

Maura hummed as she was asked to intervene in settling the dispute in Kiluaho. Her background would lend her some authority in that area, as a judge of all things mercantile. Most importantly, she would be going on the mission with Kaureerah again! She would have loved Penny to join as well, but she was absent in the morning. There was also Tku, who kindly lent her his tusker kites; they would likely prove invaluable for this mission. Marz would certainly have the know-how to work with the various materials they come across and could jerry-rig solutions to problems.

Then there were those she didn’t know much about. Mahal, from Palapar, could be useful in negotiations or as an interpreter. And there was knock-off Ayla, Raffie; Maura didn’t know much about her other than the fact that she loved her cats.

As for the others, she was less sure about them and their motives. Zast was certainly an unsavoury character, a charlatan. Fiske, once an innocent boy, was becoming more wayward every time she saw him. Ren looked like a Virangish Evander, with the snotty personality to match.

In preparation, she enlisted helpers and puppets, probably, to begin dismantling the Schwarze Alice into transportable pieces for the portal trip. After all, for the pirates and salvagers of Kiluaho, nobody expects the Torragonese Submersible! Our chief weapons are surprise, fear, ruthless efficiency, and an almost fanatical dedication to the pentad.

---

---

[Fallenreaper]

Roslyn Wicke

"I'm going to need a beer after this."

---

---

One's Own Worst Enemy

_{Date: 17th of Velles, Orredes
Time: Spare Period
Location: Mage Hunters' practice range, Ersand'Enise}

Roslyn inhaled. She drew in the heat from the sunlight resting on her dress, chilling the air around her. Her hazel eyes eyed the hovering disc in front of her. It was practically asking to blown out of the air as it stood no more than three meters from her. Lifting up her arm, she aimed her pistol at it. Her hesitation kicked in then when she recalled her group's Tan-Zeno's disapproving words.

"You've been apart of the Mage Hunters' society for about three weeks. You know how to clean, maintain, and use a gun. Yet, you struggle to hit a still target hovering only three meters in front of you? That is unacceptable, Miss Wicke."

Despite her best efforts, Roslyn felt a heat of shame wash over her cheeks. The crack of the weapon echoed in her ears when she pulled the trigger. The bullet dropped and blew past the target. She cursed in Hendlish then made a quick circle motion with her finger. The round, metal ball whipped around as it nicked the disc causing it to wobble. Still it kept going. Roslyn's eyes widened and she jumped back. Clods of dirt scattered as he bullet planting into the ground where she stood earlier.

She let out a breath of relief at it narrowly missing her foot. With a slightly tremor in her hand, she set down her pistol and pinched between her eyes. Roslyn knew she had already wasted too much of her spare hour on this, but her perfectionist nature kept gnawing at her. Like a rat with a piece of twine, it wore at her insecurities and drove her to continue to practice. The newly formed callouses on her fingers looked ready to pop at this rate.

"You're getting better, Roslyn." She caught Morritz Stiglitz's praise after he approached her. He turned small clay disc in his hands, thoroughly examining it. "See, right here. You managed to nick it this time."

He tilted the right side to reveal a small chunk chipped away at the edge. Roslyn bit her lip, sparing it the smallest glance. She could do better...

Roslyn became quiet. She averted her eyes and reached to reload the pistol. Morritz sized her up before he spoke again. "I see you took Tan-Zeno Mendenhoffer's criticisms to heart."

Roslyn's grip tightened on the gun before pausing to look at him. "Is it that obvious?"

"I am afraid so." He continued with a quick follow up, setting down the disc. "Being Mendenhoffer's teaching assistant, even I find his words harsher than necessary. But I assure you, he has the best intentions. Especially with the war brewing on the horizon."

Sizing her up, he then added. "I suggest taking on a task that does some good. It might make you feel better."

Morritz gave her a smile and walked away, leaving Roslyn to her thoughts.

Preparations

_{Date: 18th of Velles, Lepedes
Time: After Class
Location: The Groove, Ersand'Enise}

As Roslyn walked during her shopping, she continued to read the small parchment in her hand. It was a call to arms request for a monster hunt of a violent white thresher and cargo retrieval of the Sant'Agata della Compagnia Rossa. She recalled seeing it a few times and passing it over. It felt too far out of her capabilities, especially for the reward it asked. Stuck at the bounty board, she continued to struggle to find something. Ciro seemed to materialize out of nowhere and inquired about her presence.

She bit her lip. Truthfully, she had hoped to find a job posting to solve her tuition issues. Ashamed to admit it, she mentioned wanting to do something positive. Ciro gave her a long look before he pointed out this bounty. Roslyn didn't know if he saw through her small lie or not, but gratefully took the suggestion. It felt rude not to despite her feelings.

"Uh, Miss? Are you listening? "

Roslyn's head jerked up to see an older woman staring suspiciously at her. She slipped the parchment into her satchel and inhaled sharply, facing the shop keeper with a smile. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. I'm looking for skinglue, snowpepper sniffing power, and binding bandages."

"Wait there. " With heavy steps, the woman slipped behind the counter. She pushed through a small door and into the backroom. Her gruff voice continued to speak through the small gap made by a stone keeping the door open. "Currently, we are out of binding bandages. We've been out of stock since the Trials and shipments have been delayed. However, you are in luck. We got two skinglues and a snowpepper power left."

"Better than I expected. How much? " Roslyn pulled out her small coin bag, ready to count them out.

"Twenty for both skinglue and ten for the sniffing powder." She aired casually.

The girl's eyes widened in shock and barely stopped her jaw from dropping. That was nearly double the amount that she recalled from Vossoriya more than a month ago. "That's more than I remember it being... "

"Blame the rising tensions. Medical supplies are hard to keep on hand since the Trials. At this rate, you'll be lucky if we even got normal bandages to sell."

Roslyn nodded and thanked the woman. She paid, taking her goods and then departed the shop. Her next stop was Fat Yuri's shop. She purchased one dozen pufferchicken eggs before she got caught up in conversation. It reminded her of the damage they had done before departing though she couldn't change that now. Roslyn bid him good bye and popped home to drop off her goods at home. Her final stop was the Grand Library to borrow some research materials. She needed more information over Threshers before tomorrow.

The Hunt
_{Date: 19th of Velles, Victendes
Time: Daytime
Location: Departure Point, Ersand'Enise}

Roslyn finished packing her things as she recounted the list in her head. Even though she knew she had prepared the best she could be, she still bit her lip. What if it wasn't enough? Her fingers pinched down on her nose as she took a deep breath and pushed out the negativity. No point in delaying anymore. She hoisted the satchel onto her shoulder, slipping on her ring and grabbed her hand cannon on her way out. Last thing she grabbed were the boiled dozen of puffchicken eggs for a quick meal on the run.

Feeling a bit lost, she worried she had misread the directions. Her braid swayed behind her as she turned in place, her eyes scanning her surroundings. She spotted Ciro's dark, curly head near a collection of students. Her boots hastened across the flagstones as her eyes caught a familiar, pale Revidian. Trypano. Roslyn cursed underneath her breath while her pace slowed and she fell in next to Ciro.

---

Notes:

_{Summary:
One's Own Worst Enemy- After receiving criticism from her Zeno, Roslyn attempts to improve her aim at the Mage Hunters society range during her spare period. A small conversation occurs with Morritz Stiglitz, the society's head and Mendenhoffer's teaching assistant. He encourages her to seek out a task that does some good to improve her mood before leaving her to her thoughts.
Preparations- After stalling at The Groove's bounty boards, she is approached by Ciro who suggested to take on the White Thresher mission. Roslyn accepted and spent a bit of time purchasing supplies and preparing for the trip the next day.
Then the Hunt- Roslyn meets up with the others for the hunt only to discover that Trypano is among them.
Items of note on her person: Smoking Bandit (per-loaded with Rosy Wick- x2 charges), Four-Dimensional Compass of the Seafaring Tribe, Bottle of Whine, Band of the Beggar King, Tusk Bandages x2, Snowpepper sniffing power x2, Skinglue x2
Purchases this Cycle
Groove/Yuri Receipt- x2 Skinglue (20), x1 Snowpepper sniffing powder (10), and x1 dozen pufferchicken eggs (10) Total: 40 (budget was 50 left from last auction)
Tags: Leon @Jumbus, Alya @Ti, Trypano @A Lowly Wretch, Ciro @Force and Fury}

---

Mahal Agha

"Something about this doesn't feel right..."

---

---

When Reality and Skepticism Collide
_{Date: 19th of Velles, Victendes
Time: 2nd hour of Shune.
Location: gazebo on Hedda’s Island, Ersand'Enise}

Mahal's mind kept returning to the meeting yesterday. She lingered on the High Zeno's words in her head as she tried to make sense of it all. Her foot dangled over the edge of her bed as she rocked herself. Unable to deal with the hounding suspicion, she gave up fighting and brushed Puno off her. The updog cocked her head then obeyed. Ignoring her companion's disgruntled looks, Mahal moved with purpose.

She retrieved her small bag and began filling it up with essentials. Finding the daggers, she wrapped them in cloth and placed them in. She grabbed her waterskin and filled it with the pitcher of fresh water left on her side table.

Pushing her room door open, Mahal hollered in Palparese down the stairs. Behind her, Lunara briefly stirred before flipping over and returning to sleep. A spark of guilt crossed her expression before she caught the sounds of a pair of feet rushing up the stairs. As Mahal got dress, two servants entered. Pua and Kalani, the two indentured servants her father sent. She gave them quick instructions over how to tend to the animals during her absence.

They were too small to accompany her and this made them liabilities. Risking their lives was rather pointless at this stage. Hopefully by the time of the next mission, they would be ready.

During the conversation, she caught the sound of water being sprayed. Mahal had no doubt Diyablos had heard his name and came to investigate, but she had wasted enough time. Finishing up, Mahal straightened out her clothes then collected her bag. While the servants kept the hounds from following her outside, she rushed for Hedda's Island.

~***~

It didn't take long to spot the crowd as Mahal spotted the gazebo's roof ahead. Already a few students had arrived and waited for the portal to be summoned. Her eyes flicked through the crowd, some faces she knew and other were new. The most familiar were Fiske and Ren from her apprentice group. Her teeth gritted at the image of the later as she moved to avoid him.

She would not let him poke her temper today. Her form stood beside the Eeaiko as she prayed for the delay to be brief. Unknown to her, a small, reddish tentacle stretched out from underneath the cover.

---

Notes:

_{Summary:
When Reality and Skepticism Collide -Mahal instructs to servants to care for her pets as she prepares for the mission. While she waits for the portal to activate, she didn't spot Diyablos managed to hide away in her bag.
Items of note on her person: Diyablos, x2 Virangish black steel dagger
Purchases this Cycle None
Tags: Maura @Ti, Fiske @jasbraq, Tku @dragonpiece, Marz @Th3King0fChaos, Raffie @Emeth, Kaureerah @Force and Fury, Zast@Jumbus, and Ren @Suicharte}

[Jumbus]

Revidian Summons

---

Event: Act Six Missions

---

♫ Onward and Upward

Leon was out in the mercantile district having an outfit tailored. He had been awfully busy as of late. The trials and revolution had raised his profile even higher in Ersand’Enise; it seemed there was never the time in the day to deal with it all. It was a welcome return to form that the performer hadn’t experienced since he had left the city of mages. Places to be, people to see, Leon lived for it.

Even the Yasoi refugee crisis had seen the performer in higher demand. After all, who would perform at the charity galas? He loved those things, even enough to get entirely new outfits tailored for them. You always needed to look your best to play the game of charitable nobles right.

A level of cunning was employed when dealing with the rich and charitable. Sure, you could get up on stage and preach the virtues of helping the downtrodden and sick. That would get a few extra pennies in the bucket. But whisper in a noble’s ear that Signore Annusatore di Culo just donated twice what they did, and they will bend over backwards to prove themselves more virtuous. Leon couldn’t sell the idea of helping the refugees because most truthfully didn’t care. But they do like the idea that ‘Saviour of the Yasoi’ would be inscribed on their tombs if they gave the most. The game was to have them leave the event having given far more than they intended; it was incredibly fun and he was good at it too.

Everything was going right for Leon Solaire. Almost.

Lately he had noticed a nagging feeling that something was missing. It was easy enough to hide those thoughts behind conversation and crowds. But in the quieter moments, like getting measured up for a new costume, it bugged him. It would surely go away if he kept focusing on the path ahead, right? It brought him untold happiness before; he just needed to remember that and carry on.

“Leon Solaire! Leon Solaaaiiiree!” A voice came from the entrance of the store, followed by the sounds of someone hurriedly approaching the performer. Hearing the voice, Leon’s face lit up with a smile as he turned toward the entrance. Only to be disappointed at seeing a human girl. He felt silly for giving that much of a reaction, her Revidian accent wasn’t even close to who he thought it was. He focused on maintaining the smile as she reached him.

Leon recognized her face. During the revolution, she was one of the Revidian students he convinced to join the fight and she told him her name after the fact. It was Arianna… Or Aria. It was one of those two at least. Ariadne? No, definitely not that. He raised his arms almost without prompt as the tailor went to measure his upper chest. “Ari, it's good to see you again. Even if you did get me at an awkward moment. I… don’t mean to be rude, but I hope it's important.”

The girl didn’t seem to mind the improvised nickname given to her. “Oh, it is, Leon. Have a look.” Ari hurriedly placed a notice in Leon’s hand to which the performer quickly looked it over. It contained the details of a colossal, raging, white thresher. One that had claimed many lives out at sea and one that would likely continue until stopped.

“... you weren’t kidding,” Leon said. “I’m glad you let me know. We ought to get ourselves signed up then.”

There was a look of embarrassment on Ari’s face that told Leon she wasn’t going. It was clear she had given him the notice expecting him to do that service in her place. After all, it was a dangerous mission, it's not as though just any student could sign up for it. It was a matter of who was brave enough to accept, and he wasn't about to disappoint.

“Or… I’ll make sure to remember who told me about the mission when we come back successful. It wouldn't be a party without them.” Leon continued, trying to cheer her up.

“I’m sure you’ll do Revidia proud,” Ari remarked with enthusiasm.

Leon tried not to wince at the Revidia comment and he let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, something like that,” he responded, trying to tone down the nationalist tone as much as possible; he didn't like it, and his tailor was Belzaggic.

---

Leon was looking forward to a few months of diplomacy and performance in peace. But the Sun King was to be more than just a pretty face and that required accolades. At least it helped him to know that he was doing the right thing. The beast needed to be stopped one way or another before it could take more lives. If they could all work together, it surely wouldn’t be difficult…

---

Coze-Zast

---

Event: Act Six Missions

---

♫ A Cunning Disguise

Maura - expendable

Tku - expendable

Mahal - expendable

Cawiuo-Zast looked up to listen to the conversation. That idiot Silvestri couldn’t even recognise him in his devious disguise as Coze-Zast. The fool, the fool of fools, he didn’t catch his blunders and now the Cazenax was already in phase two of plotting the High Zeno’s downfall. It was additionally fortunate that the job also paid well.

He returned to assessing his team.

Mahal - expendable

Marz - expendable

Kaureerah - gets one free pass, then expendable

Ren - Zast could see that the Viraangish man had his cousin on a leash. One of those two isn't making it back from the mission

Raffie - has potential

Fiske - has potential

---

[A Lowly Wretch]

(Header Pending)

---

Clad in a large obscuring cloak she approached the site that was indicated by the notice. She drew a lot of attention, probably just as much as if she had shown up in just the regular attire which she wore below: mere undergarments. Expensive fabrics elegantly sewn with fine care which made for a fairly high cost for what ultimately amounted to the same amount of cloth that would go into some of the larger handkerchiefs. Such was the strange state of Trypano, making odd choices and sacrifices in the name of efficiency like always.

Seeing the others who had gathered her scarlet eyes peered out from the darkness of her hood, scanning over those who had appeared. Many familiar faces, many still quite distant. For all that they had changed when they ousted the last Zenith much still remained the same. It oft made her wonder how much would have differed had they never raised arms against their oppressors. Penny would of still been captive or perhaps worse and she would never have happened upon the serpent's gift perhaps. The venom of the serpent had changed her but how much could it really help her? Could it give her new insight into her studies? Give boon to her research?

No.

Though there was no use rejecting a boon she sought not the gifts of the gods for her road forward was paved not with the growth of her personal powers but in insights born of experience. The more she could witness the more she could understand. She knew not what the powers which crawled beyond the naked eye willed nor could she necessarily follow their movements, their plots. It was only this much that she was aware of their very presence in their lives, the fingers which pull at their paths, arranging the choices in their lives not unlike an architect arranging pipes to guide the waters of their aqueduct to the destination of their choosing. Channels, gates, movements not guaranteed but assuredly contained so that their destination is all but assured despite their churning and turmoil.

Also there was something to do with an oversized crab or thresher or whatever. A little extra coin could suit her and give her a brief distraction while she planned for what lay ahead. After all, she poisoned a thresher wielding the powers of a greyborn back in the tower, vanquishing it with ease. Unless there were greater complications this mission shouldn't prove any harder.

---

Mentioned - @Force and Fury, @Ti, @Fallenreaper, @Jumbus.

[Echotech71]

Niallus Saberhagen

---

Location: Ersand'Enise
Characters: Niallus @Echotech71,Abdel, Dayanara, Qadira, @YummyYummySeviin,Penny, Johann @Force And Fury, Xiuyang @Emeth, Lunara @BlackRoseSiren, Oksana, Ashon,@Ti, Dory @jasbraq.

---

---

When the document was passed to Niallus. Reading through what was written. It did intrigue him. There were a few familiar faces in the group, while a couple he didn't. Still, he didn't mind. But he wondered if it was the old administration that brought this Yasoi family forward. It would kinda make sense, if it was the new Administration they could have just gone to them. Then again, given how matters have escalated they decided not to get the Admins involved cause it might've drawn suspicions, deciding to go with a “Hail Dami” with some students. Simply nodding to put his thoughts to rest, he saw Penny rolling her eyes at him. There was no need for him to think of the theories. Once he finished reading he passed it along to the next person. With a little stretch of his arms, before heading out, he double checked what he had before heading out to the address. He had an idea on how to point them in the right direction.

[jasbraq]

Dorothea read the notice that was thrusted into her hands, disrespectfully so. To think fate brought such a letter to her, it was so comical that it brought a smile to her face.. Did they say that these knife ears were from Oiyac? I guess those aren’t as bad as the filthy baummenschen from Mycormi.

A little stretch here and there. ”Guess it won’t hurt to check it out. It’s a personal request, so that automatically is already better than the school sending us to near certain death.” The girl rolled her neck before shaking off any of the strain from the stretches.

---

The evening was not filled with rest for the Huulisch boy.

You’re going to fuck up again, dummkopf! It’s not some people on the street we’re dealing with here. It’s actual diplomacy, like the things you should’ve learned but always walked out on when your tutors asked you oh, so politely to learn. Fiske walked around scratching his scalp. Everything has gotten so fast as of late, his mind barely had the time to process it all.

He almost died because he hesitated. His idiotic sense of soft justice is what got Marci in. .

Then when he wanted to just find some books to learn a couple secret spells. That too got him close to death and nobody wanted to help him. He wanted to beg but the pain was enough to keep him silent. Fuck them, fuck them all. I did all of that for them just to be left to die. Oooh, Penny was more important than your filthy common life. . . FUCK. . YOU! Tears fell down his cheek as a mixture of fear and anger hit the boy.

A couple breaths were let in and let out in an effort to calm himself down. If it wasn’t for that weird fruit. I think. . . I think that I would’ve bled out and died there. He conjured a reflection of himself. He did not look any different, but he felt different. The boy could cry. For all his optimism and snark had evaporated and in its wake was a young man who did not feel at home in his own body in a week’s time.

Those filthy students that used the situation of the Zenos coup d'état against Zenith Upta to use their magic to murder. Those men were just mercenaries, did they deserve to die just because they stood against the students’ “glorious revolution”? Most of them probably did not even care about the political aspect of it. They just wanted to kill and fight. To save Penny? Yeah, right.

---

Yvain did not know how to feel about proceeding to the next round of the Tan-Zeno process. He got through but in the process he had to admit to things he rather wouldn’t have acknowledged. You’re a noble, damn you! Have some pride. But which accomplishments could he take pride out of? Almost dying to that filth in Vossoriya? Not being able to stop his cousin getting killed? Being utterly overpowered by any adversary that was encountered? Admit it, you’re not a legend like Arcel or Benedict. You’re barely a Rouis. . You’re Yvain, a high noble that is strong- But never strong enough.

”It seems we’ll have to talk it out with the students who partner themselves with the Central Alliance.” The Perrenchman sighed heavily. ”After all of this violence, I’d rather not resort to force when diplomacy can do the trick.”

[Emeth]

Buried Hopes, Seeping Like Darkness

---

---

The Interview

The office was large and cluttered with crates, artifacts, and stacks of books and notes, organized with a sort of idiosyncratic chaos that smacked of academia. The windows were large and dusty, arched at the top, and golden light streamed in through them. At the far end of the room, silhouetted within the open balcony doors, behind a great mahogany desk, stood the head of the Archaeology department: Giancarlo Silvestri. On the desk was laid out a luxuriant antipasto platter. Upon seeing Xiuyang enter, he turned and smiled, hands clasped behind his back. "Please, come in, seat yourself and help yourself." He gestured. "I do apologize in advance for just how tough I'm going to be on you, but let's do it on a full stomach, no?" He smiled and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled warmly.

Xiuyang wore a dark blue Rettanese dress with red floral patterns, sharp and form fitting. A blood red pendant adorned her neck, and for once, she was covering her scars with makeup and arcane magic. "I would never hold it against you to take your work seriously, Messer Silvestri," she remarked, taking her seat with a businesslike smile. At his prompting, she eyed the food, but considering who came before, she would politely abstain, with an apologetic smile.

The High Zeno reached out with a tiny fork and took a roll of prosciutto from the plank. "Your decision, Signorina Solari." He smiled, and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Now, as we are all business here, shall we get down to it?" He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, smiling again. "Simple question, a rote one you've likely prepared for: Why this job? Why this job really? Help me understand you."

Xiuyang chuckled good-naturedly, checking over her shoulder to the door Zast had just left from. "My apologies. I know it's irrational. Someone of my blood shouldn't worry about where food has or hasn't been—but despite everything, I'm still a lady, so here we are," she japed.

She nodded at the suggestion that she was prepared for his question. "My favorite part of any job has always been to find the talent among those under my purview, and allocate my time and resources accordingly, teaching included. I could do that anywhere, but I find my interest in the Gift renewed and expanded beyond the scope of medicine lately." After a pause of consideration, she continued. "A good way to continue to learn is to teach. If both teacher and student are motivated, both stand to benefit. I don't waste my limited resources on the unmotivated, who refuse to learn."

"Oh, truly? Why this sudden awakening, Miss Solari?" Giancarlo still appeared to be waiting: waiting to be convinced.

Xiuyang smiled tightly in mild annoyance. She could truthfully only come up with one answer to that, and she had convinced herself that everyone else was thinking it too: she was weak. Those who can't, teach.

"Can you think back to a time when you were young and naive enough to think that only selfish or evil people made enemies?" She knitted her fingers anxiously, some small part of her wondering if only she could ever be that blind and stupid. "I used to think of the Gift as just this funny bag of tricks the nobles had, a learnable skill like any other. Now I've seen how much bigger than all of us it truly is. I've seen the Gift do things that ought not be done, in the hands of those who ought not have it. But they do, and when a nine-point-five decides to exercise their will, it's no wonder people say the gods are on their side, or that they themselves are the gods." Xiuyang frowned. She was so close yet so far from that level. Her RAS level was considered "prodigious," but the more they called her "prodigy," the more it began to sound like a taunt, a joke at her expense.

"Nothing could be more important than teaching those with the Gift to use it responsibly. Without that, there would be no order, either within society or to life itself. No one could ever live in peace. Some nights, I can barely sleep. I always wake up wondering if my nightmares are real." There was obvious frustration on her face and in her voice. Frustration that it had taken her this long to come to an obvious conclusion, perhaps, or maybe frustration that she had desired a more convincing answer herself, but had not found one. A more convincing answer to what, though? Not just Silvestri's question, but a much deeper one.

Silvestri clasped his hands at the small of his back and stood in profile, silhouetted by the archway. "So," he concluded, "in a nutshell: fear." He nodded slowly, as if to digest the statement. "You work to prevent something terrible. This, I... understand," he allowed. "Is there anything you work towards, however? A mage should know fear, but not without wonder."

Xiuyang raised her head slightly, curious and bemused. A mage should know fear? she pondered. It wasn't a reaction she expected. Just what had she expected, though? For him to laugh at her for being weak? "My initial goals in attending Ersand'Enise haven't been set aside. There are maladies yet to be understood or made curable... dare I even suggest they might be made preventable in their entirety instead. If such research exists, that's what I want to work on. If it doesn't, then I'll make it so." Her face turned sheepish as the boldness of her own words caught her by surprise.

As if to apologize, she averted her gaze. "I've always been healthy. Illness is not something I can understand from experience, but I've seen how it ruins lives. Even royal heirs are not exempt from the risk of a short, bedridden life. Even when I was young, I pitied them. I'm still passionate about it. I just... also think that I need to be a more well-rounded student. I can mend broken bones, but not the hearts filled with the desire for murder and war. I have to be prepared to protect what's dear to me."

"A fair assertion," the Zeno allowed, "and a hopeful one." He nodded, sipping some of his lemon water. "But also not a whole truth. You've not always been healthy. The scars you're trying to hide with makeup say otherwise." For a moment, his face became sympathetic. "I don't mean to pick at scabs or reopen old wounds, and I do apologize, but I must perform my due diligence." He shook his head and waited for an answer.

There was nothing in Xiuyang's stomach. Yet it turned, as though it might just manifest something to spite her. Scars weren't "unhealthy." They certainly weren't contagious. The High Zeno that stood before her knew this. He wasn't an idiot. All of her father's advice about not drawing attention to herself repeated itself in her rattled mind. She wanted to oversell her offense at his nosiness and just leave. Instead, she swallowed and continued speaking, her face as pale as a ghost.

"What do you think would have happened if I had returned from Yarsoc completely unscathed?" She replied, gathering her composure. She didn't name her assailant. She couldn't. She had no "proof." "This way, their pride is sated, and I remain safe from further attacks, for now." She took a deep breath. She wasn't lying. She was not lying. "Their message is not meant for you, High Zeno. It would be rude of me to insist on showing them to you."

For a moment, his eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged easily enough. "Fair enough," he replied with nonchalance, "but there is something from earlier that interests me, however: a question that I have found myself grappling with before." He took a piece of cheese and tossed it into his mouth, sitting and folding his arms upon the desktop. "You spoke of not caring for the unmotivated, but the reality of both teaching and learning is that you will encounter these people, like it or not, and you are being paid to work with them. How do you reconcile your strident statement to that effect with the harsh reality?"

Xiuyang tried not to look too relieved to be rid of the previous question. The next, though not a soft pitch by any means, was one she was prepared for. "It's true. You can't fire a student. They're more like bad customers than employees." She nodded. "It's not that I'd be refusing to do my job out of frustration—only that I'd be seeking to ensure the school's resources are not going to waste," she explained.

"Perhaps this sounds harsh for a merchant to say, but my only duty is to provide the goods and services that were paid for. It's not my job to ensure that the parents' money is well spent. To not be so brazen as to use myself as an example, you have limited time in your day. Not every student can have your full attention at all times. Students who put in the bare minimum should expect the same in return. The students who show the most promise and who put in the most effort should be the ones receiving 'extra service.' The same here: only the most promising candidates received an interview with you. The rest had their forms thrown in the bin—politely, of course." She put on her best customer service smile to emphasize the point.

He let out a bark of laughter - genuine laughter - or at least it appeared so, and nodded thoughtfully. "That was your best answer yet, and perhaps your most honest." He stood and a hand reached for hers. It was gentle, but rough and calloused. "You are impressive, Xiuyang." He pursed his lips in approval. "So, one last question: do you really want this, and who do you want it for?"

The faux customer service smile gave way to a genuine one as the High Zeno laughed and commended her. She was unaccustomed to praise, and couldn't help herself. Tension left her body as she stood up and shook his hand. He didn't ask about her position at the company. He didn't ask about her choice of friends or question her religious beliefs or point to her alcoholism or seek out other moral failings to criticize. If her own father had been half this supportive—but that didn't matter anymore.

At his final question, her smile mellowed somewhat. She'd spent much of her words both in the written form and the interview trying to sell him on how she'd be an asset to the academy, and he had spent much of his asking about what she wanted out of this. In reply, she nodded in understanding. "I'm sure you've seen your fair share of students being pressured by their parents into doing this, for the prestige. It would be nice if they bragged about me once in a while, but that's not why I'm here. They can 'have' the title of Tan-Zeno, figuratively speaking. The job is for me and my own future."

He shook her hand. "Well, I imagine you'll have it one way or another. The question remains: will that be now or at some time in the future." His smile was businesslike now. "You'll be notified if you've made the test stage. Good luck."

It was Xiuyang's turn to laugh now, but she stifled it. "Hmhm. Just how many times do you think I've written to an applicant that they are 'not accepted at this time,' when the reality is, 'not in a million years?'" She smiled impishly. "Thank you for your time, High Zeno Silvestri, and your well wishes are much appreciated." With a nod of respect and a curtsy, she turned and left.

---

Unbecoming

It was the first gloomy day in a long line of fair weather days; perhaps the Zenos had meddled with the skies again to raise morale, whispered some. The sky was grey, and the distant rumble of thunder punctuated the relative quiet of an Ersand'Enise that saw most of its students enjoying their free time indoors.

It was on these kinds of days that only the most dedicated would train outdoors. It was also on these kinds of days that those students who hated crowds would go to the Proving Grounds to do just that. Among them was the familiar student with the unfamiliar face.

Faster. Xiuyang ran another lap around the inside of the arena; not her second, third or fourth lap—simply "another one." She would run until her lungs burned, and then she would walk until she caught her breath. Then, she would run some more. Faster! Sweat poured past her brow, stinging her eyes and running down the scars she bore. Here, in the Proving Grounds, scars were welcome things. On the face of a warrior, they were celebrated.

Xiuyang did not want to be a warrior. She wanted to be so many other things: a world-renowned doctor and pharmacist, supportive wife of the savviest businessman and philanthropist in all of Revidia, and loving mother of at least four children, who would be accepted and appreciated the way her own mother tried to convince her that she was, but she simply was not.

The faces of the few women lucky enough to be remembered by history did not bear scars. Neither did scars belong on the faces of wives who were loved by their husbands—and they were certainly unbecoming of mothers. Scars belonged on the faces of warriors. Xiuyang did not want to fight. She simply wanted to live—to see the day these dreams would come to fruition—but if history forced her hand, she would become a warrior first, and the rest would have to wait.

Xiuyang continued to run, pursued in her mind's eye by a one-legged phantom. Faster!! she told herself, remembering that time—for it would come again, and the next time she would have to be faster, stronger, and... "S-Shit." Xiuyang stumbled to her knees, willing herself not to throw up. Her training regimen was not very smart, nor—she told herself—did it need to be. For neither the first, second, or third time, she healed the damage in her legs as she retrieved a food jar from her medicine box. It was time for a break—just a short one.

Then, she would run some more—

"You seem determined!" boomed a voice that had become familiar lately. It was Zeno Sectoxomactex. "But you'll run faster if you maintain proper form! You run like you're desperate to escape something—like a woman possessed. Your body will feel less heavy if you lighten the load on your mind." Xiuyang looked up at the tower of a man and regarded him with a smile. "Thank you, Z—Messer Secto." She swiftly corrected herself, but declined the implied offer to lay her troubles before him by way of a silence that would not go unnoticed.

"The strong, silent type, are we? That attitude won't last long under my tutelage," he promised with a grin. "I meant no disrespect." "No, no, I'm sure you didn't—but you'll get my advice whether you like it or not. You've lost weight since the last time I saw you, and for someone as small as you, that's not good. Enough running for you—you should lift weights!" He flexed his biceps to emphasize the point. "And don't neglect your sleep. If all you do is train, you'll never get stronger. No matter how skilled a binder you may be," he added meaningfully. Xiuyang looked down at her gourd and pondered. Muscle repair was something she could do herself. If her energy, focus or willpower wavered, she could give herself more with chemical magic. Daily sleep was a necessity for most people, but a luxury for a talented mage, wasn't it? If this method was good enough for Trypano, it should be good enough for her—but, perhaps she ought to consider his experience. Maybe she was overlooking something important.

Her thoughtful expression seemed satisfactory for the time being. "Believe it or not, I didn't come here to give you a lecture. The archaeologist was looking for you. He has a job for you—not your test, but something that may interest you—a delicate situation befitting an experienced negotiator." An unasked question formed on Xiuyang's face: I passed the interview? Secto grinned from ear to ear. "That ought to put your mind on other things! Go see him," he encouraged. Xiuyang took a victory chug from her gourd. "Thank you. I will."

---

Ransom Demand

This isn't where I'm supposed to be. That was all Xiuyang could think about as she listened to the hooded figure and read the notice being passed around. While she hadn't exactly given her word that she would accept the mission from High Zeno Silvestri, expressing her interest in receiving a mission from him personally and then getting distracted by Yasoi affairs could be construed as "unprofessional" by those who wished to look for such things. This was, ostensibly, also a matter which the academy would want resolved, and one she couldn't ignore. She would just have to hope that an understanding could be reached after the fact. This was effectively a hostage situation, and she couldn't waste time apologizing ironically for taking the initiative on this.

Jaxan'suul'doridax. When the notice finally reached her hand, she had to disguise her scoff as a dramatic loss of breath. Charitable work. Right... At least this explains his disappearance. Having finished reading, she passed it along, then stood pondering a while. The notice had some concerning undertones about the parents' intentions. Understandably, their way of handling this could be charitably described as "unrefined." As she considered their intentions, and the intentions of some of her allies, and the possible motives of the kidnappers, various pieces fell into place in her mind. "I agree with you, Seviin—but this situation requires more finesse than our wealthy friends are expecting. Frankly, it's beyond me. I'm going to call in a favor from an old friend of mine. Don't worry, you can trust them—more than you can trust me, really. Unlike me, they have a reputation to uphold," she japed playfully, winking at Ashon as she turned to leave.

---

Rather than Xiuyang, someone else arrived at 74A Crossview Terrace. Another, entirely different black-haired, distinctly Rettanese woman wearing a red hood, not to be confused with Xiuyang, carrying a historically significant staff that certainly didn't belong to their friend, Xiuyang, and wearing a skull masque that was definitely not acquired by Ciro during the Trials prize selection.

Definitely Not Xiuyang

"Good day to you all," she greeted as though meeting for the first time, with a thick Rettanese accent. She leaned on her staff as she bowed her head. "Since before Belleville got its name, I have been called the 'Six-Tailed Fox,' and been a benefactor of its residents. Now that I am no longer needed there, I've turned my attention to the refugees," She raised her head and pointed her staff in the direction of the Seagate. "I'm here to find and rescue the boy." She planted her staff back on the ground, and casually leaned on it as she spoke with a kind of authority from experience. To her credit, the skull masque did much to give her an aura of a mysterious local guru and plant a seed of doubt even in those who knew her well. It couldn't possibly be anyone else but Xiuyang, but was she? To her friends, she was Xiuyang, but to anyone else, she was... passably incognito, which, given recent events, was probably for the best.

---

---

Appetites, Like Sponges, Expand When Whet

---

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Castaway

Raffie listened to Giancarlo Silvestri explain this complex situation, her eyes lighting up with wonder at all the proper times. A historically significant find! Treasure! Adventure! Pirates! "Well, we can't let the pirates win! They don't care about history, only money!" she chimed in vapidly. This is gonna be, like, a major shitshow. Maybe if I do the bleeding heart thing, I can get some info out of the locals, she pondered. "Aw, shucks! The best and brightest! I just got lucky☆" she squealed. "I'll be there, for sure!" she said with a big smile.

So it was that she arrived at the portal, wearing a shorter summer dress, sandals rather than her usual high heels, and a straw hat. She bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet and her heels, as if she were excitedly daydreaming about going to the beach, not giving any consideration to the political and diplomatic nature of the mission at all. Unlikely doesn't mean it won't happen, though, she wondered in secret, eyeing up all of her allies, trying to decide which among them could actually make a decision and take a side. Hmm~ At least a few of these gentlemen look like they got their priorities straight... She smiled and waved at each of them in turn, not a scrap of evidence as to her inner thoughts apparent on her face—until she laid eyes on Mahal. "O-Oh, uh, fancy meeting you here," she greeted awkwardly, averting her gaze. She's a rash one, but that's better than analysis paralysis. I'll take her over a moralizing gasbag any day.

[YummyYummy]

---

---

Velles 19th

_{Location: Ersand'Enise - Animal Farm
Day of the week: Victendes
Time: Morning / Daytime
Characters: Zarina, Nu, Biby, Penny @Force and Fury, Rikard, Yvain @jasbraq, Taleja @Ti, Guy @dragonpiece}

---

Tan Zeno Interview

The board room was ornately furnished with a table in the middle, a bottle of Ellermane Bleu and a couple of glasses ready for serving. The friendly Perrench man greets the students at the door and introduces them to the comfortable chair as he pours out the bottle into the glass. Marigold cheerfully greets application with a heartful meow before disappearing under the table to reside underneath the Zeno's chair. He gave a chuckle, “She is a little shy around strangers.” He is seated comfortable, and relaxed. It is a nice and pleasant atmosphere, as if two friends are ready to chat over a glass of wine. “Your application was a refreshing read, and I am interested in you. Tell me something that I cannot read from this page.” He patted his hand on your completed application form, before it found itself scratching along the back of the cats neck as it appeared on the table.

Zarina opted for a safe middle-ground when it came to her presentation: Darker colours for her formal dress, one that would be conventionally accepted as tasteful to bring to classes, without being too dim as to suggest she was mourning something. She was fresh with an odour of lavender permeating the air around her. With a steady and calculated gait, she approached the seat dedicated to her.

“High Zeno Masson.” she spoke before bowing.

The disarming demeanor of her interviewer brought the tall student to an ease she wouldn't easily achieve in such occasions. She took a seat, tugged slightly on her dress to give space to her knees and took a seat in a proper, ladylike fashion.

“She's beautiful. Hey you!” cooed Zarina as her golden hues followed the little animal. The sight made her smile, something Olivier knew from reading her record. With a light touch of her signature chemical spell, she attempted to ease the stress on the feline and communicate the Al-Nader as a 'friend'.

“Well,” Zarina peered at her wine glass. Her personal inclinations told her to indulge, but her mother's teachings told her to wait for the host to poison themselves first. She conspicuously looked at Olivier's glass before continuing. “I'm a stickler for good Ellermane Bleu.” she said as she seized the glass and merely inhaled the aromas to distinguish the different unique quirks that made it the way it was. “I've had quite a bit catered a while ago. But not many people know just how much I love the stuff.” she giggled sweetly.

“But for what's relevant to the position? I'd say I'm one hell of a good staple that keeps many great folks attending this school together. No matter where they're from or what they believe in.”

Masson tutted a little as the cat moved away from the use of chemical magic, shaking his head lightly. He moved to fill a little saucer with some cream, as he smiled gently, "She will return on her own." As he moved his hand on the glass, raising it up as if to do a silent toast toward Zarina as encouraging her to drink. Matching if she went to drink.

"You are a little bit different than I expected," He motioned towards her presentation in a gentle manner, "and your coffee is certainly a staple, amongst the students and the faculty." He circled with a finger on her point on togetherness, "So, why do you do it?"

Zarina raised her glass in mimicry. “There's a reason they make the host drink first. Please don't make me neutralize such good stuff.” she commented with a twinge of sass. She really was tempted to just sip.

With actual questions shot her way, she took a moment to think. She pondered whilst staring into the dark-red fluid, making her look far more profound than she really was. In truth, she was just trying to remember simple vocabulary. “Because it's when I had all these good people united in a common goal that we've achieved greatness.” she answered with a tone teetering toward dramatics that matched her words. The gesturing with her idle hand added even more to it. “Changed the lives of many of our tethered colleagues forever, and for the better I feel. And saved a whole city-state from an incarnation of evil. All of it because we we tied together without any bickering over petty differences. We made a true difference to the world, the same way I'd want to do for this school and city.”

She then sighed. “Of course, all this was possible because of trust.” and with those words, she took a first sip.

Masson winked as he drunk after Zarina, "I did not share the same concern. With your chemical magic expertise, you should have been able to neutralize the toxin without further affecting the quality of the vintage." Marigold returned to the table as she mewled, and moved over to the saucer to lap its contents.

"You make such feats sound effortless in your reply, and without you, all this could have not all been possible. Truly marvellous, I am geniunely intrigued." He gave a couple of claps with his hands, "Tell me more of the specifics, how did you do it? I wish to learn more about how you completed these achievements."

“Tsk tsk. The slightest alteration can ruin it. If only I was that good.” Zarina lamented before taking a more hearty sip. “But I think you can make due without a scandal involving dead students or assassination attempts, right? Trust and character judging were key to my success.” she said, causing a recently stitched wound in her mind to open up. She hid it, of course, but it embittered her nonetheless.

Zarina then shrugged, making it a habit to sip every time she engaged a new idea. “I organized a soirée and invited friends, and those friends invited their friends. No pretenses, no ulterior motives. Just a chance to be friends again before the big war pops and an investment for the future. The same way I go about my business.” and her love life, it seemed. Although she abstained to mention that one. “'Cause this is what you're getting with me: Someone who cares about the long term, partially because I'm likely to see it, but also because I see Ersand'Enise as my home.” she pursed her lips and gestured to indicate she wasn't done. “I know that sounded a little melodramatic but I actually do literally own a home here. So, y'know, gotta be a citizen, corporate and otherwise, if I wanna live at ease here.”

Masson circled the glass in his grasp, as he listened half-attentively. "I had hoped for more about this about this tethered story, or rescuing a whole city state from evil." He moved over to a bowl of grapes as he plucked several to put in his mouth, as he suckled on the succelent rich taste of them, one for each of his five gods, and Zarina's god, then one for the goddess of the yasoi. He gestured with his hand, "So your soiree was an opportunity to invest in social credit before the event of a potential war? That sounds quite calculating and ambitious ." He offered the bowl of grapes towards Zarina.

“Oh.” Zarina blinked. “I thought you wanted to know how I got people to unite. Right, okay.” she shook her head and raised her hand. “We fought to overthrow a Tethered Refuge's corrupt governance and saved it from a maddened Royal Sand Wyrm. We all worked together and ...” she looked to the side, showing some potential shame. “I got over some ideas I had about them - the tethered. I'm hoping I can convince others to give them more of a chance, y'know?” she shrugged.

“An Zenui ... You know, it came down to finding the right people to fix a broken government - again - and Prime Minister Cozesteo, an enemy I spared out of mercy, became our solution.” she pursed her lips and took a sip of her glass - it was nearly empty. “Then came the big, bad Hetraxa monster that killed hundreds, and was gonna kill more and more.” she nodded, gaze a bit hollow as she recalled. “It's a bit more of a blur to me, as I was, well you've seen in my sheet there, transformed. Parts of it come and go.” she took a deep breath and followed up with more confidence. “That being said, monstrous or not, I saved hundreds, if not thousands, thanks to what I was - A wildblood. And I intend to do the same for this city.”

Zarina accepted the grapes but did not seem to be in any mood to eat. “You make it sound so cynical, High Zeno.” she uttered with a glum look. “But yeah, it was kind of calculated. Calculated and genuine. I've grown to care about these people - this community. And the only way we'll make this world, not just this school and city, better is by investing in its future rather than constantly destroying it to start anew. It was almost pointlessly risky for me to invite some of the Revidians after what had happened. Almost.” a light glimmer could be found in her eye. One of a shrewd businesswoman.

He waved his hand as to dismissively fend off the accusation, "Don't look so glum, I am not here to make an omelette, Miss Al-Nader" He gave a chuckle as he reached for bottle, offering to refill the glass. "But I want that shell of yours to crack, and to see what will hatch from it." He placed his hands together as if stern for a moment, then relaxed again, as the kitty leaned up against his arm. "It is approaching Marigold's lunch time," he scratched under the cats chin, as her purr rumbled gently from the action.

“Crack my shell?” Zarina narrowed her eyes to her interviewer and placed the glass back onto the surface before her. “I see.” her lips puckered up for a moment with her gaze intensifying a little more. “If you want something specific from me, High Zeno Masson, you could also just ask for it.” she looked to the hungry cat serving as hourglass prop.

Then she peered down, nodded and seemed to resign herself to something. “I'm afraid. I feel I don't have a place in most of this world - a world I feel I already did a lot for. Even before I became this thing, I was never content with what I was supposed to be. Not so much here, however.” she exhaled loudly from her nostrils and looked Masson right in the eyes. “I'm gonna live a long time as something most will fear and possibly hate. I wanted to ... Find my place. Ersand'Enise is this place. And all these fucking trials - not the games - reminded me that I'm good and decent. Not just some animal to be monitored, made to enforce and put down.”

“Honestly? I want to be an inspiration. I want to be a hero. Being one of the youngest Tan-Zenos and later Zenos in history? A WILDBLOOD to boot? One loved by,” she bit her lip, trying hard to stifle her emotions. “so many, and accepted by even more. It would be a great step up to what I did for the Tethered. That's what I want the most. And I KNOW I'd do a fucking good job.” she let her back sag into her seat a little more, sighing after letting that out. “So, yeah, a bit melodramatic there, again. But that's how I feel. And what I want.”

"All of Oraff's creations are beautiful, Miss Al-Nader." Marigold grew more insistent, as she gently nibbled on his finger. "but now is time. This turned into quite the pleasant conversation after all. Thank you for coming by." He moved to stand up as he approached the door, opening it for the applicant. Marigold decidedly head towards the food bowl was.

“Some far more than others.” Zarina added with a twinge of bitterness. Said bitterness lingered as the exchange met its end. Zarina clenched her dress as her interviewer walked past her to give her the door. She felt she hadn't done enough - not enough to 'wow' anyone.

“The Blood of Saam's beloved courses through me.” she blurted out something she had always believed should have remained secret right before the door opened. And yet here she was, desperate to prove she had value. Zarina stood up, turned and faced Masson. “In a time where you've lost the assets that made Ersand'Enise stand atop the world - Paradigm Hugo and Zenith Claresse - I still chose this school to be the one I pour my hopes and efforts into.”

The Virangish stepped forward toward the door. “And I know my potential can reach their levels with proper guidance-” grooming was a better word, she thought. “I only need the opportunity to truly shine.” she bowed her head and headed for the door. “Thank you for your time, High Zeno Masson.”

And then she looked toward Marigold. “Bon appétit, petit kitty.” she cooed.

Masson smiled as the door as he closed the behind her, "Thank you for your time as well, Miss Al-Nader."

---

♫ She Hummed

Zarina hovered over the calm, misty waters of the cordoned off deep sea section of the animal farm in search for both solitude but also a reassuring presence. It had been rough the past two weeks and she had just about reached the limits with people in general. The cool sea air reminded her of a time far less complicated.There were very few beasts to disturb her quietude in this section as they all preferred the abyssal depths and artificial trenches made for them.

There was one exception: A pair of black, beady and predatory eyes that emerged from the waters like that of a crocodile, albeit longer. Under them was a large shadow, one big enough to cover the area of a shed. It had been attracted by the familiar presence - prey, it always thought - only for it to float completely immobile once it reached the surface. The tune became familiar after a week. It meant food. And its mistress always provided.

“You’re a big, dumb and menacing piece of work.” she spoke after a breather without ending her tune. “But not vicious. I would even say-” the beast-mistress angled herself to ‘lie’ on her stomach while floating a good twenty feet above the water surface. “Innocent.” she tossed a large slice of tuna into the water, and it slowly sank into the behemoth’s antenna.

The woman that had approached Zarina had laid out the details before her group had been made known. If there was one student in Ersand’Enise to deal with such Behemoths, it was her. The whole conundrum had her wondering what could cause the sudden aggression. The reputation of these threshers lent one to conclude it was the norm but serial strikes on ships was deviant behaviour.

Her mind wandered into the possibilities, but each time she pictured the potential destruction and slaughter an abnormal animal could do, she could only imagine herself and what she would have done to that boy, Fiske, had she not been quelled beforehand. She was going to kill him without paying any credence to his side of the story, much like a beast would. Her eyes hollowed, mind divorced from her surroundings. It took Nu’s stirring, her Bluewater Behemoth, to snap her out of it.

“You’ve had enough.” she decided before dousing the critter with an unpleasant chemical spell to convince it the session was over. “Like clockwork.”

Too many parts of the equation were missing, she figured. These things did not want or revel in glory like humans, nor were they close to intelligent. With a sigh and without a solid hypothesis, Zarina dove into the trenches blind. For now.

---

The meeting Penny conducted had done its job: They were gathered and Zarina could get a feel for the group. A particular sight had her posture stiffen just a little more.

Yvain. It took a lot of willpower to not just utter that name with disdain. The guy had supposedly humbled himself, but nearly being blasted to death and causing the mess that had burned a few bridges for the teen that only sought to help would understandably leave one sour for some time.

Affiliated. Guy was neither hot nor cold to her. From what she understood between Penny’s recently revealed (to her) status and this guy’s position, he was bound to her. Still, the shady nature of this operation’s premise had any sort of politics make her anxious.

Unknown quantity. She saw the odd interactions between Taleja and Jocasta. Perhaps the most brilliant student of their cohort. Perhaps a mind over emotion was what they would need to crack this.

Good kid. Finally there was Rikard. A powerhouse and known quantity. Smart but a child. The Venomhand’s brains were going to be crucial to keep a plan going.

Princess. A leader, perhaps? Or was she truly the hothead some might have suggested she was? It was either her or Zarina that would realistically take the reigns if personalities were to matter. Given who attended, however, perhaps the old legged royal was the better pick.

And there’s me. Someone’s gotta know what they’re doing, after all.

“Agreed.” Zarina crossed her arms as she regarded Yvain. “Let’s keep the trigger-happiness to a minimum, even when that big thresher is upon us. The smart thing would be to keep it alive to see what’s causing it to go mad. Hopefully without hurting our misguided peers.” her eyes narrowed on Yvain. “Or even our own allies by mistake.”

Out of her messenger bag loaded with supplies emerges the golden head of Biby, the house hippo, fully prepared for a trip. Why did she decide to bring it? One would have to find out, or just ask. The young and smol beast yawned wide and curiously ogled at every moving thing.

“That said, if the port’s in immediate jeopardy, we kill it. Straight up.” Zarina declared, solemnly.

---

_{Loadout:
Gear: Hetzelburg Homburg, Conquistador’s Gauntlets, Many Moons Armband, a singular silver coin.
Currency: Ỽ5
Consumables: Puffchicken Egg Salad with spratz cream coffee.
Familiars: Biby}

[dragonpiece]

Ingrid

Administration really wants to test me it seems, Ingrid annoyingly thought. She had the best Zeno with Luumelan and an old friend with Ayla. Maybe she can rekindle a friendship with her, lord knows she could use some. Johann was a pleasant inclusion, having known him from his generosity and passion she's seen in the reading club. Maybe I can hang out with from time to time, Ingrid ignored the obvious political tensions of interacting with a Kerreman and a Torragonese. Then there were 2 choices that made her roll her eyes, Trypano and Esmii. Ingrid had some mixed feelings though mostly she just felt crossed. Trypano and her playing keep away with the Lantern of Shune-Zept and Esmii being a bitch and being moss on a tree with Sven. And again, the other one was Central Alliance. The only Sovereign Pact member in this group after what happened. This is what I get for helping out.

There was a moment of pause as Ingrid just looked at her group with much less enthusiasm now. Just ignore it, fuck admin, fuck this war, and fuck Trypano and Esmii. Simple as that Ingrid just rolled her eyes and went back to her work. If the admin wouldn't help her achieve her goals, she will simply do it without them. She is not so easily daunted by a closed door. First step is working with a certain scheming woman to make a Shipyard.

---

Tku

He survived the 2 Grand Demons, he survived a bad hit piece on Juulet, he survived the revolution and took down the Queen of Magnetism, he even survived his own hubris taking that aberration on his own. Tku was quite the lucky man and somehow, he even scored and interview, how it went he couldn't say, he just hoped his friends achieved their aspirations. But now Tku had a different task, one that he was unprepared for.

Marci wasn't here, Zarina was hurting, and the others were mules doing what they needed to do. Tku was a manager with honestly too little responsibilities to justify his pay. They were always so hands on it was an easy, relaxing job that he could chat with customers and friends while making some hats. How he wished he could have maintained that. Maybe he should have helped Marci that night somehow, tire Juulet, end it quicker. "Something," Tku found himself saying from time to time. He safes people and ends things with what should be good change, but there is always a cost, and they haunt him. And this is his cost, no, what he can pay for his friends.

He went into work that day a changed man. No longer was he lax and slow. Instead, he was a busy and competent manager. The more work he could do here, the less Zarina and Marci had to worry about something they had put so much effort into it. Keep the atmosphere light while working hard on the back end. He hated to be serious but if that is what was needed, he would take up the role with care and grace.

---

Guy

Guy sat down at his desk with all his stationaries as he was obliged to write a letter to his family about his continued existence. It was a short and brief letter informing them of his newest accomplishments in the Trials and his adoption of some new pets. There was a strange sense of pride reporting to his father that he had done something his father could have never dreamed of in his youth. He didn't let his pride turn into boasting though, as that would only inflame their small feud. He did ask that Father may entrust some of the family techniques on Midnight Wasp keeping and to send an experienced hand to help manage the hive. A small ask from a son that never asked for anything. He ended it with warm regards and small P.S. An intimate section to his father in their native tongue, thanking him for allowing him to go to Perrence. Tekah snuck in a small drawing of her, Penelope, and Guy relaxing under a tree.

His next letter was in response to a call for aid from his former teammates. It was a simple reply, not making much more fuss than needed. Tekah insisted on going to see her brother and sisters, Guy was quickly overpowered by her immense egging and Guy agreed. Another stress to his limited funds but he had no reason to refuse his daughter's request.

Lastly, he wrote to his treat proprietor in Perrence. Tekah had wanted to try more foods and he thought some things from the white cliffs of le Colosse. Quite the unique cuisine Guy was treated to when he was training there.

Dear Esteemed Proprieter,

I ask for a hand in the procurement of some local smoked shellfish from the white cliffs of le Colosse, my companion Pebble has been a very active in duty and I thought I should reward her. Penelope, though, has been given a Bunfruit by a Yasoi man at the school. Seems that she is quite fond of them now. I would go as far to say Gluttonous even, he gave her 3 and she ate them all in the same day. I am worried that amount of Bunfruit may be unhealthy for her and wondered if you could get an expert's opinion on the matter.

Yours Truly, Guy Attard

Guy finished the letter and stamped it appropriately and sent all his letters out. As he met up with his Zeno group, Guy was pleasantly surprised that Penny was with him. There was a small part of him that felt a sting though he couldn't place it.

[Suicharte]

---

---

Can worms fish?

---

The Groove was alive with several individuals doing exactly what they weren't supposed to as Ersand'Enise students. Gambling their lives, ingesting aberrations, and encouraging others to engage in risky bets. Ren was not here to partake in that, or at least not personally. Joliin was still not at an acceptable level, and that irked the man. So, as a bearer of the fruit, he obviously had access into the groove. He'd brought with him the worms, of course, but a couple of extra bodies that he considered to be utterly useless just in case an opportunity for trade, or fun at the exchange presented itself. Others had done similar things in passing.

"You're due for an aberration, Joli. You'd better not embarrass us and cry." he smiled at the waifish yasoi girl, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a tight, reassuring squeeze. There would be no protest as they made their way to the aberration table. It was there however, that he was met with the delicious sight of opportunity - a recent addict suffering greatly. However grotesque this worm was, she was excellent for opportunities like this. He couldn't grin harder at the opportunity presented before him.

"Now, this is the perfect time for a test. The one who gets it right earns themselves a reward." he waved to the three of his main accomplices, releasing the hand that he had on the girls shoulder and immediately spraying it with a sickly sweet perfumed soap, rubbing them together after the fact. Touching that thing was more than she deserved.

Joliin jumped slightly at the touch, even though she had sensed it was coming. She swallowed awkwardly. "I..." She took a small, nervous breath. I-I shall do my best, Master." She took another. She hated when Ren was like this, but there was nothing she could do. He wasn't hurting her. He was spending his own money to make her stronger, but there were risks: so many risks! Then, she sensed the boy thrashing about, in the throes of minor aberration madness, and Ren's words followed hot on the heels of that. "I can do it!" she chirped, offering up the ghost of a shy smile. "I can help him if you wish it!" She nibbled her lower lip and turned hopefully towards Ren. (edited)

Zarina had been enjoying the quietude of the groove's corner booths. The recent events were overwhelming and the curse of being a social linchpin of her groups, as well as owning many rambunctious pets, led to very little peace. Being divorced from her current time, however, did the job.

She was drinking some regular wine - the sort that didn't require special coin - when Tku did a thing. Leaning to the side for a better view, Zarina quickly recognized the black anomaly by the artist. It was Way. Too. Big. “Eshi-t. Seriously?” she muttered in frustration. Of course, she chugged the rest of her drink before precipitating toward the near-dead Tku and drew from the poison that was killing him. “Hang in there, habibi. Your favourite bitch's got you.” she clenched her teeth in anticipation for unpleasantness.

Luckily, she didn't have to suck too much.

Everything should go alright, last time I got an aberration for the 3 of us. It should be fine... These were the last thought that Tku had before his stupidity and arrogance led him to an untimely end...

Or at least they should have been.

Tku had enough humility to think that he may not be so sure. Enough to bring his closest friend, Zarina. He was spared by humility and generosity this day, how many times can be so lucky?

There was no existence, only shades of color. Colors he had never seen, people took forms. Zarina was Hetraxa of all people, her hair became snakes and whips. No violence came from him but tears at his skin to paint what he saw

"Ah, your scales are so vibrant today!" He tried to grasp at things that apparently hovered above Zarina's skin, only grabbing a scrap of clothing at times.

Ren scratched his head, a little bit disappointed to be truthful. Mountain Goat had little to say or do in this situation, and he was obviously excluded from the potential reward. Gesté-Mago also had little to say about the current state of affairs, other than a forced half-smile he wore on his face at all times. That was why he was Ren's favourite. He knew his place, and he didn't speak out of turn. But Joliin loved to posture, and pretend to be something she wasn't - a saviour. Everything she'd ever accomplished in her pitiful, insignificant life was a result of his actions, but today, he'd give her a chance to show her what it meant to show mercy.

"What an excellent suggestion, Joli. I do wish you to help him." his expression changed to mild amusement as he spoke softly, binding the rest of the soapy substance away from his hands. As he stepped closer, he realized there may be a situation afoot.

There was another woman there, visibly Virangish in accent and skintone, and she seemed to show a degree of consideration for this boy. Was he one of hers? He couldn't imagine anyone ever referring to property in such an affectionate way, though he did know that some treated animals with more care and consideration. Maybe he was her Joli. Still, the way he was grasping at her was far from acceptable and definitely needed to be trained out. "Do you really let it touch you like that? I'll let my creature fix it if you don't mind me borrowing it for something." he looked somewhat disgusted at this point in the affairs, waving Joli to attend to the boy.

"Truly, Master?" Joliin chirped, twisting and smiling. Her teeth were a bit crooked, but she was blind anyhow. She bowed deeply at the waist. "Thank you! You really are kind and merciful." Then, however, he continued, and her heart and stomach came together in a mess inside of her. She could not control her face enough to retain her smile. "I will obey... with joy." She remembered to add the last bit, sensing the aberration-afflicted boy, clenching and unclenching her fists nervously as she stepped forward when waved forward.

Zarina retreated her head back a little to avoid an accident. Her hair strayed a little to close to Tku's wandering hands, but she sighed in frustration as the inevitable ruining of her clothing. “Tsk, Habibi ...” she pursed her lips and tapped the maddened Tku's cheek.

Then came a voice, one loaded with an accent she very much recognized. Virangish, but specific to a certain group. It took her back, and not necessarily to good places. Zarina twisted to regard the newcomers. “Huh? You got some animal that can fix maddened lads?” she raised a brow, the obvious implications of Ren's voice flying over head ...

But only for a couple of seconds. She was, after all, from the same world. “Ah.” it clicked when she noticed the Yasoi and her choice of words. “Right. Sure.” She scooted, but remained close to keep her hand onto Tku's. “He's not property. He's a friend. So there isn't any replacing, Habibi.”

Gesté-Mago swallowed. He saw to sorting some of the supplies in Mountain Goat's many bags. "Perhaps there is still room for us to help each other, no?" He wasn't sure why he spoke out. He could see Joliin's anxiety. He did not want her to foul this up. He did not want Ren to be in a black humour. He did not want the callow, waifish girl to take another lashing. He was old but sturdy, while she looked as if she might break at any moment.

Tku played with the bit of fabric, it shifting in form and material until it end up as dust. His shoulders slumped as he wasted such a rare scale. "I broke the gift," a tear fell down his cheek and he was left trying to press the dust back into a scale.

Again and again he tried to make it back into a scale and again it crumbled into dust. Frustration grew until it burst and he sent the dust flying with a huff of kinetic. Pissed as all hells, Tku looked back at Zarina's scales like they were taunting him. "I will make something great out of you one day!" Tku proclaimed oh so loudly.

And then he saw her.

A heavenly figure draped in loose cloth with a blindfold over her eyes. His eyes went wide as a holy light formed with her. "Ahn-Dami?"

No matter the madness, Tku dropped to his knees in front of her greatness, "Oh magnificent being, so kind and wise, I have wasted your blessing!" He clasped his hand together to pray, "I have wasted your gift you have given me." He waited for the judgment on his very soul.

Before she opened her mouth, the disgust faded into a glance of respect, but then he actually listened to her speak. Her tone was offensive to his ears, and there wasn't a modicum of respect in her comments. Habibi? She wished. She prayed at night. She dreamt about it, and Vashdal spat this exact situation in her face to humble her. It was all a sick joke. A scowl graced his features before Gesté-Mago spoke up, and he found more joy in listening to the old croney goblin smack his lips together than a fellow countryman. No wonder he had so much to do these days. He simply turned to his slave and set the conversation with Zarina to the side for a moment. She'd already proven herself unworthy of his immediate attention.

"Reasonable as always, Gesté. If he's not property, then he's responsible for his actions and we can have him compensate Joli for my efforts. They had such a good suggestion, a reward is only fitting." his face changed once more to a smug smile, knowing full well what he was going to get out of this, regardless of Zarina's protests.

It was only after he was finished speaking to the cazenax that he even met her gaze again to speak once more. There was a part of him that wanted to completely ignore her, but that was beneath him. "A friend?" he spat, almost laughing. "You don't have to hide behind words when you've given yourself away through them. It's fine to have a little escapade here and there, but don't assume everyone wants to jump in." It didn't hold the venom that one would expect of a comment like that, but it was still obviously a remark meant to belittle her. Still, his smile held.

He spoke in such a adoring way about her master and, for a moment, Joliin felt a pang of jealousy: this pretty... no, he wasn't Belzaggic! He wasn't Joruban either... she recognized the accent. Obenjan!

She used her energy sense to make sure that she was facing him and attempted a reassuring smile. She knew what it was like to take too much of an aberration. She felt confidence that she could do it. Praise from ren was such a rare thing and he had praised her twice today already. "You haven't wasted anything," she assured the pretty boy. "There is simply a balance to be paid. Master will see to that." She reached out with her small, cold hands. "Now be still, okay?"

Zarina's skepticism was made clear as their gazes met again. But the remarks had her drop any sort of passivity. “Escapades? Really?” she raised a brow and gave a general glance. “Look, I appreciate the help. Really,” once Tku has in more competent healing hands she ascended back on her feet, hands on her hips. “you have my total thanks.” there wasn't the cheekiness or sarcasm she'd usually have with this sort of discourse. In fact, she lowered her head a little. “What's the favour?” she inquired, this time in Virangish.

"Yes Goddess," Tku took in the infinite grace and leniency of Ahn-Dami. He closed his eyes but the visions didn't stop. Scattering his mind against the cold ground spilled dozens of experiences.

The times he was unkind out of fear. The time he lashed out without understanding. The time he took more than he needed... Every time he gambled his life so haphazardly.

Connections to people formed. They were beautiful, they were burdensome. They were fulfilling! They were so frustrating! She is kind, I'm flaky. Why am I flaky?

Tku was surprisingly still despite being crazed.

Joliin laid her hands on his shoulders. "Breathe when I breathe. Okay?" She reached out into the luminous agglomeration of energy that was the boy before her, finding the slivers of emptiness within: darkness within the light. She pulled them into herself, grimacing in discomfort, but discomfort was nothing. Her eyes had withered and fallen out of their sockets shortly after her ninth birthday. She gritted her teeth and extracted the wrongness - the one in his mind. This, she neutralized with her unquenchable light.

When it was all done, Joliin breathed a big sigh of relief. She could feel him right again and, even though she didn't know this boy, she felt like she did. A warmth rose inside of her. "I have taken what I can. I hope you are better," she concluded. After a moment, she realized that one of her hands was still on his shoulder. Quickly she retracted it.

He cocked an eyebrow at her response, maintaining the same expression as he spoke. She was thankful, appropriately so for the aid he'd so generously delivered this mangled addict - and even carried a degree of shame about her. But it was oh so boring. He too, switched to Virangish, not necessarily out of respect for her but seemingly out of instinct "Are you concerned? Afraid?" he asked, smirking as he put a hand to his chin, continuing to examine. He'd phased most of what Joli and the aberration crazed youth said, but the word Goddess was uttered and he laughed.

"You hear that? Your friend thinks she's a goddess. he chuckled softly, menacingly almost to himself, before an annoyance gripped him. Goddess, huh. Then she'd get to play the part. "He'll have to thank it for saving his life. Appropriately." he continued in his native tongue, obvious traces of high society trickling through his accent, even as his tone was bothered.

He looked over to see Joliin finishing up and he clapped his hands together as if they were finished now, switching back to Avincean. "Ah, very timely! Now, Joliin, would you like a reward for your efforts?" he spoke, a closed grin on his face as his hands moved to clasp together behind his back.

“No. I know your eminance wouldn't be satisfied with any common favour. I'm intrigued.” Zarina even performed a light bow after finishing her response, still in her mother tongue. Her attention then returned to the mostly restored Tku. “Wow, she actually did it.” she nodded, genuinely impressed. “And I gotta agree, I say a resemblance to Lilith, actually.” she turned to regard Ren. “Wouldn't you agree? With hair and blindfold.”

Zarina watched with anticipation what the master had in store for the servant after a job well done. She had seen many extremes in this practice, more so the 'good' than the cruelty some imagined to happen on the daily. Her generation had grown with reforms, but she had seen the worst of it too. “Still waiting on that favour. Or maybe you're content with tha satisfaction of helping the saviour of An Zenui?” she grinned slyly as she brushed a rebellious lock of hair over her ear.

Joliin bowed immediately, but her mind was racing. When Master offered things like this, experience had taught her that they also came with a lesson, and those lessons were usually... unpleasant. It was a matter of balance, but sometimes, Joliin thought it might be nice to just do good, wouldn't it? "I am not worthy, Master, but if you see fit, I will not refuse," she answered carefully.

Tku's glum disposition only saved for the end of a bottle, cleared away at with the prodding at his mind. He finally came to open his eyes and what he saw was not Ahn-Dami. No, it was someone who cry out for her. A girl with a gentle touch and soothing voice from the little he could remember.

But beyond the superficial, the reality of their constraints. Tku could still see that beauty of her from moments ago. Serenity set atop his settling emotion. I want to paint her.

Tku steadily rose to his feet, trying to salvage what the artist could of his dignity. His eyes cast about at the mess and a subtle flinch came to him at the mess he made. "I have made quite the mess," Tku admitted, shame lacing his voice. Matter rearranged itself to where it needs, his blood returned to him as makeup and the dust he had created returned to the intricate patterns of Zarina's outfit.

Such a high degree of 'binding' magic was used, no one would question it was binding right?

It's the Groove anyway, Tku reassured himself.

A quick scan told him enough, Virang had many of these types. Tku did a light bow to his mysterious benefactor, "Thank you for pulling me out of that wretched place."

Ren inhaled deeply, in a respectable attempt to keep the nagging comments from bothering him. The feigned respect was aggravating to say the least. He wanted to do more in this place, but the Groove had rules that even he had to abide by. So, he thought for a moment, pensively. He already had something in mind - the brat was to grant the girl a gift. Or multiple, if the one wasn't fulfilling enough. Benevolence must come around, it is never free, and whether you know it or not, you will pay. "Saviour of An-Zenui, you say? Then I do believe one of my belongings owes you great thanks! Gesté, why are you standing around while a saviour of your people has dirt on her shoes?" he smiled smugly in return, and snapped his fingers for his cazenax slave to attend to the Virangish girl.

Needless to say, that was all to sidestep the other matters of the conversation. They irked him, when they shouldn't. He turned to the freshly awakened Tku. "You see, that is how gratitude is shown. And much how your friend saved my properties people, you have been saved by this." he speaks softly, but there is the slightest undercurrent of a threat to his words. "Joliin, I do see it fit for you to recieve a reward. From that man. Given as we're in the groove, I believe the exchange would be the best and most immediate way of gratitude." he clapped his hands together, and snapped his fingers once more, gesturing both Tku and Joliin to follow him to the riskiest game of chance in the world.

Zarina dismissively gestured the Cazenax away. “Oh, my apologies, my lord. I misspoke.” Zarina scooted closer to a reinvigorated Tku and gestured his way. “He's the savior. I merely helped.” she nodded curtly, but then perked up at the request. “... The Exchange has a risk of death and other terrible things, sir.” she reminded with a slightly gravelly and deeper voice. “I think it would be prudent to make use of his services rather than just ... Risk him?”

Joliin was not master of her face in its entirety. It betrayed her discomfort with the entire affair, but she dared not speak out of turn. Attempting to cast her denial of Tku as humility would only earn her... discipline. "I trust you have the currency to purchase a second fate." She tried to make it sound perfunctory, but there was no missing the subtle but very much present pleading quality to her words.

Tku kept a solemn face, listening and piecing together the rest of the details. Going to the Exchange would test his faith to Reshta too much for one day. He made it away with a minor headache today, he couldn't guess if he would make it out with his life. He has seen what can happen.

Why don't you shove your hand in! I'll even pay for your hook if you loose it, Tku thought but wouldn't dare say. He respected Zarina and she was showing deference to him. He was an unsightly man, though blessed by Ipte, what a shame beauty and cruelty so often go hand in hand. Stupidity usually follows.

Seeing the opportunity to not risk his life, Tku followed up Zarina's suggestion. Raising a hand and respectfully waiting to be allowed into the conversation, "Zarina's words do hold some truth. I am known on campus as a bit of an artist, perhaps something that takes laborious work might better show my gratitude?" he spoke as clearly and without accent as he could. The same way he spoke to any noble at Ersand'Ernise when trying to sell them on something.

Ren shook his head toward both Zarina and Tku. This was not the nature of transactions. Was he supposed to take them at their word? What sort of lesson would that be for his good compatriots here. No. Deeds must be paid upfront and in appropriate value if no contract is in place, an obvious matter when dealing in business. To trust and to show leniency is to show weakness to a hungry tiger right in front of you. Especially the likes foolish enough to damn near kill himself with an aberration.

"It's not about the degree of work, but about what was risked. This isn't just a monetary transaction, but a case of gratitude." he paused to say the boys name, but he didn't know it. Nor did he particularly want to. "You're welcome to offer art as a gift of your own volition to myself, or my property but I wouldn't have any guarantee you won't go back on your word, or worse yet, perish to another unfortunate incident with an aberration." he waved his hands in the air as if the boy's death would particularly bother him. The thought of a potrait did intrigue him to be truthful, but he could always purchase those services.

However, his intention to teach a lesson was at the forefront of things today. Her aberration ingestion could be handled after the fact. "It risked its life for you, are you not willing to do the same to make amends?" he clasped his hands together behind his back and smiled politely, the slight insistence or threat that could be interpreted in his voice growing slightly stronger due to their reluctance. Joliin, in the smallest way possible, shook her head when she caught Tku's eye. It was nearly imperceptible.

She took in her words and felt her action. Each part pained him. He knew that their wasn't anything he could do at the moment for her. At the very least he could not burden her with risking a single fate.

"You are correct," Tku tossed 3 more gold Exploits into the exchange, "Such wise words I hope you practice them yourself when It is needed." He whispered something small and unknowable into her ear. With a light laugh and pat on Zarina's shoulder, Tku stuck his hand in.

Zarina blinked. “You really don't hav-” but Tku was already at it with his hand inside the exchange. Zarina watched with a paler face and a figure frozen in place.

There was no place for fear. He was either going to die or not. And when he felt his hand grab an ornate jar, fate smiled at him once again. He pulled out a jug of mana, something he actually really wanted.

He pulled it out and set it in front of Joliin. "I hope this gift is great enough for you," Tku gave a small smile to hide his distaste at the game. She wasn't going to get any of this, he knew, nor does she need it. His eyes hid a 'sorry' to Joliin. He had led to this extra discomfort.

Even with knowing he had caused some of this, it did not escape him that this man was deeply unpleasant. How people like him are made boggles the mind, an unsettling enigma.

He went over to Zarina, and bumped his head to hers on the side, maybe smack some color back into her. "Looks like I will still have my Banana and my shift tomorrow," Tku whispered through a smile to hide his worries from her. She had tried hard and here my action brought her such great stress... It hurt him to see her worry like that.

And when he pulled them out of the inky void of the Exchange, he smiled and turned to Joliin. He thought of perhaps acknowledging the mans conviction, but he probably did it out of his junkie disregard for his own life. The comment about his 'banana' only made it worse, and in fact, he cracked a small chuckle through his smug grin. "There's your reward. Don't leave it behind." and so, he nodded his head toward Tku, and then to Zarina. Whatever they had suggested or wanted, they hadn't got. He had proven everything he had wanted to, and perhaps taught a valuable lesson to their property. Even if they were to be 'free', none would truly escape his whims and wishes. Such was the priviledge and burden of the strong.

Still, even with a lesson taught, there was still much to do. He didn't come here to save some junkie kid.

She still had to have her aberration, after all.

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Gunboat Diplomacy

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A dispute in Killuaho to be resolved by neutral means. A joke, to be frank. A 'student' he was in some capacity, but he was a representative of Virang first and foremost. And he would not let posturing from the school or third parties interfere with this. But, to be the master of the situation, he would need to play these people. An easy task, to be frank. Among the men and women chosen for this task beside him, there were none that were threats. To be frank, it was almost an insult that they'd been chosen alongside him.

Maura, a cripple.

Kaureerah, a former prostitute and song artist.

Tku, the boy who'd he'd saved.

Zast, a charlatan.

Fiske, a cowardly charlatan.

There were three that had his interest however. Marz, a master craftsman who'd come into note through the auctioning of a beautiful piece of work in the Groove. He wouldn't mind having someone like him in his collection.

Raffie was a countrywoman. And there was far more to her that met the eye. A hunger in her eyes was something he recognized in several of the poor that he'd taken into his care, a fire. She'd certainly be an interesting case.

And Mahal. She was some sort of noble from his administration, but clearly not favoured. Yet, she seemed to keep her distance from him from the get-go. Was it due to her native blood? Radical political views? Or something more. Sooner or later, she'd break under the pressure though. The fear and anxiety was palpable.

All that was left to prepare for the venture. A variety of expensive equipment was packed on Mountain Goat, and Geste-Mago was brought with. Joliin had other matters to attend to, and he trusted they would be accomplished. But this mission belonged to him and only him. And everyone on this boat would know it sooner or later.

[BlackRoseSiren]

Lunara’s next Adventure

Location: Ersand'Enise
Characters: Lunara @BlackRoseSiren, Niallus @Echotech71, Abdel, Dayanara, Qadira, @YummyYummy Seviin, Penny, Johann @Force And Fury, Xiuyang @Emeth, Oksana, Ashon, @Ti, Dory @jasbraq.

Miray quickly made her way to Lunara’s side, where Lunara was sat playing and feeding Helios, Terra and Kamelya. Miray had a piece of parchment in her mouth that she found by the door, she nuzzled into Lunara’s hand. Lunara gave her a pet, then she noticed the parchment in Miray’s mouth. "What do you have there girl? Drop it please." Lunara held her hand out, and a second after being asked Miray gently placed the parchment in Lunara’s hand. "Good girl Miray, here have a treat."

Lunara then gives Miray a treat and a nice belly rub, she then begins to read the parchment. Lunara carefully read through the note, making sure she didn’t miss anything. She was extremely interested in this, as not long ago she had helped the Yasoi to protect the Evertree. But now she has a chance to help another Yasoi, she couldn’t refuse people in need. With a smile she quickly stood, and placed her pets in their homes, she then got herself cleaned up and made sure her Chakrams were still on her belt. She then walked out of the door saying "Come on Miray, Let’s get going." Miray quickly followed after her.