Pezz570

The Five Senses

Tayla Selleace

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Age: 22

Home Nation: Nation of Smell

Appearance:



Minus the neck ribbon and blood under her eyes. Her irises are dark brown instead of yellow

Bio:

Tayla never knew her mother. The woman died giving birth, leaving Tayla with a father who resented her. Her father, a simple carpenter, drowned his sorrows in alcohol. His resent gradually turning abusive.

The abuse started with neglect, then turned verbal before ultimately becoming physical. Before long, the neighbors started taking notice of Tayla's ever growing bruises, her bleeding lips and her increasingly skittish nature. They began to talk behind her father's back, and that only made things worst.

Her father blamed Tayla for his worsening reputation. At age 14, he began locking her in their house. Shackling her ankle to an anchor point on the wall. There she remained for a year. Unable to run from her father's rage. Unable to fight against his overwhelming strength.
Her lucky break came only by chance. On a night where her father left her beaten and bloodied. On the floor she lay. Cradling ankle that swelled tightly against the shackle that held her, Tayla trembled alone in the darkness. The salty taste of blood thick in her mouth.

She carefully tried to adjust the shackle's tight grip on her ankle. Oblivious to the magic potential the taste of blood upon her tongue held. She focused fruitlessly on adjusting the chain, when suddenly the metal shackle softened and crumbled like charcoal beneath her grip.

Tayla sat there stunned. Unable to comprehend what had happen. A single thought ran through her head. 'Run'.
Tayla hobbled her way out of her prison. Robbing her passed out father of coin. She ran from the town with a limp, at the dead of night. Stopping only after passing out from exhaustion. When she awoke, she found herself among a traveling caravan, that had found her passed out in the middle of the road.

In the days that followed, the caravan cared for her and tended to her wounds. They many questions about Tayla such as: What was her name? How old was she? Where she come from? Where were her parents? Where did she get those bruises? She fielded the questions with care. Habit drilled into her by fear when the neighbors questioned her about her father.

"I don't know." She would say. "I can't remember." She would answer.

Taking offense Tayla's unfriendly nature, the caravan quickly lost interest in the child. After caring for her wounds, they arrived at the capital of the Nation of Touch. There, they sent her on her way. Though not before charging her for the food and supplies they wasted upon her. And with that, Tayla found herself penniless in a foreign city. Her only belongings being the clothes upon her back.

Tayla spent the next several years as a street-rat, begging for scraps in the streets. It was during this time that Tayla began to grow wise of her magical abilities. She learned that the taste of her blood could harden and soften a material at will. Though she remained ignorant as to why or how it work.

It wasn't long before Tayla began using this ability to break holes in various containers and steal the food or valuables from within. She began to grow bold. Stealing from increasingly dangerous targets. This is what led Tayla to Sightless Syella.

At the time Syella had yet to become Sightless. She spent much her time looking for new recruits among the street-rats of the land's many cities. On a hot summer day, Syella caught Tayla stealing from her. Recognizing Tayla's talent for what it was. Syella spent the following days befriending Tayla and gaining her trust.

Frome there. Tayla joined the Cult. There she learned more about her abilities, and rose up in the ranks. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Personality:

Tayla doesn't trust easily, especially when it comes to men. She has a temper built up from history of issues she has left ignored. She fears getting to close to anyone and has a habit of pushing them away before they can hurt her. When confronted with her problems, she gets defensive out of fear of facing her weaknesses head on.

Quirks:

Being the daughter of a carpenter, Tayla has picked up a few tricks of the trade. She will often whittle away a piece of wood when when needing something to do with her hands.

Skills/Magic:

Gustum Hydraision (Taste Magic)

Weaknesses:

Tayla has a temper that can often become a hindrance. This temper will often lead to rash actions on her part.

Equipment/Items:

Tayla wields a duel swords that are custom made so that the blade is melded with the handle on the hilt. This way she can use her magic to warp the sword without touching the actual blade.

In addition to the swords, she wears a belt holding bags of seasoned cotton tufts, which she pops in her mouth to trigger the various effects of her magic. She also carries a bag of coins which she uses as projectiles when fighting with her magic.

The Five Senses

Tayla

@13org @JerkChicken @fetzen @Typical @HokumPocus

---

"NO!" Tayla cried out in frustration. Little Miss princess had managed to avoid the bell before it crushed her. Tayla made to unsheathe her blades when Smit's cries of alarm snapped Tayla out of her rage.

She blinked, looking towards his falling form. Her heart went cold. Her eyes went wide. "Smit-" she mouthed. Without a second thought she dived down from her post.

What am I doing? The words flashed through her head as she went into free fall. Her ears filled with the roar air rush by as the ground rushed up before her. Why am I risking my life for this man?!
Tayla clenched her fists. Her knuckles whitened. She wasn’t catching up to Smit.

I almost had her! The thought raged in her min. I ALMOST HAD HER!

Smit’s terrified eyes locked with hers. His arm outstretched helplessly.

“Damn it all!” She cried. Gritting her teeth, she placed her hand to her belt and focused on the tingly taste of sour that coated her tongue.

Tayla’s waist lurched downwards from the sudden velocity applied to her belt. The uneven force caused her body to flip mid-air. Disorientated, Tayla’s vision swam. For a moment she panicked. She was facing up, right?

Smit’s cries caught her ear from below. His screams growing louder. Tayla looked down in time to see his blurry form shooting up past her knees. She flung her arms out wildly, catching the man in an embrace.

Closing her eyes she focused. She needed to slow their fall.

Up... that was the direction they needed to go… The taste of sour lingered on her tongue.

The downwards pull of her belt relinquished. Instead, she replaced it by an upwards pull from her pants. Carefully, she applied the same force to Smit’s clothes. The pull was small at first, but it quickly increased.

Their body jerked downwards from the intense change in velocity. A final loud clang rang beneath their feet. The sound of the bell smashing to the ground…

---

Tayla firmly griped the hilt of her swords. Her hands shook with frustration as she gazed upwards at the hole in the floor above.

Beside her, Smit knelt on his knees with his hands to the ground. Smit’s breath came heavily. His eyes wide with shock. A bead of sweat dripped from his face.

“She’s still alive…” Tayla growled through gritted teeth.

“She’s still alive?!” Smit said between labored breaths. “No, I’m still alive…”

Tayla frowned, unsure of what to say. She turned her gaze downwards. “You’re… welcome?” She said awkwardly.

“Welcome?” Smit said as he barked a laugh. He gave her an incredulous look. “I’m welcome, am I?”

Tayla’s frown deepened at his sarcastic tone.

Smit waved an arm to the ruined bell beside him. “Tayla… Are you Crazed in the head? You almost killed me!” He said exasperatedly.

“Almost killed you?” Tayla said. “Smit, I just risked my life to save you.”

“Risked your life?!” He scoffed. “Yeah… After nearly killing me with that damn bell.”

“Are you dense?” Tayla protested. “She would have killed you if it wasn’t for me! You’re still alive because of me!”

“I’m still alive,” He agreed, “but they sure aren’t.” Smit nodded over to three corpses that had been crushed beneath the bell. Tex was among the bodies.

Tayla took a step back. She looked to the surviving clan members. All of them beaten up and bloodied. “I-“ She stuttered. Tayla blinked and shook her head before looking back to Smit defiantly. “If you hadn’t gotten in the way-” she started.

“Then, you would have died!” Smit finished. “She had you on your knees with a blade to your throat.”

“I didn’t need your help!” She yelled.

“Oh?” He said. “Well, perhaps you didn’t. The rest of us, though,” Smit gestured to the remaining clan members, “we needed your help.”

“Don’t act like I did nothing here! I risked my life keeping those two at bay! Meanwhile, the rest of you-”

“Enough!” Smit yelled. Taken aback, Tayla shut her mouth. She had never heard the man yell before.

Smit slowly got to his feet and stared her down. The look he gave her was unnerving. Reminiscent of how her father looked before he-

“You intended to kill her from the start, didn’t you?” Tayla said nothing.

Smit shook his head disapprovingly and turned his back her. “Where’s the target?” Smit asked the nearest clan member. The man simply pointed up.

“Smit-” Tayla said. Smit ignored her.

“You,” He said, pointing to one of the clan members, “Our leader’s actions has likely place the rest of the clan on alert. Warn them of the Pact Makers. Explain to them that the Pact Makers came here and attacked us first. Tell them of the comrades they’ve slain.” The man nodded and took off.

Tayla gave Smit a cold glare. “Smit…” She growled. “This is my team.”

“As for the rest of you-“ He continued.

“I’m in charge here!” Tayla yelled. Within a second, she whipped out her blade and put it to the man’s throat.

“Is that so?” Came a dry voice from behind Tayla.

Tayla paled. She knew the owner of that voice. Sheathing her sword, she whipped herself around to face the looming figure of Sightless Nieffar.

“And pray tell me child,” He said calmly. His voice a deep contrast to the displeasure written across his face. “what exactly are you in charge of?”

The Five Senses

Chres Sansus

Interaction with @Typical @HokumPocus

---

Chres covered his mouth deep in thought, nodding as they spoke. Acknowledging their comments. “I don’t like this.” Chres said. “The woman I feel we should steer clear of, but the Kharu-Natjer is a mystery to me... The clothing he wore, his accent, his skin tone even... His slaves, their ethnicity was obviously the same. How come there haven't been widespread rumors of these people walking about?“

More questions swam through Chres’s mind. Who was this man really? Where did he come from? Did he travel far to get here? And for what? To end the cult? Why? Revenge? Power? Wealth? What relation did he even have with the cult?

“The question he asked us…” Chres said “It was not a question. Rather he was confirming our association with the Being. Which implies there likely is other means to obtain the knowledge we had on the cult. But who or what would that be?” Chres grit his teeth. “Whatever the case, he seemed quite pleased to have learned that information.”

He furrowed his brow lost in thought. His eyelids felt heavy. How long had he been up now?

Chres shook his head. The cult had also sought them out, because of their connection to the Being. Pact Makers, the cult had called them. Makers of the Unspoken Pact. What importance did their connection to the Being hold?

Stifling a yawn, Chres’s thoughts began to stray...

Chres stared down into the dying gaze of the woman before him. Her face becoming less recognizable with each strike to the face. Her struggle against his hold had become non-existent. Chres rose his fist in preparation for another strike-

A finger prodded Chres’s forehead.

“Chres?” A familiar voice… The voice of his wi-

Another poke on the forehead. Chres opened his eyes. Sil’s form fluttered just level with his eyes. Her head cocked to the side curiously. Left forefinger touching the bottom of her lip. Chres blinked twice. Had he just dozed off?

Sil smiled. “There he is.” She said warmly. She giggled softly to herself, before fluttering away.

Chres felt a shiver go down his spine. His hand lowering to his ring. His wife use to do that him.

Shaking his head, he turned his gaze back to his companions, acting as if nothing happened. “We should connect with the others.” He said. “Share what we’ve learned and-“ Chres looked to Ferris. “-introduce our new companion.”

Before they could respond, a deep clang rang out in the distance. Chres turned his gaze to the center of the city, a top the hill from which the clock tower sat. Even from this distance, Chres could make out the roof of the tower crumbling apart.

“The clock tower…” The Innkeeper said. “Weren’t the others at the clock tower?”

Chres grit his teeth and nodded. “Go back to the shelter.” Chres said to the innkeeper. “We’ll meet you back there.”

The Five Senses

Tayla
Smit

@13org @JerkChicken @fetzen @Typical @HokumPocus

---

Smit yelped at the woman's quick counterattack. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! He thought, as he flung his body hard to the side in order to avoid the worst of blow. The momentum, of his turn, threw him to the ground and into a roll. Quickly, he grabbed a handful of dust sand and tossed it into the air behind him as he exited his roll.

Smit paid a quick glance behind him. No ice blades yet. He thought. Did the numbing oil work, or is she plotting something else?

A sudden flash of movement shot up from behind the white haired woman, catching Smit's gaze...

---

The loss of one of Tayla's boots meant that launching herself to the bell was no longer an option. She needed to apply velocity to both boots to ensure the launch wouldn't put her off balance. With a second boot to stabilized her 'flight', she would have to reach the bell by other means.

Tayla tried to moisten her lips with her tongue as she focused on the savory taste in her mouth. Suddenly, the floor beneath her bare foot warped upwards. Sending her up and onto a wooden beam under the roofing that covered the bell.

The sudden movement made her feel dizzy, causing her to nearly topple off the beam. She put her left hand against the stone roof to stabilize herself. Either she was overexerting herself... Or perhaps the dizziness was simply from the loss of blood. Whatever the case, it didn't matter. This battle ended now.

"Hey Princess!" She mocked, while trying to hide the exhaustion from her voice. "Fuck off." Tayla placed her right hand on the giant bell as the taste of sour filled her mouth...

---

Smit furrowed his brow as he watched Tayla warp herself to the rafters above. What is she doing? He wondered. His eyes went to the giant bell above them and widened in realization.

"She wouldn't..." he whispered under his breath. They were not supposed to kill any of the pact makers. She knew that, right? Tayla placed her hand on the bell.

"MOVE!" He shouted. Directing his alarm to the white haired woman, while turning to make a mad dash towards the stairs. A loud groan came from above. Several cracks and a snap. And then came the whoosh and a crash.

The bell easily smashed through the wooden floor beneath them at an incredible speed. Smit jumped towards the floor, barely managing to get out from under the bell. However, the force from the impact had damaged more than just the flooring directly beneath the bell. Much of the flooring beyond the impact zone had broken away as well.

Smit found himself without footing. He screamed helplessly as the floor broke away from beneath him. His cries drowned out by the resounding clang of the bell as it smashed its way further downwards.

The Five Senses

Removed. Duplicate

The Five Senses

Tayla

@13org

---

Foolish? Dumb? Naive?! Tayla's face darkened with every condescending word that left the white haired woman's mouth. Her words adding fuel to Tayla's hatred. Its growing flames drying up her tears.

"You asked me why I joined the clan." Tayla said coldly. "I joined because of privileged little princesses like yourself. People like you who have never known what its like to scavenge in the trash for their next meal. People like you, who talk as if they care for those beneath them, but in reality they know nothing of their struggle to survive. Unlike your country, everyone in the clan has an equal opportunity. We all start from the bottom, and each of us can rise to the top."

Movement by the stairs caught Tayla's eye. She didn't dare look towards it. Instead she lowered her left hand to the dangling remains of her sleeve which hung from her right side. Tayla continued talking. "You think the Crazed is the real reason the Emperor wanted to invade this country? Are you really silly enough to think we haven't stuck our... 'claws' in your country yet?" Tayla let out a dry laugh. "If anyone here is naive, its you."

A shadow of a man inched closer to the white haired woman. In his hand he held a knife coated in deterrents. "And it is that same naivety that will-."

The floorboards let out a creak behind the white haired woman. Cursing Smit immediately rushed forward, getting in a slice with the knife.

Meanwhile, Tayla reacted with hesitation. Pulling on her dangling sleeve, raising it up and across her left side so that it covered her neck. She tasted the saltiness from the blood in her mouth. She used its taste to trigger her magic and harden her sleeve so that the woman's rapier wouldn't skewer her neck. She then kicked her feet against the ground underneath her while ignoring the pain that shot from her right foot. The push sent Tayla sliding away from the woman. With her right hand, she reached into her pouched and popped a brand new set of cotton tufts into her mouth.

Getting to her feet, Tayla gave a determined look towards the bell...

The Five Senses

Týfurkh
Smit

@Fetzen

---

Damn it, Tayla! Smit thought has he ran up the stairs. The climb burned at his legs, but he refused to stop. What is she doing fighting alone like that?

Smit looked up, a giant of a man blocked his path. His anxiety heightened. The enemy moving on was not a good sign.

Smit's eyes widened. The man had a crossbow. Smit quickly slammed his body to the side, hugging the nearby wall. He reached into his pouch to grab a ball of pollen.

---

Týfurkh had mentioned towards Karina that he had wanted to check the situation below, but he honestly had not anticipated for it to creep up towards him that early... The staircase was straightforward, allowing the two men to see each other from a bit of a distance away already.

The giant pulled up his crossbow and tried to get an aim, but the walls were not perfectly even. Hugging them provided a significant amount of cover and Týfurkh was very well aware of the fact that shooting now and missing would not allow him enough time to reload if the man at the other end was fast enough to get up to his position.

Slowly Týfurkh took a few steps downwards, his hulking frame causing enough noise for anybody to listen to even while not maintaining direct visual contact. He had to try and get a clear view onto Smit in order to shoot him.

---

Damn. Smit thought. He had hoped the man would take the shot. He needed to distract him. Smit threw the ball of pollen at the man's face. He then reached in to his other pouch and grabbed a handful of dust sand. He dashed forward as the pollen exploded, on impact, and spread into the air. He pulled out a knife in his spare hand.

---

Týfurkh's nose reacted near instantaneously. Pollen really was not the correct way against the Art of Canor, but it certainly was against proper breathing. The giant's sneezing echoed through the halls of the staircase, betraying the fact that Smit's distraction was working. Týfurkh lost what aim he had had and tried to regain it, which was somewhat difficult since he couldn't see Smit clearly behind the rough outline of the wall. He stepped closer and closer, still rubbing his nose with the back of his hand while holding the huge crossbow in the other.

---

The gap between Smit and the giant. It appeared his distraction worked... However...

Smit released the dust sand into the air, shielding his eyes with his newly freed hand. It didn't block out all the dust sand, but it was enough to not be detrimental. He knew he couldn't fight this guy. Running would be better.

Turning his body sideways, Smit passed between an opening between the giant and the wall. Perfect Smit thought, smiling at how well things worked out. Now, just to be sure... Smit kicked the giant man in the back of his knee. Wouldn't want to be him right now. Smit thought as he continued his climb up the stairs.

The Five Senses

Reason behind the War of Sight and Touch:

Shortly after Talissare became Emperor, there was a break out in dungeon used to lock up some of the Crazed in the Nation of Sight. This particular Dungeon was located relatively close to the Nation of Touch. And as such many of the escaped Crazed crossed into the Nation of Touch. Several deaths happened by their hands. A few took to small towns burning them to the ground and mutilating their occupants. Most, however, had the wit to stay together, Hiding in the woods and robbing, killing unsuspecting travelers.

Emperor Talissare had his criers warn the people. Informed them he had sent in a small group of soldiers to handle the threat. The Crazed that were on a killing spree he had killed immediately. The ones acting as bandits, however, kept managing to slip away from the soldiers. In secret, The Emperor had paid off a man to tip off the Crazed bandits. He wanted the threat to be dealt with slowly, so he would have an excuse to create conflict.

After a few months, eventually the soldiers had managed to hunt down the main group of Crazed. However, at this point the people were already riled up. This is not the first time such a break out had occurred, in the Nation of Sight, though it had been one of the worst.

In the Nation of Touch, it was common practice to execute the Crazed the moment they first showed signs of breaking. The Emperor of Touch sent a missionary to the King of Sight, and demanded that the King shut down his dungeons and execute the prisoners inside. The Nation of Touch would not allow for such reckless regulation of Crazed any longer.

The King of Sight refused the request. However, he sent his regret for the incident and gifted the Emporer with gold as payment for the damages caused. The Emperor rejected the gold.

"Gold will not bring back the dead." The Emperor exclaimed. "Gold will not undo the suffering that was wrought."

Again the King apologized. Instead he offered a compromise. One Crazed for every twenty-five civilians killed. They would be brought to the Nation of Touch to be executed. The Emperor of touch declined.

"A ruler must be able to protect his land and people. How can I do that when my neighboring lands has Crazed running amok?" Emperor said
On more time The King of Sight sought make amends for the event. Yet again the Emperor declined. "I refused to leave my lands open to future attacks!" The Emperor exclaimed. "If you will not secure your lands, I will."

And so began the War of Sight and Touch. A war that the King of sight could not hope to win. The following day, The Nation of Touch's army held invaded the now empty Dungeon where the breakout occurred, and burned it to the ground. Soldiers invaded the border towns, seeking out Crazed hiding among the townspeople. Those who showed signs of insanity were executed. The rest were spared of harm... in a way... War is a tricky business after all. Maintaining army requires feeding many mouths. Food was taken as needed, and not all soldiers are honorable enough to leave the conquered unharmed...

The Five Senses

Tayla

@13org

---

"STOP CALLING US THAT!" Tayla yelled. "We are not a cult!" Tayla lowered her head and bared her teeth. "What we are... is a family..." Two more tears streamed down her cheeks.

This woman... She pretended to know what kind of person Tayla was. She acted as if she knew what kind of people her clansmen were. In truth, she knew nothing.

Tayla calmed her breathing, and turned her gaze upwards and stared down those penetrating green eyes. "Right? Don't talk to me about what's right. Those people you killed over there,-" She said nodding over to the three dead cultists, "perhaps some of them were my friends. How come you didn't offer them a chance to spare their lives? Do you think that's right?"

Tayla didn't wait for an answer. Instead she continued on. "The king to the nation of Sight is weak and unable to defend his lands. His people die by the Empire's hands while he hides away in his palace, eating the food they harvested. Tell me, is that right? No. Of course it's not. Though he's not the worst of the lot. Tayla's eyes darkened at the words. "Let's talk about the Nation of Touch."

Tayla stared up in Karina's cold eyes. "The Nation of Touch started this war. The Clan wouldn't even be here if it weren't for them. Tell, what reason did they have to start this war? What threat did the Nation of Sight pose to their Empire? They burn down the people's fields, steal their food, ravage the cities they conquer. In their army's wake, poverty, hunger, sickness."

Tayla shook her head. "If you want to talk about what's right, let's talk about them. You see, what's right doesn't matter when the powers that be do not care."

The Five Senses

Chres Sansus

Interaction with @Typical @HokumPocus

---

Chres looked from Malkev, to Svephraey, and then to the Kharu-Natjer. He didn’t like the atmosphere here one bit.

“You imply we are allies, due to a common enemy.” The Kharu-Natjer nodded with a smile. “I can’t speak for my comrades here, but I don’t-“

“Oh, for the love of-” Malkev interjected with his deep rich voice. “Are we just going to sit around here and voice our distrust for one another while tossing around ominous threats left and right?”

The Kharu-Natjer simply took another sip of his wine. “Peace Malkev.”

“Peace? Peace?! Lord of Senses take your ‘Peace’!” Malkev spat.

The Kharu-Natjer’s expression turned sour at the man’s curse. His ever present smile turning to displeasure. He quickly took a sip of wine, letting the glass cover his frown. Once again he turned to face the fire.

Out the corner of his eye, Chres caught the man’s familiar batting its wings excitedly as it crouched forward in its perch. Meanwhile, Svephraey’s gaze went from Malkev, to The Kharu-Natjer, and back again. Her eyebrow arched in amusement. It was the most expressive she had been since the start of the conversation.

Malkev seemed to have missed the change in atmosphere. Instead, he continued on. “The reason I’m here today is to put aside pettiness and address the issue that is plaguing this town.”

“You.” Malkev said, pointing a finger in Ferris’s direction. “I don’t like you or your kind… However-” He paused for half a second, his mouth twitching as if he were trying to cover a sneer. “If you've come here seeking to assist The Watch in ridding this town of the Cult... Then... Then I’ll...”

Malkev’s scrunched up his nose. His mouth seemed to struggle to form the words he sought. Finally, he sighed and bowed his head. “Then I’ll look the other way.” He said reluctantly in a quiet voice. “Yesterday’s massacre has left this town in shambles... The cult controls the walls, the food, and if I were to hazard a guess, the governance as well. I... I’ll take help wherever I can get it. Even if I do begrudge where such help may come from.”

Malkev raised his head. His eyes held hard defiant look. “I’m here to fight back against the people who seek to take away our way of life. Alone I don’t have the weapons, information or resources to fight against this… this siege on our culture. These people,-” Malkev eyed Svephraey and The Kharu-Natjer disdainfully. “-they do.”

Malkev tighten his blanket as he finished his speech. There was a proudness to his words. Perhaps a hint of nobility.

The Kharu-Natjer took another sip of wine before placing the unfinished glass on a small table near the sofa. Oddly, Malkev jumped from his seat the moment the glass touched table. Almost as if he’d been shocked. The man looked to his seat confused, and then eyed the Kharu-Natjer suspiciously. Cautiously, he returned to his seat.

“We each have our reasons for wanting the Cult gone." The Kharu-Natjer said. "Svephraey’s trade cannot flourish under the Cult’s influence.”

“And you?” Chres asked.

“Me?” The Kharu-Natjer said. He grabbed his glass from the table and raised it to his face. “I seek to end them. To send its kind back from whence it came." The strange man watched the black flames of the fire as the nearby slave tossed more wood into its distorted blaze. His gaze seemed distant as if his stare went beyond the flames and into a place unknown.

There was a moment of silence. The only noise being the trickle from the chamber's steady stream of water, and the playful splashes of a certain fairy shaped familiar. She laughed happily in the background shouting, "Puddle! Puddle! Puddle! Puddle! Puddle!" Most of the room ignored Sil's delight. Talon, however, did not. He eyed Sil with disgust. His own talons tightening on his perch.

Moments later, the Kharu-Natjer downed the rest of his wine. One of the female slaves immediately went to his side, allowing him to discard the glass upon her tray. "I've answered your questions." He said. "It is only fair you answer mine." He turned to face the group. "It seems to me that escaping the cult, the day prior, would have taken a certain level of sanity. How is it that you managed to avoid the madness that struck the rest of the town?"

Chres looked to the chamber filled with crystal jade candles. "The same way as you, I would imagine." He said.

The Kharu-Natjer merely smiled "Oooh no no no. You misunderstand. I was not speaking of the Crystal Jade candles, but rather how you came to know of them."

Chres narrowed his eyes. His mind darted to the mystery man who visited them the night before chaos struck. "The same way as you." Chres repeated more firmly.

The man's smile simply widened. "Your assumption speaks volumes." He said snidely. "No, my friend. The same it assuredly was not..." Chres's eyes narrowed further.

The Kharu-Natjer clapped his hands together. "Friends!" He said to Malkev and Svephraey. "It seems we have found the missing piece of knowledge we needed to kill the seed." The two looked to the Kharu-Natjer curiously. "Tell us, then. What information did the Being of Many Names provide?"

*****

Chres and the rest left the underground chamber some time later. The weapons returned the moment they left the premises. The Innkeeper was waiting for them outside. He said nothing as he joined the group. Whatever they did seemed to have freaked out him out.

"Never again..." The Innkeeper muttered.

The Being of Many Names. That was the name the Kharu-Natjer gave the mystery man. Other than that, he refuse to say more. He would reach out to them all again, he had said, to plan for an attack.

Chres wasn't sure how he felt about the people he met there. At the very least Malkev seemed to have some moral standing. The others though...

"Did you see the size of that puddle?" Sil asked excitedly to Lynx. "Next time we go, let's play in the puddle together! We can go splash that ugly chicken and show him who's boss!"

Chres looked to Sil and smiled. In all honesty, he felt her innocence was a relief after their encounter with the Kharu-Natjer. The encounter was unnerving to say the least.

"Tell me,-" Chres addressed the group. "-what did you all make of those three?"