Tackytaff

The Hourglass Order

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_{Silas Rieger@Tackytaff, Yuliya Ilyanovich Vasilieva @Suicharte, Nazih Iqbal@Ziegenkonig, Esmi’nesta’tawaar@BlackRoseSiren, Yvain de Berbignon@jasbraq, Penelope 'Penny' Pellegrin@Force and Fury, Sven Bjørnsson}

The city the Biros appeared in wasn’t all that different from the one they’d arrived in to chase Harrachora’s flying messenger. Even the portal they had emerged from was nearly identical to that in Hogh Munkhelad, save the missing colossal statue they had waited at. The buildings were just as small, the sky remained a dark stoney ceiling, and the people milling around them were the short and stocky beings they’d come to know as Hegelans.

Two in particular stood ready at attention not five feet away- waiting for them.

“Welcome to Hoch Dorumvir!” The first greeted, in a voice that revealed her to be a woman despite the magnificently dark beard that was broken only by a wide smile of white teeth. Both her hands shot upwards upwards in greeting. Her right reached to Yuliya and her left towards Penny; the first pair to have stepped through. The second of their welcoming party remained silent, arms and brow crossed as they regarded the single Yasoi in the group warily.

“I am Chorily MochMurdo,” Their first continued, vigorously shaking the arrivals hands in a surprisingly strong grip. “My partner Moira and I have been directed to welcome and guide you to our city.”

“Missing one,” Moira finally chimed in, tugging upon the reddish mutton chops that framed her wide jaw. “Meant to be eight of yous.” Her penetrating gaze fell upon Marz next, and the sight of him seemed to give her pause.

“It’s no matter,” Chorily hurriedly continued, bringing her hands together in a loud clap. “There is much to do and-”

The portal flickered to life for a brief second; spitting out a single smallish figure before vanishing again. Silas staggered forward, running into Nazih, and beginning a domino effect within the group that nearly sent them all to the ground.

“-Damned condescending stuck-up prick” He muttered, kicking loose gravel and spitting in the place the portal had been before spinning to face the group. “What’d I miss?”

The Hegelan ambassadors lead the Biros through the mercantile district of the city. Vendors of all sorts shouted out to the foreigners, promising goods at exorbitant prices. Chorily headed them to pay no mind, and went so far as to point out the shops that would offer them good quality Hegelan brews and artifacts for their Constantian coins at decent cost between her other chattering comments on the city: Its great history, the unfortunate separation of the Hegelans, and most importantly how Hoch Dorumvir was truly the pinnacle of Hegelan society in culture, craft, and knowledge.

Their final destination proved to be a bunkhouse clearly designed for travelers. The ceilings and doorways were higher, so that all save for Sven and Nazih were able to move about comfortably without crouching. Even the beds indicated to them at the far end of the long hall were larger than the rest. Only the smell; something damp and musky that permeated the entire building, tempered the hospitable atmosphere. Even Moira’s stoney countenance was shaken after being in its presence for more than a few moments

“Irkned Margukh.” She grumbled, making a show of covering her nose with a sleeve. “I’ll be outside once you’re done.” Without waiting for confirmation, she spun and walked out the door.

Chorily’s polite smile increased doubly as if to make up for her partner's manners. “Many find the smell uncomfortable, but it cannot be helped,”[/colour] She motioned for the group to move towards a second door, opposite the entrance. Past it was a stable; or something that resembled one. Everything was made of stone, from the pens to the trough, even the floors had no hay to soften them.

There was only one sort of animal housed inside - though there were dozens, kicking and bleating in stalls. Goats - the Constantians would recognize first, thought not like any others they had seen before. These were larger beasts, with impossibly thin legs and narrow hooves supporting a mass of hair and horns; the latter of which curled ornately in perplexing twists so they reached far behind the creatures’ heads.

“Marguhk.” Chorily explained, “They’ll take you as far as Tagayungri. A safe journey this time of year, doubly so with these friends taking you.” The Hegelan woman reached towards the closest stall, where a muzzle appeared in front of strange eyes with cubed pupils. The Marguhk regarded the hand, and failing to find a treat there, began to make for the woman’s beard.

“Chied! Chied Remok!” A small pair of hands from some unseen person reached from within the stall to pull the Marguhk back by the horns. It relinquished the woman gently, causing Chorily to giggle excitedly. “Not to worry! They’re sweet creatures, well mannered and trained - Will even find their own way home after taking you where you need to go.” She gave the animal a final pat on the nose before ushering the Biros out back the way they’d entered. “Best speak to Moira,” she urged, pointing to the door leading outside, in case they had somehow forgotten. Then she too left, back into the stables where faint sounds of shouting in a foreign language could just barely be heard.

Moira was waiting for them outside, leaning against a stone wall and licking a stone that appeared to be made of amber, which she quickly stored away in a pocket upon seeing them.

“Harrachora told me what you’re to do.” She began, already hurried to be done with the group. “In ten hours you’ll take the Marguhk through the southwest corner of Kyrguz towards Tagayungri - there’ll be a boat to take you from there to Kirimansk. Bring the cargo back upstream again and we’ll have transport to bring you back up the mountain as well. Questions?” The final word came out more as a challenge than an offer of help.

“Why all this traveling?” Penny spoke up, “What was the point of using teleportation magic to take us only part way?”

Moira sighed, and rolled her eyes before looking towards the one-legged girl. “Outsiders don’t use that magic in Vossoriya.”

Penny frowned at the non-answer, “What about the cargo then? Will you at least tell us about that?”

The Hegelan glared at her, produced the amber again, and popped the entire stone in her mouth. “Strange words from down south,” She muttered around the object, her words even harder to understand than usual. “Don’t know and ain’t my problem. Less we have to do with outsiders the better.” And, apparently deciding that was the end of the discussion, Moira left, leaving the Biros to their own devices for the few hours they had remaining before setting off.

Action Opportunities

Action Opportunities:

You have arrived at Hoch Dorumvir where you will be staying the night before heading south towards your final destination.
Stock up on any supplies, Hegelan or otherwise, you might need for your journey;
Investigate the stables;
Investigate the city;
Pry for more information from your hosts;
Discuss what you do know with your teammates and begin forming a plan!

The Hourglass Order

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Interlude II - A Year in Passing

Silas didn’t think it possible, but the following semesters were busier than even his first; desert excursions to dragon battles notwithstanding. Ahora was stubbornly good on her word for tutoring, to the point where her visits were met with nearly as much dread as excitement. But progress was made, only for more more work found awaiting Silas on the opposite side of literacy. He was behind. Well behind, as most of his Zenos were more than happy to remind him on a daily basis, along with diatribes of his good fortune for admittance and continued enrollment at the academy at all. As though the victory he’d carried through the trials had meant nothing.

In truth there were multiple diversions that kept Silas from focusing on studies. His extra-curricular activities found a sharp increase, along with a sudden change of direction in the new year. Not that his old habits could be entirely shaken. Before Caldares had chance to arrive, Silas had freed many possessions from his classmates.

Yuliya and Desmond had both been hit within the same week, the former as pre-work for Nox Arcanum, and the latter as pay off for the distraction that came the night of.

The Magic Box

It was early for Silas to be robbing a place as public as the merchant dorms. Dozens of students were still moving through the main doors and more waited in each of the hallways. But facing the entirely of them still seemed a better bet than waiting for Zarina or Yuiliya to return. It had taken days of small talk and following Ayla to determine when the three would be together again close to the night of Nox Arcanum. He did his best to blend in with the other student entering. It took some time to navigate his way towards Zarina's room; he was accustomed to reaching it from the outside. His attention was focused on the door next to it however, and after a final check to make sure no one was watching too closely, Silas took out his lockpicks and began to work.

Inside, what SIlas perceived was not exactly what he expected. In fact, it looked like somebody had already robbed the place. There were piles of various clothes on the floor, a desk cluttered with various books, a chest that seemed open and a couple of empty glass bottles lying on the floor. He did pick up an energy signature, a decently sized one that proved to be a grape dragon, although much fatter than others he's seen.

Silas did his best to move nimbly about the mess without making it worse. Most of his attention remained on the grape-dragon, ensuring it wasn't going to attack or alarm. He first searched the desk surrounding area for anything that might tempt the creature should it's demeanor suddenly change. He left the desk and its potentially trapped drawer in favour of the coats and hat stand. It seemed incomprehensible for one person to possess so much clothing. His original plan of not adding to the mess was quickly forgotten as he brushed most of them aside and onto the floor to inspect each of the hats.The very fat dragon rose from the nest of clothes he'd made for himself onto all fours, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously.

"Don't give me that look- Didn't come here for her underclothes." Silas pulled a face at the fat little dragon and returned to the desk. Kinetic magic pulled at the drawer, urging it to slide out while Silas himself remained a foot away, having well learned his lesson from meddling with Desmond's things.

As silas pulled on the drawer, it rattled and he felt something fall over inside. However, it remained shut as he noticed that it may have been locked. The dragon began to inch closer, seemingly agitated by the random person and no sight of its owner.

Silas glared at the desk then the dragon in turn. "Shoo. " He waved it towards the window. Patience and care exhausted, Silas yanked at the drawer with all his might and a blast of kinetic energy for good measure.

As he pulled kinetically on the drawer with the amplification from his kinetic pull, it came straight off the hinges and landed on the floor. The dragon was not pleased by the violence towards the furniture and began to breathe flame toward Silas, who clutched the drawer to his desk as he rolled away as fast as he could.

Not wanting to push his luck any further he books it for the window, taking the entire desk drawer with him on exit. The dragon attempted to bite his ankle as he leapt out of the window, not wanting to let this intruder leave. Silas could nearly taste freedom, but a sudden bolt of pain stopped him just as he began to lurch from the upper story window. The grape dragon was fat, but not quite large enough to support the small boy and both teetered dangerously as Silas wailed in pain, kicking wildly for his attacker's head.

He found purchase, and was free to plummet to the ground on a street-full of people. He landed on the bitten ankle and nearly cried out again- but already there were people staring at him. The drawer had cracked and splintered, its contents strewn around him. With no time to waste, he gathered what he could and sprinted for the backstreets, where he could lose anyone that might have tried to follow.

Mementos

"I thought Desmond was your friend."

Ahrora stood at the entryway of Silas and Desmond's room, surveying the clutter and boy within as the latter worked to clear a path for her. They'd both lost the bulk of their finery form the Nox Arcanum party, left mostly in their underclothes, hidden by only their coats, and fled to the dorms without so much as a goodbye to the others.

"He is." Silas replied casually. "The clothes you came in are in here if you want 'em."

She moved towards the indicated pile. "Seems a bit odd you're stealing from the only friend you got."

Silas hesitated at the slight reprimand in her voice, and scowled. "Yer one to talk. Like I didn't notice three of my buttons missing tonight. Or you wanna tell me I lost 'em in the soup?"
She scowled in return. He could sense it even between her movements dressing herself.

"Not the same. He wouldn't go to all the trouble of hiding this if it wasn't something important"

"Let it be a lesson to him then; if you wanna keep something hidden don't make it so damn suspicious." He gestured to the cleared space beside him, in front of the locked cabinet in question. None of the three types of vision between the two could discern what was inside, or how to even go about opening it in the first place.

"Will be traps," Silas warned, and passed her the journal he'd found on Desmond's birthday. "See if there's anything helpful in there." The boy was nearly vibrating with excitement. Ahrora looked at him a long moment before swallowing the last of her miss-givings and turning her attention to the journal while her partner inspected the cabinet for signs of a lock.

The whole setup seemed to be simple, just a simple drawer on his desk. Yet they both knew something had to be in there. Silas knew some of Desmond's traps now, it could be a good time to put some of them to the test. For Ahrora, as she looked through the book, it was filled with...a strange writing she was not used to. She tried to flip through and found only dates on the top of the pages, and a few words that seemed to be shared with Avincian. It was a choppy translation yet she could understand it well enough.

"Okay I think I'm getting the hang of this. This page seems the easiest to figure out so I'll try to start here", she said, clearing her throat before reading, "I had the same dream last night, all I could think about was that time". Ahrora read as she mused to herself, "Hmm weird, maybe this is some kind of dream diary, I wonder if he had inspirations else where for the lock".

There was a beat of silence, while Ahrora shuffled through pages for another decipherable passage. "Oh! This might have it; "A lock that...closes like a...flower! And will lock...like a flower opening. Cute", she mews to herself as she read more. With a gentle tap and light charge against the drawer Silas could sense the ever slight difference of the metal plates in the shape of petals when told about it.

"Real cute," Silas scoffed, unamused at the impossible small inner workings of the lock. Hi's patience was already worn thin from waiting for the poor translation. "So I'll open if I close it. Doesn't seem complicated at all-"

"Wait!" But Silas had already begun pushing the petals of the flowers left so each overlaid with the one next until they could be collapsed inwards.

As Silas used his kinetic magic to move the pedals within the drawer, he noticed they moved smoothly. As once they were all moved in a counterclockwise motion, he sensed them interlaying with each other. And then, a slight shifting happened as it felt like the bud moved back as the drawer shifted forward showing it was open. Ahrora was stunned for a moment before she let out a sigh, afraid Silas may have set off one of the traps as she lightly jabbed him on the arm, "Scared me there". She tossed the little book off to the side and was now more curious what was hidden within this locked case.

"Why?" Silas laughed at Ahrora, nerves given way to giddy excitement all at once. "I'm a professional."

Silence fell between the pair as Ahrora attempted to look past the case with her enchanted eye, while Silas compared the lock to what was in his lock-pick set.

Ahrora could see nothing within, maybe because of certain materials made it difficult to see into. While energies within were inert inside, maybe it was special chemical and arcane magics to conceal and cancel out energy sensing and sight. Yet either way it was something that could easily get passed, Silas had met another lock he was slightly familiar with, the same friction lock pins that he had seen at Desmond's shop, yet he noticed something different, there was a few chemical signatures within, and even a few magnetic charges popping in and out.

Silas groaned. "Damn tricky magic." He complained to Ahrora, pointing out to her the chemical and magic parts of the case.

She looked between him and the box. "You're sure you want to do this?"

"The hells yah think we're doing here?"

Ahrora's one good eye rolled back, but she reached out in an attempt to dissolve the entire contraption with blood magic.

The contraption was destroyed, the locking mechanism and the possible traps disabled, it would be quie obvious they had been there. However it was open, as when pulled open the drawer revealed it was a space of normal size. Nothing like a large secret compartment, nothing magical otherwise, just a drawer. What it held within was yet less interesting. 500 magus in coins and precious materials, another small note book, an old wheel lock pistol that seems to be engraved by a moderately skilled hand, the engraved with flowers on branches with a word on the back near the top of the handle, Sakura. 3- A wooden box that is empty, but has many engravings on top, as it says 'Dream Box'. 4- Finally a small leather pouch holds within 3 old wooden coins with metal inlaid to make a slight design, each with a letter on it, and different number of small gashes seem to be put around the edges of the coins:

D- 22 gashes around the edge of the coin as it seemed multiple chips were put into the D.
S- 15 gashes around the edge of the coin. This one has an X put through the S and light carvings are put into the coin to make a flower.
L- 16 gashes around the edge of the coin. This one has a large gash put through the coin like it was stabbed through.

The excitement of freeing the box's contents was short lived, as the pair came to realize the poor worth of each item. The coins alone might have made the effort worth, had they truly come with the intention of robbing a friend blind. Silas passed her the second notebook. "See if it's got anything about debts in there. My name and stuff."

He himself focused on the wooden coins. Worthless, except for their novelty he supposed, careful to count each of the notches on the edges. He even managed to feel out the letters on their surface, much to Ahrora's approval. It didn't take long for the inspection to finish. In all the pair only forced Desmond to part with 80 Magus, and the wooden coin with the letter S.

Ahrora began to read, looking for Silas' name, yet another name beginning with S caught her eye. The same one on the but of the pistol, "Hmm, Sakura. That's Nikanese? Have you ever heard Desmond speak about knowing Nikanese or talking about knowing someone from Nikan?" Ahrora continued to read, "This is weird Silas. It's like he made this seems off. Like this isn't some kind of record book". She began to flip through the pages as she is now looking for names with S, none of them being Silas, Sakura seems to show up much more.

She looked through it more and more as there were pages going all the way back to, "This entry was from 4 years ago; Saki and I were sent to take out a mage who was causing the war line to be pushed on our side. Loui was sent to wreak havoc near the main line, typical. It should be a quick in and out, nothing more". Ahrora continued to read, she felt strange like something strange must have happened, as she looked at the coins, it felt like it was trying to tell her something. "Saki and I celebrated my Birfday away from everyone because we are out on watch. It was calm. Nearly 2 decades, and this is okay. Saki and I are still out looking for this mage, we haven't heard anything on Loui either"

Ahrora went silent a moment while she looked at the book and said, "Uhm, hey Silas, maybe you should leave the coin. It seems like it is important, you know, real important". She put the book down, as she seemed to have read something she shouldn't have.

"You want me to go without a souvenir?" Silas whined, but his curiosity was again piqued. "There was a Yasoi, around his birthday. Whats so special about it?" He asked, leaning over her shoulder to trace what little of the illegible scribbles he could make out.

"I'm unsure about the Yasoi thing, I haven't seen anything on that, however I think that coin might be of someone important to Desmond" Ahrora said while lightly guiding Silas' finger over the name Sakura as she spelled the name out for him. Ahrora continued, "I read a bit in the little book, about them, they seemed close".

“I can not get their faces out of my head. Why was it Loui? Why did he do it? She died and I couldn't do a thing. So much Blood. I have to kill him. He killed her. I can not let him get away with it. He killed Suki-" as the pen seemed to have scratched the page, like it was written in frustration.

Silas took the notebook from her only to place both it and the coin back inside the desk drawer without a word, unspoken agreement they may have gone too far. While it was impossible to undo the destruction the intrusion had caused, they at least left things in an orderly enough manner and re-locked the flower on the desk before moving to leave.

"Don't much like the idea of being here when he comes back to find this mess." Silas grumbled, still rather disappointed with their discoveries. Ahrora was much more relaxed and cheerful now the deed was done and they hadn't been discovered or destroyed anything in the process.

"Don't be so glum. I've been wanting to revisit that barn loft down in Miller's Hook." She grasped his hand and whispered in his ear until Silas forgot entirely what had made him quite so peeved by the time they exited by the room's window.

Stolen Trust

There weren’t many students left inside Ersand’Enise when Calderes rolled around. Most had retired to their homes; even most the Darhanic students had taken the time for travel and adventure. So it was left to the small number of students who had nowhere else to go to fill the city's streets. Not that it needed much help, the lack of students was more than made up for by the increase of trade that came along with Upta’s new policies. The end of year-celebration held at the Vermillion Swirl was packed so the crowd was nearly spilling out to the snow-dusted grounds surrounding the Silk Gate.

Silas and Desmond were one of the lucky few with seats at the bar inside, allowed in through the back by their employed friends. Whether it was the wine, music, or spirit of the season Silas felt oddly mirthful and close to the older boy, enough so to let a question that had bothered him for some weeks slip out.

“Who is Loui?”

Desmond had taken a drink of his wine as he seemed lost in thought for a time, long enough to forget somethings, yet when he heard Silas’ voice, his eyes sharpened, ”I don’t know who you’re talking about”. Desmond took another sip of his drink as if being done with the conversation, maybe trying to dodge the question, either way it seemed Desmond got his own information, who broke into his locked drawer.

The quick dismissal only piqued the thief's interest more. "Saki then?" He tried, sipping from his own mug.

Desmond’s hand tighten onto his glass when he heard Silas speak once more. Desmond had lighty grinded his teeth together before he set his glass down as he seemed to try and dodge it once more, “Not sure”.

Silas frowned and shifted his weight. Desmond had gone silent and cold and it made him fidget with discomfort, until his booted feet tucked onto the seat of his chair so his free hand could pry at the frayed laces.

"I-" The apology got caught on Silas' throat. He hadn't really done anything wrong after all. Even left everything behind, good as he found it. Or near as such. "You can tell me y'know. I could be helpful."

Desmond’s head flicked to Silas, ”In what? Breaking into more of my things? It was the one fucking rule I had, it was the only thing I asked. How could I trust you when you do that?” Desmond seemed absolutely upset, as in his voice, it can be round, he is hurt.

Silas kept his chin on his knees as he silently took Desmond's reprimand, the darkening of his face the only sign he was listening at all. The rest of the noisy party felt oddly distant. "Thought it might be a game- some kind of trap you set for me." It sounded stupid, so much so that even as the words left his mouth Silas's face reached a final flush so red he had to drink to cool himself.

"Shouldn't have done it- knew that soon as it was done. Put everything back as well as I could. Haven't told a soul neither- wouldn't." He stopped as the barmaid came to refill their cups and give him a thorough glare for getting his boots on the furniture.

"I'm sorry Desmond. He finally said. "But sorrys and regrets are worth 'bout as much as shit in Mudville, so let me make it up- let me earn your trust."

Desmond was holding his glass as it nearly broke, his teeth were clenched in anger, yet as he listened to Silas, he felt himself slightly waning in anger. ’he’s just a kid in the end’. Desmond let out a sigh as he took a drink of his wine and ran his hand through his hair. Sweeping it back for a moment before it came back down.

When Desmond turned to Silas he could see on his face, it was resolve, as Desmond let out one more sigh as he finally spoke again, ”Okay,”. Desmond drank the rest of his wine as he continued, ”-I have some ideas”. Desmond called over for another glass of wine, as he then continued, ”I’ve been having some need of help. I always do”.

Desmond took a drink as he then spoke, ”I need information, lots of it. I have plans and ideas, but none will work if I don’t know who I’m dealing with. So I need someone who is connected enough into more underworld trades here to steal information”. Desmond took another drink as now leaving room for Silas to respond.

The blind boy nodded eagerly. "I can do that. Been working on my reading and everything." He felt himself relax enough to let his feet drop back to the ground, or near as much as they could reach, and sip his replenished drink. "Got a name?"

Desmond nodded slightly, ”We’ll start with something we both care about, Pelova Fascino & their emporium, as well as their owner, Yuliya Vasilieva”. Desmond took another drink as he continued, ”She and her shop is backed by quite a bit of capital and power that I can’t fight, I need to know what their aim is. I have a bad feeling things are going to get very messy in Mudville and I feel left in the dark. I need you to help ease that for me”.

Desmond then turned to Silas, asking him the ultimate question, ”Can you do that for me?”

While his nodding continued, Silas hesitated in his ready agreement. Yuliya was dangerous, and if he were to get any closer to what was alreadying going on in Mudville…

"I can get you info." He finally decided. "Already been doin' what I can with some friends to keep the Pelova a 'work in progress' if you catch the drift." He smiled widely, feeling almost comfortable in Desmond's company again.

"Good to know I’m not the only one on this side of the fight." It was more an absent thought than a comment, and said so quietly as to barely be audible over the rest of the celebrations around them. He turned to face Desmond and asked, louder; "How many more of those does it take to get you drunk?" and nodded at the other boy’s glass.

”Too many”.

The empty plot that had held Moli’s for so many years was bought up by some wealthy noble who had sought to buy up and push out a third of Mudville. His ill-gone visit with Bianca had taught Silas that his home had already been lost to him once; when he’d run and not looked back. But too lose it again, have it reformed to serve the aristocratic class that had stepped on them for too long proved too much to bear. The Mud Rats hadn’t started as a movement, or even real group. First it had just been Silas, reunited with Ishto and a few other old friends, bitter and angry about the injustice done to them by the city, Moli, and just about anyone else who wasn’t them. They spent nights camping out the Mudville docks, relieving ships of construction supply deliveries as soon as they made it ashore. The deal struck with Desmond showed the first real increase in their efforts, but as the weeks went on, and more of the citizens of Mudville found themselves pushed or priced out of the only home they’d ever known, the rag-tag group’s numbers grew. Eventually it became rare for a night to pass where more work wasn’t undone than had been completed the day before on the newly funded-projects.

He may have been burning the candle at more ends than he had to light, but nodding off in class wasn’t such a problem when the teachers weren't expecting to see your eyes anyways.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

"You can't possibly expect me to drink all this."

Hannah had brought a fishbowl to the group's table. It was filled with a bright red semi-translucent drink, and Makenna could smell the sugar in the concoction, something of a feat given the dizzying amount of alcohol.

"All yours baby-girl!" Cheered the blonde, pushing the over-sized glass directly in-front of Makenna and offering a wink. "Got them to make it just for you, figured you should get a little reminder of home on your first night of drinking. Southern spirit and all that." Hannah's usual barely detectable accent was played up to a degree of ridiculousness by the end of her speech, the girl was already near plastered and the night had barely begun.

"C'mon," Bemoaned another voice from another sashed bridesmaid. Jenny was plucking at the cheap plastic tiara on Makenna's head. "How else are we going to get you on stage?"

As though on cue the speakers above them gave out an ear splitting bow-out as the current karaoke participant attempted and failed to hit a note.

"God they're terrible," Jenny threw her head back laughing after she'd recovered enough to uncover her ears. "Please Kenna, we beg you- end our suffering."

"Please," She scoffed, though her face warmed from the indirect praise. "I'm certainly not going first- or alone."

It earned her an eyeroll and another push of the drink towards her. "As our beautiful bride commands- Shall we show her how it's done?" Hanna asked, offering a hand to Jenny and the pair worked their way to the stage.

The drink was sickeningly sweet, a hurricane, Hannah would call it later. A Mississippi novelty, Hannah told her upon returning. That alone might have been enough to dislike it. Makenna joined the idle chatter of the three remaining bridesmaids while the other two began a string of duets. They'd been feeding her drinks all night, and she'd given in more times than she'd expected. It was a devious and dirty trick, the way her entire bridal party worked as a group to queue up her favourite songs, topping off with tacky 80's power-ballads they knew her to be unable to resist.

So it was Makenna found herself in front of a bar filled with some fifty-odd people, microphone in hand and the first notes of I Have Nothing blaring out from behind her. She couldn't quite recall how she'd gotten there- nor was there time to think long on it before the lyrics began scrolling on the screen before her.

"Share my life-" The rancorous cheering from her table covered the bulk of the first entire verse. Four more straws had been added to the over sized drink, and they were making the most of it. For all the embarrassment that came with it, Makenna found confidence in the support of the others and began truly belting the chorus. A love ballad. It was a bit much, even for a bachelorette party, but it was Carson Makenna thought of as she sang, but her grandmother. Their many evenings over an old record player, memories of happy nostalgia easy to get lost in. She chalked it up to the delusion of alcohol, but it felt as though the entire audience had gone silent to listen to her.

"I have nothing, nothing- NOTHIN-" The final loud note before the end of the song- and the speakers blew out again. Reflexively Makenna buckled over to cover her ears, only to realize she couldn't hear in the first place. The music had stopped, and when she looked up to the rest of the bar, she saw chaos. Half the furniture and people were blown clear across the room- and glass was everywhere. Under all the tables and a sea of the stuff behind the bar and under where the windows should have been. Dully, Makenna was aware of a damp warmness running down the sides of her neck before collapsing to the floor.

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_{Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean}

The Homecoming Trials #1.01: Where You Are

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_{Interaction(s):}

Previously: N/A

It wasn’t as though Makenna was unfamiliar custodial labour. Her first job had been washing out the back washrooms and kitchen of a greasy rest-stop on weekends. Except even after that experience she swore she’d never suffer through that indignity again. Now she found herself bent over the toilets of the women’s upstairs bathroom some six years later. She wasn’t even getting paid. Part of Makenna had wondered if her mother somehow interfered to ensure her daughter was assigned to nothing other than sanitation for the first entire month of classes. Of course such a feat would require the bitch to actually show an interest in Makenna’s academics, or worse still, acknowledge her existence in the first place. At least scrubbing proved a decent outlet for frustrations. She had enough to get rid of after all. As if the ever looming yet unseen monitoring of her mother wasn’t enough she had to worry about roommates, an entire cohort of wayward young adults, and some damned tedious sorting trial- as though the hours and hours of psych evaluations hadn’t told the board more than enough about each of them.

There wasn’t time to do much else besides shower and change before the assembly. Another pointless formality. All of them had been debriefed of the intake process half a dozen times over. She surveyed those around her as the foreign anthem played, making out the familiar faces of the intake house and decidedly avoiding eye contact with any she found. Most were younger, all immature as least as far as Makenna saw it. She’d worked hard to develop a respectable social circle in her old life; three of her bridesmaids were pursuing doctorates already- only pushed backwards into a rag-tag group of rejects.

As the ceremony ended a group of them began to… congeal together at the stadium exit. Makenna hurried past them without so much as a second glance. She could smell Calliope’s bougie perfume as she brushed her shoulder. Sharing a room with the brat was already testing the limit of her false politeness and cheer.

She managed to wait the entire trip back before checking her phone. She knew better than to expect anything; not that it did anything to quell the pathetic hope in her heart rising only to be crushed each time. Unthinkingly, her thumb pressed Carson’s name on the recently dialed screen, bracing for the too-familiar voicemail message.

Except it rang. Four full times, and just Makenna had begun to hold her breath, there was a pause in the tone.

“Hullo?” There was an awkward beat, where Makeena half expected the rest of the recording that failed to follow.

He picked up her slack; “Ken? Sorry I’ve missed your calls- that time difference is a real bitch.”

She’d hated the nickname since the moment he’d first said it on their third date. But it made her misty eye-ed to hear him say it after so long.

“It's me,” She manged to confirm before needing to clear her throat, and turning up the smile until it could be heard in her voice. “Been trying to get a hold of you for a couple days now. There’s this… Thing.” It was always awkward bringing up anything PRCU related, it was too close to all the things they’d put so much effort into avoiding. “An excursion, a sort of boot-camp I guess. Might get really busy-”

The other team blackjack members had caught up to her head-start and made their way back to the intake house. Calliope the first to trickle in, and closely followed by the pale Brit.

“Makes sense, think you’ll-”

“Sorry, I'm going to have to hang-up.” She said, suddenly intent to end the conversation before any of the others overhear details of her personal life. “I just wanted to say bye- but I should be able to slip in a call when we get there.”

There was another pause, this time from Carson. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve just gotta go for now. We’ll talk tonight. Promise?”

“You got it.” All the certainty of his delivery was voided by the hesitation that came before it. Not that there was anything she could do about that now.

“Love you,” She said as goodbye, her pleasant smile turned pinched but voice still jovial over the phone.

“You too.” Was his reply, and they both hung up.

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The Hourglass Order

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Student Magic Specializations

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Start of Arc Four

❖ Silas Reiger: 0 2 2 0 4 0 0 0 0 0 0

Magnetic Arcane (+1) Binding (+2) Chemical Kinetic(+1) Atomic Blood Temporal Dark Command Primordial

The Hourglass Order

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Trials and Tribulations V

Thin Air and Tense Reunions

Moriff had taught him the art of stillness early. It hadn’t come naturally, but when he’d lost his eyes and sight, Silas grew to understand what true stillness was. Impossible, mostly. There was no way of stopping the constant flickerings of energy and heat even when deep asleep with drugs. For most anyways.

Yulia was first, though Silas feared and distrusted her from the events two nights prior, he drew the heat from his temporary ally until she eventually slumped unconscious in the narrow gap they’d discovered in Mozaru’s aircraft. He continued to pull, even as there was barely any heat left at all.

It would be easy to kill her like this.

The thought came unprompted and made Silas freeze. The Vyssorian wouldn’t think twice about it were their situations reversed and she thought there was something to gain; he’d seen as much with Covenant.

But that wasn’t Silas. Thief, liar, beggar, and creetin were all title’s he’d happily claim, but not murderer. He shook his head clear and tucked the board to cover the gap and Yulia inside. Even he was only just barely able to detect the shape of her figure. He moved towards his own hiding spot to repeat the process on himself until the world went dark.

Ahrora was looking for him after the match. Ayla had mentioned as much when they briefly crossed paths. Her returning from the Seoul Sistas’ kite dragon, himself sheepishly removing himself from Mozaru’s flying machine after sabotaging them thoroughly enough to have at least removed them from the leading spot.

He wasn’t avoiding her. Not on purpose at least. The betrayal and hurt that came with her stealing the letter was quick enough to pass. She’d apologized, and more than that, read the precious note to him for the first time. No, the pain twisting and turning in the pit of Silas’ stomach had another source, and it needed to be addressed before he saw Ahrora.

The locks on Madam Copin’s had changed. For most of his life the windows had all been broken- prone to blowing open if not boarded with furniture in the winter months. But Silas found himself clumsily fiddling with his lockpick set, teetering dangerously on the wall beside his mother’s window with one hand and foot invoking the gift enough to keep him poised.

No sooner did the lock click then the shutters fell open, revealing not Aleshta, but a different woman altogether. The surprise wasn’t quite enough to stop Silas from letting himself in anyways, despite the woman's vocal protests.

“Quiet will yah? I’m not here to hurt you just looking-”

“Silas?” Her string of curses stopped as soon as his face was close enough for her to make out in the poorly-lit room.

Silas hummed noncommittally, he could not recognize whoever it was that greeted him; not until she pulled him close to her and he could feel the warms of her hands - the feeling of soft light curls-

“Bianca?” His shock was greater than her own- which earned a laugh.

“You’re not grown at all,” She reprimanded him, but her smile was still audible. “Ain’t they feeding ya wherever ya been?”

He pulled himself free of the embrace finally, taking in the full sight of his once childhood friend- as much as he was able to take in the sight of anything. She’d more than grown enough for them both, and towered over him. There was growth in other areas too- and the reasoning for her having a room of her own was abundantly clear. He hadn’t pulled far enough away to stop from noticing one final unfamiliar feature, and by far the strangest.

Instinctively, his hands reached out to her again, towards the curious flickering of energy in the pit of her stomach. She laughed again.

“Well say something wontcha?”

“You’re pregrant.” Any excitement he’d had was gone before it’d the chance to be given proper voice.

“Really ain’t no hiding a thing from you. Even ol’Copin hasn’t figured it yet.”

He felt like he was going to be sick. The strangeness mixed with familiarity. His mother’s room that was now Bianca’s. Bianca who was working. Who was pregnant. A sharp prod to the chest dragged his attention back.

“Why?” Was the only syllable he could manage. The fourteen year old he’d known had been adamant to get away from the place and make a life different from her mothers. Three years, he reminded himself. He’d been gone too long.

“Now why you asking me a thing like that? Babies are happy things”

“Happy?” He snapped at her despite himself. “Gods Bianca- too think you be so stupid after-”

“And you think I want any of it?” Just as quickly as her own fury has exploded, Bianca reigned it in again. “I don’t want to fight with you Si, please.” Here eyes darted about the sparse room. The same ones that had been there when he’d lived in it. “I have it taken care of. Please sit, and I’ll get us tea.”

“I don’t want tea.” He grumbled, but took a seat at the edge of her bed. “If no one knows yet, I know people we could find a chemical mage or even-”

“Told yah, it’s taken care of.”

“How’s it taken care of if you’re still livin’ here?” He demanded, unable to keep the judgemental edge from his voice. “You forgotten what it was like or somethin?”

He’d gone too far. Whatever restraint she’d had evaporated again. “Who in the hells are you?!” She whirled on him, “Come bargin’ in through the window from wherever you’ve been too and tellin’ me whats what?” Silas wanted to argue, even opened his mouth, but no excuses came. She was right.

“It’s you that's forgotten. I’m the one been living here- Before and since you ran off.” Her voice was shaking, and droplets had started forming in the corner of her eyes. She wiped them away before they had a chance to fall. “But I’ve done good for myself. It ain’t what you think. Know who the father is and everything- a real gentleman, gonna take us away from here.”

Stories of Thalakos, promises of sunsets over a turquoise sea, and the scent of dying flowers. Another wave of nausea hit Silas hard enough to make him swoon even in his seated position. Bianca was by his side in moments, as though the outburst had never happened.

“You can’t-” Silas started, but was interrupted by the door opening. He has no issue identifying the figure standing in its place.

“Knew I heard screamin’ up here. What you doing girl? Letting visitors in free before opening…” Madame Copin’s reprimand died on her tongue as she approached close enough for her poor eyesight to recognize Silas.

“Damned rotted bastard!” She spat at him “got some nerve showin ‘round here again.”

Silas jumped to his feet. “Don’t you-”

His face stung as she slapped him. Hard. Even Bianca gasped from behind the Madame, who’s hand remained open under Silas’ chin. “Even bastards gotta pay. ‘Specially this one- after the way you cost me.”

It was his hand that struck her face this time; an action that stunned all three for a moment before they could react: Madame Copin howling and cowered, clutching a hand to her face. Bianca moved to the old woman’s aid, and Silas stared at them both.

“Where’s my mother?” He finally asked, his voice sounding strangely calm in comparison to his nerves.

“Ungrateful… rotten brat. Oughtta have thrown you out the moment you was born- Nothing but trouble.”

“Where’s Aleshta?” He repeated, only a slight crack to his voice as he used his mothers name.

“How would I know? What good’s an old used up whore to me?”

At first, the rage was enough Silas thought he was going to vomit, but when he took a step forward, a wave of kinetic energy blast forth- knocking both women in front to the ground. He didn’t stop though. He reached forward and grabbed Copin by the neck of her tattered dress, and tossed her against the wall with yet more magic. She had slapped him like a child- like the small scared little boy she’d locked in a closet. Silas was furious as he’d never felt before, but there was more there too. Fear, and sadness. Copin’s face had begun turning purple as she raged at him, and Bianca was screaming at his shoulder as he kept her madam pinned against the wall.

He faced his once friend, and stopped. Madame Copin slumped to the floor, shill whaling and shouting. But it was all just noise to Silas then. He watched the pair in silence for a few short moments, then moved to the small table that served as the second piece of furniture in the room. There he left the blanket that had been intended for his mother, and a purse heavy with coins. “Leave Bianca. Don’t care who promised you what, but you can’t trust them and the city ain’t safe. Get out.”

There was more. More to say, more to give, more to learn, but he could feel both heartbeats on the other side of the walls, ears pressed to hear what was happening. He wondered if they would fear him now. It would make a sort of sense, he supposed, but couldn’t quite make himself understand why before leaping from the same window he’d entered.

Right or Spite

Silas’ frustrations at the events at Copin’s didn’t even have time to settle before another nerve was struck. Between Ahrora and other distractions his team had been steadily losing their high placement throughout the week. The greed trial proved their worst undoing. He paced the Zeno’s common room while the others discussed plans of voting. Their final attempt to scrounge votes and land in the top five.

“We’re not even going to try anything else?” He asked no one in particular.

Silas was doubly perturbed. He’d done well in the greed event- uncharacteristically generous even. Not stolen a single thing for himself. But his plan to leave early and claim the team’s loot backfired on them all, as the day ended with too few points, and Manfred having claim to the spoils.

Ayla shrugged at him and began to again explain the offer she’d received from Afraval’s group. Silas just scowled, and eventually left, only Casii following after some prompting to assist in finding more trades where they could.

They stopped first at the houses of team’s they matched with. Ahrora’s first, though the visit was short- Ahrora claiming she’d already convinced her team to give them their votes, and Silas was only complicating things by showing up at all.

Next they went to the Yasoi team from Tarlon. The approached casually, claiming to only want a visit before the closing ceremonies, but it didn’t take long for Silas to eventually turn the conversation to Casii’s family; the struggles of the Constantian Yasoi, and he could practically see the sympathy and guilt radiating from Tyrell as he left Vyshta’s Favoured’s quarters alone.

The eeiako team was easy to convince with a few misleading promises and the gift of one of his wine bottles found during his roses and neskals escapades.

It worked well. Too well in the end. When Zemana’s team were announced the Trial’s winners a few short hours later, Silas remained frozen in his seat, white-faced and nervous. He’d gone too far again, he knew. He’d hoped only to get them back into the top five, winning only served to draw attention to his deception and trickery, making him a mark for any that felt slighted. If they could discover it was him. Manfred and Ayla were the more likely deal-makers of the group, and three of the four deceived groups would be gone the next day, he told himself. He joined the others and politely nodded and smiled throughout the ceremony, but quickly retreated away with Ahrora the moment the attention drifted from the winning team.

Partings

There was a notable increase in business at Zenobuck’s, it had been so the entire week of trials, but the few hours before the final portals were to open and take the foreigners home had drawn a final, exceptional crowd. Silas and Ahrora didn’t much mind the wait, it was the final moments of time together they valued more than the coffee. Neither of course would stoop to say as much of course.

“Of all the things to bring home, I can’t believe you’re choosing books.”

Ahrora made no note of Silas’ confused grimace, too busy using her new glass eye to scan the pockets of the other surrounding customers. “I’m going to need to brush up on my Avincian if you’re going to learn to read.”

He wished he had a drink already so he could spit it out at her. “Why would I ever? I can’t!”

“You can.” She kept her head down but Silas didn’t need her face to know her muscles were tightening into a self-satisfied smile. “You’ve just been lazy and gotten by on luck and rotten tricks.” From her pouch she produced a familiar vial. The metallic ink gifted to him his first week, and barely touched since.

“Thought you were done poking through my things.”

“Never said anything of the sort.”

Only after they’d ordered and Silas paid did he manage to drag the conversation away from school and the trials. The topic fell to what had occupied them their few brief days apart- before her half-hearted apology. Speaking of Bianca and what had happened in the whorehouse seemed too personal, too soon, and too much a mood-killer. Instead Silas told her of the visit with others to Molli’s emporium; Tiff, the half-lady, and Molli himself fleecing him ten bennies.

“Isn’t the whole thing a bit weird?” She asked part-way through his description of being unfairly robbed by Evander.

“What?”

“An immensely wealthy man setting up shop in Mudville of all places?”

It wasn’t something Silas had considered before; Molli’s was as much an annual fixture in Mudville as the seasons. He could only shrug and sip his drink. “Oughtta loot the place and find out.”

Her one true eye rolled back. “You’re going to get yourself killed over hurt pride and a handful of coins.”

Silas opened his mouth to protest, but chiming bells interrupted. Too early to mark the turning hour- they were a warning for the opening portals.

Ahrora stood, hands on her hips. “Please say you have a better goodbye for me than talking about a fat old man.”

An unexpected soreness had formed in Silas’ chest with the bells. Her words had him smiling despite it, and placing her cup behind them alongside his own, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull close for a proper send off.

He would miss her: The name of the hollow feeling dawned on him while they waved goodbye- both ignoring the icy glare of Bohrom. But before he could dwell on the emotion long- an unfamiliar hand gripped his shoulder.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Silas barely had a chance to see the portals wink out of existence before the much larger figured behind him forcefully spun him around. It wasn’t possible for his muted senses to discern the face, but the size and accent of the figure lead him to believe it was Nazih; the Darhanic noble he’d tricked into voting his team to first in the Trials. Silas did his best not to cry out.

“Sorry about that, you see-” Then someone screamed.

Moli’s Emporium

It was chaos, from nowhere pandemonium as people screamed about aberrations. Silas could sense some himself, on the outer fringes of his senses. The peculiar tears in energy only made him think of the uncomfortable experience with the spectacles. He tried to use the confusion to pull away from the older boy- but Nazih held fast.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Silas thought quickly. “Outside the city. There’s a place there.” While Nazih’s grip remained tight on his forearm, he at least allowed Silas to begin walking south. The final conversation of Ahrora echoed in his mind. “-A place that needs investigating. This distraction will help.”

While unconvinced, the Darhanic was at least curious enough to humor the boy be listening to the tall tale he spun- of horrors and incredible wealth both hidden behind the facade of a circus. Silas had managed to pull fellow rat bastard Fiske on their journey past the crowds of the seagate- where a peculiar Yasoi none seemed to recognize joined them.

"We've come to a truly evil place." Silas said with the utmost sincerity as a juggler, followed by an accordion player passed the mismatched group. Silas made sure to point most of his attention to the new Yasoi in the group. "They have a man trapped up in there, under a spell pretending to a baby- " He jutted his thumb towards the side show tent. "And an entire menagerie of animals that need freeing over there." He pointed with his other hand towards the petshop. "Who do you think needs help most?" He asked Esmi, the image of integrity. The Yasoi ignored him, had she heard him at all, and began to move directly towards the petshop.

"When you told me of this place earlier, I really didn't believe you, twigboy." Nazih said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief while looking around. "This is definitely a sinister place...is it even worth the trouble?"

Silas shrugged and turned to face the tall Darhanic boy. "You don't have to come in if you're scared." He replied curtly. "Be needing someone to stand guard anyways and well..." He raised a hand to illustrate the differences between the two shorter boys and Nazih. "There's money spilling out of this place if we look right." Where his final words before the group split. Silas’ first move was to investigate the sideshow tent before circling it in search of the performers living quartets.

He picked up on a few distinctive signatures: one was clearly that of Tiff, another was the two-headed woman, and a third a lady with a large snake she seems to be dancing with. Moli is nowhere to be found, however. Then, however, he heard a distinctive voice: "She's-a not gonna be goin' in there, bucko!" There were sounds of struggle. "She's be tellin' yah truthful!"

She appeared to be in some sort of trouble. A large man had a small woman by the arm and was not letting her go.

Silas whirled, surprised to see the Kerremand girl so far from home. He hesitated for a brief moment. One helping hand was already more than he was accustomed to giving, and he’d parted more than even with Margot. His better judgment lost in the end and Silas found himself approaching the scene.

"Captain Margot!" He exclaimed with great enthusiasm and a bow low enough his head nearly scraped the ground. "What great honour brings you to our city?" He exclaimed with a slight jab to Fiske's ribs.

The guard who appeared to have apprehended Margot paused. He blinked and glanced at the two new arrivals. "Captain?" he asks. "This lil' runt?" He was skeptical, but released her. The Kerreman quickly pulled her arm back.

"Yes, Captain!" she snaps. "A Captain whose-be doin' business herein." She adjusted her hat and puffed herself up, a salve to her wounded pride. The guard was appropriately chagrined for his actions against a personage of such clear importance. "M' apologies, ma'am.

"She's lookin' at more 'n just apologizings 'f she were a rotten one," Margot grumbled, "but she in't. You're being a lucklike man, bucko. Karl, Fritz!" She opens her arms wide. "Haha! Been timings for me tah see 'em! Whatcha two scoundrels are uppin to?"

"Sight seeing." Silas replied, smile still wide, "with Fiske here." Silas gestured to his companion and led the entire group slightly further behind the tent. "Maybe finding things to make your business here a bit smoother if you're interested in joining." He paused for a moment and took note of the empty space on her shoulder. "Where's your first mate?"

Margot grinned. "Yeh nearmuch messing her up, Silas-boy." She twirled some hair as she walked. "She were built a load of grievance up and making a distraction. Schliem's readylike hard at work." She winked. "Money flowing through this place like a river." She paused and considered. "She's always upping for make more, though. What's he got in mind?"

"This whole place is a sham, except for the money." He agreed "All to good gotta be hidden away. And connections. I'd bet if we find some of old Moli's secrets you won't even be needing cash to move things around here." He looks to Fiske, "I won't take more than 10 bennies of whatever coin we nab. Either of you can have the rest."

"He gots a vendetta, huh?" Margot teased. "Ol' Sal catched him real goodlike, hmm?"

"Not so bad as Margot almost got before our help." He replied to the girl "you already know something that might help?"

"I'll been needing some eyes" He smiled to Fiske and pointed to his own temples. "Hope you can do some reading for me in there."

"Ol' Sal's here, but he'll being mutes his-a signature. Got Schliem looking for the safe. Don't nobody expect a sumpfkrake be a thief." They'd made their way around back now. All the performers were in their designated areas, with the exception of the mermaid, who seemed to be in her chambers.

"And here I thought we set you up to start an honest life," Silas shook his head, but the smile revealed his true feelings. "This place looks good enough to start on our own. We'll reconvene in five. The legless lady and dancer with a snake seemed to know more than most. Best if you want to check their room. I'll start here." He pointed toward the direction of the occupied tent where the meerami rested. Then Silas slipped on his skull mask prize from the Trials, and entered Tiff's tent.

"I was wondering when youse guys would quit yer snoopin' and take the plunge," said Tiff as Silas entered. "Good to uh... see ya, Eyes. How's it goin, huh?"

"Are we so obvious?" He asked sheepishly as he took a seat in the small room. "Well enough, any luck with your sister?"

"Ashi's really lyin' low, wherever she's at," Tiff sighs. "I'll dig her up sooner or later." She looked Silas up and down. He wasn't so bad. Still, she knew him. "Butcha didn't just come here for a social call, didya?"

"Not entirely." Silas shifted in his seat, putting on a show of nervousness and discomfort. "Sort of, I mean well, you see..." He trailed off and lowered his head, all while closely gaging the meerami's energies and reaction "It's about her... and your whole business with Moli. The big plan you and the crew were working on." He trailed off again, attempting to lead her into finishing.

Tiff shot him a warning look. "My, what good hearing you must have," she observed, eyes darting warily about. And motioneing for Silas to follow her out of the tent.

"Lose one sense, gain another and all that." Silas reached out to see if he could sense what it was that had Tiff so on edge as he followed her away from the tents. But there was nothing. He frowned, feeling truly blind. The rational part of him knew messing with someone capable of such powerful magics was likely a mistake. But he pushed on. "You're sure you know the whole plan?"

They are a good ways away by the time that Tiff leans in and rests her chin on his shoulder. "Moli is crazy powerful," she whispers in his ear. "He's always watching and you don't see him, you don't sense him." She shook her head. "We backed off of our plan."

Silas frowned and folded his arms. "So people keep saying, but never why or how." His foot began tapping impatiently on the ground as his exasperation made itself known. "Means finding that out might take some of that power away, you know?" He then stopped again, and spun to face her properly. "Does that mean you're trapped here now?"

She nodded slowly. "I make him the big bucks," she admitted. "Who doesn't wanna see a real live mermaid?"

It irked him more than it should have. Who in Ersand'Enise wasn't being shaken down and taken advantage of by someone bigger and stronger? He himself had been planning to play the girl the fool and bleed her for information. And yet, her tone reminded him of Bianca, trapped and alone in Mudville because of no greater sin than being born there. The double shot of guilt was finally enough for Silas to remove the mask entirely. "Then you have to help us." He said to her urgently. "If we find Moli's secrets, we can get you out."

Tiff chewed on her bottom lip for a moment: an all-too humanlike gesture. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. She took a deep breath in and then released it. "Ain't no way you can get the school involved, huh?"

Silas' nose wrinkled in distaste at the idea. "Not the school." He confirmed with a shake of the head. "No way Moli does so much business here so often without their go ahead and knowing. But we're not alone either." And Silas reached out the the limit of his abilities and gave a small pinch to the elbows of Fiske, Nazih, and Margot, signaling them all to follow to his position

Tiff still looked nervous, insofar as Silas could read expressions and especially the expressions of uhm... mermaids. Her biochemicals, though, different from those of humans but no profoundly so, registered anxiety. Her heart was beating quickly. Her fingers were fidgeting. "I'm mostly just a face," she admitted to him, "but I know a bit." She shook her head. "He's been shipping stuff from overseas. It comes in these unmarked crates. He's got these new people who move 'em: big galoots I ain't nevah seen before, and I mean big, buster: like little Molis. It comes in and then it just kinda disappears after a bit."

She glanced about, reaching into a pocket and pulling out what looked like a smokestick. "Ya want some while we wait for that help of yours? Helps us look less suspicious just standing out here."

Silas nodded, brow furrowed in thought as Tiff explained the little she knew. "Crates, through the port?" That was a start at least. There would be records of what he was moving, or from where. Maybe they'd be lucky enough to happen on some themselves and lighten the load. He proposed as much to his companion between passes of the smokestick. "Do you know if Moli's human?" He asked eventually, attempting to imagine what a group of Moli-sized men would mean if they crossed paths. "Can the other big ones hide themselves too?"

Tiff considered. "I think you might be barkin' up the wrong tree. I dunno for sure, but he might be using the Mudport. It's hard to say, and ya know what the records are like there." She took a moment to consider his second question. "I think he is?" she replied. "I mean, 'side from bein' like... eight feet tall, he dun' look that much like a knife-ear. Still, the one thing I know is if you see 'em, that's where they are. Ya wanna snoop, ya gotta get someone to draw him out, so you can get in."

Silas took a final long thoughtful pull from the stick before straightening; suddenly alert and motioning for Tiff to stand behind him. The energies of Nazih and Esmi reached them moments later. Silas frowned at them and shifted his weight between his feet. Of course the two least likely to help would be the ones to show. He noted the third, new and small energy moving slightly while huddled against Esmi's chest.

"Found a friend?" He asked, nodding to the dormouse. "This is Tiff," Silas side-stepped to give the arrivals a clear view of the Meerami that had been poorly hidden behind the boy's small frame. "Tiff, these are my uhm... Colleagues.”

Esmi was first, introducing herself as soon as she was within earshot- "Hi Tiff, nice to meet you, and yes, this is Sage, she's so cute and fluffy" Sage pops out to see everyone. Only once closer did Esmi finally notice the figure beside Silas was neither human or Yasoi, "Wait what are you?"

Tiff arched an eyebrow. She leaned in closer to Silas. "This one a lil' screwy?" she whispered. Her eyes flicked up and down Nazih a couple of times. "Yeah, looks like a little.... morsel," she answered Esmi, noticing the dormouse.

Nazih eyes went a little wide, he thought having to accept snake people as reality was hard enough. Now a giant fish lady? He dragged his hand down his face, "Silas, what are we doing here?"

A pained, forced grin tightened on Silas's face as the Yasoi spoke.

"She's a friend!" He answered both their questions quickly. They didn't have the time to waste all day with long introductions, whatever distraction the chaos in the city has provided them wasn't going to last long. "A friend that needs our help" He continued, still rocking on his heels as he spoke. "Trapped here; like the animals and the others I told you about." His attention between the two of them shifted as he reached out with his senses behind them, attempting to determine if they were followed. "You in or what?" He asked.

"I want to help, rescue the animals, and take a Grape Dragon that looked bad, and help your friend" Esmi piped up first.

Tiff blinked. On the one hand, Aurelia, the pet vendor, had been one of her few friends around here and releasing a bunch of exotic wild animals around Ersand'Enise would not end well for anyone, least of all the animals. On the other, it might make a nice distraction. "Ya know what? I support you!" Tiff crowed. She turned to Nazih. "What? Y'ain't nevah seen a meerami before?" She paused and considered. "Actually, you're from the desert, aintcha? Nevermind!"

"Great. Now we just need a plan." Silas' smiled relaxed as he flexed his hands. "We did have two more, but they got caught up somewhere I guess." He shrugged towards Tiff. "We'll take the back of the place, you two focus on the animals. Find Fiske first so he can try and cover you; keep our identities hidden and all that."

"We shouldn't stick around here long," he faced Tiff and offered her a hand to lead back towards the tents. "Hope you can read, otherwise we'll have to find the other one we're missing."

"Eh, I know enough to get along," Tiff assured him. "Just don't throw anything literary at me, huh?" She grabbed his hand. "Now, here's my hand." She took in and released a deep breath. "Let's do this!"

Silas followed wordlessly at first, taking time to adjust to the strange feeling of the Meerami's skin, if that's what it could be called, on his own: Cold, even to his frigid hands. "How did you end up crossing paths with the toad man in the first place?" He asked casually, making conversation but focusing on searching the areas they passed for signs of Schliem's energy.

Tiff flashed an unamused duckface. "It involved a net, bucko, swimmin' for my life, and a deal." She shrugged. "Big Sal was supposed to help me find Ashi. Now it's one half-baked excuse after the other. He ain't even really tryin' at this point. Good for nuttin' dago," she spat. "But maybe you're onto somethin'. He ain't human. Ain't no way someone can be that strong and not be part 'o the big academy."

Silas was listening, of course, but he was scanning his surroundings for energies too. They'd side slipped the three galoots, but there was plenty more activity and he was looking for something that would stand out. Then, he sensed it: an octopus... of a sort. It wasn't more than thirty yards distant, in a gated area behind the main tent. Along the way were some stables, a couple of loose supply dumps cordoned off, a few tool and storage sheds, and some caged performing animals. For a moment, he thought that he sensed a human's energy, but it was on his far periphery and far too fleeting.

Silas tugged gently on Tiff's hand, attempting to pull her slightly off-course enough to head towards the gate and small octopus' energy. "Never trust a fat man," He muttered, "greed wide as his waist I'd bet."

"My friend's companion is this way," He nodded to the fence blocking their path "We climb? Or is there a better way around?"

"If you can pick a lock," the meerami responded.

Silas had a lockpick on hand, and made quick work of the job. Tiff flicks some featherlike hair over her shoulder and crosses her arms, watching with a sort of admiration. Then, they're in. The gate swings open with a loud "crrreeeeak."

Silas lets out a breath he'd been holding when the noise of the gates finally ended. A finger to his lips signaled silence, as he slunk into the shadows, trying to keep along the perimeter and out of sight as they made their way towards Schleim.

They slip inside and Silas feels it again: a weird flicker of energy. Tiff feels it too. "We ain't alone," she whispers, using a sonic technique so that her quiet words reach his ears only. "Watch yah back."

The sumpfkrake draws closer, but it doesn't seem to be moving. In fact, it is difficult to even detect the animal.

Silas didn't nod, or make any notable movement in response, but pushed a wave of kinetic energy into the ground, making the terrain behind him slick and impossible to move one easily for those with legs. A shadow of worry crossed his face as the animal's energy began to fade- he reached out to it, attempting to gently warm Schleim with arcane magic to warn of his approach and detect if the creature was still alive.

The sumpfkrake remains utterly still and unresponsive as they drew nearer, Tiff noted to Silas that she couldn't see the little cephalopod. Then, all at once, they felt him come alive. A powerful jet of ink arcs in the air as he leaps away. The target was a pair of enormous men who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. One of them turned and regarded the two interlopers with surprise. "What are you doing here, mermaid, and who the hell is this?

Just as the little monster releases its torrent, Silas managed to duck left, avoiding the worst of the spray. Ignoring the guard’s questions, he turned from them, to make a clapping motion in Tiff's direction. Finally he unleashed a flash of light on the ground to blind the pair.

The attack works a charm. The pair of giants, blinded, stagged and lashed out uselessly. "Treacherous little bitch!" One roared. The other flailed about blindly until his hands seized upon a crate. He spiked it into the ground and sharp splinters of wood flew everywhere. After a moment, they formed into a tornado of a thousand skewers. It heads straight for Silas and Tiff.

"We gotta go!" Silas yelped at the sound of splintering wood and grabbed onto Tiff's arm again, pulling her with him as he fell to his knees, sliding down a slipstream of kinetic magic as they followed the trail of ink left behind by Margot's little hellspawn.

"There's just one problem," Tiff growled. "I don't run." Turning on the spot, still sliding, she gathered all of the ambient energy that she could and…

Two of the pieces of wood struck sparks off of each other, like they were made of something else entirely. More started. Then, the epicenter of the tornado began to shift: emitting light and heat. The bottom began to glow faintly, just before the entire thing disappeared into a growing hole in the ground. One of the galoots stumbled, as if some invisible force was pulling him towards the hole. The other clung to something. Silas and Tiff's momentum slowed and the latter shouted over the ambient roar to the former. "Give it some juice!"

Silas tried to ignore the swirling maelstrom behind him. Did his best not to think over-long as to where that vortex was leading to. At Tiff's word, he drew from the heat from the fire, and gave one final push with the last of his stored energy, launching the pair forwards and pushing their pursuers further still into the tornado.

Just like that, the giant men disappeared. For a moment, there was the horrible sight of them twisting, warping, and then disappearing. "Stop!" Tiff called, stalling her momentum, and the maelstrom winked out. Where it had been mere moments ago was the awesome residual heat of a still-cooling item. It was a tiny black marble, reflective and unfathomably dense.

As the last of the energy left Silas' manas he could feel his blood run cold. Pale hands trembled as he clawed at the ground in an attempt to slow them, his exhausted mana's slow to draw on the kinetic energy. "What happened?" He asked, spinning to face Tiff and the empty space where the two thugs should have been. "Gods, what did you- we- do?" He scrambled back towards the marble, original goal forgotten.

Tiff smiled wickedly, needle-sharp fangs gleaming in the night. "Absolutely nothing," she replied, a twinkle in her eye. It grew until they glowed with delight. "Well, we get out of here, of course." There was a wink.

"Get out?" He called, straining and slipping as his attempt to stabilize the ground failed and he again found himself completely drained and himself stumbling towards the shining object. There were so many people here, and they were so close to Mudville- But Tiff was already leaving, and he had nothing left to even help keep himself upright. He closed his mind to thoughts of the guards, of the consequences of whatever that thing they were leaving behind was, and leapt out to follow the Meerami.

"It'll be fine," Tiff assured him, "Last one only sunk a few hundred feet. It'll even provide a uh... freshwater source here! Now come on, let's go!"

Before long, they sensed others headed their way. Two were the usual galoots, and while they were definitely not weak, the third is something special. It appears to be... a two-headed woman!?

Too exhausted to continue another chase, and not wanting to draw further attention with another incident, Silas yanked Tiff with him down to the ground to roll under the bottom of a tent canvas.

This time, Tiff didn’t resist. She rolled with Silas and the bustle of the nearby market was enough to render their particular signatures hazy to all but the most precise of sensors. "Yah know," she whispered after a moment, eyes darting about, "I could make a run for it right now: dive into that bay and be gone." They shifted longingly out towards the water.

Silas lifted himself back to his feet, and brushed himself off as he took in their surroundings.

"Wouldn't blame you. But I don't think you will." He stalled for a moment to ensure the guards passed their position. "You want to know if Moli has any info on your sister - or leverage to figure it out." Together they walked towards the back exit of the tent, and Silas lifted it for her to pass through ahead of him. "Leave now and you're just as empty handed as before Moli found you- and you know he'll come looking."

She shot him a pained look. "You're not wrong." She shook her head. "I dunno. My whole life, I lived only for myself. Ashi was just... there. I took her for granted." Hesitantly, Tiff twisted on the spot. She was cumbersome on land and uncomfortable. "If it's dirt we want, we check by the Mudport, on Marrone Creek. Strange stuff's been happenin' there, but uh... I'm gonna warn yah now: I think it's way above our pay grade."

Silas did his best to keep a neutral expression, which only resulted in a pinched and pained look. "I've been due for a raise anyways." Even the attempt at humour was stiff. He tried optimism instead; "One last push fish-sticks, then it's free and open seas." Just the idea of the nauseating tides was enough to make Silas's stomach lurched, but he pressed forward to the direction Tiff pointed, making a final effort to reach out and signal to Margot and her partner for reinforcements.

He received a pinch back. Where it was coming from, he could not say exactly, but Margot was somewhere else. Schliem, Silas could still sense in the distance, however. The sumpfkrake seemed to be headed for a large derelict building within Mudville. It was a place that Silas had seen before, many times, but it was a well-known thing among the local urchins that you did not go there: the place was haunted. Meanwhile, they crossed the rickety drawbridge over the creek and began approaching the warehouses lining the Mudport. Silas took note of an unusual number of small boats - all of the same design - waiting around, pulled ashore, or docked nearby. There were more of those unusually large men about and another blood type as well. He'd sensed it before, he was somewhat sure. It was…

“Sanguinaires.” He hissed to Tiff in warning.

"We should find Margot," He whispered, suddenly stuck in his path, yet made no movement to search for the swamp-girl either. Years of stories and instinct told him not to get any closer to the building than they already were. Sanguinares had just been stories then too. Silas inhaled deeply, a failed attempt to loosen the tightness in his chest. "Any good at climbing?" He asked Tiff as he moved towards the cursed place's southern wall.

"Not my forte," the meerami admitted, "but I can go all snakey on it and try. I do much better in the water."

He hesitated again. "Maybe we should split then. Me here, you the docks; keep low, figure out what's going on. Try and save up for another one of those marble tricks. " A weak smile finally breaks his tense expression. "I'll send someone after you if I can, then come with more reinforcements." He took hold of her hand one final time before parting. "Swim out if it gets too hot." And with a squeeze, dropped her hand as quickly as he'd taken it before scaling the wall.

Silas immediately noticed activity in the house. Perhaps this was why it was always taken to be haunted. There was a sonic dampening field, but he’s practiced enough to slip inside. There were screams emanating from the basement. Lines of mostly men stood in the hallways with military precision. Figures lay on tables. In the basement were more guards and that rivaled Moli in size.

Then, he heard another scream. A too familiar one. "No! Please-to-yah, no!" She just bein' a local girl! No harmin', she promise!" Schliem was nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile, Tiff was not so stealthy: Finding herself chased by two massive guards, she turns to launch another devastating attack. So intense was her manipulation of gravity that they found themselves sucked towards a singularity. They resisted, drawing away from it with massive power of their own, the Sanguinaire Titans caused it to dissipate completely.

They glowered at the Meerami girl. She gulped and backed toward the water: her one chance of escape.

Inside the warehouse, the sanguinaire continued to infect others with a parcticed monotony. Inside the mansion, screams emerged from the basement and then, eventually, giants.

Silas didn't need real eyes to lurch at the discovery. Much worse than a haunting. He stilled on the wall outside, frozen in terror until a cry from Margot jolted him into action. Then the unmistakable rupturing energies of Tiff's magic some ways away. The closer danger was more pressing he decided, and searched for some small passage or opening that he could use to enter.

It didn’t take long to locate Margot’s small engery signature once inside. She was already taken to be in the sanguinaire’s room. There were sounds of struggle. Then, another voice.

"I'm sorry, girl. Please. Don't struggle. I'm just so.... HUNGRY."

"I won't kill you. I won't."

"I'm just hungry. Please. That's all."

More voices: "Hurry up already!"

"Take your fill and let's go!"

Silas was able to slip into the shadows before managing to falsely adhere himself to the ceiling with kinetic magic. He made it to the room to find Margot strapped to a chair, a number of large male figures surrounded her.

“Them shit-suckin' skuggvar-bait dagos!" She kicks and screams. "They the badguys! The fuckin' badguys. She being an innocent local girlish!"

There was an intense beam of heat and it nearly overwhelmed Silas' senses for a moment. One of the newly-created sanguinaires took it in the chest and collapsed backward, clutching at the wound.
At the other end of the long room were tables, crates, and Schliem. The sumpfkrake was barely detectable. It slipped into one of the crates through a handhold gap and extricated a couple tubes of some solution. The sanguinaires, unbothered by their fallen comrade, continue forward towards their meal.

From the moment Schliem revealed himself, Silas dropped from the ceiling, behind the collapsed sanguinare who he ensures will remain on the ground. He mades for Margot before even attempting dealing with the others, using kinetic magic to tear at her bindings to the chair.

He barely got a rip in one before getting thrown clean across the room, glanced off of a shelving unit, but more or less stuck the landing.

Schliem made his way across the room, clinging to the ceiling. Margot ripped the binding off of her second wrist. The sanguinaires scrambled to corner towards Silas while a pair of well-dressed men and a woman slunked into the room, remaining behind the sanguinaires for protection.

Panting from exertion, Silas launched himself upwards on the wall again to be barely out of arm's reach of the giants below. He yelled towards Schliem only a few meters away. "The docks! The Faire! The Meerami or Yasoi. Get help!" Then he fell again, amplifying his weight and force with magic as he crashed down on-top of his attacker.

Schliem ignored him. He'd already been given different orders and a different purpose.

It was a gambit: a big one, Margot always knew, but she'd determined long ago that she'd rather live as a lion than a lamb. The sumpfkrake dropped one of the vials that it stole right into her hands.

Margot uncorked it.
Margot drank it.

Silas again scrambled to find purchase on the floor. The man was too large, too strong, even for kinetic attacks. Quickness wasn't going to win him the day this time. He was able to sense something, some barely noticeable interaction between Margot and her pet. Unwilling to fight further, he emits a pulse of arcane light to cover an escape attempt.

Whatever light produces is drawn from and dissipated by the sanguinares instantly. Silas made for a bolt anyways.

Margo screamed and contorted, her eyes rolling back into her head. She jerked and thrashed, legs still bound to the chair. Then, she stilled for a moment. Her eyes opened. With a kick, she was free and standing, a newly-made sanguinare.

"She's unauthorized!" wailed one of the well-dressed men. "Get her!"
Margot smirked.

But she underestimated them. The first plowed into her and she smashed into the ground. If nothing else, she was buying Silas time to escape. He came back for her!
Nobody ever comes back for the likes of Margot! She could take a bit of a beating for his sake.

Another attempt at creating light flickered into nothingness. Silas cursed, feeling the energy there, under his skin and behind his not-eyes. Warm- hot even, but trapped inside. He whirled one final time to take in what's become of Margot, intending to send a shock-wave of kinetic energy to clear a path for her. Instead white hot, searing light burned through the thick cloth of his blindfold, incinerating it and anything else between him and the converging attackers.

The optic blast scythed across the room devastating result. Three sanguinaires were sliced instantly in half. Another's legs were cleanly removed. Only one defended. "Fuck yessss!" Margot crowed, leaping to another’s head.

She flew across the room, attacking targets of opportunity, and Schliem even managed to re-attach himself to his post on her shoulder.

While one target died a clean death, others were injured and a few even managed to defend.

Then, Salvatore Moli is arrived, along with the blonde woman. He immediately identified Silas and Margo as the heart of the problem.

"The twos man and the lady! Nice clothings one!" Margot shouts. "Them's the key!"

One of the men attempted to run. The other and the woman hide behind their sanguinaires.

It took Silas a moment to regain his senses. Or at least the one he used most, that of his magic. The power he'd unleashed had left an echoing of energy that nearly blinded him to the surrounding energies. Until the impossibly large shape of Moli came into his range. Then it was all in focus. He barely heard Margots words, but heeded them best he could, leaping from the hallway towards the blonde woman.

Avril Frannemas sensed the boy long before he could make contact with her. But did nothing to stop him. Nothing to avoid him. In fact, she pulled him right into her grip. She held him fast by the neck and her eyes narrow.

Then, Margot WAS there. She smasheD a boot right into the blonde woman's face and Avril was sent sprawling backwards. She rose again quickly, furious.

"You insect!" she roared. "How hard have I been trying not to squash you!?" She drew in a colossal amount of energy and released it in a massive blast wave.

Moli, meanwhile, rised back into the air and began drawing. He turned toward the approaching party of Nazih, Esmi, and Fiske.

The first of the three began to feel the telltale signs of an Atomic draw.

Silas slid, but managed to catch himself on his feet, one arm still on the ground. Struggling to recapture the feeling of his last attack, he drew the remaining heat from the basement behind his false eyes and turned his face towards the flying frog man. Beams of while hot energy unleashed again.

Nazih burst through the door, having used his shield as a battering ram for no particular reason, as the door was clearly unlocked. Positioning himself behind Moli and rushing forward with his shield raised, he attempted to push Moli further into Silas' attack.

Margot reached out with a kinetic grip and attempted to hold Moli down. It was a five on one. Moli didn’t have a chance and Avril didn't raise a hand to defend him. The beams of heat swept clean across him and his head.... fell off. It tumbled to the ground and rolled. Then, Moli reached out, headless, and grabbed Nazih. A pair of long, slimy tentacles emerged from his neck to fastens on the Darhanic boy.

Esmi went pale from the severed head rolling on the floor.

Avril promptly disappeared.

In desperation, Nazih wrenched himself free.

"Get away!" screamed Margot. She could feel a massive amount of energy building within the headless man.

The colossal blast echoed across the bay, and a mushroom cloud rose into the sky.

As the fallout clears and Nazih puts all of his skills in Atomic Magic to use drawing from the cataclysm, they see the shields. The makeshift factory where the sanguinaire Titans were being produced stands, more or less unharmed. The scientists creating the monstrosities live on, leaping in a small ketch and fleeing the scene.

The transformed soldiers began to fall as the energy shields dropped. Avril could be seen ever so briefly before she was gone. The command was given to 'eliminate the hostile parties'.

"Eshran preserve " Silas muttered, woozy. He felt the warmth of his own blood begin to trickle down his forehead. The energy was clear- too clear and loud without his blindfold and the reverberating aftershocks from the incredible blast.

But it wasn’t over. No sooner did the group exit the building then they found themselves surrounded again. More of the giant sanguinares wanted form them, cutting off any exit. But the docks were still visible just behind them. If they could only…

Silas unleashed a kinetic shockwave from behind Fiske, launching the other boy forwards to clear them a path through.

Nazih rushed towards the same direction that Fiske went flying, wondering why Fiske would agree to such an insane gambit, but hoping to provide some support.

While the first titan went down hard, badly wounded, and finished off by a charging Nazih, the second one took only a light blow and then a subsequent wound, staggering out of the fight. From there, they learn, protecting themselves from Fiske's sense master's touch. After he splashed down into the water, the Titans closed in on Nazih, now trapped in the midst of them. Then, came Margot.

She managed to take one of them out, but was quickly forced to contend with another, then further set upon by more. The new sanguinaire found herself surrounded. They closed in to finish her off.

Silas reached for Margot's hand, dragging her away from the fight towards the path cleared by Fiske and Nazih, slipping the terrain underneath him to quicken the path and unsteady attackers, but there were too many.

Head still searing, despite the Yasoi's adept healing, Silas halted to a stop, still many, too many sanguinares between him and the potential freedom of the docks. Squeezing hard on Margot's arm, he drew warmth from her, the night air and for a third time let the impossible energy release from his malformed eyes, targeting them best he could towards the dock, and away from the structures of Mudville.

Only for a titan to suck in all the energy that Silas could offer, open its dreaded maw, and breathe fire back out at him. Nazih was able to take advantage of one titan's minor wound to take her out of the fight. Another one, badly wounded, he outright killed. The remainder closed in on him, however, and hurled him to the ground, ready to tear him to shreds, mere yards from the water.

Fiske sputtered and coughed, still recovering from the violence with which he was thrown into the water.

The battle is all over. The students utterly defeated. Silas stands surrounded by enemies closing in from all sides, Margot and the others too far to help or be helped. On the ground lay Nazih, unconscious and battered. Margot was skewered on a tree branch, coughing up blood. Esmi was crumpled into the fetal position, desperately trying to heal the half-dozen wounds in her torso. Schliem protectively tried to cover his fallen master.

The water rippled; Fiske bobbed up and down, being carried away by the current.

He had nothing left to give. Silas' head felt ready to split open there was too much - all too loud. Why hadn't anyone come to help? Where were the zenos? The century? He just needed time- and quiet- quiet and time. Almost unconsciously he began to draw heat from his surroundings. Frost pricked the stones under his shaking knees and spread outwards. Bitter, frozen cold enveloped the boy's surroundings, his body acting as a pure conduit of the gathered heat to an icy white beam of light into the sky.

In that very last moment, as all that Silas could do was buy more time before the inevitable, there was a sound in the sky.

A beast - no, a machine! - appeared in the sky from a portal, and then another.
And then a third, a fourth, and a fifth. They were impossibly loud. They heeled to the side and banked towards Mudville, doors sliding open on their sides and revealing something like... people? But no, they weren't people. They were... snake people? Guns on swivels pointed towards the army of Titans and then they opened fire.It was a hail of fire and lead, deafening and awe inspiring.

For magic was no match for the sheer firepower of the Royal Sabyssian Marines.

Their machine guns mowed down Titans as if they were mere peasants against the greatest of mages.

Rockets blasted out and slammed into the house and the fleeing sailboat. It erupted in a ball of flames.The snake people whooped and cheered. The machines whirled on the spot, coming in to land. The wind was fantastic. It buffeted them and blew debris away. Then ropes flung themselves out of the lead machine, and down slid six snake people. They landed coiled but rapidly uncoiled. Silas felt his magic disappear. But so did the sanguinaire titans. The squad of six spread out. With precision gunfire, the eliminated all remaining hostiles. One of the titans tried to jump one.

Six reared up to her full height, wrapped around him, and slit his neck with a bowie knife.
All that were left were corpses.
"3 o'clock secure!" shouted Kassem.
"Six secure!" called Sara Sota Six, most appropriately. (edited)
"Nine covered!" shouted Aston.
"I've got twelve. All clear," said Simon.
Kyro and Leusi moved in. "Leusi, dampeners off. See to the wounded."

Magic returned.

Luky Seven laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and Esmi's damaged flesh bound itself together again.

The exertion must have made Silas delirious, he decided. It was the only explanation for the incredulous patterns of energy. One of them came closer to him, he was able to interpret the long single limb, hard and scaly skin. He frowned as his eyes closed, nodding ever-so-slightly. "Knew that wasn't no snake-lady." He slurred eloquently, barely remembering the dancing women from Moli’s the first time he’d visited.

"Come with me," Leusi declared, but Esmi was already on her way to Margot.

The Kerreman was barely alive. Her pulse was weak and she had ceased breathing.

She was gently removed from the branch and it took a couple of minutes to restore her to a passable condition.

"See to the other one," Leusi tried.

"The one with the shield.”

Meanwhile, Kyro approached Silas. He'd already lit up his victory cigar.

"Was a helluva fight you put up here, kid." He held out a hand, gun slung under his shoulder.

Silas' nodding continued, as though on auto-pilot. "Popped the fat one," he replied, and stood. "What?" The images from delirium didn't fade. "Who..." The boy was lost as to where to even begin. The nodding eventually stopped. "Is this Eshran's arrival?" He finally landed on asking, still dazed, but what little focus he had was transfixed on the flame the creature purposefully brought to its mouth.

Kyro grinned and let out a short bark of laughter. "Hah, yeah, I guess you could call it that. More properly, we're called Deliverance Squad." Corporal Luky came up on his five. "They're all healed sir." He glanced her way. "Good work, corporal." Then, he turned back to Silas. "I don't expect you to understand much of what's happened here today, kid, but just keep in mind that there are angels out there in the sky lookin' out for yah." he twisted on the spot then. "Deliverance! Status report!"
They called out all sectors secure.

"Clean up, pack on, head out!" the Lieutenant barked. "Move, soldiers!"

"Sir, permission to restart the swamp squid?" asked Leusi. "Girl's crying about it."
The lieutenant scowled. He glanced down at his watch. "We have a minute ten to contact. Get it done faster."

She saluted. "Sir, yes sir!"

Further up the creek, a rope ladder dropped down for Fiske.

In his exhausted and freezing condition, he failed to grab ahold. One of the sirrahi commandos came down to scoop him up. He was cradled in her coils and dropped ashore.

Then, Schliem's body was repaired. The little sumpfkrake's metabolic processes restarted.

The exhausted boy did his best to come to terms with this sudden religious discovery. He'd never thought of the gods as more than stories his mother used to tell. Such dramatic proof of their existence and force would call for some re-evaluation. He blinked his rotted eyes at the horrible angel. "Might have come a bit sooner." There was more than a slight edge of annoyance to his voice. His attention eventually drifted further out from his own person, and something vaguely familiar about the monsters struck him suddenly. "Tiff! Is she- Have you found her?"

Haha!" Barked Kyro, still chomping on his cigar. "You're not wrong kid. Too much red tape with the high-ups. 'Least we came, huh?" He ruffled Silas hair and started to turn when the boy's words reached him. "Not sure what a Tiff is," he admitted, "but Bravo fished a half-dead meerami from the river and fixed her up." Then, he was finished talking to the primitive. He turned and made his way to the machine. "T-minus twenty!" shouted the lieutenant. "Get to the chopper!" Deliverance squad boarded as it hovered low. Silas, Fiske, Esmi, Margot, and Nazih could feel a huge buildup of Temporal energies. Then, the six 'choppers' were ascending into the sky. Moments later and in perfect synchronization, they disappeared from reality.

"Oh, Oraff zijn Dank!" The boy looked somewhat perplexed by this... person's appearance. Perhaps he knows less about the world than he gave himself credit for. He thanked the commando before sluggishly approaching Silas. "Oi! Give me a warning next time, Bastaard!" It seems he was still a bit annoyed from being thrown into the river.

Silas reached up to his head where the cool, rough hand had touched him. Then they were gone just about as soon as he blinked. Fiske was beside him, and Silas just smiled at the other boy and reached up to muss his hair in a similar manner to his own had been. It was only a small stretch. "I knew you had it in you." He said solemnly.

"Had what in me? The ability to swim?!" Fiske looked livid, though he did not slap away the hand that mussed his hair. The boy pointed at everyone in the group. "All of you owe me one now! I will cash it in whenever I wish, you hear me?!" He most likely will not care much about cashing it in…

Silas only laughed, moving his arm to lean on the taller boy's shoulder. "Way I see it, the damned God's owe us one at this point." Gradually, the effects of the strangers arrival stirred chaos into the confused citizens of Mudville. "Bout time to head home?" He asked.

"The God's should give me enough bennies to get a grand mansion for all my good deeds today!" He stood proudly, letting out the part of how scared he really was. "Ah, yes. Home does sound rather nice... I could use some rest..."

A Late Night Visit

A visitor showed up in Silas' room. Desmond was out, but the former urchin was still recovering both mentally and - despite the healing he had received - in some ways physically from the events of the day before. Hugo Hunghorasz was dead - finally, at age 117, in his sleep - and the free city had declared a moratorium on classes and two days of mourning. It was timely. There was a lot to process. The visitor, however, was not.

He was leaning against the edge of the youth's bunk. Somehow, he had made it past all of Desmond's various traps. None had been triggered. "Please don't run," he said simply. "I'm not here to cause you any trouble."

Silas had trouble sleeping since the events in Mudville. There was exhaustion in his body and mind, but disturbing memories of what he'd witnessed crowded his thoughts each time sleep felt close. Wake-fullness did nothing to prepare him for the unexpected visitor. Despite his request, Silas lept to a crouching position, causing the cobbled creation of the bunkbed to creek threateningly. "Who're you?" He asked finally, "Desmond's out if you're looking for him, I don't take messages."

The figure continued to lean, unconcerned. "I'm the Traveler," he said casually, "and, while Desmond's a friend of mine, I'm not looking for him. I'm looking for you."

His casualness was met with every muscle in Silas's body freezing up, and each hair standing on end. This is what sticking his nose in where it didn't belong got him. "That wasn't your operation in the Mudville house?" He asked anxiously, wasting know time to determine what manner of visit this was.

"You know it wasn't," the Traveler offered. "You know a great many things now, in truth." He narrowed his eyes. "And that's good." He was... Desmond, the urchin realized. Then, he wasn't. He was a woman instead, and there was something immediately familiar about her. "The world is full of people who'll try to step on you. Knowledge is power."

"Or a target for someone's boot." Silas snorted in reply as he fell back on his heels to sit cross-legged on the mattress. Running wouldn't do him much good even if he tried. "Isn't that why you hide your face?"

The Traveler did not speak immediately. Instead, she shook her head. Silas noticed that she had only one eye. "It is because the Traveler is most powerful when she is the embodiment of an idea - when anyone can imagine themselves as her... or him. If regular people are to have power, it can't be under the thumb of Mama Traveler or under her protective wing." She was Ahrora. "They need to do it themselves." She paused and something about her demeanor changed. "It's also for me. Good as I may be with the Gift, I'm human, and I know I'll be tempted." She let a sigh out and flopped back onto Desmond's bed. "Tempted to be just like them: another person who said she'd change the world and then became part of the problem. If nobody knows who I am, though..." She trailed off, leaving him to draw a conclusion. "Anyways, enough about me."

They, not we. Distracting as the Traveller's second form might have been, Silas still heard the difference. "If you're looking for another fanatic to follow you I'm not it." The idea of taking such a firm stance against a system he now lived and breathed as a student did not coincide with 'laying-low'. "But you probably know all that and more about me. So why are you here?"

Then, the Traveler was no longer Aurora but... something else. She was... long and snakelike. "What is more fanatical?" she asked almost... sharply, "To accept a world where you can be murdered at any moment simply because you are not as strong in your use of the Gift as others? Where you may go to bed hungry, deprived, and humiliated for lack of that special ingredient that only a select few jealously guard? Or to want to make it better?"

No longer human, ironically, she drew up to her full height. "If that is fanaticism, then I will wear it proudly, but I will still wear it as nobody. It is an idea and not a figurehead that should be followed, because ideas do not govern us. They reflect us. Their great beauty and fairness is that they only hold the power that people give them!" She was in proselytizing mode now, perhaps unable to help herself. "You have felt the wrongness. I know you have felt it. I have seen it in your words and actions, when you acted not for yourself but for others, even against your self-interest. I know you are more than the world paints you as, but I cannot live inside your head, nor would I."

She evaluated him, pacing or else almost stalking about the room. "You are... some species of afraid," she decided. "Tired, desiring of escape. I know it well." She shook her head. "But there is no escape. Very great wheels are turning and they turn the world. Events of import are happening, and they will crush the great and the small alike if allowed to proceed. And you," she concluded, "You are just notable enough, Silas Rieger, to be a target for someone's boot the way that things stand now.... and that is a tragic thing, because you were heroic, whether you believe it or not."

She shook her head adamantly. "You used your power to kill but, in killing some, you saved thousands." She'd risen to heights of earnest fervour with her previous words but quickly seemed to turn anxious, antsy. "I would do the same," she assured him. "I wish to do the same, but I fear those are forces even beyond my reach. Ironic though it sounds, I need you and those like you to lend your strengths and abilities to our cause, else the horrors that you witnessed last night will not simply disappear. They won't go away. They'll only worsen. " She broke off, then, fists clenching and unclenching, and shrugged. "That is my piece. I've said it."

The things she spoke of, heroic and saving thousands, were as fantastical as her form. The form of the saviours that had come for them that day. Sirrahi, Meerami, dark and command magic, and whatever in the hells had crawled out of Moli's head; if all such wild things were possible, was hope so unimaginable? Silas shifted uncomfortably under her judgment, biting his tongue to keep from arguing with her summations. He had tried and failed to rationalize his actions since he'd taken them. Whatever Moriff had against him was nothing compared to those who would come looking for him now. "I want things to change." He said slowly, "Don't know if things can, or how to go about it but I want to believe you." A small smile wavered on his face. "Which is nearly the best thing I can say about anyone since coming to this place." In a smooth, well-practiced movement, Silas lifted himself from the bunk to the floor, standing far below the imposing shape the traveler had taken. "If you need me, I'll listen with an open mind- not go in blindly." The smile widened into a self-satisfied grin. "Promising anything more would be a lie." He finished with a shrug and offered a hand.

The Traveler had changed once more. He was a man in crimson robes now, and he took the youth’s hand. His smile was - if still a touch tight - warm, at least. “Then that is a start, Silas Reiger. The world is a better place when we listen.” They shook. “We shall speak again soon.”

"Goodnight," Was all Silas could think to reply, the surrealness of the situation settling in. He gave the uninvited guest a nod, but hesitated before returning to his bunk. "More might be willing to listen than you think." It was impossible to tell whether his last comment was heard; when he was atop his mattress again, Silas was the only one in the room.

---

More Gains

• Smirking Skull Masque of Relentless Snark - allows one to alter how he’s perceived by a conversational target
• A house in a city in Callanast, location undisclosed. 1400 square feet. It comes with a long list of warnings including rough roads, crowded living conditions, high ambient heat, and low ceilings.

The Hourglass Order

Maximum Powercreep

Qasem Laghmani

"Smile some, life is dream after all."

17 | Male | Inipori | Greyscale Chamarine | 4.63

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ [Cheerful]
❖ [Honest]
❖ [Resolute]
❖ [Curious]
❖ [Disciplined]

Antithetical to his title and that of his order, Qasem is as bright light of energy who wears his heart on his sleeve. A charming smile and offer of friendship to most any he comes across is what he likes to think of as the face of his true self, but of course being a truth-seeker does at times call for mask to be worn. One less open and acquiescing to others.

Most importantly, Qasem does not abide deception in any form. As part of his initiation, took a vow to root out and report any he finds and uphold truth in all things.

A P P E A R A N C E

Dark of skin, hair, and eyes. Qasem sticks out a distinct foreigner in southern lands. He stands just over six feet, and through careful consumption of chemical remedies, paired with magic has achieved a massive amount of muscle and imposing stature. His preferred dress is brightly coloured and flamboyant; often made of silks or satin and trimmed with metallic thread.

L A N G U A G E S

Native - Inipori
Fluent - Viragish, Ferreze, Palapish, Malabashi
Conversational - Paggonese, Torragonesse, Avincian

T H E G I F T

Chemical - Journeyman
Blood - Adept
Binding - Novice

Given his pitiful RAS Qasem is forced to compensate his magical ability but using it in unique and unexpected ways. His primary target for his spells is typically himself; a combination of his practical and magic chemical knowledge allows for Qasem to augment his own body to be much stronger, faster, and resilient for short periods of time. If the situation calls for it, he is able to turn off his pain sensors completely and overclock his body's adrenaline production to stay awake for extended periods. It all comes at something of a cost of course: Such physical exertion requires recovery time, and to preform them at all calls for Qasem to be constantly topped up with a specific formula of vitamins and proteins, distilled once a week and carried in a flask.

Using his magic on others is something he is loathe to do, but often called for in his line of work. He struggles to effect others without direct touch, but once done so has access to all systems of their body. His studies have taught him much about the brain's chemical reactions, and his time as a truthseeker more still. Not quite at the level able to detect his targets exact brain pattern by sensing alone, Qasem instead uses his abilities to replicate the reactions monitored in others within his own body. This gives him particular insight into the emotions and thoughts of others, but is primarily used to detect and stop lies.

There are other magics he's learned. Long forgotten curses, and maledictions that could further make up for Qasem's lacking range and capacity. But he's never had the need or desire to exercise those.

B A C K G R O U N D

Qasem's history thus far has been as a footnote in the greater fates and tales of others.

First there was family. The great Laghmani lineage, dating back some four-hundred odd years to a group of peasants in the northern Zaqhory desert. A peasant family gifted by Fashdal-Sep a dream of a future to come; one that would bring ruin and destruction. The vision brought the family further north still; to Inipor. For another generation they lived more destitute than even before, thought lying or insane for their stories. Until the Torragonesse came. As the Laghmanis witnessed their homeland ravaged by invaders, they themselves were uplifted in the Inipori capital. Divine seers, the were called, protectors of the Darhanic Dreams. The same gift would continue to reveal itself in the same line every few generations, and while found in Qasem, it was not he who the Dreamer thought worthy to bestow it upon. Instead, he came into the world too-soon and choking for air. A disappointment from the beginning, he would remain small and sickly until adolescence; where his shamefully low RAS made itself known. It was a relief in its own right, any and all hope and expectations of him had fallen to his younger brother, and Qasem was free to toil in the depths of Hanom'Riqash, unearthing dusty tomes long forgotten to time.

Razin was the second being he came to know in the world. Mother and father were deities in their own right to the vision of a four-year old child. It was Razin who had received the family gift, and more. Tormented by vivid nightmares and dreams at a young age, whispers of hope for the next shepherd surrounded him constantly. To Qasem he was a screaming baby - always seeking too much comfort. A blessing in disguise in the end - neglected and forgotten as Qasem was by the others around them. He could soothe Razin, be of use to his brother at least. The years that separated them might as well not have existed for the closeness achieved between the brothers as they grew.

The third notable relationship in Qasem's short life has been Siraj Asghar, his assigned master and Truthseeker of the Greyscale Chamarines. He recognized the value of Qasem's studies and peculiar, albeit weak, magic. Together, they traveled the Darhannic world over five years, deciphering truths within lies and unmasking deceptions for later judgment. Siraj taught him what books could not: the nature of humans, their flaws and graces. How the duality found in them all was something worth preserving - and preservation required absolute truth.

Shortly after his most recent return home, Qasem was called again. Alone, he would be sent to Ersand'Enise as a full Truthseeker in his own right. Officially, his business there was to investigate rumours of a Darhannic wild-blood associated in an assassination plot. Improbable, the people were to believe, that the Inipori council would send one so young and weak in the gift to deal with the claims had they any basis in truth.

M O T I V A T I O N

To serve the his order and the Inipor holy council as a truthseeker; bring falsehoods to light and record the truth. More personally and less officially, to return to his younger brother and to protect from the political vultures that circle him.

I N V E N T O R Y

On his Person:

Water-skin - one of the two vessels Qasem exclusively drinks from
Flask - filled with a strange-smelling mixture that somehow always feels slightly warm. If filled and emptied twice a day.
Spear - weapon of choice and one with which he has most training
Round shield - a small shield that can be attached to his fore arm or held depending on the situation

Collection:

Jewelry - A sizable assortment borrowed from his family's collection, though he rarely wares more than two pieces at a time.
Lab Equipment - A large chemical set up taking up a significant portion of his room including a distillery, titration equipment, separatory funnels, and more.
Traveling Chemical kit - A standing trunk that, despite it's name, weighs more that Qasem. Contains a vast collection of dried herbs, powders, and salves as well as a smaller and a mush less useful distilling set in the upper compartment.
Notes - Multiple books filled with copied passages from Qasem's readings so they can analyzed while away from his usual sources kept in Inipor.

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

❖ Studied
❖ Trained
❖ Respected
❖ Strong
❖ Sociable

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

❖ Obstinate
❖ Foreign
❖ Vain
❖ Low Magic Potential
❖ Empathy

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

Hex Code: DDA0DD

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

M A K E N N A C L O U T I E R - L E E D S
M A K E N N A C L O U T I E R - L E E D S

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

^{_{"Call it obsessive... I consider myself thorough."}}

▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ Makenna Rose Cloutier-Leeds _________________________________________________________ April 17th,2001 | 21 | American-Canadian _________________________________________________________ Engaged | Female | Straight _________________________________________________________ Lafayette | Louisiana | USA ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - P H Y S I C A L T R A I T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ B U I L D || Lean, moderately athletic ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Black/Brown ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Brown ◼ H E I G H T || 5'-6" ◼ W E I G H T || 137 lbs ◼ S K I N T O N E || Mixed - ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M O T I V A T I O N S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ All Makenna has ever wanted was to get out of her dying backwards hometown. Her goal remains the same, though her tenacity and certainty have been challenged with the discovery of her meta-human abilities. She worked and scraped her way out of Lafayette once before, and she wouldn't go back so long as she can help it. Not that there'd be anyone there willing to take her back anyways. G O A L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Re-establish the life she lost from her hype-gene. She'll do what she needs to get through PRCU, but once she's done enough to appease the courts and her mother, she's adamant to return to Yale and finish her started degree in business communications. Then she'd never have to hear from either side of her disappointing family again and could forget where she came from. Her more immediate goal is to re-solidify her relationship with her fiance, Carson Ashwater, which has been rather muddled since the wedding's initial postponement. - ▅ N O T E S ▅ N O T E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► She is a rather adept cellist, despite only picking it up in the past four years. ► Attends PRCU as part of her 'sentencing' due to the events of her hype-gene awakening. It was a fortunate opportunity offered only due to her mother's connections to H.E.L.P. and in turn, the school. ► Hex code; BC8F8F - _________________________________________________________

▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ It was only eight months ago that Makenna was on top of the world: Attending an Ivy League school on full scholarship, engaged to the love of her life, and free of her less than respectable roots. Until the night of her bachelorette party, planned specifically the same time as her 21st birthday. Her friends had taken her for a night out in New Haven, eventually landing in a karaoke bar. During a particularly passionate rendition of Whitney Huston, Makenna's meta-gene decided to make itself known. The result was a lawsuit from the bar, suspension of her scholarship, indefinite postponement of the wedding, and annexation from both her new friends and southern family. As each and every door she'd managed to pry open slammed shut, an opportunity came from the most unexpected of places. Makenna's mother, a woman she had no memory of on account of her running out before her daughter's second birthday. Jaida Leeds was a notable H.E.L.P.-affiliated Hyperhuman, and met Makenna's father while helping the state police in southern Louisiana track an especially dangerous hyperhuman during the early 2000's. The whirlwind romance and resulting child were not enough to keep a career-minded woman such as Jaida in a town like Lafayette. Makenna first balked at the idea of accepting and sort of aid from her estranged mother, but as the life she'd so carefully built for herself continued to crumble, she eventually packed her things and moved to enroll PRCU to make what she could of what was left. ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || V O C A L P R O J E C T I O N __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION ||ESOTERIC __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION ||EXPULSIVE Makenna has inhuman range, strength, and control of her voice. Her abilities allow her to create nearly any sound at any pitch or volume; ranging from those inaudible to humans, to voice mimicry, to intense sonic blasts strong enough to create a resulting kinetic force. L I M I T A T I O N S ||T B D For all her precision at normal vocal ranges, when using a powered 'sonic scream' as labeled in her student file she lacks any real control. On more than one occasion she has failed to produce the desired effect at all. Her mother and intake counselor quickly determined most of these shortcomings stem from Makenna's own nerves and reluctance to use her abilities at all. W E A K N E S S E S ||T B D The voice is Makenna's powerhouse, and easily limited. She has the potential to become completely nullified with a simple gag, or if her opponent has the forethought to wear a decent pair of earmuffs. Her own ears have no natural protection, so she always travels with multiple sets of earplugs to prevent damage. ▅ S K I L L S & T A L E N T S ▅ S K I L L S & T A L E N T S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ S K I L L || Affable Moving from her lowly beginnings in the rural south to the upper echelons of Ivy League society has taught Makenna a lot of things about people. Most importantly how to fake it until it becomes real. She can wear nearly as many faces as she can voices, and while she prefers to play the part of the charming, proper lady of pedigree she can slip back into natural vernacular and behavior of her old life if the situation calls for it. T A L E N T || Erudite Makenna would call it a result of will and determination rather than innate talent, but there's no arguing that from an early she had a Midas touch. In each activity she joined in; from toddlers ballet to student council president, she didn't only thrive, but excelled. There was no magic involved of course, just an ungodly amount of effort. Every ounce of spare time Makenna has is spent studying, training, working, strategically socializing, or prepping for any of the four. As remarkable as her fastidiousness is, it can also be frightening, and calls to question how long she can feasibly keep it up. ________________________________________________________________________________________

▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S}
▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S} ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

_{Y O U A W A K E I N T H E D E A D O F N I G H T, W H A T W O K E Y O U?}

Her phone, plugged in its appropriate place on a desk on the far side of her room. Makenna is up before the third note chimes. Another busy day ahead, and she doesn't have the time to dawdle. The morning routine that typically began for her at 5:30am was a well-enough practiced dance that the hour-early start made little difference. The night before she had portioned the ingredients for her smoothie, packed a gym bag, and picked her clothes. Her usually trip to the gym and workout routine had a notable extra pep in them. Makenna herself could hardly tell whether it was due to nerves or excitement. Carson was making the long-awaited journey across the entire continent to visit. The first one since Makenna's arrival. Everything would have to be perfect.

_{A D I S H E V E L E D S T R A N G E R A P P R O A C H E S Y O U A S K I N G F O R H E L P, H O W D O Y O U R E S P O N D?}

Makenna kept her head down and muttered something barely audible about not having change. Her pace didn't quicken, nor did it slow to heed the stranger either. Just to be sure, she checked her phone that not a minute of her precious schedule was set askew. For a time, she listened to ensure that no footsteps followed her own, but never fully turned to check. The interaction would be completely forgotten before the end of the day.

_{A N I N T R U D E R A L A R M H A S B E E N S E T O F F O N C A M P U S, H O W D O Y O U R E A C T?}

Makenna is one of the first on their feet, and encourages others to follow as she makes her way out the classroom door. At the choke points she coordinates and calms crowds into orderly lines to prevent congestion before it can properly begin.

"Lines, alphabetically, in your houses!" Her amplified voice booms over the rancorous students gathered outside the school. She looks for a professor or administrator to turn over to for instruction, but finding none continues to order the students until a sense of order is resorted.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Kenna

M A K E N N A C L O U T I E R - L E E D S
M A K E N N A C L O U T I E R - L E E D S

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^{_{"Call it obsessive... I consider myself thorough."}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ Makenna Rose Cloutier-Leeds _________________________________________________________ April 17th,2001 | 21 | American-Canadian _________________________________________________________ Engaged | Female | Straight _________________________________________________________ Lafayette | Louisiana | USA ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - P H Y S I C A L T R A I T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ B U I L D || Lean, moderately athletic ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Black/Brown ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Brown ◼ H E I G H T || 5'-6" ◼ W E I G H T || 137 lbs ◼ S K I N T O N E || Mixed - ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M O T I V A T I O N S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ All Makenna has ever wanted was to get out of her dying backwards hometown. Her goal remains the same, though her tenacity and certainty have been challenged with the discovery of her meta-human abilities. She worked and scraped her way out of Lafayette once before, and she wouldn't go back so long as she can help it. Not that there'd be anyone there willing to take her back anyways. G O A L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Re-establish the life she lost from her hype-gene. She'll do what she needs to get through PRCU, but once she's done enough to appease the courts and her mother, she's adamant to return to Yale and finish her started degree in business communications. Then she'd never have to hear from either side of her disappointing family again and could forget where she came from. Her more immediate goal is to re-solidify her relationship with her fiance, Carson Ashwater, which has been rather muddled since the wedding's initial postponement. - ▅ N O T E S ▅ N O T E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► She is a rather adept cellist, despite only picking it up in the past four years. ► Attends PRCU as part of her 'sentencing' due to the events of her hype-gene awakening. It was a fortunate opportunity offered only due to her mother's connections to H.E.L.P. and in turn, the school. ► Hex code; BC8F8F - _________________________________________________________

▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ It was only eight months ago that Makenna was on top of the world: Attending an Ivy League school on full scholarship, engaged to the love of her life, and free of her less than respectable roots. Until the night of her bachelorette party, planned specifically the same time as her 21st birthday. Her friends had taken her for a night out in New Haven, eventually landing in a karaoke bar. During a particularly passionate rendition of Whitney Huston, Makenna's meta-gene decided to make itself known. The result was a lawsuit from the bar, suspension of her scholarship, indefinite postponement of the wedding, and annexation from both her new friends and southern family. As each and every door she'd managed to pry open slammed shut, an opportunity came from the most unexpected of places. Makenna's mother, a woman she had no memory of on account of her running out before her daughter's second birthday. Jaida Leeds was a notable H.E.L.P.-affiliated Hyperhuman, and met Makenna's father while helping the state police in southern Louisiana track an especially dangerous hyperhuman during the early 2000's. The whirlwind romance and resulting child were not enough to keep a career-minded woman such as Jaida in a town like Lafayette. Makenna first balked at the idea of accepting and sort of aid from her estranged mother, but as the life she'd so carefully built for herself continued to crumble, she eventually packed her things and moved to enroll PRCU to make what she could of what was left. ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || V O C A L P R O J E C T I O N __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION ||ESOTERIC __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION ||EXPULSIVE Makenna has inhuman range, strength, and control of her voice. Her abilities allow her to create nearly any sound at any pitch or volume; ranging from those inaudible to humans, to voice mimicry, to intense sonic blasts strong enough to create a resulting kinetic force. L I M I T A T I O N S ||T B D For all her precision at normal vocal ranges, when using a powered 'sonic scream' as labeled in her student file she lacks any real control. On more than one occasion she has failed to produce the desired effect at all. Her mother and intake counselor quickly determined most of these shortcomings stem from Makenna's own nerves and reluctance to use her abilities at all. W E A K N E S S E S ||T B D The voice is Makenna's powerhouse, and easily limited. She has the potential to become completely nullified with a simple gag, or if her opponent has the forethought to wear a decent pair of earmuffs. Her own ears have no natural protection, so she always travels with multiple sets of earplugs to prevent damage. ▅ S K I L L S & T A L E N T S ▅ S K I L L S & T A L E N T S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ S K I L L || Affable Moving from her lowly beginnings in the rural south to the upper echelons of Ivy League society has taught Makenna a lot of things about people. Most importantly how to fake it until it becomes real. She can wear nearly as many faces as she can voices, and while she prefers to play the part of the charming, proper lady of pedigree she can slip back into natural vernacular and behavior of her old life if the situation calls for it. T A L E N T || Erudite Makenna would call it a result of will and determination rather than innate talent, but there's no arguing that from an early she had a Midas touch. In each activity she joined in; from toddlers ballet to student council president, she didn't only thrive, but excelled. There was no magic involved of course, just an ungodly amount of effort. Every ounce of spare time Makenna has is spent studying, training, working, strategically socializing, or prepping for any of the four. As remarkable as her fastidiousness is, it can also be frightening, and calls to question how long she can feasibly keep it up. ________________________________________________________________________________________

▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S}
▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S} ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

_{Y O U A W A K E I N T H E D E A D O F N I G H T, W H A T W O K E Y O U?}

Her phone, plugged in its appropriate place on a desk on the far side of her room. Makenna is up before the third note chimes. Another busy day ahead, and she doesn't have the time to dawdle. The morning routine that typically began for her at 5:30am was a well-enough practiced dance that the hour-early start made little difference. The night before she had portioned the ingredients for her smoothie, packed a gym bag, and picked her clothes. Her usually trip to the gym and workout routine had a notable extra pep in them. Makenna herself could hardly tell whether it was due to nerves or excitement. Carson was making the long-awaited journey across the entire continent to visit. The first one since Makenna's arrival. Everything would have to be perfect.

_{A D I S H E V E L E D S T R A N G E R A P P R O A C H E S Y O U A S K I N G F O R H E L P, H O W D O Y O U R E S P O N D?}

Makenna kept her head down and muttered something barely audible about not having change. Her pace didn't quicken, nor did it slow to heed the stranger either. Just to be sure, she checked her phone that not a minute of her precious schedule was set askew. For a time, she listened to ensure that no footsteps followed her own, but never fully turned to check. The interaction would be completely forgotten before the end of the day.

_{A N I N T R U D E R A L A R M H A S B E E N S E T O F F O N C A M P U S, H O W D O Y O U R E A C T?}

Makenna is one of the first on their feet, and encourages others to follow as she makes her way out the classroom door. At the choke points she coordinates and calms crowds into orderly lines to prevent congestion before it can properly begin.

"Lines, alphabetically, in your houses!" Her amplified voice booms over the rancorous students gathered outside the school. She looks for a professor or administrator to turn over to for instruction, but finding none continues to order the students until a sense of order is resorted.

The Hourglass Order

---

Trials and Tribulations IV

Lambs for Slaughter

Silas didn’t have to wait long after returning to The Castle for his roommate to join him.

“Desmond! What happened with-”

A voice that was quite distinctly not that which belonged to Desmond came from the Desmond-shaped figure. “Cadence and this one seem to think you’ll be useful.”

Silas scowled at the stranger, but sure enough Desmond did appear to confirm the first words. Brother Wolf, but very much not the same man he’d spoken with less than an hour before. A dirty trick he thought, made all the more suspect by the striking similarities between his roommate and the dread priest. Neither of the two acknowledged it, so Silas did the same- always careful to differentiate what was meant to be seen with what he could see.

The trio reunited with that tall student Trypano on their path towards the workman’s quarter. Already it appeared the fight they interrupted had already reached its climax; a handful of students he somewhat recognized bloodied and hurt searching for a vanished Brother Ash.

Silas’s senses prickled at the figure cloaked in arcane magic fleeing to the south.

“He’s gone that way!” He shouted, pointing and running in the opposite direction. A very small lie, for 500 magus.

Except, the others didn’t give chase as he’d expected. The female student with an unfamiliar accent attacked the space instead. It was so fast, he hadn’t even felt her draw, and barely had time to duck out of the way as darts of pointed scraps of wood, metal, and rock flung past him. The screams that followed stopped Silas in his tracks, ruse forgotten completely.

“What in the hell-?” He whirled to find the rest of the group, Zeno’s included turning to restrain the girl. It all meant little once Brother Wolf intervened.

He could sense the victims of the unannounced attack, distant as they were. She hadn’t killed anyone. Still, his heart beat hard in his chest for more reason that the eerie puppets Wolf had made of his colleagues and teachers. Silas took the hair and cloth the older boy offered him. Upon feeling only three hairs between his fingers he reached up to pluck out the two more requested by his employer. He took off before the older boy could do more than curse his name into the darkness. Let them have their secrets and lies, he’d have no part of it. The church was no different in the end; hoarding wealth power and knowledge.

Silas ran nearly halfway across the city before finally slowing enough to sort the hairs and cloth into vials. Neither his dorm or Zeno's quarters felt particularly safe, and he doubted he'd get much sleep even if he made it so far unfollowed. He settled to instead wait beside the merchant's dorms, pacing in the shadows while he waited for the tall pale woman to return to her rooms.

Trypano later returned towards the dormitories, heading back after successfully dealing with the issue at hand and even collecting a few good samples to study upon her return. If there was someone waiting for her she made no indication that she was aware.

Silas cursed under his breath and jogged to keep stride with the tall Revidian as she walked right past him. He cleared his throat loudly, in an effort to draw her attention.
"Miss- uh-" His face flushed as it became obvious he'd forgotten her name, if he'd ever learned it in the first place. "I wanted to give you something" He finished, hurring over the awkward misstep of an introduction.

”Ah, Silas.” She recalled the other member of this scattered team, remembering his name largely from the trials team listings. She stopped and waited for him to speak his piece, her expression unchanged from its resting cool.

"You wanted some of that priest's blood yeah? For some kind-of bloodchild magic?" From his oversized pockets he procured the vial containing a torn piece of bloody handkerchief. He hoped there was enough light for her to make out what it was.

She didn’t want to be presumptuous but this was definitely what she expected. ”Ah, yes indeed. Thank you.” She gently procured the sample, examining it through the glass carefully. He could see bits of the cloth disappearing along with it’s reddish-brown coloration as she drew from the blood that was soaked within. She left a small remainder of it, a couple drops worth approximately. Producing the vial she had on her she looked inside, focusing as she rebuilt the liquid she had just broken down, her fine Blood Child senses already keenly familiar with this variety of blood. With any luck this copied sample would be virtually identical to the original. With a spare vial she created a portion more and passed the glass back to Silas.
”As thanks you’re welcome to my share of the coin from this mission. I’ll be attending largely so my contribution is recognized and little else.”

Silas watched in semi-disturbed silence as the energy inside the vial broke down and into her arm. "It’s not the coin I wanted from you." He said hurriedly, gently tapping the second vial of blonde hair in his pocket. "I want to know what you learn from it. If you find a way to counter whatever..." He tried and failed to think of some accurate description of what he'd seen Brother Lamb's magics do. "Whatever he did to turn them all to puppets. I want to know. He sounds more sure than he is, and quickly reverts back to nervous fidgeting, reaching out with his senses for anyone who may have been listening in on the conversation.

Trypano nodded, a small pull at the corner of her mouth, a shadow of a smile. It was nice to see others take an interest in discovering more.

”I’ll learn what I can from his blood. What I suspect however is that it’s not tied to his blood but rather what he’s learned. I’ve only seen something like this once before. I only barely managed to break free of it with chemical magic but I suspect something else was at play.”

She turned and began to continue on her way before stopping, if just briefly so.

”If you want to find out more then keep your eyes, such as they are, on Ismette. She knows techniques that nobody else has ever heard of, or at least have kept well and truly secret if they have.”

"Ismette?" Silas muttered to himself, remembering the singing Yasoi that had nearly broken the door frame to give a gift on his birthday. An impossible contrast to the haunting magic of the dread priest. Silas shook his head and the thoughts away. Just another person to avoid. He'd gotten caught up enough as it was- well past time to cash out and try and forget everything he saw.
"Thank you." He said, giving Trypano a curt nod before turning away. It was incredibly late, and Silas' weariness was growing but he walked past the common dorms for one final stop at the docks.

The small rowboat was still there. Tied to the southmost dock and pulling in and out with the lowering tide. Silas took a deep breath before stepping on, hands balling to tight fists in his pockets as he did his best to ignore the wavering kinetic energy under his feet. "Got what you asked for." He said, addressing the hunched and shrouded figure waiting for him.

And nearby stood Trypano, also waiting for their elusive employer.

It was dark and the tides had brought in a thin fog to add to the atmosphere. A meaningless thing for Silas, of course, as he saw Sinn’s unique energy signature, but to Trypano it was unexpectedly difficult to get a read from him even with her good reading capabilities. The figure stood, shrouded in nothing but the darkness, and approached Silas. His hand reached out and remained idle until he was given the big he had initially given them. His gaze was dull and indifferent. This was just business as usual and it was about time it concluded.

The contents were inspected once the exchange was made, with the gloves taken by Desmond and the vials secured. He examined each one before sealing the container and bringing it into the bowels of the old rowboat. A good three minutes of nothing followed with Sinn’s signature suddenly vanishing even to Silas’ other-sight. But at the third minute mark, he appeared where he had disappeared and ascended back with the bounty in hand.

“Eight hundred.” he uttered with a voice fitting his cold demeanor. A wooden case was presented to Silas with the contents revealed before his very non-eyes. He was free to count them, “We will be in touch, young Silas.” he mentioned whilst giving Trypano a passing glance. For the first time in their brief encounters, he showed a hint of amusement when his attention was on the unusually tall woman. As if he knew something, and he was going to be seeing more of her.

Dramatic Flashback

Early afternoons in Madame Copin’s whorehouse were always the most relaxed time. The handful of children that were typically hidden away had free roam of the place prior to the arrival of patrons. But on one particular day Silas opted to remain in the kitchens with his mother and the other women as they sat down for their late breakfasts. It was an exceptionally important day after all; a gift was waiting for them at the end of the table’s long bench. His mother showed him the handful of curling letters she claimed represented her name.

The package was wrapped in thin fabric, a scrap piece too small for anything more than a washcloth, though his comment stating as much only earned laughter from those in earshot.

“You can’t wash with silk mi jiano” His mother said kindly before passing it to him. Sure enough, the material was unlike anything he’d felt before. Thin and impossibly soft, he found himself absorbed by the wrapping until a collection of gasps returned his attention to the gift itself.

His mother had pulled a cloak from the box, and a shower of dried flowers came out with it. It too was made of another material unfamiliar to Silas. Velvet, he would later learn; a useless material that only lasted so long as it stayed dry. A terrible choice for outerwear; but the deep blue colour and light fur on the trim had left the room speechless. Until they all began again at once, a flurry of reaching arms and shrill excited voices.

“Manifique”

“The cost! How much do you-”

“What else from a Baron?”

“Even softer than it looks-!”

Laura, an exceptionally tall blonde woman was the first to stand and swat away the hands of the others. “Enough you greedy monsters. Let Aleshta enjoy her gift before you tear it to bits.” She gently pulled the cloak away only the flourish it dramatically, loosing another half dozen petals before draping the garment over Aline’s shoulders. Even over her tattered bedclothes it was a sight; her pale skin radiated where it could be seen through the dark fabric, only a shade darker than her eyes. even Silas found himself staring agape at his mother. Until the overpowering smell made him sneeze. A few of those close to him chuckled, and casual conversation around the table resumed; even if the topic remained focused on the gift.

“This is how you charm a woman Silas; pretty and expensive things are a sure way to a woman’s heart.” Silas had been running his hands over the fabric covering his mother’s arms, the slight change in shade depending on the way her rubbed fascinated him. He looked up to see Willa speaking to him and gave a disgusted look. Already her cup was filled with cheap wine and she leaned in too close to the boy. Silas stiffened and stared at her blankly. Why one earth would he ever want more women in his life? Laura inserted herself on the bench between them.

“What need will he have for gifts?!” She laughed and ran fingers through the small boy’s hair “with his mother’s eyes, the women will lift their skirts for a smile and a wink.”

“What nonsense are you filling my boy's head with Laura? He’s too young for such things!” Silas’s mother draped the arm he’d been petting over his shoulder.

“He’s old enough!” Shouted someone else from across the table, but embarrassment had left Silas’ face burning and eyes planted firmly on the table. “How long can you expect to keep him in a place like this Aleshta?”

“He’ll be pretty enough to pull a few women in himself in a few years,” It was meant to be a joke, but Silas felt his mother stiffen as the others laughed.

“Women, men… Even this baron of yours-”

“Kess ti, Enough Willa!.” Though it was not directed at him, the scorn in his mother’s voice made Silas flinch. Both her arms wrapped around Silas and pulled him backwards into her lap. “Do not listen to them Minya. A good and honest heart is the only true gift that matters to a woman.” She said quietly, almost whispering in his ear. The comfort he normally expected was stifled by the nauseatingly strong perfume of dry flowers still clinging to her new garment.

Roses and Neskals Finals

“I think you have something of mine.” Silas said, startling Ahrora from behind.

“Silas! Fancy seeing you here.” For all her casual tone, Silas could sense her increased heart rate and darting glances. It made him smile for some reason he couldn’t make sense of.

“We’re competing, and you’re avoiding the subject.”

“Are we? I haven’t been watching the scores.” She lied in an airy tone.

“I don’t much like being robbed.”

Ahrora abruptly took a step forward until Silas could feel her breath on his face. The warmth of it made his own hitch. “I supposed I’ll have to repay you.”

His smile flinched for only a moment. “Still an hour ‘till the match starts. By my eye while I shop?”

It earned him an eyeroll, but Ahrora slipped her arm into his and pulled him further north. The moment he was able to recover from the sudden intimate touch, Silas resisted. “Not that way.”

“But these are the best stalls,”

“Souvenirs.” He scoffed, “They’re all just here to trap visitors for the trials. Not worth our time.”

Ahrora faced him with an exaggerated pout even he was able to glean. “But I need something to bring home, to show I came all this way in the first place.”

Silas scowled and shook his head. “Whats the point? You’ll come visit again.”

“Oh will I?” She spun around to look at him, her words mixed with laughter. It was impossible for Silas to keep the red warmth from creeping up his face at that.

“It’s all made from second-rate binders and will fall apart before you even leave the city.” He continued, returning back to the point at hand.

Eventually he managed to pull her away to the vendors further behind- those with smaller displays and wares easy to move, lest any city guards come in search of licenses or permits. But the effort proved fruitless; the pair struggled to find anything of value and were near about to give up and spent their coin at the food stalls, when Silas stopped and turned at the last of the vendors.

“What?” Asked Ahrora impatiently, they’d already deduced that the one he’d stopped at had nothing of value, but Silas only motioned her to stay silent, and indicated the alley behind the manned table.

There was a figure there beckoning them while fidgeting nervously, as though he’d been waiting for them. The old man was poorly dressed, and lacked matching shoes, but still promised a wondrous assortment of wares should they follow him down the desolate alley. They agreed, Ahrora taking lead on speaking and inquiring, playing the ignorant foreigner, while Silas used his particular sight to measure the authenticity and worth of the items produced from the man’s pockets.

Useless trinkets at first, and Silas quickly grows weary of the man wasting their time, even while Ahrora finds some amusement in a pair of spectacles.

“This be the glass of unseeing! One shall see wat cannot be seen with tis.” He handed over the item to Ahrora for her inspection as he turned to Silas. “Buyin’ good ser?”

"We'll buy the spectacles,” He concedes, placing the other useless item’s the man hand handed them back, “a good price too if you show us where the real goods are."

The man gave Silas a look. A rather confused look if any. Is truly one man's treasure and another man's trash? “Eh, yer bighter, sayin’ tis not good enough for yer?” He took the discarded items returned them into position upon his coat, stroking as he admired his precious ones. He took a look at the spectacles within their hands. “If yer too good for my wares, return those and be on yer way”. The man considered for a moment, as they were still interested in those, despite wanting to see the good stuff. “yer not foolin’ me, yer tryin’ to get those on the cheap”. He gave them a very wide smile. “One Magus!”

Silas scowled at the fraud, and turned on his heel. He gripped Ahrora's arm, gently tapping two fingers onto her palm in the process.

Before they could make it to the end of the alley Ahrora jerked free from him and stamped a foot in a dramatic display to capture both men's attention.

"But darling" She whined, "you promised me something pretty and rare." She reached for the spectacles and clumsily placed them over her eyepatch. "They're far to fetching on me to leave behind-"

As Ahrora continued her performance, Silas reached with his kinetic magic into the grifter's coat, attempting to free one of the bracelets that looked to be made of something more than mere cut glass, and land it into his own pocket.

Except he pulls too hard and fast and the man lets out a yelp, grabbing onto his coat tightly. “Now yer’ tryna mug me! Ought to call the guards on you!”

Silas scowled, and prepared to argue with the miscreant before being cut off by the bell warning for match start before he could open his mouth. Instead he sighed and offered the man the requested magus. “Enough, then take it and go.”

"Hah, found them in yer trash". He slicked his hair back before going off to spend his new found fortune.

Ahrora removed and handed the over-priced purchase to Silas as they left the alley “Useless junk,” she confirmed “can’t see a damned thing.”

“Won’t make a difference to me,” He replied and began slipping them on, “but what could be the point of them?”.

For a moment, it was as Ahrora said, a complete disappointment. But what else had he really expected?

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The scream is torn out ot him, as for the first time in years, Silas saw, and it was horror. Terrors beyond comprehension stared back in the unending abyss the lenses led too. Energy too, unending and infinite. With shaking hands, he reached to remove the spectacles, but they held fast. There was something. Something which was ought to be left unseen. For a moment he could hear himself still screaming, feel himself ripping at his face, and knew he was going mad.

“What… did you see?”

He was blind again, the energy of Ahrora standing over him, glasses in hand and no monsters to be found.

A Night Under the Stars

Ahrora was late for their meeting. Not that Silas was particularly aware of it; he was no expert in keeping time himself, and had spent the better part of the afternoon scrambling together the final pieces of their planned night together. It didn’t look much; a blanket spread over the field south of Millner's hook was a location chosen for privacy and view rather than to impress. That was left to the contents of the homely chipped pitchers and plates; some of the finest wine and cheese in Constansia, found during the day’s event.

When she did arrive, it was easy to notice her coming. Few were outside the city outskirts with them, but Silas remained facing away until she called to him.

"Help me carry this wont you?" She had a box in her arms, the weight of it awkwardly distributed and slipping as she walked over the uneven terrain. Silas was on his feet in a moment.

"I'll try not to peek," He joked, lifting the box as she groaned. There was no need to open to tell that inside was the prime shot she'd stolen from him, a book, and two small and warm bread rolls, made from soft white flour. "Thought this would be so boring you brought a book?" He bemoaned.

"Hardly. Took it as an excuse to get away." She followed him to the small picnic he'd made. "Bohrom kept nagging to go to see the Retanesse girls perform, had to pull some tricks to shake him." She sighed, lowering herself to the blanket. Silas handed her a mug and poured her wine from a clay pitcher.

"I'll try to make it worth your while," He grinned back.

They began by talking of the events of the day, their matches of Roses and Neskals. He told her the adventures he’d had, getting the wine, Margot and her new ship. Ahrora explained the events that lead her team to finals, followed by playful needling of him for eventually pushing them out of the game. “Damn smart getting those statues first,” She finished, shaking her head and taking a sip of wine. “Could’ve used the extra roses.”

Silas shrugged and followed her in sipping his drink. He was tired of talking of the trials, nearly of the games themselves. It all felt wrong, a disingenuous celebration while the world was crumbling everywhere else. “What will you do when you return home a champion?” He asked instead.

She turned to look at him, head tilted slightly in consideration. “Don’t think anyone from back home would know enough to care. Will be mighty impressed with the riches we’ll be bringing back though. When we win.” She finished the last sentence with a choke of laughter.

“When we win.” He repeated, sipping again to hide just how wide his grin had gotten. “What is your home like?”

Ahrora hesitated again. “Small, I’m realizing.” Silas could feel her stiffen. “I thought differently before. But looking at it from here I can see it; small, backwards, and insignificant.”

Silas nodded in understanding, silently reflecting on his own first time outside of Ersand’Enise. The girl’s mild distress wasn’t noticed in time before she moved close enough for their knees to touch.

“I do want to visit again,” She spoke so quietly, Silas found himself leaning closer to hear.

“You’ll be able to, they’ll open portals and we’ll be able to come and go as we please. Could even-” He was talking so excitedly it wasn’t until Ahrora’s mouth was at his lips that it dawned on Silas to stop. She pressed her body with hard enough force against his to push him backwards onto the blanket and uneven ground underneath. But her mouth was open and warm enough to make him forget the discomfort- and when he faced up to the sky, Silas swore he could see the stars.

Ahrora Babayeva

It wasn’t in Ahrora’s nature to apologize. Even in the rare occasions she might have felt it was owed, it was always easier to forget and move on. Forgiveness required too much dwelling. But there wasn’t really much chance for blowing past her most recent mistake she realized when approaching Silas’s window in the Castle. The young boy was there, circling the room with haste that only slowed to inspect the various piles of clutter scattered as small islands throughout. The large jacket usually covering his small frame was on the lower bunk, looking worse than usual. He’d torn the lining open. An unfamiliar sensation of guilt twisted deep in Ahrora’s stomach and the urge to flee and abandon any previously considered plans entirely.

Foolish of course, to think she could do so unnoticed around a powegazer. No sooner did she turn from it than the window creaked open. “Came all this way and not going to say hello?”

“You should take better care of your things.”

He took the letter silently, and Ahrora flinched at the action and her own words.

“I hadn’t- I didn’t mean..” She paused, hoping for some interruption. A sly smile or anything to bring back the casual levity that’d come so easily only a few hours before. Silas remained stubbornly impassive.

It was too much, in the end she became desperate enough to end the silence it all came spilling out at once; “I meant it to be a little game, thought it was a from an old sweetheart or maybe from that Kerrimand girl you met yesterday-” Her face flushed with brilliant heat at the confession, but the words kept coming. “Hells, I’m sorry Silas. I did stop once I realized it was your mother, I swear.”

“What did it say?” He finally spoke, very quietly. Ahrora blinked back, too stunned to reply instantly. “You haven’t…?” She managed to stop herself. How would he have read it? Slowly she withdrew her hand, still holding the letter, and opened it.

Silas

My prayers that this letter reaches you, a thousand more that you are well.

It pains to say, but stay away from home. Many have come looking, your friends; the Balzzagic boy and the over-fed young one. Moriff came and made stir enough to for me to send word of warning. Stay away.

Keep safe Silas, grow to be good. Do not worry for me, all is well here.

All my love, always,

You mother, Aleshta Rieger.

Her reading was slow and clumsy with the unfamiliar language but Silas remained patient and silent the entire time. It was short, and written and in a neat and clear hand; aside from the signature, which was barely legible and oversized. A paid scribe had written the note, how many other curious eyes had read it before hers? More questions itched, but she remained uncomfortably still on her self-made perch outside the window.

“You should come inside,” Silas offered a hand to bridge the gap between them. She took it, but he moved away from her the moment she stepped inside, pulling the letter back with him as he did so.

“We’ve changed plans for today.”

Ahrora flexed her hands, hoping his limited sight couldn’t see her eye flickering about the room, taking in the mess, bed, and various possessions. “What plans?”

“For the trail, if we match.”

“Right. Thin air. Forked tower.” Part of her knew it was wrong to let this pass- it hadn’t been a proper apology. But the slow return of a familiar grin to Silas’ face was more than enough to silence what little conscience she had. Ahrora moved to the bed, casually shifting the torn coat and taking it place on the mattress.

“Think we’ve come up with a way to get higher.” He replied, taking a seat next to her.

---

Net summary of mad gains

• Eight hundred Neskals
• Large cask of Bernieres Red
• Port-Bernières Blanc Royal ASZ44: HALF a 72-pound wheel (36lbs) of the world's rarest and most valuable cheese, aged for two centuries. Deliciously tangy and piquant, with a slight nutty flavour, instantly elevates any dish. Sells for Ỽ4/lb.
• two kegs of Whetmelon Wine, a Mycormish favourite and almost impossible to get outside of yasoi lands
• Two crates of Yasoi racing snails, one two of the 10 have decent worth/value, and the rest purely decorative or nutritional.
• VOID Goggles: when focused upon with temporal or dark energy, allow the user to peer into the VOID. Amount seen depends on skill level.
• One remaining prime shot

The Hourglass Order

---

Trials and Tribulations III

Street Hoghs

They were staring at a disadvantage. It annoyed Silas, sending him pacing while one by one the other pairs were allowed to begin. Ahrora was bothered too, even if she contained it better; her one eye darting wildly to measure the remaining competition. But when it flickered back to Silas, seeing his eyeless face staring back she stopped chewing her bottom lip long enough to give a smile. “Lucky we both know how to make the most of a bad hand.”

He only nodded in response, finding his throat too tight to comfortably speak.

The moment they were permitted to take off, the pair split. Silas ducked left, Ahrora right. They had considered their plan carefully, waking at dawn to run drills through Mudville’s filthy narrow streets until they’d gotten a sense of each other's pace. She was fascinated by his past back-alley escapades and truesight. Silas liked her accented Avincian and nimble grace, keeping stride with him easily, even over rooftops through the morning mists. Ahrora’s laughter and the hot bitter coffee had made his throat tighten then too.

He found the water token first. Resting in the center of a fountain, he’d noticed the magic signature emanating from it, similar to those used in the melon race. His hand slipped into the cool water, just as an eruption of heat energy tore through the sky in a column. There was no light or colour to it, just a heated burst of air to the sky. It was their agreed upon signal; Ahrora had found the first gate. He moved to her position and the system repeated again.

It was Ahrora that crossed the finish line. Just barely missing out on first place to a pale Vossoryian. Silas still cheered for her from the other side.

***

There was no way of actually speaking with the short citizens of the Hegelan city, but with enough gesturing and counting neskals Silas managed to ‘barter’ himself a pair of prime shots and a runed blanket of hard wool. It glowed in his not-sight with gentle arcane energy, and was warm to the touch as though heated by flame. It brought back memories of cold winters in Mudville, of carefully wrapping hot bricks in frozen sheets to try and bring warmth into the drafty attics. Of his mother.

When he returned to the finish line, Ahrora was still there, waiting for him a few feet from the portal meant to return them to Ersand’Enise. Her eye quickly surveyed the items in his arms and lighted pockets. “Enjoy your shopping trip?”

“We agreed beforehand- your team got the bonus points.”

She sighed and dismissed his defensive tone with a wave. “Forget it, I’m just bitter we didn’t get first. Really thought we had it for a bit there.”

Silas hesitated, then offered in a more conspiratorial tone; “Still got the better of that Eskandish noble though,” She responded by looking to his face with a wide grin. Marljin had thrown taunts and illusions at nearly each gate. Somehow they’d managed to keep pace with her, and careful communication allowed them to avoid the worst of her trapping mirages. The pair fell into an awkward silence as they watched the last of the teams pass through the end-line.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” Ahrora finally spoke up, casually gesturing to her eyepatch and Silas’s own face.

His head tilted at the suggestion, a smirk growing. “Don’t think I’ll be able to see anything much differently than I do now.”

She frowned at him, but her tone remained light: “C’mon, I’m curious. I’ll make it worth your while.” She held the last syllable, gently swishing a previously unnoticed vial of prime shot clasped behind her back. How she’d managed to snag it at the pace they’d been going was a mystery.

He shrugged “Not sure what you’re expecting. But I’ll hold you to it.”

The fabric caught in his hair as he pushed it over his forehead to reveal the deteriorated and shrunken remains of his eyes. Even as she leaned close, Silas struggled to read Ahrora’s expression. True to her word, she raised her eyepatch to reveal the empty socket he already knew lay behind it.

“Wanna touch it?” She whispered and he wrinkled his nose. His face was expressive when it wasn’t half hidden.

Ahrora only laughed at his disgust and moved closer still; until all she had to do was lean forward for her lips to press gently on his ear. Silas froze in surprise, which only coaxed out another breathy laugh as she planted a second warm kiss on his slightly agape mouth.

“Till next time” She said, pulling away too quickly, stepping backwards through the portal before Silas had regained enough composure to speak to her. Not that he’d have even known what to say. He yanked his blindfold down again, doing what he could to hide the red flush of his face before following her to rejoin his team on the other side. It wasn’t until much later, while doing a cursory sorting of his winnings that he noticed a missing prime shot from his collection.

I See You

"Come to collect tithe if I have?" Silas replied with a question- but not expecting the stranger to answer. The uneasiness and surprise of being found before even noticing the priest remained well-concealed behind a coy smile that betrayed only the insincerity of his words, despite their tone. It wasn't as though he'd yet done anything worthy of accusation anyways. "I seek only the blessings of Reshta and Eshiran for the upcoming trial."

"Oh, is that all?" the Dread Priest replied, leaning forward in his seat and clasping his hands. "Silly me. Here I was thinking you were here for something much more clandestine." He shook his head easily enough and remained smiling, but there was something in his eye: something that Silas would not have been able to notice, of course. A glimmer, perhaps, of a cat. Was the powergazer a mouse?

"You wound me sir." Silas clasped a fist against his chest in gesture of exaggerated offense, while the other remained buried in its pocket. "Are the poor and deformed souls not also permitted to seek the pentad's mercy on a restless night?"

The blond-haired priest smiled indulgently, sitting in repose now, his expression beatific as it so often was. "And what mercy is it that you seek, brother?"

"Fortune for tomorrow and a good night's rest." The lies slid out easily, though Silas's impatience and discomfort with the conversation began to make itself known through his left toe; silently tapping on the floor. He had little desire to withstand a full interrogation of a dread priest.

"That is all, then?" the priest asked. "I shall ensure that it is yours." He rose, eyes darting to Silas' shoe for the barest of moments, and held out his hand. " he smiled. "Will you accept my blessings?"

Silas hesitated in silence, letting the priest's offer hang unanswered too long. He held no trust in the esteemed brother or desire to make physical contact with him. Unfortunately he had successfully lied himself into a corner and scrambled to find reasonable objection. "A fair and impartial blessing?" his smile tightened as he tilted his head in speculation, "Your team will be competing tomorrow too after all."

"You will receive the customary blessing of my order," the dread Priest confirmed, "on my honour." His smile was friendly enough, but there were - perhaps - just a few too many teeth. "I will admit that it is not often one asks for the blessing of a Dread Priest"

"Didn't ask." Silas reminded him flatly, returning his exposed hand to a pocket, all the more assured he did not want whatever this unnerving boy was offering. "Not for your blessing anyways- If Reshta seeks to favour me it will be because my own words and devotions."

"Oh, well then,” the priest replied, "I suppose I shall be going." He rose and smiled, all lips and no teeth. "If Reshta truly decides to favour you, I suppose you will bear close watching." He never breaks character, but his eyes narrow for just a moment. He turned to walk away.

"I always appreciate an extra pair of eyes." Silas replied, his usual flippant grin returning as the priest turned to leave, taking his body full of blood and head of hair with him, untouched.

For all his comfortable facade, Silas found himself rather shaken on the walk back to his room. He'd felt much more the dread priest's mark than the other way around . The cautious and reasonable part of him knew it best to back out now, before any reckless action could be taken. But that piece had always been rather small, and easily ignored. Spending so long scouting the cathedral had been a mistake, but he decided to return again. In the morning, along with the early worshipers as to better avoid any further chance of running into Brother Lamb or his comrades.

***

The Dread Priest continued to track the boy's location for some time after he had left. The walk back to the cathedral wasn't long and the robed figure slipped in, after some time, through a side door into the sacristy.

Letting the glamour fall away, Brother Lamb turned into Sister Cadence. She headed back into the Bishop's apartments, for he had been kind enough to give her and the rest of her team free run of all but the private areas. If that boy was snooping, it occurred to her, there were likely others and they were almost certainly after the church's secrets, discontent to simply leave some things to the Pentad and their servants.

She went to speak with Lumen, Flint, and the shadow sister first, preparing to make haste to her teammate's position immediately afterward. There was a threat here: possibly a dire one.