A Lowly Wretch

O R I F L A M M E

Nettle

Nettle__ _ _ _ _

15 | Female | Unknown | Essence, Blood & Arcane. | Witch__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

In Another Time

Her skin is pale unto the point of looking almost undead due to just how little sun one sees when living under the thick canopies of Lindermetz Swamp. Despite the vaguely deathly looking state of her skin it is without blemish, smooth and clear save for the stains of the materials she's worked with and the few callouses on her hands earned from climbing and working with plants. Though she typically keeps her head down and wears a mild-mannered expression her slim face tends to bring out her eyes that possess a deep dark nephrite green colour. Her hair which hangs down to the middle of her back curves with a modest wave and is a rich yet dark moss green colour.

Standing at one hundred and forty centimeters she is a rather thinly built person. Her physique would make a quail seem buff in comparison. She is not as wholly feeble as she appears but she is no physical powerhouse by any means.

For attire she dons a long dark brown robe, the darker color being ideal for concealing the many stains it has accrued both in the swamp and throughout her crafts. It has a big hood which is handy in rough weather. Her long abundance of hair is mostly tucked into the back though her front bangs hang out the front of the hood, covering her face for the most part when she has her hood up. For footwear she wears a pair of big hide boots that look several sizes too large on her feet. They were a gift from one of her fellow siblings, sewn together from the hide of a rat of unusual size that was strangled to death by strugglethorn briars. Hanging from her shoulder by a hide strap is a large bag crafted from a portion of the stomach of a large boar. She typically carries a long crook with her wherever she goes, this wooden tool having been treated with a special resin to keep it from decaying.

Having grown up in care of the Mother-Father in the Lindermetz Swamp she was bound to be a strange sort. With thanks to their enigmatic parent she along with eight others survived in a wild region where close to everything was poisonous and somewhat on the larger scale when compared to species found in tamer wilderness. The Mother-Father however was not a being with a terrifying lot in common with more... Conventional societies. Nettle has been raised with a great knowledge of plants, the swamp and magic but in exchange she's learned nearly nothing in regards to civilized society.

What some see as being distant and spaced out others might see as simply being a rather reserved individual. Both would probably be correct to some extent as far as that's concerned. She is quite mild tempered and takes most problems in similar stride. She prefers to think her way through situations rather than power through things. Nettle is not very outspoken either and she tends to remain distant in most matters. This attitude is not solely out of a fear of confrontation but rather her tendency to get absorbed in her own thoughts, often preferring to dwell on matters that pertain to her pursuits rather than on tangential matters. Some might accuse her of being antisocial but her lack of socialization with others is not out of an aversion to social interaction but rather an unfamiliarity with societal norms.

With having spent pretty close to her whole life in the Lindermetz Swamp she's most at home in the natural world. She's somewhat distrustful of the civilized world given what she's been taught of man by Mother-Father. Even still she's willing to brave any danger should it lead her closer to Mother-Father.

The Mother-Father gave her and her fellow siblings love on behalf of the gods that made them. She will do nearly anything to bring that back.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

Her story begins before she was even born with her father, a wandering yasoi bard who spun tales and weaved magic with song wherever he went. Passing through a village on his winding journey he met Nettle's mother, bedding her on that fateful night before venturing onward to new horizons. As for her mother however she remained, living a simple life as a baker's daughter until after many months Nettle was born into their incomplete family.

Though she looked strange the village tentatively accepted the new member of their community. This would not last for long however as shortly after her first birthday Nettle was abducted during the night. Snatched away she was taken into a massive swamp not too far away. It's dense canopy and wet muck reached far and wide within the land of Lindermetz. It was there that she was raised by the mysterious figure that identified itself solely as Mother-Father. The Mother-Father was an enigmatic figure, a misshapen one that lurked beneath a thick cloak which was bound down in ropes, covering every inch of itself. The Mother-Father wore two masks, one for each of it's two identities spun into a singular entity.

Nettle was not the first child to be brought into the swamp. She was in fact the ninth, eight other children preceding her. They all held one truth in common: They possessed an uncannily strong magical potential.

The Mother-Father raised them all as their own, teaching them the ways of the swamp and of magic. They each learned to thrive within the swamp in their own special way, the Mother-Father guiding their lessons to best suit their talents. What the Mother-Father's intentions for them were were completely unknown to them and as far as they were concerned the Mother-Father was simply a caring, loving teacher and parent to them all. It taught them many things indeed, giving them knowledge in many subjects but distorting this knowledge in many ways. They were told they were shaped directly by the gods who created these lands, The Mother and The Father. They were given no understanding of reproduction aside from it's context in animals, being told that their own bodies were fundamentally different. This was only the tip of the iceberg in what was the children of the swamp's slanted education from the Mother-Father.

Then one day it simply vanished. The children searched everywhere but Mother-Father was nowhere to be found, no trace of them left behind for them to find. They were despondent, having lost such a beloved figure from their family with no trail to pursue. After much grieving a few of them were left crestfallen, returning to their usual business. Nettle and a couple others decided not to surrender to despair, each turning to different methods of trying to locate Mother-Father. One started searching deep within the land's caverns, losing themself in a fathomlessly deep network of tunnels as they explored deep within the earth for signs of where Mother-Father went. Another turned to a more scientific method, performing different magical experiments to try and perceive signs beyond the five moons of their Mother-Father's location. Nettle however decided to try and explore past the borders of the swamp, something that Mother-Father had warned them never to do. They were told that the world beyond was corrupted with hateful beings that were similar in appearance but entirely different from them in all other aspects.

It was dangerous, to be sure, but Nettle decided she would be the one to brave the dangers of the world if it meant finding Mother-Father. She set forth on a bold adventure into this strange new world...

And was immediately captured for trespassing on the kings land. She understood their language for the Mother-Father had taught them some basics in case beasts from the outer world attempted to try and steal away their homes. Still, she had no real clue what was going on or why, now a prisoner awaiting trial for her crime against King Otto of Lindermetz.

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

She carries:
A wooden crook treated with resin to keep from rotting.
A satchel wrought from a boar's stomach & sinew.
A small metal censer gifted unto her by the Mother-Father for use in casting and in prayer.
A pouch of inert cattle fly eggs.
A pouch of inert long-bottom roach eggs.
Several Strugglethorn Briar clippings.
A pouch of deadly Cottonwisp spores.
A stone knife for cutting & protection should all else fail.
Several varied pouches of assorted powdered curatives.
A dried leg of a rodent of unusual size, a species native to the swamp.
Several varied pouches of assorted poisonous herbs.
A bunch of seeds and acorns collected from trees she's passed.

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Blood Type: Greengrowth.
Wheel Rating: 4.55

Though she is only midway through the fourth wheel her power is respectable nonetheless though slow to build due to her blood of the green growth. She may still be young and with much to learn but she knows plenty of spells taught to her by Mother-Father. Due to her uniquely inefficient method of drawing she has been trained to utilize her environment, turning areas around her into a harsh swamp that can quickly become a death trap to those unwelcomed by her. Through deploying and empowering naturally dangerous flora & fauna, creating obscuring mists that can cover great distances and overall controlling the state of the environment with enough preparation she has the ability to swallow entire armies within the very swamp she naturally brings with her. She's also accustomed to twinning magic with her diminutive size to help her avoid predators, masking her scent with essence magic, dulling the heat of her body to avoid a serpent's gaze, dimming the light so she may creep in the dark and more.

Nettle also holds a fairly vast amount of knowledge regarding plants, weaving their effects unto living flesh to help mend and cure... Or poison and disable.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Herbology: Her understanding of flora from her land is vast, her mind a veritable repository of knowledge regarding each plant, their properties and preferred conditions.

❖ Animal Ken: Having lived in the swamp all her life she's come to understand very many beasts, becoming familiar with the ways of wild creatures. She is not foolish enough to mistake understanding for friendship but she is able to tell much about even animals she's never seen before largely based on tells exposed through their behavior. The language of the wild is a vast medley but body language is a very common one. Even humans speak it, though they are often not aware of it.

❖ Wilderness Survival: There are many things that come with surviving in the wild. It is more than just knowing which plants are poisonous and how to start a fire. Being able to tell if a predator is stalking you, being able to avoid a beasts's keen senses, being able to move without leaving a trail to be stalked by, being able to seek food in whatever form it may lie, these are just a few of the things one learns when surviving in relative solitude out in the harsh wilds of the great swamp.

❖ Keen Learner: Nettle is among the most curious of her siblings, such is why she left the swamp to begin with. She takes to learning well, possessing an almost yasoi level of curiosity and focus. Hers is a keen mind and she picks up details with ready ease.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Diminutive Stature: With her minute height and naturally feeble body structure she'd have trouble fighting off a rodent of unusual size, let alone a grown adult that works for a living.

❖ Sheltered: Having spent her whole life in a swamp being fed mixes of truth and lies about the world by a strange being it's only natural that she is poorly prepared to suddenly drop into society. What knowledge she holds of nature she inversely holds in the ways of things that lay beyond the swamp's borders.

❖ Half-Blooded: Being part Yasoi her appearance makes her stand out quite noticeably in public regardless of whether she stands amongst humans or yasoi. She is different no matter where she is.

❖ Set Up Caster: Nettle's casting is somewhat slow due to her inefficient drawing methods and thus a large part of her casting currently involves setting up the terrain to her advantage, laying traps and avoiding direct confrontation. While deadly to attack if she's in her element if she's ambushed or otherwise attacked before she'd had her chance to set up some defenses then she's at a firm disadvantage casting-wise.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ hex code

@Force and Fury - I've made some adjustments as per your recommendations. Hopefully the issues present have all been fixed, image aside.

O R I F L A M M E

@Force and Fury
1: Gotcha. Working on fixing that.
2: Yeah, no surprise about that. It was late when I wrote it up in a fervor so it could use a bit of fixing up.
3: I'll see what I can do. It's not easy finding something that carries across all the same details of the character's appearance.
4: I'd be happy to discuss it with you. I'll be throwing you some text momentarily.

The Hourglass Order

---

Fear and reproach. Such were the feelings the public usually held towards her. She was accustomed to being stared at by people in this way, her eyes drifting from the princess to the gathered crowd nearby that huddled in their shelters like frightened animals. The only difference from now and back then was that back then she was just a child, no more powerful than any other. Now, she was...

_
Ultimately, it didn't matter. Wvysen was dead all the same. No good was born from arguing as to whether or not to respect her corpse. The memories they still held of her would remain the same no matter what morbid state of decomposition would ultimately hold over this cessation of tissue and mind. Alas, the group bickered. If she were to be honest she half agreed with Benedetto's sentiment, even if it was garbled through the mind-frame of an overgrown child holding a tantrum. They were not here to bring peace or do good on this island, they were here to retrieve a hostage and a holy artifact. That was it.

Still, Trypano wanted to keep the body count down to a minimum as revelling in excess carnage would not only be pointlessly sadistic but waste more time they could be spending getting this mission over with so they could return to ultimately more important endeavors. Just as it is in surgery the longer they spend in executing this mission the worse their situation will become. The element of stealth was gone, the knife has plunged. Their only choice was to operate quick before more life is lost.

Her attention snapped to the princess as she came to, taking note of Onarr's distant cries as well. Her input was important as they needed to find out where the crew of the Maria Nera was situation, the more details the better.

"Tell us what you know about them while I mend our remaining member. We can plan our approach at the same time."

Not one to cool her heels for long she started towards the beach. She glanced back over to their fallen colleague. It was a shame really: They were the only person who knew what had become of Penny. Now they were going to have to search for her on a cold track. Still, if what she suspected was true then odds are they weren't going to have to look far from their main target in order to find her too. For better or for worse. She stopped a moment to address Ismette's concerns.

"Don't worry, there will be plenty of need for your skills outside of direct combat. With Benedetto gone we have one less reason to split up. While I tend to our colleague there the princess can brief us on her kidnappers and where they are staying so we can come up with a plan for retrieving the item we came for. Killing the captain is optional, leaving without the item and the princess is not... At least, not unless we are faced with almost certain failure and must escape with our loses, such as they are."

She motioned for the remainder of her colleagues to follow as she started for the beach once more to go fix the injuries Onarr sustained.

"Come. Let us not let their deaths go in vain."

Times of urgency rewarded the cold, the precise and the driven. She was all three and she needed the rest to be so too if they were to stand any chance of succeeding without further casualties.

---

Interacting with - @Force and Fury,@Th3King0fChaos,@dragonpiece & @Bork Lazer

O R I F L A M M E

Nettle

Nettle__ _ _ _ _

15 | Female | Undecided | Essence, Blood & Arcane. | Witch__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

Her skin is pale unto the point of looking almost undead due to just how little sun one sees when living under the thick canopies of Lindermetz Swamp. Despite the vaguely deathly looking state of her skin it is without blemish, smooth and clear save for the stains of the materials she's worked with and the few callouses on her hands earned from climbing and working with plants. Though she typically tends to keep her head down and wear a mild-mannered expression her slim face tends to bring out her eyes that possess a deep dark nephrite green colour. Her hair which hangs down to the middle of her back curves with a modest wave and is a rich yet dark moss green colour.

Standing at 140 centimeters she is a rather thinly built person. Her physique would make a quail seem buff in comparison. She is not as wholly feeble as she appears but she is no physical powerhouse by any means.

For attire she dons a long dark brown robe, the darker color being ideal for concealing the many stains it has accrued both in the swamp and throughout her crafts. It has a big hood which is handy in rough weather. Her long abundance of hair is mostly tucked into the back though her front bangs hang out the front of the hood, covering her face for the most part when she has her hood up. For footwear she wears a pair of big hide boots that look several sizes too large on her feet. They were a gift from one of her fellow orphans, sewn together from the hide of a rat of unusual size that was strangled to death by strugglethorn briars. Hanging from her shoulder by a hide strap is a large bag crafted from a portion of the stomach of a large boar. She typically carries a long crook with her wherever she goes, this wooden tool having been treated with a special resin to keep it from decaying.

Having grown up as an orphan in the Lindermetz Swamp she was bound to be a strange sort. With thanks to the Mother-Father she along with eight others survived in a wild region where close to everything was poisonous and somewhat on the larger scale when compared to species found in tamer wilderness. The Mother-Father however was not a being with a terrifying lot in common with more... Conventional societies. She's been raised with a great knowledge of plants, the swamp and magic but in exchange she's learned nearly nothing in regards to civilized society.

What some see as being distant and spaced out others might see as simply being a rather reserved individual. Both would probably be correct to some extent as far as that's concerned. She is quite mild tempered and takes most problems in similar stride. She prefers to think her way through situations rather than power through things. Nettle is not very outspoken either and she tends to remain distant in most matters. This attitude is not solely out of a fear of confrontation but rather her tendency to get absorbed in her own thoughts, often preferring to dwell on matters that pertain to her pursuits rather than on tangential matters. Some might accuse her of being antisocial but her lack of socialization with others is not out of an aversion to social interaction but rather an unfamiliarity with societal norms.

With having spent pretty close to her whole life in the Lindermetz Swamp she's most at home in the natural world. She's somewhat distrustful of the civilized world given what she's been taught of man by Mother-Father. Even still she's willing to brave any danger should it lead her closer to Mother-Father.

The Mother-Father gave her and the fellow orphans love when their own parents rejected them. She will do nearly anything to bring that back.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

Her story begins before she was even born, her father a wandering Yasoian bard who spun tales and weaved magic with song wherever he went. Passing through a village on his winding journey he met Nettle's mother, bedding her on that fateful night before venturing onward to new horizons. As for her mother however she remained, living a simple life as a baker's daughter until after many months Nettle was born into their incomplete family.

Though she looked strange the village tentatively accepted the new member of their community. This would not last for long however as shortly after her first birthday Nettle was abducted during the night. Snatched away she was taken into a massive swamp not too far away. It's dense canopy and wet muck reached far and wide within the land of Lindermetz. It was there that she was raised by the mysterious figure that identified itself solely as Mother-Father. The Mother-Father was an enigmatic figure, a misshapen one that lurked beneath a thick cloak which was bound down in ropes, covering every inch of itself. The Mother-Father wore two masks, one for each of it's two identities spun into a singular entity.

Nettle was not the first child to be brought into the swamp. She was in fact the ninth, eight other children preceding her. They all held one truth in common: They possessed an uncannily strong magical potential.

The Mother-Father raised them all as their own, teaching them the ways of the swamp and of magic. They each learned to thrive within the swamp in their own special way, the Mother-Father guiding their lessons to best suit their talents. What the Mother-Father's intentions for them were were completely unknown to them and as far as they were concerned the Mother-Father was simply a caring, loving teacher and parent to them all. It taught them many things indeed, giving them knowledge in many things but distorting this knowledge in many ways. They were told they were shaped directly by the gods who created these lands, The Mother and The Father. They were given no understanding of reproduction aside from it's context in animals, being told that their own bodies were fundamentally different. This was only the tip of the iceberg in what was the children of the swamp's slanted education from the Mother-Father.

Then one day it simply vanished. The children searched everywhere but Mother-Father was nowhere to be found, no trace of them left behind for them to find. They were Despondent, having lost such a beloved figure from their family with no trail to pursue. After much grieving a few of them were left crest-fallen, returning to their usual business. Nettle and a couple others decided not to surrender to despair, each turning to different methods of trying to locate Mother-Father. One started searching deep within caverns, losing themself in a fathomlessly deep network of tunnels as they explored deep within the earth for signs of where Mother-Father went. Another turned to a more scientific method, performing different magical experiments to try and perceive signs beyond the five moons of their Mother-Father's location. Nettle however decided to try and explore past the borders of the swamp, something that Mother-Father had warned them never to do. They were told that the world beyond was corrupted with hateful beings that were similar in appearance but entirely different from them in all other aspects.

It was dangerous, to be sure, but Nettle decided she would be the one to brave the dangers of the world if it meant finding Mother-Father. She set forth on a bold adventure into this strange new world...

And was immediately captured for trespassing on the kings land. She understood their language for the Mother-Father had taught them some basics in case beasts from the outer world attempted to try and steal away their homes. Still, she had no real clue what was going on or why, now a prisoner awaiting trial for her crime against King Otto of Lindermetz.

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

She carries:
A wooden crook treated with resin to keep from rotting.
A satchel wrought from a boar's stomach & sinew.
A small metal censer gifted unto her by the Mother-Father for use in casting and in prayer.
A pouch of inert cattle fly eggs.
A pouch of inert long-bottom roach eggs.
Several Strugglethorn Briar clippings.
A pouch of deadly Cottonwisp spores.
A stone knife for cutting & protection should all else fail.
Several varied pouches of assorted powdered curatives.
A dried leg of a rodent of unusual size, a species native to the swamp.
Several varied pouches of assorted poisonous herbs.

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Blood Type: Greengrowth.
Fifth Wheel.

Though she is only barely pass the cusp of qualifying as one of the Fifth Wheel she is one all the same and commands the amount of power one expects out of someone with that qualifier. Though young and with much to learn she knows plenty of spells taught to her by Mother-Father. Due to her uniquely inefficient method of drawing she has been taught to utilize her environment, turning areas around her into a harsh swamp that can quickly become a death trap to those unwelcomed by her. Through deploying and empowering naturally dangerous flora & fauna, creating obscuring mists that can cover great distances and overall controlling the state of the environment with enough preparation she has the ability to swallow entire armies within the very swamp she naturally brings with her. She's also accustomed to twinning magic with her diminutive size to help her avoid predators, masking her scent with essence magic, dulling the heat of her body to avoid a serpent's gaze, dimming the light so she may creep in the dark and more.

Nettle also holds a fairly vast amount of knowledge regarding plants, weaving their effects unto living flesh to help mend and cure... Or poison and disable.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Herbology: Her understanding of flora from her land is vast, her mind a veritable repository of knowledge regarding each plant, their properties and preferred conditions.

❖ Animal Ken: Having lived in the swamp all her life she's come to understand very many beasts, becoming familiar with the ways of wild creatures. She is not foolish enough to mistake understanding for friendship but she is able to tell much about even animals she's never seen before largely based on tells exposed through their behavior. The language of the wild is a vast medley but body language is a very common one. Even humans speak it, though they are often not aware of it.

❖ Wilderness Survival: There are many things that come with surviving in the wild. It is more than just knowing which plants are poisonous and how to start a fire. Being able to tell if a predator is stalking you, being able to avoid a beasts's keen senses, being able to move without leaving a trail to be stalked by, being able to seek food in whatever form it may lie, these are just a few of the things one learns when surviving in relative solitude out in the harsh wilds of the great swamp.

❖ Keen Learner: Nettle is among the most curious of her siblings, such is why she left the swamp to begin with. She takes to learning well, possessing an almost yasoian level of curiosity and focus. Hers is a keen mind and she picks up details with ready ease.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Diminutive Stature: With her minute height and naturally feeble body structure she'd have trouble fighting off a rodent of unusual size, let alone a grown adult that works for a living.

❖ Sheltered: Having spent her whole life in a swamp being fed mixes of truth and lies about the world by a strange being it's only natural that she is poorly prepared to suddenly drop into society. What knowledge she holds of nature she inversely holds in the ways of things that lay beyond the swamp's borders.

❖ Half-Blooded: Being part Yasoi her appearance makes her stand out quite noticeably in public regardless of whether she stands amongst humans or yasoi. She is different no matter where she is.

❖ Set Up Caster: A large part of Nettle's casting currently involves setting up the terrain to her advantage, laying traps and avoiding direct confrontation. While deadly to attack if she's in her element if she's ambushed or otherwise attacked before she'd had her chance to set up some defenses then she's at a firm disadvantage casting-wise.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ hex code

Per gm's request here is my CS in the OOC.

The Hourglass Order

---

She looked down at the tool, seeing as the arcanist had, in her final bid, used drawing to destroy her scalpel. It was petty to say the least. It seemed while they were effective as a greyborn they were sub-par as a mage if the most creative final assault on them amounted to so little. Within a second Trypano formed a tiny titanium bead between her finger tips, growing it out into a shape functionally similar to her last tool. The metal was like flowing water, pooling in the air into a steady form as she shaped it into being. With this new tool she was back to peak effectiveness. Perhaps if she were more sentimental then losing a trusty scalpel might've been more impactful. As it was the craftmanship on the last one though elegant was no more effective than a basic scalpel, let alone this one.

Luckily despite tunneling through the dirt it seemed her journey ended in an underground water pocket, washing most of the dirt that was on her off for the most part. She drew apart the mud with careful, surgical precision, replacing any epidermal tissue lost in the process as she went. It took little time until only her costume was splotched with dirt and mud stains. She wasn't about to attempt to draw the independent elements for fear of destroying the articles in the process. She could afford to be muddy more than she could afford to be naked, especially in this crowd. There were far too many individuals who'd create way too many problems if that were to occur. It wasn't like she could just leave them on the island either, a very sticky situation.

_
She walked in measured stride towards the group, showing no indication of her emotions if there were any. There was no reaction to Benedetto's comment regarding their dead comrade nor to their death itself. Her air was one of cold function, a steely mind operating behind a porcelain mask.

"We'll need a couple people to go rescue Onarr from that kinetic mage out past the shore, provided he still lives." She offered instruction to the group in general, leaving the specifics up to them. She strode with purpose up to the cushion she created for the princess, stepping up onto the soft material and leaning past it's edge to see her prone form resting in peaceful unconsciousness. She reached out into her body, scanning for damage and continued chemical imbalance which she promptly rectified.

"Ingrid, do check for continued radioactivity in the princess. Due to her proximity to the atomic mage I want to make sure she isn't experiencing continued affects as a result of exposure. Once she's awake we can discuss what she knows regarding the crew for The Maria Nera's plans for her and the holy item." She leaned up after laying down her assessment, looking back over at Ismette and Benedetto.

"Given the destruction we've drawn more than our fair share of attention from the majority of the island. Perhaps you and Benedetto should go de-incentivize any gathering pirate crews from interfering further in our work."

While it was likely that this could be a problem seeing as how them bringing so much destruction wasn't likely to endear them to the locals the truth of the matter was that it was better for them to keep benedetto separated from the princess for the most part. He seemed unstable and that could prove a liability, especially if he attempts to ply his charms to her. Ismette was picked largely as a means of keeping Benedetto in check or otherwise mitigating the escalation of their conflict. They had dispatched a fair number of mages already but there was the possibility that there remained a few more who had remained neutral towards them. Only the slightest apologetic look peaked through her cold expression as she mainly looked over in Ismette's direction when addressing the two as she was basically asking her to take on one of the less desirable tasks available to them currently.

---

Interacting with - @Force and Fury,@Th3King0fChaos,@dragonpiece & @Bork Lazer

O R I F L A M M E

Stepping in just to say I'll be dropping a CS sometime in the near future.

The Hourglass Order

& Friends.

---

Ismette went in hard on Captain Vyrachi and his crew and they proved... she'd have liked to say 'useful idiots', but it was far more of the latter than the former. Mostly, the captain spent time regaling her with tales of his many adventures. It was clear that his sole mission was going to be sleeping with her. He wasn't ugly, by any means, but not nearly as fetching as he thought he was. She bided her time and plied him for drinks and what little information she could glean, waiting for the opportunity to slip away and try somewhere else. She wondered what sort of luck poor Trypano was having.

Indeed, what the human among yasoi witnessed was... not what she had expected. Hair down in a tangled mess, clothes baggy, height far too tall for a human woman, she avoided questioning as she entered. The gruff man at the door merely held out a hand and barked an order that she pay the fee. A coin found his palm and she was inside the vast backroom of the Mermaid's Knees.

It was a drug den, and a prison. In one area were great black chests: man-sized or larger. Chained to the floor, walls, ceiling, and pillars, they rocked and reeled. Unholy noises came from inside: noises that sounded like... it was hard to say with all of the distance and other ambient noise, but it almost sounded like people were in there. As she watched with growing fascination and apprehension, one of the stiller black chests, which seemed to be home only to a gentle, persistent knocking and a muffled voice, was opened by three burly-looking guards. A scrawny man launched himself out of it, cursing and swearing in a language similar to Mycormish. “You could've let mem out an hour ago!" he howled at them. “I'm fine! You can see I'm fine." Their response was partially lost amid the racket of another chest jerking violently, but Trypano could make out something about him being let out too early last time. If she understood correctly, he had bitten someone's ear off.

She turned her attention to the other part of the vast, subdivided room. Against the walls and between the pillars were shadowed booths and individuals hunched over tables in groups. The magic that permeated the air was like nothing she had ever felt before save... it reminded her, however, slightly, of the Temporal Magic that Hugo Hunghorasz had employed, actually. There was something different about it, though: something sickeningly... sweet, for lack of a better descriptor. She was just starting to wonder - with the diligence of a scientist's mind - what it was they were doing in those booths, with what may or may not have been a form of Temporal Magic, when she saw her first aberration. The size of a bushel, it was unmistakable. The four yasoi pirates clustered around it bounced up and down in their seats excitedly, chattering amongst themselves in anticipation. Then, as one, they reached for the aberration and... the room seemed to flutter for a moment. Trypano linked. The three women and one man at the booth slumped back in their seats. Two were holding their temples, eyes bugged out, breathing laboured. The lone man's head lolled to the side, a look of contentment on his face as he stared up at the ceiling with a dopey smile and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. The final member of the quartet, however, was staring straight at the human interloper and, as the Binding mage watched, the yasoi hurled herself forward, screaming something unintelligible but very, very angry.

Quietly Trypano had been piecing together the scene before her. It all struck the tone of a drug den, sailors abusing some form of anomalous substance after which they’re locked away during their period of instability. This also held the potential to be what was fueling the rumors of yasoian pirates using magic more commonly than other crews. Someone was distributing them a dangerous substance of unclear stability. This was worthy of investigation.

Her eyes fixed themselves on the quartet of pirates sitting around this unidentified substance. Whatever happened in the juncture of seconds between her looking at the substance and it suddenly being consumed it seemed to escape her. Due to its link to temporal magic it was entirely possible it simply blinked out of this world into an unknown space or even time.

Even more fascinating was the physiological effects that were imposed upon them. Despite having been standing within view of this it seemed she had been outside of its effects at the time as she felt the same as before… Or, at least she believed she did. She made a mental note to re-evaluate her physical and chemical status shortly after this. She carefully watched the dilation of their eyes, their rate of breathing, the coloration changes of their skin, the fluctuations of mana in their system, just any and all alterations to their biological systems she could pick up on.

Before she could form a plan of action moving forward one of the yasoi exposed to this substance suddenly peaked in aggression, lunging for her. For the most part Trypano seemed oddly unphased by the sudden bout of violence. There was a momentary start from her as she was pulled from her train of thought by the unintelligible screaming but there was little to any shock on her porcelain mask of a face.

Rather, in a measured motion she reached out and caught the woman by the throat as though she were snatching a bird out of the air. There was an only slightly audible breath of exertion as she hoisted the aggressor up by their neck. Her grip was firm but not crushing as her intent wasn’t to strangle them but to halt them. She cast a quick glance down at her hands to make sure their belt wasn’t sporting a dagger or blade of some variety as that could quickly complicate things. She turned her gaze over to the aggressor’s hands, watching for latent energy in case her attacker attempted to use magic. Despite the overall threat to her life however this situation largely bothered her only in that it was a distraction from this potential discovery.

“Have a spare place to put this one?” She asked aloud, speaking indirectly to the guards she passed while keeping her focus on who she was holding and just assuming they were listening. Trypano managed to get a guard's attention. He turned and made noises of acknowledgement, but then she was far from alone with her captive. Two of the woman’s friends were also running in her direction, shouting both at her and the guards in a language that seemed… related to Mycormish but distinctly different and difficult to grasp. She made out the odd broken word: something about understand, something about control, and something about not taking or absorbing. They were holding their hands out and gesturing wildly as Trypano’s attacker struggled. From the other side, the guard replied in that same tongue, his voice gruff and unhappy.

It seemed the situation grew a little hectic. Not good.

Trypano took a moment as she processed what little she could make out of their language before closing her eyes briefly and shoving the woman in her grip back into her two friends. Looking back over to gauge the reaction of the guards and then back over to the three she kept her chin tall and continued to stride forward with an air of confidence, as though she were untouchable. With a light “Hmph” she strode past and continued on her business with the hopes that this was a sufficient defusal of the situation.

She hoped, mostly for their sakes, that they left well enough alone. She was both not so fortunate and fortunate at the same time. The aberration-mad woman bolted at Trypano again, only to be restrained by her friends. A pair of guards arrived to haul her away, kicking and screaming, towards one of those black chests. Meanwhile, a third placed himself in her way. “What are you doing here?” he demanded in heavily accented Avincian. His face and bearing suggested implacability, though he didn’t seem to be drawing any sort of energy.

Alas, attention had been drawn to her. Unfortunate, truly. While she had put the attacker’s incident behind her it seemed they had outed her as an outsider, or so it seemed.

Still, the person before her didn’t seem to be drawing upon energy which either meant they didn’t expect much conflict or that this guard didn’t have the capacity to cast. Made sense not to have the guards keeping track of this magic-boosting substance also addicted to it.

Now, Trypano was no master of espionage, far from it really. What she was good at however was thinking, both in depth and on her feet. She wasn’t afraid to try throwing ideas at the wall either. Considering she was in a den full of people with mild magical potential she figured light usage of magic wouldn’t register strongly to others looking in on the site. With that and the notion that the guard before her wouldn’t pick up on it she let slip a slow closed mouth smile, buying a few seconds while she gently ran her own tongue down her teeth, elongating the enamel of the teeth upon the crown until they were finely pointed, each tooth now longer and sharp like the canines.

The idea was a simple one. If she couldn’t blend in as well pretending to be like them then she would pretend to be something else. Something… Different. She wasn’t going to lie but she wasn’t going to meet their expectations either. It was time to change the dynamic.
“Really? Breaking out the tongue of intelligentsia already?” She answered back in Mycormish, reaching up and giving an elegant flip of her hair. “I might know my magic but I’m a pirate first. In with my crew, wherever they crawled off to.”

She casually leaned over against one of the dividers for the various booths whilst she spoke, changing back over to Avincian since the guard decided to drop into conversation with it.

“I’m a mana aficionado you see. It’s fascinating, truly, the influence goods imported from alternate timelines can have on those native to a separate timeline. I’m quite impressed your provider managed to talk so many into becoming guinea pigs for a test of this scale… Or were you not aware?”

It was in major part educated guessing and pure conjecture her argument. Her plan relied heavily on this grunt knowing less about the proper origins of this unique magic substance they were abusing. It was little more than a loosely fitting theory that the stuff that brought about this jump in their magical capacity had origins in alternate timelines. She understood little on the subject of alternate timelines themselves outside of the conceptual basis surrounding them. Time, after all, was a fiendishly complex field of study and one not presently available to her as even she was not counted amongst the elite privileged to study such subjects.

With her question left hanging she gave a sharp smile, the edges of her teeth peeking out from the slight gap of her mouth as it gradually receded back to a close.

“Yeeeaaah nah, missy,” said the guard, shaking his head. “Just ‘cause I break heads for a living doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” He crossed his arms and she could feel a cautionary buildup in energy around him. A couple of lights dimmed, addicts moved sluggishly or groaned, and there was a chill in the air. A crate of… something unknown dematerialized. It was evident from the speed, variety, and ease of his drawing that this man was strong indeed. Perhaps he wasn’t quite at her level, but he was close. “I dunno what your game here is, but I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

A couple of other goons began moving subtly in the pair’s direction. However, before anything more could happen, a lanky yasoi woman hurried up from the direction of the door. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” she crooned in Mycormish. “Let’s not do anything rash, shall we?” She inserted herself into the guard’s and Trypano’s immediate space, shooting the latter a flicker of a warning look. “I had to bring my human friend with me since we’re the only women in our crew. Wouldn’t want to leave her alone out there, much as she can handle herself.” She flashed a smirk. “Besides, just look at her: the fine specimen! You’re telling me there isn’t yasoi blood in there somewhere?” Ismette shook her head lightly. “She’s just the curious sort. No harm, no foul.”

Three goons had gathered. A handful of the apparent drug addicts were staring out from their booths a bit less blankly than usual. “She is sticking her big human nose in directions it shouldn't go,” growled the lead guard.

‘Yes, yes,” Ismette admitted, “but what has she really seen aside from a few addicts? We have our own here, just like everyone else.” A couple of gold coins appeared in her palms and she smiled appeasingly. Her blouse was unbuttoned and she smelled of a perfume that she hadn’t before. “This is something you can forget about now,” she said, reaching out to place the coins in each of the guard’s hands, “and so will we. My adventurous friend agrees with me. Right?”

Trypano could feel it, then: chemical magic so subtle that someone with less expertise than her would’ve missed it entirely. Ismette was stimulating all of the right receptors here in service of provoking the desired response.

Sometimes she gave others more credit than they deserved. They held magic yet they understood so little. It did little to humanize them in her eyes. With so basic a nature was it really so strange to see them not as people but the flesh, bone, strings and nerves which keep them moving?

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother.”

She announced, sighing deeply with a frown, the first genuine expression of hers this whole trip. All this work keeping up a mask to try and slip in and now she was expected to leave completely empty handed. She wasn’t surprised given how she was neither Yasoian nor terribly worldly but this barrier between her and a genuine anomaly was most vexing. Every fiber inside her wanted to reach and extend the glass nails at her fingertips through each of their throats but at the same time her mind swam with all the ways this situation could go wrong. Their victory was not guaranteed and she was not well versed in direct combat. More than anything she wasn’t about to let her research end with her at the hands of some gods damned pirates.

The only thing to cool the sting of this racist refusal was the intrigue born of Ismette’s talented use of chemical magic. As someone who’s spent nearly every day of her life studying biological functions the use of chemistry to influence the state of these pirate’s moods wasn’t particularly special. What was surprising was how little movement or visible usage of many she employed. She’d contemplated the arts of free casting, casting without overt motions or a foci before but seeing it in action she definitely felt impressed with Ismettes skill in the field. It wouldn’t be bad to find out how she does that sometime.

Regardless, with that being said she and (presumably) Ismette left the establishment unimpeded by the guards. Still, Trypano wasn’t one to let good opportunities go to waste. Her red eyes scoured their surroundings to see if there was a yasoian anomaly-addict loitering about in the many alleys of the dark open streets. A sample was a sample after all, even if it had to come from the blood of a Yasoian that had recently been exposed to this anomalous material. She was already using her binding to fabricate a steel framed glass syringe, sealing the tip and drawing away the gasses within to create a natural vacuum in place of an ordinary plunger. Without rubbers or plastics the kinds of syringes she was familiar with were veritably primitive compared to this elegant creation of hers, a mage's solution to make up where society falls short.

“I thought you were going to do something rash,” Ismette admitted. “Thank Dami you didn’t.” She shoved her hands in her pockets as she walked. “My people have… changed,” she sighed, “and very much not for the better.” She glanced up at the moons overhead, two of them close to setting. “Sorry if I said anything bad, by the way. Nothing meant. All in the service of getting us out of there with our limbs still attached.” A silence lingered for a moment. “We’ve always resented humans, even in the old days: how there are just so many of you, how you look at us as oddities, how you used to hunt us down for samples of blood and tears as if they were tonics to cure your stupid illnesses when the true illness was one of the soul.” She shook her head and tamped down on a subtly rising voice. “But now it is us who have such an illness. This newfound secrecy of ours is… not like us. I can read the old texts and hear the old stories and piece it together.”

She turned to Trypano, always surprised at having to look upwards, however slightly, and searched for her eyes. “We are addicts, almost all of us. I was too. We have always used temporal magic. Maybe you felt it in there: yasoi magic, thick in the air! Ours is the art of drawing all as one and casting all as one. Gifts of time and space were a part of that, in the past, in a dozen subtle ways, and they served us well.”

The ramshackle town was a dimly lit place at night, the wild forest encroaching at its edges, hazy silhouettes coming and going like loud ghosts, inns, taverns, and shops occasional oases of light in the darkness. “But then humans discovered Temporal magic. They didn’t hold back like we did. They tore freely from the canvas of space and time and they left holes in it.” A small group of sailors staggered past, somewhere between arguing and singing and the two women paused to watch them. “You must understand something about my people: we look like you, but we are not like you. We are… natural addicts, curious to a… maladaptive degree, and aberrations -” She furrowed her brow for a moment “-the taste of them is so sweet, so full and heady. You get little snippets of another time and place as you absorb them: a peek into other lives.” Ismette blinked. “Did you know that they’re always displaced from their origin?” she asked-but-not-really. “Think about it: you never see one pop up right beside where temporal magic is used.” She shrugged. “I wanna stop it, of course, it’s ruining us - utterly - but I’ve no idea how and now is not the time for that crusade.”

“The issue with our people is that they make no effort to try and further their understanding of what it is they have. They’ve taken things and simply jammed them into themselves in order to see if it will suddenly fix all their problems. For all the refinements and intricacies we’ve developed in mastering the fields of magic our treatments for our bodies largely boils down to consuming the right materials or cutting out the ill parts and letting our biology handle the rest.” Whilst speaking as they walked Trypano was straightening out her costume, correcting it for a more standard approach as they gradually left their district towards the more general regions of the island.

“Worst yet is that we all depend on Mana yet so little remains understood about them. A fundamental building block of all magic and yet all that has been explored of them are general guidelines and trends in how they behave or respond. It’s no surprise however that such an important fundamental understanding would fall by the wayside.” Trypano returned her gaze to the way forward, searching within the shadows and keeping an eye out for potential ambushes that could lay in wait for two women waltzing about an island of criminals.

“Human or Yasoi, all are prey to the obsession with the things we build. Friendships, rivalries, communities, societies, people can become absorbed with thinking about these things yet when the dust settles none of it truly matters. A sparrow will never care about the schemes of The Doge of Revidia. An otter will live it’s entire life without ever knowing the tensions growing between Perrence and Revidia. For all the concern people make of events that we’d be made to believe will change the world it never truly changes, just the details. Time and time again…”

With her eyes scanning for trouble as they made their way forward she definitely recalled how little time was spent discussing where they’d meet up after gathering info. She figured they’d probably end up making their way back to the point where they started but without any noteworthy landmarks to navigate back to that’d make the task just that much more difficult. Failing that, she figured visiting the other inns and seeing how each of the other sub-groups were doing would be the natural progression provided the others hadn’t left already and gotten lost somewhere on the island. Or worse.

The Hourglass Order

& Friends.

---

This guy reminded her of Benny. Ismette managed not to roll her eyes as Desmond outlined his big plan for roleplaying pirates. So much… enthusiasm. If only Hugo could’ve seen him, but the doddering old fool was back in his tower, busy scheming, as she knew he was wont to do.

She pushed thoughts of him aside. It was nice to be back here, in the place where she’d lived before making the trip to Ersand’Enise. It had changed a lot since the last time she’d been there, of course. Certainly, it was more… piratical than before. Probably not things that I should share, she thought. At least Desmond had ‘assigned’ her to the Mermaid’s Knees. That had been more smirk suppression. There was no way for Stubbies (humans) to know that it was common Mycormish innuendo. She walked up the steep road, hair fluttering softly in the nighttime breeze, nostrils full of the scent of this place, listening to the ambient noises of passerby, people in bars and taverns, and crickets beneath it all: chirping away with concerns so far from those of people. She decided to test the improbably tall human girl she’d been placed with. She figured that Trypano would pass a glance check as yasoi, but not much more. How about linguistically, though? Ismette thought.

“So, how much yasoi do you actually know?” she asked in the language. “What do you think of this place’s weird name?” She gestured with her chin up the hill. “How ‘bout that, eh?”

Trypano was walking whilst seemingly looking at her fingernails. In truth she was keeping just as much an eye on their surroundings as she was on what she was doing, listening just as well. Closing her hand then outstretching it the change was subtle but a thin edge of glass was formed in the edges of her nails. A subtle tool, nearly imperceptible without closer examination. The very sheen of the glass was masked by the red paint upon said nails.

“Some. Enough to carry a conversation.” She cast a glance up to the sign on the bar as they slowly made their way up the road.
“Afraid that’s an expression I haven’t run across.”

“At least you recognize it as an expression,” Ismette interrupted briefly, shrugging. “So we’ve got something to work off of.”

Trypano nodded back in acknowledgement. “I plan to let you carry the bulk of the conversation. Just in case, however, any tips I should know going in?”

The yasoi pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “Not about to lie: I’ve half a mind to play hooky. I could care less about rescuing some princess.” She sighed. “Might be worth its weight in gold, though.” She was totally playing into yasoi stereotypes now, and she knew it. Still there was a grain of truth to most of those for a reason. “Anyways, yeah,” she continued, settling onto topic and ticking points off on her fingers. “Keep your clothes loose so you can pass for yasoi-ish. Mermaid’s knees aren’t knees. ‘Means ladyparts.” She blushed a bit. “Everyone in there’s a darkhead. Be ready for a lot of weirdos and some out-of-place aggressive stuff.” She paused before listing a fourth. “Have a shiny to fit in, but don’t covet shinies or try to trade for them. It’s not human stuff. There are nuances you’ll miss.” She flashed a quick, reassuring smile. “And don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

“If my suspicions are correct I doubt the princess will necessarily need rescuing.” Trypano was listening along, stroking her chin contemplatively whilst taking in what Ismette had to say. The yasoi grinned in knowing agreement at her words.

“The mysterious captain is what we’ll need to know most about. If there’s any chance of them being a mage then we’ll need to know what their focus is and why they’ve taken the holy artifact. Odds are strong that they’re not just planning on ransoming something like that back to the kingdom they took it from. A high profile thief would likely have a buyer already in place before the theft even takes place.”

Trypano was a worldly sort despite being something of a shut in. A veritable trove of miscellaneous knowledge from various different sorts, be it from helping her father and brother with the business or during her time serving as a nurse as part of her medical studies. She’s met a fair number of people from many walks of life.

Taking note of her recommendations Trypano started sorting through her given garments, adding give to the laces and straps amidst her outfit in order to provide the ‘looseness’ that was recommended for her. Given what she had mentioned it made relatively good sense. Pirates were already a mixed pot of both sailor and convict cultures. Over at this bar they’d be throwing Yasoian customs into the blend as well.

“In any case, let’s play our part and get this done so we may both return to more important business.”

“Preach it, sis,” Ismette tossed back, also tossing some hair over a shoulder. The rambling establishment was drawing near. The usual drunks were streaming out and future drunks were trickling in. Ismette kept her guard up but paid them no further heed. “You know, we cause a big enough calamity and force people to draw their magic,” she said, twisting back to look at Trypano, “we can skip all the social junk and just smoke out any bigtime mage.”

Trypano’s eyes moved from figure to figure, taking noteworthy details down whilst listening to Ismette’s words.

“As a Binder by primary practice I am required to discourage violence as our main means of progression.”

With a subtle motion of her hand she brought something to her mouth. It was a neat trick she had picked up from her study at the secret blood magic practices, re-contextualized for a more suitable size. She slid a thin slice of sponge beneath her tongue, a slice of Sign of The Mushroom to be exact. It would be useful since the possibility of her attempting to ingest liquids that may have negative effects were strong at an establishment such as this. As long as she didn’t end up swallowing the sponge filter it’s effects on her own fluids were minor.

“From a practical standpoint if we were to initiate a conflict we’d likely be targeted by the very mages we’re looking to smoke out. Furthermore it’d likely alert every pirate on this island to our work here including The Maria Nera’s crew.”

She produced from the satchel that was lent to her by Desmond a single gold coin, passing it from finger to finger in her left hand to lend more authenticity to her disguise.

“Let us keep that option as our plan b for now. There will always remain the possibility of resorting to force if the situation worsens with few exceptions.”

A goody-good, then. Ismette was rather weary of the type. The funny thing was that she hadn’t specifically said anything about violence. There were… other ways to cause a calamity, after all. Regardless, she forced an agreeable smile. “Sure,” she relented. “We can do things the hard way.” The truth was that they probably wouldn’t find much of note here. That said, Ismette would have the chance for a bit of fun and that was always nice. She reached down, loosened a few buttons on her blouse for the men, and put on a bit of a strut. To the large, tattooed bouncer, she tossed a coin and a wink. “My friend and I would love to spend some time with a successful crew tonight,” she chirped, stopping on the spot, chest out, playing a bit with her hair. “You wouldn’t know anyone like that, wouldya?”

The doorman blinked and looked her up and down none-too-subtly. “Vyrachi’s crew’s had a few good scores lately, going after Perrench ships since all the Revidian ones are paranoid these days.”

Paranoid why? Ismette wondered for a moment, but then she remembered to thank him and traipsed on in. “You coming, Tryps?” she called, twisting as she walked. Maybe it was a lead. Maybe this wouldn’t be all play after all.

Trypano watched Ismette speak with the bouncer who watched the door, prying for info through flirtatious means. Trypano herself hadn’t oft considered her own sex appeal for she was far too concentrated on her studies to really try and make anything of it. It was not to say that she neglected her upkeep and aesthetic but in truth a life led in social isolation had made her not only socially awkward but almost shy to an extent. Her peers had always looked at her with suspicion and fear due to the superstition tied to her unusual appearance. It was only fairly recently over the last few years that men around her viewed her in a sexual capacity.

Whilst Ismette blended into the role quite naturally Trypano found herself still trying to adjust to it. As such she could only muster a modest nod as she skirted along with her partner. Though her face was cool it was only through sheer focus that she masked her awkwardness.

Perceptive as Ismette could be, she was quick to notice her partner’s poorly–masked discomfort. “It’s an acquired skill,” she whispered over her shoulder, hair flicking as she twisted back. “Stick close to me until we’re in good with them and they’re rip–roaring drunk. Then it won’t matter.” Indeed, Captain Vyrachi and his crew were not far at all, occupying a couple of large booths and amply supplied with alcohol, food, and women. The captain’s purple velvet hat with feathery plumes was unmistakable. After all, ‘Vyrachi’ meant ‘Bird of Paradise’.

Yet, as the two interlopers walked, a number of things may have been surprising. First came the numbers and disposition: there were simply fewer people in here than one might’ve expected fro, the entrance and they seemed unusually unruly. Even as they entered, Ismette and Trypano noticed at least two new fights start up. Second, was the size and layout of the place. There was a bar, of course, with the usual set of merrymakers. There was a bedraggled-looking musician being hounded to play this tune and that, and a ragged chorus that chimed in with undulating enthusiasm. There was a dance floor. There were card and dice tables. There were wenches. Yet… the inside area did not seem to match the outside and it soon became obvious why. There was a small hallway towards the back corner, obscured from view by dark curtains. People seemed to slink regularly down it and back, almost… wary of being seen. A couple of even-less-reputable-than-usual characters seemed to be hanging around nearby. Finally, it was the magic: there were copious amounts of energy in the air from a source that would’ve been unfamiliar to most humans but all-too familiar to most yasoi. The majority of it was unmistakably concentrated somewhere down that hallway.

Ismette didn’t turn to Trypano. Instead, she slowed and her eyes did all the work. “You seeing what I’m seeing?” she asked in Avincian.

Ismette certainly was perceptive, noting her discomfort. Perhaps she wasn’t concealing her outward impressions as well as she had hoped? Her companion had a plan nonetheless which was of some comfort. Not having to steer the situation was a relief as her forte wasn’t talking, especially not in a language that she might know but not have a full cultural fluency in.

The interior certainly painted a picture. Since the bar seemed to cater mainly to yasoi it made sense that there were fewer patrons to this one than most others. The yasoi were becoming more and more reclusive after all, their presence in places outside of their homelands notably scarcer.

Aside from the captain and his crew who were making good money off of attacking Perrench ships the overall mood of this area seemed fairly downcast, the sort of feel you’d get heading into a pub in the slums during a recession. This was all undercut with something different. Very different.

The air felt almost electric, saturated with energy that she could almost tangibly feel against her skin. Her blood was keen to draw magic from the surroundings after all, a trait of those of her blood type. It was all concentrated in one area, an area hidden away from outside eyes.

“I do. We should…” Answering back in Avincian she hesitated, wondering if this might be a detour from their original intent in coming here.
“- See this.”

She wasn’t about to throw away the chance to document a phenomenon and perhaps expand her own understanding in the process.

Ismette nodded slowly, pursing her lips. “We should divide and conquer. I’ll see what I can get from Vyrachi and his crew. You should check out the backroom. I… have a feeling that communication will matter less over there.”

The Hourglass Order

---

Trypano stood by after they had resolved their planning, the fellow apparently named Desmond going out of his way to set up a majority of the details as he took most of the plan upon himself. It wasn't a great plan, it wasn't even really much of a good plan but it was a plan nonetheless. Pretty much any plan they'd make going into this would require more information and given their apparent timeframe that information would need to be taken on the go.

After returning to the room in the costume he had set aside for her she stood by and awaited transport to the mission. While she much preferred colors that blended well with the stains she often accrued she saw little point in complaining. This mission was to earn further trust from the paradigm himself, little else about it mattered really. There was slim potential for honing her binding in this scenario.

_
The tropical air mingled with her long vibrant hair, red strands dancing in the breeze which swept past. Though they had procurred a costume for her it wasn't strictly custom made. The ordinarily loose shirt was still small for her frame given her wide shoulders and generous other features. The long black skirt only hung right at her knees, revealing shin, knees and hints of thigh. The tips of her black boots were even a bit small for the ends of her feet. It wasn't great for comfort but ever still it hardly mattered. She just wanted this over and done with so she could return to what mattered: dissecting the secrets of blood.

With little more than a nod she took her supply of cash and for some reason alcohol and proceeded off towards what was most likely a Yasoian establishment. Why they were to carry alcohol when they were heading to a place which sells alcohol in the first place was a questionable decision but hardly the first one she'd been subject to so far.

There was no more need for delay. With one foot in front of the other she began en-route to The Mermaid's Knees.

---

Direct interactions - @Th3King0fChaos,@Force and Fury.

The Hourglass Order

---

Quite a shame it was, truly. The idea that someone of his venerability would be set aside as one might a seasonal ornament was almost blasphemous in her eyes. Not unexpected of the leads of this school but shameful of them nonetheless. Someone of his credence should have a major voice in the decisions of what happens in this school, not be forced to sit aside as though he were a worn out beast of burden.

His talk of personal benefit on these tasks he mentioned was rather odd to her but she made little note of it. Perhaps he meant it would be a decent learning opportunity for those involved. She certainly hoped she'd be able to try out some new techniques in the binding field on living subjects as opposed to the local cadavers and lab rats they were currently afforded.

_
And thus with his speech having reached it's conclusion the die was cast. She, along with a number of others, were to go forth and solve matters that Hugo has seen fit to set them upon. Trypano was already starting to sort through the files laid out before them to get a clearer idea of what it was he wanted them to do. It was quite the odd job indeed.

Assassinate the leader? Retrieve the artifact? Rescue a princess?

It seemed like a job more fit for soldiers or spies of the court, not a bunch of students just starting out in their magic studies. While they held great potential to hurt others it didn't seem like most of them had a great deal of background in large scale battle or espionage. Then again, she had only just met a bunch of them.

"Seems like there's little known from the outside on the nature of this 'Pirate Leader'. We may need to learn more about the ship and it's captain from a local source before we can stage a rescue. Any suggestions?" She asked aloud to the group of hers which may or may not have been gathered at the details laid out. Hugo's offer on procuring supplies stood but in truth she didn't need much to do her role properly. She was a doctor, her aim was to facilitate the success of the mission while minimalizing casualties.

She was well aware of what that entailed. While she had never served as a medic in any battles prior she's worked and studied under those that have. She's been well warned of what to expect, even if she's never had the experience herself. She hoped it wouldn't come to that but alas even the best laid plans are naught but the whims of ants in the eyes of fate.

While she wasn't particularly attached to anyone present here she made special note to temper her expectations in the event any of them die. It would do none of them any good for her to be stunned at such an outcome.