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Fantasy The Great Games of Nye


The shrimp saluted Goliath before diving from his shoulder, skittering away until it reached the centurion. "Righto!" Bean looked back and winked, "Best of luck minions, try not to die yeah?"

"No," Adrian said, gazing at streets of metal shacks and tents. The smell of death hit his nose and he could easily tell, even from a distance, that this was hell on earth. "I've always wanted to die somewhere beautiful, idealic, surrounded by organ farmers at the end."

"Bravo!" Bean said as he skipped away. "You really are a poet!"

Adrian marched on without heeding the little man, this was no time for word games with a shrimp. He knew to be careful in slums like this one — poverty drove men to the depths of human depravity, and the ones here had nothing at all. He watched them like a hawk as he entered the outskirts of town, each a threat he glared at in quick succession. He could see violence and exhaustion in their old eyes, beaten down by the place they called home. Trapped in narrow alleys and towers of stacked apartments, little shacks built on each other without rhyme or reason. Like a tower of blocks assembled by little kids.

"Pretty, and enough tenetus for the whole fam—

He ducked as a bottle flew over his head. His eyes snapped to an apartment as he gripped his swords.

"Fucking kingsmen," said a man in the doorway. He tossed another bottle before stumbling on the street. "We've taken enough of your shit!"

Adrian swung his sword to smack the bottle from the air, breaking it in a shower of green shards. "And I'll take your tongue if you don't shut up."

The man stepped back and tripped on his own shoes, planting his ass on the muddy ground. "So you're a killer! A murderer! You'll die for your sins boy! Nobody will hear your screams!"

"Keep talking," Adrian droned. "I'll make sure everyone hears yours."

The man scrambled back until he reached the doorway, stammering as his face went pale. "Le-Leave me!" he cried out. "Leave me be demon!"

"My pleasure." Adrian sheathed his swords and strolled down the street, shoes plopping in the mud. Trash crunched underfoot and whores leaned towards him as he passed by, cooing for his attention. But he paid them no mind. "This place is foul, rancid — something in the air I don't like."

He noticed a drawing on three different buildings, a circle with hexagons in the middle. There was a star in the center of each one. He could hear screams echoing from across the slums. The mad beggars rambling in dark shadows, faces obscured by tattered cloaks. He felt eyes burning on his back. The sixth sense of being watched by another. "The faster we get out the better, these people are unhinged, spent too long underground."

"Only a matter of time before we're targeted."

Goliath Goliath Arcanist Arcanist
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Narzas couldn’t restrain her laughter anymore after seeing Ren’s reaction to their combined teasing. The poor kid… she snickered softly as he sputtered, then just shook her head to herself as they passed through the darkened corridor. “We were just joking, relax. No one suspects you.” She said reassuringly. “I don’t particularly suspect anyone we have with us. Anya and Ava certainly don’t seem like the backstabbing type, and you’re just going to have to trust me that neither I nor Johan are either.” Her eyes darted around, noting the broken glass, but she ultimately just shrugged to Johan’s questions as she pushed open the doors so they could all move on.


As the trio pushed through the doors, they found themselves in a large laboratory with multiple doors leading out further into the building. Multiple tables with broken instruments were set about the place in a neat and orderly fashion so as to keep science reasonably separated from people just trying to reach the bathroom or the lunch area. Near the back of the room, they saw their first signs of life outside of their guide; a single haggard looking man, face flushed and shaking, looked up meekly at a tall woman with rigidly defined Shirley-temple-esque blond curls that framed her otherwise round face. Though they couldn’t tell her expression nor the color of her eyes from their position at her back, they could see she wore a very eye-catching black and white dress with checkerboard motifs that seemed designed to ensnare and entrap the onlooker and confuse the brain. Her nails, one hand balancing daintily atop the desk the man cowered behind, the other pointed rather aggressively in the man’s pleading face; were perfectly manicured in the shapes of tear drops, the tips ending in sharp points that could probably tear out a person’s eyes if she desired.

“Ah am quite sick and tahred of hearin’ your excuses~” Her voice was a melodic purr of pleasant chords that were at odds with the clear threat she was offering her opponent. “Get me what Ah came for now, or suffer mah wrath…'' Towards the end of her sentence, she seemed to realize her and her prey were no longer alone. She turned with all the grace of a prowling tigress, clearly prepared to also give the newcomers to the room a thorough tongue-lashing; but when her golden eyes focused on Johan her accusatory finger lowered and seemed to disappear altogether as she threw out her arms, wide and welcoming to the man in the lead. A bright, brilliant smile that seemed too sugary to believe gracing her fine features as she energetically greeted him.

“As ah live ‘n breathe… Johan Koch? ‘S that really you?” She pronounced his name unusually, the drawl of her pleasure stretching out the vowels and giving extra enunciation to the consonants. She even seemed to deliberately mispronounce his surname, giving a hard ‘k’ rather than the ‘ch’ that belonged there and then drawing her tongue along her bottom lip as though she knew exactly how what she’d said had sounded and wasn’t the least bit apologetic. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes~. C’mere ‘n lemme get a good look at’cha.” She beckoned with a twitch of the tips of her fingers, her tone the croon of a woman summoning a favorite pet. “Here Ah was thinkin’ this job was gonna be such a drag… but if’n they sent you maybe it ain’t all bad.”
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Narzas’s shoulders tensed as the strange woman turned to face them, ready for a fight if it came to that - though she’d do her best to protect both Johan and Ren since the poor kid seemed too innocent to be properly braced for such a thing. Then the words that came out of her mouth focused her attention. This woman… knew Johan. It wasn’t like before when the two of them had been fighting the trio of centurions and Lucia had made that stupid attempt at distracting her. A distraction that had worked because emotions were hard and the old bitch had clearly known she was playing with something very new or at least been banking on triggering her insecurities.

This new stranger, though, spoke as though she and Johan were intimately acquainted. It made her back itch. She stepped in front of Johan defensively, eyes narrowed. “And who the hell are you?”


The blond woman’s golden eyes flicked toward Narzas’s defensive form. After a moment or so of consideration, a single sculpted eyebrow rose and then she turned her gaze back to Johan’s - amusement written on her features as one hand perched on a hip and the other tapped her chin a moment before lifting into the air. “My stars... did they give ya a security detail?!” She clicked her tongue dismissively. “Looks like they plum picked ‘em out the bottom of the barrel.” She laughed. “Call off yer mangy guard dog will ya? Ah prefer not ta get mah new dress dirty and it seems like that’n hasn’t been house trained yet.” She sniffed. “It’d be a shame ta start a fight over somethin’ as trivial as takin’ out the trash… but yer boss don’t usually send people ta do stuff he don’t find useful.” She sighed as if it personally offended her that her hands were tied on this front due to her own desire to stay in the good graces of the powerful. Her eyes then briefly flicked to Ren and her smile returned, curling her lips in an impish manner. "Oh, and ya brought a snack too. That was thoughtful."


Narzas stood there, gaping stupidly at her adversary. She’d clearly been utterly dismissed as some kind of useless accessory. Adding to that, the woman was referring to her like she was some kind of pet or possession meant to be tamed or set aside if it was displeasing. Like she could just… knock Narzas off a table and shatter her on a whim as if she were a bit of pottery. Thankfully, anger was an emotion she’d long since mastered. Anger - especially blind rage, was something one only gave into if they wanted to die in the most pointless way possible. She’d learned that lesson quite thoroughly watching others who thought they could buck the trend prove the point over the years of her training. Instead of getting into a war of words or even making an attempt to step onto the battlefield; she simply returned to her place behind Johan as it was clear was desired and turned her eyes toward the floor that looked like it needed a thorough cleaning. Later perhaps she would release the tempered fury in constructive ways… like finding the nearest punching bag to beat the shit out of. Or, failing that; something else that she couldn’t clearly imagine at this particular moment.

Jet Jet ZackStop ZackStop

Ava Marco
interaction: Jet Jet Lost Echo Lost Echo
the crowd of people came as a surprise too Ava's hands held firmly on Anya's shoulders and they rushed past screaming and gibbering, Ava watching on with a stern expression having to push people away from her as even her monstrous build didn't stop the desperate people from trying to get past and into the build. she'd nodded at what Anya had said it pretty much covered it, even if the old man was strange. just their luck he was acting as cryptically as he could talking in riddles. then he started acting all freaky... with long shadows and everything.. this guy definitely wasn't a random vagrant was he, Ava quirked an eyebrow. "ok then, tho i suspect we need to know the right question so, eeeh ill go with the simple one, what do you know about the what happened in the reason motive anything at all?" she'd ask spitballing it hoping that was the right answer too this wackjobs riddle..


"I will defer to your judgements." Kwame pressed his hand against his armor, digging his fingers into the metal. It bent like melting butter at his touch. "Stealth has never been my forte, but a novelty for those in my position."

"Thus, I will disguise myself and follow your lead during our deployment, and if the time comes for force, if we are uncovered and attacked by usurpers, then I will protect you with my life." His armor flowed like water from his body, coursing over his shoulders and around his wide chest, a river ending in the palm of his hand. It swirled like a vortex and formed a sphere of shiny metal, hovering beside him at the hip.

"I can reconfigure my armor at a moments notice, if the need arises." He straightened out his undergarments, a black gambison with silver buckles and buttons, black trousers and a pair of boots. There was a pendent around his neck, gold glimmered in the light.

"We will find the men responsible for this madness, I'm sure of it." He approached the wide open window. The wind whipped his face and it carried the smell of war; of smoke rising from the streets like black towers. The screams of the ravenous mob who'd killed hundreds by now. The noxious ash swirling in the breeze.

Kwame reached his hand out the window; a swirl of dust surrounded it like a tornado in the desert, and then it converged on a single point below his palm. It spread from there as Kwame added more and more, building a platform from dirt in the air. "No jumping nor catching will be needed Gailene, I've suffered tendinitis of late."

"We shall use this to descend." He stepped on his platform. "If anyone has reservations, there will not be another chance to preserve yourself; speak now and you may return to Nye. Free of any judgement or scorn."

He waited until they were standing around him on the platform, each a soul he needed to protect. He could feel lingering doubts in their minds. The suspicions of those lacking faith.

"I cannot blame you for doubting me," he said to Evaline, Zulan and Charlie. "I am one man in an ocean of violence, a drop in waves of blood, but I will not fail you." They floated to a street shrouded in darkness, cut between old, tattered tenements.

When they touched down, the smell of trash burned their noses. The squeaking of rats reached their ears, a song befitting the quaint island. "In all my years of service," he said. "Only two centurions stand above me."

"So do not harbor doubts," he said before facing Zulan. "Nor will I succumb to lesser emotions like a beast." He stood in place and waited for the guide to make a move, he wasn't going to lead them when he knew nothing.

"This blacksmith you speak of, he will be risking everything to help us. It takes quite a man to do that." His brow raised with curiosity. "What kind of man is he? What would drive him to take such a risk?"

Lost Echo Lost Echo Fred Colon Fred Colon ManofManyRoles ManofManyRoles rozukitsune rozukitsune EldridSmith EldridSmith
Emphoa Emphoa

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Faraji Aguta
Mentions: Goliath Goliath Jet Jet

Faraji couldn’t help but laugh at Adrian’s insistence of his title, “Ah, a pure poet indeed! I look forward to your next masterpiece.” Flattery went far, but a smile suggested the interest in a bestiary by Adrian.

Faraji hummed at Goliath’s guess at where his piercing – one of many piercings – was located. “Correct,” he confirmed with a smirk, “rather astute of you to guess there.” It was random, of course, but he loved a tease.

Finally, after trapsing down the tunnel, they reached the door, though, it proved more difficult to open than expected. Well, not entirely, given the infrequent use of this tunnel, it seemed. He approached to give his aid, and as Vixie suggested using ice to loosen the ‘syphiloid’s pecker’ – Adrian had competition as a wordsmith – Faraji found he would not even have to utilise it. He did not expect the sudden shift of the door, and fell forward, though, caught himself with his hands, the sheer force and pain like a shockwave up his arms.

Faraji scowled, quick to recover and dust himself off. There was nothing worse than being made a fool of, and he made to advance to move on from the stumble. He stopped at the sight of the fabled Undercity.

It did not feel possible. It shouldn’t have been, and yet, here was a cavern containing its own world, right under Nye’s nose. He shook himself out of his impressed stare and followed down the staircase, already dizzy from the zig-zagging on his way down. He managed to keep himself upright once he reached the bottom at least.

And now, as one of Bean’s minion, the real work began. How far the mighty had fallen! He directed Nihal and Vixie to follow him, and for him to stick with Adrian and Goliath. He nodded, quite satisfied with his decision. At least he had two fighters to make up for his woeful combat skills, and certainly easy on the eyes too. It made for a nice distraction from the dark streets. Faraji braced himself for one of Adrian’s monsters to slip out from an alley, but he understood they had to be preferable to whatever lurked here.

He followed Adrian and Goliath, arms tight to his side and eyes flickering to every shadow around them. Faraji attempted calmness in his figure as he walked, but even the sight and the horrid smell of depravity that lingered around him threatened to make him jittery. He caught several of the glares aimed towards them, colourful peacocks parading through the grey, and murmured, “A welcoming bunch.” He could not blame them. They were products of their environment and the squalor they were subjected to. Not an uncommon sight, but worse than what Faraji had witnessed before.

There was a reason they were buried so deep under Nye.

Faraji caught the whoosh of a bottle and stopped as it a few metres away from his feet. “What the fuck?!” Not even a minute walking down the street and already being assaulted for walking around! His eyes moved to the source of where the bottle was thrown, a man ranting and raving about kingsmen.


Faraji’s mouth twisted, and he wanted to protest the very claim – it was not them that put them here after all! – but thought better after another bottle was thrown. Faraji instinctively brought his arms up in defence. He heard a shattering and tinkling of glass but felt no impact. When he brought his arms down, he noticed Adrian’s swords out, giving the man a taste of his own threats should he not leave them be.

Faraji awkwardly cleared his throat, hastily following behind Adrian, trying to avoid the trash and gods knew what else underfoot. “Well, I can’t say I would recommend this place as a tourist attraction,” he frowned, “how have things been allowed to get so bad on this side of the city?” It was a silly question, in hindsight. He knew how subjugation could keep people in their place.

As they passed through more of the slums, Faraji caught a recurring the symbol of a few buildings. The first time, it unsettled him, and he fought the urge to stare at it for too long, but when he saw it repeating on a second building, then a third, he could not resist it. Each one was painted in a brackish, dark red ink, something rather close to blood, to his muted horror. Each pattern was a circle with three hexagons tilted at different angles, their lines crossing over each other, and smaller symbols and letters filling in the spaces between the lines.

He noticed the repeating pattern of them, each facing the other in the most perfect position, as if mirrored. The buildings owning such symbols seemed desolate and empty, strings of cobweb forming around the windows.

Faraji swallowed back, his neck moist with sweat. He could not tell exactly what these symbols were, what their context was. In his time, symbols were not wholly unusual to him – plenty of religions as one example used them in a variety of ways to celebrate their beliefs. Whatever these symbols were, he did not recognise them, nor if they came from any kind of religion he knew.

“I agree,” Faraji mumbled, his eyes moving among the said unhinged lurking around them. “We’re meant to fraternise with these locals. How in the hell are we meant to manage something like that?” He kept his voice low, growing ever more paranoid with that drawing burned into his memory, his vision, as if it had been marked upon his very eyes.
Alright. They obviously weren’t going to find out what he was doing. Anya tried to figure it out: was it light magic? That was the only thing she knew could make illusions like this, but to stop time? He must be centurion level to manage that. Or mythical. She knew this entire thing was an act. From his smoke to his banjo. But she also knew she was falling for it.

She had to. As he spoke of a stray cat, it fit too perfectly for Hannah. She had to ask. Even as she wondered, how they knew she was searching. Had they overheard her speak to Mark and Ava? It was the only time she’d spoken aloud since Peirama. What were they doing that would make them keep Hannah alive if they knew someone was following them? Then again, what threat was she? She had learned nothing. And only had this chance due to some outside player’s decision. She was just moving through like a pawn. She knew nothing.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ava got there first. She raised her head to look at the larger girl, frowning as she feared her chance was wasted. Yes, the murders inside were important, but this might be her chance! “Alright, but my question is: how do I fi-save her?” She was quick to change to the right verb, knowing the difference could hurt greatly.
Esther was quick to reach the side of the boat, her curiosity as strong as Tessia’s, if driven from a different place. “Amazing,” she murmured. “It appears almost serpentine. As the destruction cleaves a path through it.” She pulled out a small journal, and began to take notes quickly. “How quickly do these trees grow to counteract the destruction such a creature enacts? What is it doing? Hunting? Merely migrating? What does it eat to maintain that size and energy output?

At Tessia’s declaration to kill the creature, she rolled her eyes, “I’d be interested in the specimen if you do.” Imagine taking such a specimen to be studied. It would be years, if not decades worth of research if they managed to preserve it correctly. It was likely this was the only one in the area: for surely the ecosystem could not sustain multiples of that size. Still, she doubted she could dissuade the centurion from trying to kill it, so they might as well keep it.

The scientist frowned at the lookout’s concern, but agreed with the captain, “How high up are we, five thousand feet?” She leaned over the railing to estimate. “Terrestrial snakes can lift up to a third or even half of their body off the ground. I’d estimate that one to be 30 meters at least. Big, not that that big.” Assuming still that it was serpentine. It appeared to be one unit, but without visuals, it could be multiple creatures working together. Esther simply did not know.

It was a challenge to not simply jump ship to investigate. She glanced at the centurion, wondering if she felt the same way. She had done so before. Once, under vastly different circumstances. That fall into the night was the best escape from pirates she’d had. With broken wings they had assumed she’d die, but wind was versatile. She knew how her wings worked the air around her, and could imitate that. Still, if she’d thought that fall into the jungles of Africa had been remote--taking her weeks to find a tribe at all let alone civilization, this would be a different story.

Suddenly the boy was screaming: the fear in his voice making the words seem true. Immediately stuffing her notebook away, Esther summoned her familiar as the serpent the serpent?! broke through the center of the ship. Arms up covering her face, she was thrown backward, merging as she flew. The instant Dart was inside of her, she began to move, dodging the larger pieces of the ship that flew by. She was no smaller than before, but she was nimble, knowing to ignore the small splinters in favor of avoiding the larger ones.

An instinctive part of her began to catalog the serpent’s features. It’s width was about 3, 3.5 m; it’s height--though that term was relative--was around 5. She noted the head, with its dripping fangs, and more importantly how it did not kill with it, instead eating the screaming crew whole. As a part of her wondered what it’s normal prey is, she was horrified to see it slither out from the hole of the ship, flying. Magic had never been seen in creatures before. This was an amazing discovery!

The rest of her was terrified. She wanted to just flee. Abandon ship, and fly away. She didn’t know what was in the forest below though. And logically she knew it would be better to face the threat with numbers. But she didn’t know what to do! Who to save? The crew was being thrown about like rag dolls, the force of which would pummel her if she attempted to grab one.

Searching for her ‘team’ she went over them. The drunk was underdeck, he was likely doomed. The musician had wind so was likely safe, and the centurion could likely take care of herself. That left the knight, her boy and the redhead. She couldn’t resist the smirk at seeing the redhead’s fiery tactic. Anything she did to help there would be a problem, so she turned her focus on the knight. Swooping down to catch her, she held her close. Seeing the curious boy still falling she frowned. What could she do? Maybe…she held one hand toward him and began to imagine suction. She’d always wanted her next tier of power--if she’d ever gotten there--to be weather, but needs must. It was possible it wouldn’t work anyway.
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"Honestly Ren," He said, entering the room as glass crunched underfoot. "That's a better theory than my first impression; I went straight to ghost—

He stopped in his tracks when a voice hit his ears, sharp nails on a board was the only good description. He cringed at the sound and slowly turned his head, inch by inch until he saw that woman... that thing... that alien wearing a skinsuit. He wasn't sure how to describe her in plain terms, only that she was demented and plain evil. "First off, drop the pleasantries."

"Mind explaining yourself... explaining this!" He pointed at the hallway as light crackled in his palm. His adrenaline pumped and was potent in his veins, sharp like the dagger in his hand. His vision narrowed on the edges and his heart slammed in his chest. He was more than ready for a fight to the death. "Was this you? Did you kill all these people? I always knew you were dangerous but this—

He scoffed in disbelief. "You better have a good reason for being here." He exchanged a quick glance with the others. His eyes screamed she's dangerous even if his mouth was wired shut, tense as he tried to piece things together. He didn't understand why she was here, why she was involved after vanishing for so many years? Why she was acting like this was normal? None of it made any sense. He couldn't even theorize as he stood there like a statue, waiting for the room to become a battlefield.

rozukitsune rozukitsune ZackStop ZackStop

"Who can say what happened?" He smiled at the mountainous woman. "Ain't messing with another man's game, but you'll meet him in good time, can ask why his pieces move in such... artistic ways."

His smile grew as he faced the younger woman. "Nowwww, you're asking the right question." He strummed his banjo and tilted up his hat. His eyes were sown shut with rusty old wire, but he didn't seem to care. "You're not chasing any old rabbit — is carrying a special somethin' for someone — way down below."

His mouth curled into a mischievous smile, like he remembered a funny joke. There was a flash of light below his eyelids. The buzz of magic thrummed in the air. "You can save your precious one, but can ya protect her when the world comes knockin?"

"Will you make a wager for her?" He stood and the world tilted on its axis, like they were standing sideways on a ramp. The sun darkened and clouds covered the sky, releasing a torrent of black rain. "Will you stake your life on the bet?" His voice was muffled but powerful, like a stereo in another room. He leaned over the women and his eyes struggled to open. The wires stretched and threatened to snap. "Or will you turn away at the crossroads?"

"Larivye anpeche ou janbe, men li pa, anpeche ou tounen." He snickered as the world slowly returned to normal, aside from the frozen crowd still in place. "I can see the truth behind your eyes, hidden in the back of your mind, so deep you don't know is there."

"So I cast a wager of my own." He rolled bone dice with carvings on each face; the heads of monsters from another realm. They rolled on the ground and stopped beside Anya, each landing on one.

"Snake eyes," he said with a smile. "They carry a little touch — of destiny."

"Telling me to answer ya true, and guide your steps to the end." He snapped and light burst from his fingers, a harmless shockwave of energy. It vanished in the air and nothing changed around them, but powerful magic was at work. "Follow the yellow bricks and you'll find your precious rabbit, I'll be watchin ya close."

Lost Echo Lost Echo
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Renn shivered quietly in her skin as people promised safety and protection from all the frothing Renn 3.png
raging hatred beyond. When the guide started talking about disguises and such, she simply nodded in the background, though she found it amusing the woman not only recognized her but also immediately assumed she was not who she appeared to be. She didn't think the mob would care one way or the other, but it gave her the smallest sliver of hope she might actually make it out of this alive - whatever Kwame's promises.

The concept of trying to blend in had evaded her as a possibility until now. She didn't have Zulan's ability to turn into a homeless beggar or Kwame's ability to just make his armor disappear. She was what she was. That said a nice dark colored cloak might do her some good and maybe a haircut.

Looking around at everyone getting ready to leave, she realized there was no way she had time for a trip to a salon. She imagined the alternatives to what could happen to her hair without one and groaned unhappily, but as Kwame entreated them onto his floating platform she set her nerve and let go of her disgust. Hair could always grow back... and if she lived she'd be an even bigger celebrity than before. Now was not the time to be petty about her appearance especially since her life was on the line. She made a tiny flame in one hand and pulled a fist full of her curly hair forward in the other. "Sorry." She murmured aloud to herself as she began to carefully burn off the excess length while preparing to join the others on the platform.

Fred Colon Fred Colon ManofManyRoles ManofManyRoles Emphoa Emphoa Jet Jet


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Rat couldn't help but laugh when Mischa was so unbelieving in the fact that he had never drank before and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I never really had the chance to before- besides my studies and building and tinkering with my magitech." He puffed out, his eyes twinkling a little bit as he placed his hands on his hips. "Sides, I'm not even sure if I'm technically legal to be drinking." He snorted again at the thought of it, scratching his cheek as he glanced between Leon and Mischa and he brightened up a little bit again, cocking his head to the side for a moment while he searched their expressions and he couldn't help but laugh a little bit.

The engineer was quiet for a moment while they were speaking, a smile plastered onto his expression as he rubbed the back of his neck. And even brightened up when Leon was complimenting Remy and Remy even looked to be a bit bashful from the comments. Rat laughed out, reaching and scratching Remy behind the ears with a little smile on his own expression. "They're pretty cute- Remy says thank you." He puffed out, before his eyes flitted back towards Mischa. Then to Bracken as he agreed to coming along and his grin only grew. "Now this is a good way to bond with one another." He laughed out a little bit at the thought.

He was surprised when Leon offered to Ilana, but he wasn't surprised that she didn't seem keen on the idea and he shrugged it off- patting Leon's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, I don't think she wants to socialize." He admitted, his eyebrows furrowed at the thought before he looked back up ahead and he puffed out. "Shots huh? Yeesh." Before she plopped down two for him and he laughed a little again, rolling his eyes. "Oh so you're picking on me now?" He teased, giving her a playful nudge before he relented to his fate.

"I heard this stuff tastes like shit." He stated, clicking his tongue as he picked up a glass. "Guess that's why people do shots, huh Remy?" He chirped out, and he looked to his little companion who huffed out at him in response.

Jet Jet Goliath Goliath Fred Colon Fred Colon ZackStop ZackStop
1692154998614.pngBaryn’s comment about her hairpin had Euclaire wondering for a moment. By the sound of his tone, it seemed he had some history with people from Zuanshi. Not that she didn’t understand the distaste but as it had nothing to do with her, she didn’t bother to dwell on it. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands.” She cheerfully joked around, waving her fingers playfully.

Her little finger show ceased at the call from the lookout. Euclaire joined the others in taking a look at the beast. “That’s one big snake!” She exclaimed at the sheer size of it, glad it was down there and not in the sky. “I wonder what it tastes like. Ahaha, If you beat it to death, you better let me have a little, okay?” Laughing at Tess’s declaration, Euclaire backed away from the edge and took the time to put her hair back up and out of the way. The wind made it a bit challenging but with some effort, she managed to somehow pin it down.

Completely missing out on the conversation between the lookout and the captain, Euclaire was taken by complete surprise when the lookout started shouting nonsense. Raising her hand to go calm him down, she was further taken aback by the ship shaking beneath them. “Wha-”

Without warning, the serpent she had just been joking about tore through the ship like it was nothing. However what really made her blood run cold was the sight of the ship’s engines setting the damn thing aflame. Without needing to be told, she instinctively moved to dive offboard, only to get whipped off by a rope that snapped. With a gasp, her air was knocked out of her lungs and she lost her balance. One moment she was holding onto the railing, her feet steady on the ground, the next she was falling back into the open air, watching as the snake completely wrecked the ship above her.

Having been partially merged beforehand, Euclaire was at least braced for the pain, only feeling a dull ache on her back where the rope whipped her. Now merged fully she took her eyes off the ship above, turning her focus to something more important.


With the canopy’s so far below, she focused her gaze on the tallest tree and aimed for it, turning her body to work with the wind as best she could and spreading her robes to slow her descent as much as possible. The moment she got close enough, she channeled as much fire as she was capable of away from the ground to propel herself towards it. Now that she was fully merged, her longer extra arms clung to the branches and drew her towards the safety of the thick branch she had chosen.

Letting out a breath of relief. Euclaire stilled her racing heart and allowed herself a moment to calm down, hugging the branch for both physical and emotional support. “Whew, that was a close call.” Looking around, all she could see was foliage. Even the sight of the sky above her was covered by the dense sheet of green above her. “Hope everyone made it out alright.” Thinking about the team, the only one she was sure had a chance of survival was the girl with the hummingbird.

Having calmed down, Euclaire crossed her arms and hung upside down, her tail the only thing keeping her from falling to her death. “I guess I can only move forward.” With no other option, she climbed up once to peek at where the sun was and chose the direction she recalled the ship was headed towards. If anyone else survived, she assumed they’d be headed the same way. Rather than wandering on the ground, open to be preyed upon by something she couldn’t see, Euclaire kept to the trees, using her extra appendages to travel and leap from tree to tree with relative ease, using blasts of fire in mid air to speed up the pace. The sooner she found someone, the safer it’d be.

Lost Echo Lost Echo Jet Jet EldridSmith EldridSmith ZackStop ZackStop Arcanist Arcanist

Isaac gave he the warmest smile he could muster, like a grandpa soothing a nervous kid. "In the decades I've spent wandering our strange world, learning and seeing every manner of thing you can imagine, meeting those of every persuasion and creed, I've learned how to measure a soul."

"It took far too much trial and error, put my trust in swindlers and backstabbers more time than I care to admit." He squeezed her shoulder and headed down the street. This time his steps were slow and heavy. "But when I look at you. When I measure the truth of your soul, there's nothing you must prove. There's nothing I would ask of you."

"Well other than that firewood... and for you to rest tonight. To clear your mind of today's worries." He reached his house and went straight to the door. He could smell the flowers another time — for now he wanted to rest his old legs and share a meal with his guests. Maybe some wine and pipe weed to pass the time? He needed to clear his thoughts and what better a way, than to eat, drink and be merry with new friends?

"I'm home!" He shouted when his friends walked inside. "We've company of the highest caliber, humanitarians who've come to treat the sick."

There was a loud bang from the second floor of the house. The wood creaked and Isaac's familiar, a mountain goat, knocked the floor with its horns. "I assure you they don't bite!"

In the darkness atop the stairs, shrouded in shadows, a person watched them like a hawk.

Isaac planted his hands on his hips. "You must overcome your shyness — people are a light, a happiness only gods and beasts can live without, so come." He waved them forward. "Introduce yourself!"

The boy who answered was quiet, hesitant like he'd never spoken before.




He crept down the stairs one by one, peaking his head over the banister. His steps were silent like a cat's. "I don't—

"Know them."

"They smell funny."

He stared at them with emotionless cold eyes, stopping his descent as he clutched the banister. His chest rose faster with every second of tense silence, like a cornered animal preparing to attack.

ManofManyRoles ManofManyRoles

The forest was hot and humid like a sauna, covering the survivors in sweat. It teemed with chattering insects with dangerously sharp fangs, long centipedes and venomous snakes. The sound of carnivorous monkeys echoed through the forest, whooping as they swang on vines.

They stopped moving when they reached an ancient ruin, a stepped pyramid covered in ivey and moss. The stone was crumbling after centuries of neglect, but there was beauty in the craftsmanship. There was beauty in the sculptures of gods and demons. The carving of a tree emanating rays of light, opposed to a figure draped in shadows.

There was a river cutting through the forest, a hundred feet across with slow, brown water filled with snakes and crocodiles. It was lined with hollow reeds that shifted in the warm breeze. Yet there was something out of place, a single reed moving along the water, sticking up from below the surface. There was the sound of clicking in the treetops, bird calls and shifting grass. The rustling of leaves as something, or someone lurked in the shadowy forest.

The survivors were not alone.

EldridSmith EldridSmith Lost Echo Lost Echo Monbon Monbon Arcanist Arcanist ZackStop ZackStop

Goliath breathed a deep sigh of relief, one which he didn’t even try to hide, as the shrimp finally left him be after what had felt like an eternity. ‘Of course, the familiar would gravitate to the one individual who despises them. Like a fucking cat,' he thought to himself. Rubbing his shoulder as his body language seemed to relax.

No longer having to think about being harassed by the creature. The clacking of its legs as it walked around Goliath's shoulder making every hair on his body stand up. A shiver up his spine.

Goliath .. needed to get his head on straight and focus. They had a mission now. And Bean’s taunts to not die only lit the fire under his ass. He had many more things he needed to do before that day came. So he flashed a cocky smirk to Nihal before walking off with his group.

If Adrian wanted to lead, so be it. Shortly arriving at the outskirts of town. Unlike the other two, this wasn’t too crazy of an environment for Goliath. Despite the fact his gang operated in the style of a more up-class Yakuza organization, it didn’t mean they didn’t have to go to slums often for different jobs or to gather intel.

Not to factor in that his upbringing did not look all that different than this, minus the people with flight-based familiars from the Byzantine dropping bombs upon the already rundown buildings. He escaped. These people did not. But he could empathize.

Goliath glanced around calmly while listening to the two men discuss how the people weren’t that welcoming here and something about tetanus. But surprisingly, Adrian was cut off by a flying bottle that shattered ahead of them. Followed by insults as a second bottle was busted out of the air by the redhead.

The sound of the metal sword on glass echoing between the buildings. Announcing their arrival.

Goliath couldn’t help but laugh while Faraji cussed and Adrian got angry. Threatening the man who looked like he was almost harmless to him. Just wanting to ‘stick it to the man’ who had put him here. Still, he didn’t interject, letting Adrian get it out of his system now.

If they threatened every poor, jaded individual they came across, getting any information would be virtually impossible. Because he was acting like a ‘kingsmen’. Though he kept that thought to himself.

He listened to Faraji speak as he watched him hurry to catch up. While Goliath looked over his shoulder one last time, at the man, before following as well. “No, not exactly fun for the whole family,” he laughed before his head tilted slightly at the second question. “It could be worse. They could have killed them, though I am certain some would prefer that.” He spoke, stepping over a person who was sleeping in the middle of the street.

Even in areas such as this Undercity. There will still be the richer-poor. People who are educated or have more valuable characteristics. Society will always have a top and a bottom. And the bottom class must be controlled for some semblance of peace.” He shrugged. Completely ignoring the women attempting to sell themselves.

Goliath noticed the buildings as well. One. Two. Three. All marked with the same kind of drawing. Which very well could be blood. He wouldn’t put it past the people here.

He turned to Adrian. Targeted? Maybe. But truthfully, thanks to the narrow alleyways, any of their powers could be good. Faraji’s ice would ruin a pursuers chance of following. And all the metal debris around him would give the perfect conduit for an electric web. Plus, fire was always pretty handy.

Don’t get all jumpy on me now Mr. Monster-Killer. These people smell fear and will only fuck with you more. I mean. What other entertainment do they have?” He spoke as he looked up at the weird shape. Were the stars marking .. something? But who put them there? And why?

Goliath let his eyes drop to Faraji. He didn’t have a good answer to that question or to calm his nerves. But that’s what they had to do regardless. He took a moment to look around at the ‘unhinged’ people. “Let’s try that guy,” he spoke, pointing to a man sitting on the ground, opposite the buildings with the strange shapes. He typically had a good eye for these things.

Goliath knelt down in front of the man. "Gotta quick question. These shapes. Any idea why they are here? Or how long?" He spoke, keeping it short and sweet.

Jet Jet (Adrian) Arcanist Arcanist (Faraji)
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Adrian exhaled at the word fraternize; a sharp breath of amusement through his nose. "Fraternize?" He smirked at the word. "Why not."

"We're relatable, friendly."

"Charming even."

"Like cancer." He was kidding in his own warped way, because there was no chance this would end well. The locals would attack as word spread through the streets, and avoiding that wasn't about fear — only reality. That men discarded their lives when they lacked any value, and the vagrants were valueless men. They would throw themselves at the group like a flood of roaring water, fearless and insatiable.

Adrian had better ideas than fighting men like that. "Fear? Weird way to pronounce good point. "

"You cut off a whole syllable, like how these um..." He glanced at the native fauna. "Fine people will remove your head." Adrian was less carefree than his new companion, that much was sure. He didn't think the vagrants wanted entertainment. They wanted blood for blood — petty revenge against the world above them. The feeling of power when the group was dead at their hands. The weight of a few coins in their pockets.

He could see their looks growing more hostile with every second. The venomous glares from every window they passed by. The whispers wafting through town. He noticed a few lookouts who scurried away when they came too close, reporting to whatever gangs ran the neighborhood.

"We'll have company soon," he said as Goliath approached a native man. Yet another example of peak humanity.

"Gotta quick question." Golaith said. "These shapes. Any idea why they are here? Or how long?"

The man cocked his head. There was darkness on the corners of his eyes. His skin was pale and lined with deep wrinkles — the appearance of one who'd seen, and done too much. "If you don't know!" His voice was scratchy and dry. Like the whisper of a sick man. "It's not your business is it?"

"Here." Adrian tossed him a coin. "Speak, or the next thing I throw will be my fist."

"Oh how sweet of you!" The man bit down on the coin. "Tastes like the woman carrying it."

Adrian leaned forward by a hair. "Talk," he grumbled, unamused.

The bum smirked in response. "Oh how you squirm. I was always going to answer your friend." He snapped his head at Goliath; his eyes were much sharper than he seemed. "The markings... a path of blood, a path of bone — follow there to find the crone. A path of ears, a path of teeth, follow there to what hides BEANEATH!"

The man grinned as he finished the verse. "Follow the blood circles." His teeth were cracked and yellow. There were absesses on his molars, holes of rot where something stirred. Writhing in the darkness of his mouth. "Follow them and find what you seek!"

Adrian clenched his swords. "Almost too obvious to be a trap."

"No trap!" The man begged. "No trap I swear!"

"There is one who awaits your arrival. Not as foe but friend — yes a friend! A good friend in a place without them! You'll see!"

Goliath Goliath
Arcanist Arcanist
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Ava Marco
interaction: Jet Jet Lost Echo Lost Echo
"yeaaah not gonna lie I totally expected you to say that... no one answers simple questions anymore." Ava let out an irritated sigh. rolling her eyes and crossing her arms with pure irritation. and then the bastard had to keep being all fucking tricksy like some birthday party wizard.. why couldn't she just hit the problem today.. not as if she didn't enjoy thinking but after having her little freakout Ava just... wanted to.. well hit something instead of dealing with riddles.. "yellow brick road.. any ideas? sulphur.. maybe?"
Spivey soon found themselves below deck, tossing their mass into a bunk they claimed when first embarking, and it wasn't long before a bottle of jack was wrapped in the drunk's pale fingers. Fair skin was a common trait where they were from, but it was the obsession with staying in that suit that kept that complexion white as snow. Not many knew what was behind that mask if any at all, but that was Spivey's secret.

"Just the two of us, as it should be." The merc said allowed to their familiar as they zipped up the bag the whisky was produced from, but before the bottle could be cracked open, there muffins shouts coming from above deck. It distracted Spivey for a moment, before going to twist the top of the bottle again. But then there was another distinction, a big crashing sound accompanied by splintering wood and more muffled shouting. Spivey grumbled. "Don't tell me they hit an ice berg..." They said as they wobbled to their feet. "Those stupid fuckin-" Before they could take another step, the floor infront of them burst open with a large reptilian pillar extruding through the ceiling. One more step and they would be one leg short of a biped.

Perhaps it was simply the drunken state of mind, but all Spivey could utter was "Oh." And it all made sense, they were under attack, and losing. Their sense then came to and Spivey jumped back and landed on their back as the width of the snake increasingly smashed through the hull as it's belly made contact. They crawled backwards towards their familiar and merged before rolling over and making a sprint away from the snake. Spivey then watched in horror as their bag exploded and was torn to shreds by the sheer force. "My stash!" They shouted with one hand on their head as half a frilly red bra whizzed past them. "You bastard!" Spivey said with unbridled rage, aiming a bottle of Jack Daniel's at the snake before realizing that it wasn't their cannon. Taking a quick look at the bottle, Spivey didn't hesitate to throw the bottle at the beast. "Damn it! My Jack!"

It took a moment, but the adrenaline started to kick in, overriding the drunk as Spivey's mind became clear. The smell of fire began to fill the air, the sounds of shouting and pure destruction, chaos. The stability of their feet began to shift as the ship began to lose altitude and tilted forward from where they were standing, the ship splitting in half as the snake made it's exit. "Engine's down. We're screwed." They could feel the air outside creating a semi-vacuum that tugged on them, the blinding light of the outside made the scene outside clear, the blue sky turning into a green jungle, as flaming pieces of airship rained down with black billows of smoke tails.

Spivey quickly braced themselves, gripping hard on the nearest handhold they could find as the incline got steeper. The 45° angle continued to worsen as the idea of skydiving crossed their mind. It was the only foreseeable option as there was hardly a ship left to stand on. Spivey cursed aloud as their heart pounded in their chest. It would be the first skydive without a parachute, but surely it could be done with their gear. They checked the jets in their boots, small puffs of air coming out. "Okay, just gotta let the ship fall alittle more before I..." The sound of skidding metal could be heard making its way towards them. Looking up, they saw their cannon getting dragged down as it tumbled past the Merc. "Oh god... damn it-" They bit their lip in frustration. "Welp! So much for that!" Spivey leapt towards the vacuum forming, diving for their weapon, sliding on their formed leatherback shell. Only moments before getting shot out into the open air, Spivey managed to grab hold of the cannon, a celebratory laugh exiting their lips. However with nothing to grab hold of, they began to make the plunge. "Fuck." Was all they could mutter as they watched the broken ship shrink as it got further away.

"One, two!" Spivey blasted air out of the vents in their teched out boots, gaining stability as to not go spinning out of control, the tricky part was staying upright. Spivey spread-eagled to slow their descent into the jungle floor, managing to make the safest landing they could. Quickly using everything they had, air swished out of the boots, as well as their cannon that blasted out all the compressed air it had, before 'THOOMP' followed by swuaking birds flapping their wings.

Spivey wheezed as the air refused to return to their lungs, gasping as hard as possible, the urge to keep the mask on was no match for the need to breathe. They ripped the mask off of their face, trying to recollect themselves but consciousness fading, the merc passed out for a moment.

'Vwoom vwoom vwoom' It was spinning out of control. Slowly coming to, they could hear it getting closer, opening their eyes too late as the bottle of Jack Daniel's not only survived the crash, but landed square onto Spivey's chest. "Gragh!" They shouted, higher in pitch than their recognizable, modulated voice. "Fuck me!" They grabbed their chest and rolled around for a moment, soon realizing where they were. They happened to land in an almost circular clearing void of the trees that surrounded them, 30ft. or so. Grabbing the Jack and the gas mask, Spivey made it off the ground as there was the distant boom of the ship crashing far off into the jungle.

Cracked the bottle open and taking a swig, Spivey covered up their scarred face again. There was a moment of hesitation looking at the jungle around them, but hooking the cannon to their belt, the mysterious one made a sprint before blasting air our of their boots, leaping onto a tree branch. "Helloooo!!!" They heard their voice echo alittle. Hard to tell with all the wildlife. Weather anyone heard them or not, they continued on. If there was any chance that anyone else survived, there was as much of a chance that they would head towards the crash site. In truth, Spivey forgot where they were meant to be going, not like they had any idea how to get there from here.

They scanned the ground below for predators as the aid from the boots let them glide from branch to branch. "Helloo-ooo...?" The idea of letting their presence be know was questionable. Bringing 'allies' to them would be beneficial, but if they attract a hungry jaguar? Less appealing.

Jet Jet Lost Echo Lost Echo EldridSmith EldridSmith Arcanist Arcanist Monbon Monbon
Bracken stared at the retreating Ilyana, wondering if she had the same difficulty socializing as he did, or if some other social dynamic he didn't understand was occuring. She seemed, from what he understood, to be acting in quite a rude manner. But he admittedly knew so little about this subject, he would not judge.

He turned his attention to the glasses set before him. They were so small. Perhaps this wouldn't be as difficult as he thought. Or perhaps Mischa was being thoughtful and only having them drink small amounts, especially as Rat seemed to have never tasted alcohol before.

"Like... shit..." Bracken agreed, nodding at Rat and Remy. He cocked his head at Rat's familiar. Should he include his?

His Cicada, for that was all he'd ever called it, crawled up from under his coat and crawled onto the side of his face, letting out a brief whirring chirp.

"First. I can. Leon." Bracken grunted, picking up his cup.
Jet Jet Goliath Goliath ZackStop ZackStop Emphoa Emphoa
hair (3) (1).pngRen followed them in to find what appears to be a ransacked lab, filled with broken bottles and test tubes and the like, all things he may have seen in movies he caught on his little TV back at home. "Woah..." He uttered under his breath take a step over to a nearby table. The whole room was a surprise to him. He was under the impression that this place was simply a bottling company. But his intrigue was soon interrupted by the whimpers of a tortured man across the room, but from what, Ren soon discovered.

Turned to face where the others were looking, slowly putting down a random instrument he had taken a look at, Ren saw the lithe woman standing over the man the sounds had come from. He listened to her speak in her strange accent, one that was polarizing to the way she was dressed. Despite her admittedly strange, but pristine looking attire, whoever this woman was sounded like she was from the boonies. It was a similar voice to the crazier folk from Gem city, wilder even, and he wondered if this was going to turn out bad. He judged the shape of this place compared to her and the way she was interrogating the man, making it pretty clear she was the culprit.

"Crap." he thought to himself. Ren had forgotten all about his bag on the lower floor, the bag that had all his gear and weapons. In a situation like this, having that would come in real handy but his detective work completely distracted him. He looked up at her as a smile crept onto her face upon recognizing Johan. He was hopeful at first that maybe whatever is going on could end if they were acquainted, but the look on the man's face said otherwise. Acquainted didn't exactly mean peaceful, and soon Narzas began to butt heads with the woman as Ren feared things might get ugly. Even Phalanx growled once the woman's venom was directed towards Ren, calling him a snack. He didn't exactly know what that was supposed to mean, but he took it as a threat and tightened a fist in response to it.

"This might get bad..." He continued to think to himself. Johan, as skilled as he is made it very clear this woman wasn't to be messed with. He was really starting to kick himself for not bringing his things. "...if things go south, that should be my priority." He said, looking over to the man. He may have witnessed whatever happened here. Perhaps the detective movies are paying off Ren thought.

Maybe it was the tension in the room making him nervous or his need to cut said tension, or maybe he was just having a bad lapse in judgement, Ren came to a realization about this woman and the way she's dressed. It reminded him of his Grand Dad's favorite game, but Ren unwisely said his thoughts out loud. "Your chest! It's a chess board!" he said pointing at her her checkered outfit. "I see now, you must be a fan of chess, right?" A bead of sweat left his forehead as soon as he said that. It was truly remarkable the things that came out his mouth at the worst times. It was starting to become a bad habit.

Jet Jet rozukitsune rozukitsune Huntertabbysandshark3 Huntertabbysandshark3 Lost Echo Lost Echo
Nyaall nodded at Faraji's warning about the piercings. "You might be right," he said, "but I don't know... I'm finally free now. This might be the perfect opportunity to try out all the things I've been wanting to!

"Well, thank you,"
Nyaall said with a proud grin in response to Goliath's compliment. "I'm so lucky and thankful that Vixie was willing to go along with it." He shot her a smile. "If my management had their way, they'd be willing to risk my life against someone who wasn't afraid to use lethal force!"

He rolled his eyes at Adrian's response to not just the singing but also his suggestion to hydra hunting. He was used to his fair share of critics and didn't take it too personally when someone didn't like his music, but maybe it was more so a musician-to-musician interaction to at least show polite appreciation to something that wasn't your cup of tea. "You must be a blast at parties..." he muttered. When Goliath gave (some semblance of) a compliment though, he was all smiles again. "You've got good taste, I see."

He mused over Goliath's suggestion of a belly button piercing for a moment before giving a nod. "Once again, good taste," he responded with a grin.

His grin turned to a pout when the other mentioned having fun without drinking. "I do remember the good times! Like yesterday! Me and that one guy... what was his name...? ... Either way, we... um... or wait! Was it two days ago...?" His muttering continued as he seemed to get more and more lost in his thoughts.

Upon arriving at the door and lever, he grimaced at Bean's comparison in regards to the handle and joined in with the rest of the group to pull the lever (Kronk). He did indeed tumble over with the momentum of the lever when it finally moved. He glances from the beautiful West to the worn down East as he walks down the stairs. Clearly one of them looked more familiar to him, but the other had a certain intrigue and mystery.

And then Bean suggested to split the party. Well, at least it was grouping he was happy with. Vixie and the Centurion. Only downside was the lack of eye candy. The others were interesting aside from looks as well, but unfortunately, any more interactions with them would have to wait. At least it looked like they would be going to the nicer side of town.

"Okay! Good luck guys!" he said to the other three. Nyaall jumped upon hearing the thud and noticed only rock where they had stepped in from. "How are we gonna get back out...?"

Jet Jet Goliath Goliath Arcanist Arcanist Lost Echo Lost Echo

Elriel followed the group, a glistening umbrella of ice overhead to block the pouring rain from the thunderstorm, and hail, that chose to grace their arrival. It was dark. Elriel finding it near-impossible to observe much of their surroundings. But eventually, they stood at a large gate with men arguably more annoying than Zak.

Elriel had wondered why Darius had instructed the pilot to land outside the city, but it made a little more sense now.

He listened to their Centurion barter with the guards. Tilting his head as he heard him throw out a name that sounded..familiar. Theseus. Though it didn’t seem to matter as they continued to make a mockery of Darius. Telling him to knock. And even discrediting his status as a Centurion. Wondering if they had a death wish.

When the mention of money came up, Elriel was less than surprised. It often came to that. Though the comment about clothes did make him feel guilty while Darius had to fork up the coin. “Sorry, sir,” he spoke quietly. Watching the gates finally open.

Inside was more lit than the earlier pathway. The town quaint, though Elriel got the noticeable itch they were not welcome here from all the staring eyes, minus the large woman who had decided to address them.

Elriel had to chew the inside of his cheek, listening to how the Centurion addressed her without an ounce of class. But she seemed unfazed — mostly. The noble stifled a laugh as she increased the price tag.

Good luck,” Elriel spoke, watching the three men walk away. Hoping Zak didn’t cause any issues. And Ivan was well. Mavior was the only one he didn’t worry about, except his .. awkward tendency.

With Adamaris by his side, they followed Darius. Because it made the most sense to bring the nobles to talk to the Lord. Staring at the outside of the long hall, crafted much differently than the rest of the town.

No fucking around?’ He felt he should say the same to the brash man but held his tongue. “Of course not,” Elriel nodded as the doors were opened.

His own confidence with the situation was apparent. It wasn’t his first time in front of leadership, after all. He quickly took in the food spread across the table, the silence that befell the room. And then his eyes locked on the man with what could be described as a crown.

Elriel didn’t flinch nor dare to reach for his weapon at the outburst. “Our sincerest apologies for interrupting your meal Lord. But we have been sent on a mission and seek some of your knowledge. We promise not to stay long,” he spoke. His purple eyes were calm, his voice proud as he bowed before standing upright again.

He’d wait for Darius to continue the questioning. Taking the moment to lean to Adamaris, his lips barely moving as he whispered to not get caught. “The crystal you were gifted during the game. — Now would be a good time to ask for information without the others around,” he spoke, ultimately leaving it up to them as it was their property.

Emphoa Emphoa (Adamaris) Jet Jet (Darius)
ManofManyRoles ManofManyRoles (Mavior) EldridSmith EldridSmith (Ivan) Jet Jet (Zak)

Leon was a little sad at first that Ilana ignored his offer, but hey, she spoke to him, and that was something. So he chose to be happy about that instead. Nodding regardless as Rat consoled him. “Yes, but to leave someone out isn’t my way either. I prefer to be told no than to not ask. Because what if she had wanted to?“ he shrugged.

Plus, I thought she might have a little fun silently judging our antics,” he smiled, bumping the other playfully. It was always easy for him, being the happy-go-lucky guy. His red hair bouncing as he looked at the shot glass before back at Mischa.

So cruel to your friend,” he teased with a soft smile that Rat would have to drink extra, being his first time. Unable to not laugh when Rat asked if she was picking on him. “No, no. I think she is,” he added, wiggling his brow.

He smiled as Bracken agreed with Rat that it tasted bad. It was getting easier to understand him with time. “Some of it, yes. Some of it, no. It depends on your pallet, but we will find something you like!” Leon responded, watching Mischa pour the shots. Picking up his glass as well as he swirled it softly.

Leo watched the cicada crawl onto the centurion’s face. Bugs never bothered him much growing up at the farm — though he wasn’t so delusional to call it cute, either. The redhead couldn’t help the beaming smile on his face that Bracken had remembered his name, though.

Go for it!” Leon laughed, clinking their drinks together, hitting his own against the table before following suit. Throwing his own back. A soft ‘ahh’ escaped his lips as he reopened his icy blue eyes. “Yep, that hits the spot,” he chuckled, looking over at Rat, wanting to watch him drink his first shot. But became distracted by the girl.

Hey, come on, Mischa! Keep up,” he purred playfully. Leon held his cup out for her to fill it up before speaking again. “Would hate for us to out drink you after you talked such a big game,” he winked. Nothing but friendly.

Jet Jet (Mischa) Emphoa Emphoa (Rat) ZackStop ZackStop (Ilana) Fred Colon Fred Colon (Bracken)
Ivan couldn't help but chuckle a little as Zak got hit for his troubles of standing outside. He was about to reply to Zak about his assumptions but they arrived and the conversation swiftly forgotten by the rest of the group as they gathered their items to leave. He decided it best to pick it up later, if at all. He moved to grab his things and looked at his lance and sighed as he left it behind. Still his sword compared to most people's weapons was the length of a short spear. Ivan couldn't help but chuckle a little as Zak got hit for his troubles of standing outside.He merged with Sasha and headed outside to feel the refreshingly cold breeze before the group approached the door, and Darius handled things... in a way Ivan found less than ideal once the man's connections failed. Still he had no connections here himself and didn't have a better solution so he just silently went along with it.

He was somewhat hoping to go to the longhouse due to having similar cultural ties, but the nobles must have appealed to Darius moreso than he for negotiations. He internally sighed as Darius managed to talk to the very person they would have to be trading with in a rather rude manner, causing a price increase. He had to admit she was quite the attractive and imposing figure, his aunt would have tried to include her in the Valkyries were she in their home but alas it was not the case. Mav's head was on a swivel, Ivan had half a mind to try and reassure the boy and calm his nerves but decided against it. As he went to catch the pouch Mav used wind to catch it before he could grab it. He wasn't really able to do anything thus far which was like an itch he couldn't scratch as he was tired of just doing nothing.
Jet Jet ManofManyRoles ManofManyRoles (weee a post of no importance... >.>)

"That's no bother!" Bean answered. "I'll blow up the wall!"

He hummed a song as they approached the nice part of town, a playground for successful criminals and nobles. He could see them from afar with their expensive metal masks, animal faces made of gold and silver, precious stones and feather plumes. The wealthier men had better masks than the average patron, but the wealthiest had wooden ones with vines — it seemed naturalism was in vogue these days.

Bean thought them cowards for hiding themselves. If he were a sniveling noble or business owner, he'd simply own his debauchery. There was no reason to hide it anyway, everyone knew they were degenerate scum.

"Was born in the slums across from here." He was serious for once. There was no accent or whimsical tune on his tongue, no grin was on his face. "They flooded the streets with free drugs to make us slaves, then raised the price to squeeze us."

"Turned it into zombieland." He clenched his fists as they approached a security checkpoint, a dozen guards standing at a gate of metal bars. The walls beside them were enchanted with lightning magic, crackling and sparking in the shadows.

"Fuck off," a guard said. "No handouts."

Bean didn't slow down. He walked forward with the confidence of a continent, steps sure and stronger than a bull. His hands erupted into fire plumes that rolled up his shoulders, pillars of flame trailed behind him as the light flickered from his face, revealing a sick, manic smile. "Handouts?"

The guards advanced and drew their weapons, familiars of every kind swarmed around them to attack. They shouted taunts and curses, orders to each other and the centurion, but then a man pushed through the crowd. His steps were soft, silent, and each one was precisely placed. "Greetings!"

The guards went silent at the word.

"Sheath your swords at once! These are the esteemed guests of Master Giovanni." He approached Bean and bowed his head. "We've been expecting you for some time, my employer insists on an introduction." He was mere inches from the centurion, his face burned as steam rose from his skin. Yet he was immovable, impeccably polite and well dressed. His red tabbard was adorned with gold buttons and matching frills. He was an older man but not senile yet — a distinguished man some would say. "You find yourself in fantastic company, a musical phenom and the firey belle of the arena, quite a retinue indeed."

He deepened his bow and pressed one hand against his heart, the other he raised like a wing to his side. He tilted up his front foot by resting it on his heel, and bent his back leg to deepen his stance. It was a true courtly bow. The type used with kings and high nobles. "You may pass, at your convenience."

"What?" Bean widened one eye and narrowed the other. "But... whatever." His fire vanished as he frowned with dissapointment; his carnage had been robbed at the last second. "Lead the way before I change me mind."

The newcomer stood up straight. "I'm glad we could reach an accord." He turned and led them through the gate, and soon his dramatic flair was on full display. He spoke with grand flourishes and precisely pronounced words, each an exercise in etiquette. "My most esteemed guests, may I welcome you to the Enclave of Farside, the greatest city that doesn't exist!"

He folded his hands behind his back. "It is the hollowed ground of love, lust and unlimited power; money flows like a great river without an end. There is nothing you cannot find here, from gaudy entertainment to debates of political theory, there is no town as free. No place as intriguing — I can assure you of that!"

"My name is Gunter Gwynvere, lead retainer of Master Giovanni, owner of Cassablanca Brunette. There is no finer establishment in the world."

Anne Boolean Anne Boolean Lost Echo Lost Echo
Faraji Aguta
Mentions: Goliath Goliath Jet Jet

Faraji frowned, then hummed at Goliath’s words. He almost thought of saying he would take his chances with death, but it wasn’t so long ago that he had a brush with it. He edged around the same man Goliath stepped over. He did not shift from the ground, and he wondered if he had chosen to just kick the bucket in the middle of the street.

Perhaps it made more sense to choose death when you were already under the ground.

“It seems to be the same everywhere you go,” Faraji agreed. That’s why he moved on from his home. Mostly for the knowledge, and curiosity denied to most at a lower station, until he tasted the droplet of the life that the wealthy nobility lived. Things took a turn after that. “Better to aim for the top than find yourself struggling along at the bottom. Though, I can’t blame these people. Working your way up is a lot harder than it looks.” No less in the Undercity.

These people smelled fear, according to Goliath. Any wonder, if it smelled of their cologne and not stink that wafted around these alleyways. The three of them were practically fresh air for these people. And as Goliath quite rightly put, entertainment. He tried to swallow back that fear as Adrian further comforted him with lovely words of having their heads cut off, or being as charming as cancer knocking on these people’s doorsteps. A very real way of saying they were unwelcome here.

Goliath eventually suggested they speak to a local, as per their original orders, and walked over to a man to enquire as to the weird shapes painted on the buildings they passed. Faraji shifted on his feet, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. He was waiting to be apprehended by a gang of thugs, stabbed in the back, dragged away, never to be seen again. The symbols did much to unsettle him. Asking about them made a bigger target on their back, and as Adrian said, it would not be long before the wrong people caught up with them. There were enough people throwing venomous looks their way.

As they proceeded to peel information from the man with bribes and threats in that order, he started to spew a riddling rhyme instructing to follow the blood circles. He sounded as haggard and crazy as the crone he insisted they sought out.

“Follow the blood circles, follow the bones, the ears...could it not have been follow the flowers? The butterflies even?” Faraji muttered. Adrian remarked about it being so obvious a trap, which he agreed on. But he could fathom how hthis crone could be expecting them, waiting for them even.

“Does word really travel so fast in the Undercity?” Faraji raised an eyebrow, though, that could not be so possible. It was planned for sure. “I find it hard to believe anyone would be so friendly to us here.”

He looked between both Goliath and Adrian, suddenly looking torn. “Though...don’t you find it a tad intriguing who this ‘friend’ of ours must be?” They had no other leads after all, and they were instructed by their great overlord Bean to gather information.

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