Playground of the Omniverse IC

Tears slowly streamed down his face. He sank quickly into a spiraling depression. At first he contemplated suicide then he fell so far so quickly he even considered removing the amulet...

Before his unreasonable emotion could consume him further he felt a sting across his face. He was made aware of the interrogator once more. But he did not react, it didn't hurt that badly (he had a fairly high tolerance for blunt trauma) and he didn't want to supply the man with any satisfaction and honestly the news of the girl's demise stung far worse. He sat as he was, his face still fallen, no less sullen.

"Pull yourself together, man."

The man said impatiently. He began to smoke again and continued, "I did not say all was lost - we know who kidnapped your girl." Another puff of the cigar as the man began to pace. "However, we will not be able to pursue her until we deal with other... matters."

The Story Master raised his head and stared at the man with hate glaring behind his brilliant green eyes. A light fog began to rise a few inches from the floor originating around Tyros and spreading quickly throughout the room.

"If she dies before I reach her I will kill you and whomever else may have hindered me." He took a long and quivering breath in some small effort to recover before continuing, "What would you have me do?"

Old Boar's Inn; Kuroda's Quarters
[Missle]

Missle's startled action did not go unnoticed by Kuroda. Upon seeing the sudden clenching hands of Missle (the bathtub gave a small squeak), the fox humanoid gave a small bow of the had in apology as she said, "Beg pardon, dear. I did not mean to startle you."

Missle's nervousness about the water's temperature received a soft giggle as Kuroda began to pour the steaming water into the bath's belly, explaining as she did, "Not to worry - the basin is enchanted. It will meet your every need and pleasure" The last drop emptied into the now full bath as she finished her sentence with a wink, "It will be just to your liking." Her joking mannerism turned to a solemn frown as Missle began to removed her bandage and revealed her damaged arm. From the kitsune's face, Missle would be able to tell that the damage was severe, but she responded to Missle's comment with another soft joke, "Well, our vampiress does have a… difficult personality." A small smile accompanied the comment. Gesturing towards the water, Kuroda said one word, "Please." If Missle complied or stood her ground outside the golden basin, Kuroda murmur something about returning momentarily, leaving the diclonius's question hanging in the air.

The moment of silence would allow Missle to cast her gaze about once more if she chose, drinking in the environment and appreciating more about the "room." Amongst the trees' trunks and their roots, she would be able to see how the room had once been a room - roots would appear as chairs and other pieces of furniture, a window could be seen in the distance to the real world, the soft grass would thicker in areas where a rug had once been.

However, if Missle decided to crawl into the golden tub, she would find the water pleasantly warm - not scalding hot and not lukewarm, but just to her liking. The tub would be smooth, comfortable and jetting water all about - practically a magical jacuzzi. If she leaned back, she would realize that the tub had sprouted little tendrils that began massaging Missle. To call it heaven would a major understatement.

A rustle of a pink blossomed branch would announce the return of the kitsune, carrying two large jars that she balanced on either hip as she slowly walked over to the edge of the tub, explaining as she did, "This jar," Kuroda would tilt her head to the jar on her right, the clay container holding a blue-purple gel, "will help with your hair, and this jar," again, motioning to the jar to her left with her head, the large jar containing a red-pink colored gel, "will help with your skin." With a  soft grunt she would place the jars down, huffing a sigh as she relieved herself of the apparently heavy burden. "And if I may…" the kitsune would scoop some of the blue-purple shampoo into her hand, eyes looking to Missle's and then to Missle's hair.

If Missle allowed Kuroda to clean her hair, the kitsune would allow the diclonius to get her hair wet so the kimonoed myth could begin to clean Missle's hair. If not, the kitsune would shuffle the jars close to Missle so that she could begin clean herself.

Whether or not if Kuroda was touching Missle's hair, the kitsune would half lean, half sit on the bathtub's edge sighing as she sat. "I come from Japan, my dear. But--" She gave a chuckle, full of nostalgia and regret, "that was many, many scores of moons ago. There was a time when spirit and man walked side by side." Her eyes looked very distant as she continued, as if remembering something or someone, "But that was also a time of great strife, hate, and war…"


Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Chad M.F.]

Chad's appreciation for the waitress did not go unnoticed. A frail hand hid a flirtatious smile and a cute giggle before the medusa answered Chad's question, "Well, I'm not any good at that type of stuff." She wrinkled her nose with a small smile, "Buuut, that guy--" she said as she pointed to the backpacked rat, who had downed his drink in one draft, "he knows a lot about a lot. Including--" She would then be rudely interrupted by a loud, surly voice, "Oi! Bar wench! Another!"

The medusa would then roll her eyes as she started to slither down the bar to fulfill her patron's request, whispering over her shoulder as she did, "your thingymajiggy. Just get him a drink, he'll love you!"

And with that, Chad was left once more with his precious piece of hardware...



Tutmose; ???
[TSM]

At The Story Master's threat, the officer actually scoffed, shaking his head as he tapped his cigar, the dirty ash falling to the hospital room's floor as he placed the cigar back to his mouth. "I am sure you would like such a thing, yes? After all, it is not like I am bending backwards to help. You know the law." The military man would then lean forward and look into Tyro's eyes dangerously, "I am not obligated to aid you, nor am I responsible for your actions for bringing such a girl of pitiful health to High Guard..." After a severe look, he would straighten himself, as well as his armor before proceeding.

"The next course of action is simple, sir. You remain here until the crisis is averted and until we gather more information." He brushed off his shoulder pauldron, as apparently there was some dust, turning to the door as he did. "Unless you would prefer more suitable facilities..."

If The Story Master was content, the officer would leave the room without a word more, bidding him a silence farewell with a stiff tip of his hand. However, if Tyros was not...

"We will arrange transportation within the hour." would be the gruff response as the officer took his leave.




The Lows; ???
[Halcyon]

At this moment, time held still, if only for a brief instance, where eyes met eyes, where myth met deity. And then, all at once, the battle began.

The flaring hair of Halcyon lit up the room, giving the full view of the hideous beast and hideous it was. Scales, fur, horns, wings, and claw ruptured in a terrible mixture of sound as the Sword of the God punctured against the belly of the beast, only to have sparks fly against the beast's hide. Under the flaring light, Halcyon's darkened eyes would see scales of great magnitude. However, he would have little time to see anything else for fire rose in the goat's mouth, as the lion head made a lunge at the god's jugular vein...

"I am sure you would like such a thing, yes? After all, it is not like I am bending backwards to help. You know the law. I am not obligated to aid you, nor am I responsible for your actions for bringing such a girl of pitiful health to High Guard... The next course of action is simple, sir. You remain here until the crisis is averted and until we gather more information. Unless you would prefer more suitable facilities..."

The fog continued to build slowly. None of the man words were what he wanted to hear. So Tyros' anger rose, but now he had a better grip on his composure and so it would not be seen on his face.

Slowly and gracefully he stood from the chair (a bit light headed still). He assumed a confident but nonthreatening stance and he began to speak,

"Sir, as a member of the Highs' Society I believe it is within my rights to freely leave your care now that you are aware that I am no threat to you and that I have no useful information regarding your investigation. If that is the case, and even if it is not, I implore you a man of honor; allow me to aid you in finding the girl. I am responsible for her condition, as you said and I am far more capable in combat than I appear, if there were need of it. You know not the regret I burden for her condition. You owe me nothing sir and I am aware of that, but grant this privilege to a man who has no further reason to live otherwise. I will comply with any further request you would ask of me."

He stood expectantly in the fog that now nearly reached his knees, not knowing how to proceed or what to expect from the man.

"What say you sir?"

If the interrogator would not grant his request he would take him up instead on the "more suitable facilities."

Chad gave a polite smile as the medusa took her leave and nodded his head to thank her. Chad stood up and approached the hooded rat. He sat next to him and called for the next available waitress. "Could I have another round for him?" Chad winked, "This one is on me." Luckily Missile payed for Chad's food earlier and he still has some money left on his tab. As the waitress left with his order, Chad turned to the rat. "I heard that you might be able to help me with something." Chad showed the rat his broken earpiece. "Do you know where I might get something like this fixed?"

Scales. Of course the Chimera has scales. Cause why not. Halcyon rolled his eyes.

Fire erupted out of the goats mouth as the lion head lunged at Halcyon’s neck…

Only to close it’s mouth on the air. The god had disappeared. As the flames bounced on the floor, light filled the room. If one looked close enough, one would see a shadow flash across the wall.

“Damn it.” Halcyon muttered, kneeling the other side of a shelf, his hair now dim. “What am I doing. A god. Retreating from that stupid crossbreed. I’m probably just fueling his ego. I should have used more power. Could have broken those dame scales.” He cracked his neck. “But that’s useless now. And if I keep using my speed like this, I won’t be able to fly to… Ah never mind that…” Halcyon stood up. In a split second, he was on the other side, holding at least 8 lids to the boxes that lined the room. Taking the lids, Halcyon launched them to the other side of the room where they landed with a considerable racket. And just like that, he was back to where he started, on the other side of the rooms aisle. “Interesting.” Halcyon thought, pondering the contents of the boxes he had speedily looked through as he dashed back. Halcyon turned to face the center of the room where he had left the Chimera, and lept up, hovering a meter or two off the ground and looked around for his enemy...

"No, no, you're good! Honest. Just." Missile glanced around and looked down at the tub, feeling somewhat irritable. The blood loss was finally working on her to some degree and she had begun to lose focus on her surroundings. She was somewhat okay with this and found she felt far more relaxed.

"Not to worry - the basin is enchanted. It will meet your every need and pleasure." She raised an eyebrow, cheeks turning pink. Yeah, she already had a boyfriend, foxy lady, she thought with a chuckle as Kuroda commented on Bess's temperament.

"She's more than difficult." With a shrug, she slid her shoes off as the kitsune left again and shimmied out of her ruined jeans. Dammit, I'm running out of clothes again. Clad in a bra and a pair of boyshorts, scratching at her legs a bit to peel more blood away, Missile climbed into the tub and sunk into the water gratefully.

It occurred to her then that she hadn't properly bathed in ... awhile; sure, scrubbed up in a sink, washed her hair over said sink, and she'd hardly call herself a slob in any case. But a nice, hot, steaming bath, water just over the threshold of comfortably hot? Not recently. Tension melted away and she rested her head against the lip of the tub with her eyes shut - before realizing something was fucking touching her. She jumped a little, water sloshing around as she scooted forward and stared at the back of the tub. Oh, just... a living massage... tub...?

After rubbing her eyes to ensure it wasn't a simple hallucination, Missile carefully inched backward and let the ... she supposed "Magic Fingers" was as good a word as any other... slowly work knots out of her back. Despite months in Tutmose, magic still confounded her - Pullo's own strange abilities notwithstanding - and the fact this wasn't your normal hot tub, er, fuck that, not a normal tub period, caused some degree of concern.

"Hm?" She turned her head and straightened up, eyeing the two jars and then looking up at her. "I um, I'll wash myself. Thank you though, the offer is appreciated." One vector slid the shampoo out of Kuroda's hand and flopped it on top of Missile's hair, and her physical hands began scrubbing at her hair and head after she dunked her head underwater.

Missile disliked people trying to wash her hair - hell, that had been the reason her hair had become so long. Neither Nikita nor Missile enjoyed people messing with their scalps, hair, or horns, and in any case, the skin around the horns was prone to bleeding if scratched wrong.

Some of her vectors took handfuls of the other gel and started scrubbing the rest of herself off; with her eyes closed, she couldn't quite tell if the water was turning funny colors or not, and decided she didn't want to know. The different soaps stung her wounds and as she rinsed her hands, she listened to Kuroda speak.

"Humans are like that. They don't like things that aren't like them," Missile said, not knowing if that would alleviate any distant, remembered pain. "If there's something more powerful than they are, they do whatever they can to control it." She stared at the scars wrapped around her arms, glad the soap obscured them. She carefully washed the wounds over her wrist before moving to her ankle, continuing, "That's what I like about Tutmose; I haven't seen many humans except for the guy at the table earlier and the weirdo who disappeared after we killed the demon. But," she frowned as she picked a piece of tooth out of her skin. Ew. "But most humans here are different. They're familiar with the weirdness around them. Comfortable, even." She shook her head and rinsed her hair at last, after letting the shampoo sit in it for a minute. God, it felt amazing to really, truly get clean again!

The diclonius rubbed the last of the suds from her head and reveled in the feeling of skin uncluttered by dry blood and looked up at Kuroda. "But... other than the war, and ... the other bad shit, what was it like back then?"

Tutmose; ???
[TSM]

The Story Master's plea caused the officer to stop at the door, the shutter opened and the chaotic outside world rushed by the door. Tala solider and medic droids moved past the door's opening so quickly, it seemed almost like an illusion of a constant loop.  However, at Tyros's final words, he would swiftly turn to the side, pivoting his body sideways to look upon Highs-born man with a controlled temper.
"What say I? I say that you, sir, assume far too little. As a man of my word and honor, I have already granted you the opportunity and right to accompany The Guard when the time of right. However, that is not the case at the moment, for I am dealing with far greater issues that your urchin." He turned to go, but turned to unleash his furious tongue for one final lashing. "And as for your right to leave - that, sir, is completely up to you, though I would urge you to stay under our protection, for time's sake and for the sake of easy access." He would take a full stride to The Story Master, almost nose-to-nose, an accusing finger under Tyros's nose. "Do not think that we are done with the investigation, or your connections, sir. An eye will be placed on you, you most certainly can count on that!"

Taking a step back, he would straighten his uniform once more, and twirl the left side of his mustache, composing himself. "The transport will be waiting for you, as will an escort, within the hour, if you so choose to remain under our protection. If not…" He turned and stalked out of the room, calling over his shoulder as he did, "Follow the signs."

The shutter door would open and then shut at break neck speed, leaving Tyros to decide his next course of action...



Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Chad M.F.]

Chad, unfortunately had assume too much. While his bold and friendly actions would have won the favor of any bar patron, this particular merchant would look at chad like the futuristic man had grown a third nostril. "Get outta here, you bastard! I don't need none of your charity!" The rat would spit on the floor as Medusa appeared behind the counter, visibly wincing, one eye clenched shut in a pain filled wink as her delicate hand slid another tall glass of the green brew in the merchant's direction. It would be quickly snatched up by a dirtied, clawed hand, a greedy grin plastered on his snout. However, this glee was quickly soured by Chad's presence as the grin turned to a deep scowl, his beady eyes falling scornfully back on the Master Funk. "Piss off!" Once more, Chad would be left with a dead end, an injured pride, and now a murky, green ale that was brought by the waitress that Chad had hailed (who waved shyly at him before disappearing behind the counter).

if Chad shuffled back to his food (and his new drink), the medusa would cautiously slither up to Chad's seat behind the counter, slowly speaking as she did, "Yeeeeah… Sorry. I kind of forgot to mention he was in a bad mood… and he only reeeeally accepts drinks when he's completely drunk…" She shrugged apologetically as she began to gather some dirty dishes off the black bar top and behind the bar itself, still speaking as she did, "You could try you luck at the market," her head titled in the direction of Chad's left, her dreads following her gesture, swaying heavily. She shifted her weight under the now towering pile of plates that seemed to appear magically from no where, finishing her thought with a whisper as she did, "Orrr you could just wait for him to get drunk. I can try to keep him busy so he doesn't leave." Her eyes darted from Chad to the rat, who was guzzling his green brew, and then back to Chad…


Old Boar's Inn; Kuroda's Quarters
[Missle/Kuroda]

Kuroda would mind her distance as Missle bathed - after all, one would not want to upset her guest, especially if the need for personal space was evident. However, Missle's words were met with a gracious bow of the head and then silence as the diclonius finished speaking. "Such is the life of a citizen of Tutmose," the kitsune would comment as she gracefully sat at the base of a nearby cherry tree, a gentle shadow shading her, "All are the same here - lost or wanting to be lost." A pawed hand stroked the top of the grass blades around her in a thoughtful manner, "It was why I stayed here in the passing moons - here, I can live and flourish." Her foxy eyes looked around the room, continuing as she did, "I can have my home permanently."

The kitsune would smile as Missle removed the last of her suds, pleased that her guest was enjoying herself. However, she looked surprised when Missle asked her next question. "Look about," Kuroda would gesture to the pair's surroundings, "This was how my home was -- is. My home was not always war. Amongst the constant strife between lord and samurai and oni, the people did not forget the spirits." She shrugged slightly, "But it is how all beings are - some are good, some are evil. Some remember that not all spirits were evil, nor are all humans evil. It is all of here," She gestured to her heart, "And here," and she gestured once more to her head. "Thoughts of the heart and mind are only that of an individual, not a people." She rose to her feet and disappeared once more into the peaceful forest.

However, she would quickly return, a hand woven piece of fabric over her arm and what appeared to be a decorative robe of sorts, continuing where she had left off, "A group of honorable humans protected us - a story truly for paper and ink. It is actually how myself and many other escaped here." She then looked off to the side for the moment with a small smile, as if remembering a grand memory or if holding a secret.





The Lows; ???
[Halcyon/Gerald]

As Halcyon fought his newest foe in the dark of the warehouse-like room, Gerald had been up to something in the depths of the black. in his right hand, his lighter was held high about his top at, purple eyes searching looking this way and that, searching and wanting. "Come, come, how far can one hide a box…? It isn't like this place is a labyrinth of ancient artifacts, cursed objects, and bones, and thingummys, wot?" He chuckled at his own question as sneakered feet pattered on the stone floor. Little did his muscle for hire know, but all of those existed in this place - and much much more.

In the distance, Halcyon's brief struggle could be heard, but the odd man ignore it with a roll of his eyes, muttering as he did, "All I asked of the old chap was to be on the mum. What does that bloody bastard's son do?" His gloved hand ran over the a series of boxes and crates, trying to read the faded printed text on painted or plastered on the wooden material, "Don't make too much noise, old chap,' I says, 'He won't work,' I says, 'No way in bloody hell will he work.' But nooo, no one listens to the bloody time traveler, nooo." Suddenly Gerald bumped his head on a low hanging box, sending his top hat toppling to the ground as he sprawled out on the floor. "Ah - yes!" Gerald muttered excitedly, placing the hat back on his head, "I know where it is - foul little thing." He took a left, and then a right, and then a left. The directions became befuddling and confusing, but Gerald walked with purpose. He couldn't just teleport there, he knew that. No, that would trigger its safety mechanic. "Ahh, yes. There you are."

====

Halcyon's distraction would prove more harmful then helpful in the long run. As eight lids went flying into the abyss, a bleating roar would sound in the dark - the chimera was on the hunt again. However, the contents of the eight containers would indeed prove to be interesting, and disturbing. All eight contained some sort of bone, limb, or flesh, all waiting and rotting. Amongst the carnage, though, all manner of trinket and equipment lay. Perhaps from the previous owners or just some odd ritual, it would be impossible to tell.

All speculation beyond a quick glance would have to wait though. as the floating god would be hit by a barrage of his findings, mixed with the shrapnel of wood and metal, as the wall of crates, boxes, and shelve was smashed into pieces, the mythical creature of terror tearing through the barrier like a wrecking ball. The gust of wind issued by its large bat-like wings was enough to bowl over the average man, as it let out its terrible bleating roar. Unfortunately for the chaotic god, it would have the upper hand, grappling Halcyon's back. If the floating god did not act quickly, he would find a pair of bone breaking jaw wrapped around the back of his neck.

Regardless of what came next, whether or not Halcyon could dismount his rider and how the fight ensued after defensive actions, something would disrupt the battle entirely, sending the chimera into the darkness with a displeased, but obedient growl: the sound of a whip. It whooshed through the air like the heaviest of blades and cracked like the greatest lightning storm that had ever brewed on the horizon. And there, stepping from the dark, strode Gerald, a a leather whip in hand and a hat on his head… well, on top of his top hat. A crazed grin split across his face as he whispered loudly to his god-for-hire. "Looks like I came just in the nick of time, eh, old chap?"

"Get outta here, you bastard! I don't need none of your charity!" the rat snarled at Chad's offer. Chad looked away in embarrassment and saw the Medusa wince feeling his pain as well. "Look," Chad pleaded, "I'm just asking you if-", uninterested the rat spat on the floor and growled, "Piss Off!"

Chad walked back to his food, groaning as he rests his forehead on the palm of his hand. "I can't be wasting time like this." Chad thought. "I need to find a way to communicate back home... On top of that, that thing that came out of Fitz, he is still running loose. I have no idea what he is capable of, but I know its not good. His powers are tremendous and he is dangerous." Chad shudders as he remembers his encounter with the beast of darkness. He was clueless and felt powerless. "If something is not done, he will destroy this world with me in it!" As Chad came to this realization, he lifted his head to be face to face with the beautiful Medusa.

"Yeeeeah… Sorry. I kind of forgot to mention he was in a bad mood… and he only reeeeally accepts drinks when he's completely drunk…" Chad looks down in disappointment. In her attempt to cheer him up she adds, "You could try your luck at the market," she gestures to Chad's left. She then whispers in Chad's ear "Orrr you could just wait for him to get drunk. I can try to keep him busy so he doesn't leave."

Chad shivers in delight at the Medusa's whisper. Something about the Medusa arouses Chad. Its her delicate flirtatious nature that makes Chad feel warm inside and he has a certain respect and appreciation for her even though they just met. He tries his best to contain himself but could not help but let out a little smile for the beauty facing him. "I guess I can wait," Chad whispers back. The Medusa leaves Chad, carrying a pile of plates in her hands.

"While I wait for the that rat to get drunk, I need to find a way to defeat Fitz alter ego." Chad thought leaning back on his chair crossing his arms. "I don't even stand a chance against that guy. There were at least 5 people at the scene and none of us could take him down... Or at least not alone!" Chad's eyes widened as his brain sparked an idea. "The only way we could take that man down is by making a team and taking him on together!... But it can't just be anybody, they have to be strong and have the necessary abilities to take him on..." Chad smiles as he came up with yet another idea. "I think I know who can be my first recruit." Chad stood up with a look of determination. "I need to find Missile!"

Missile winced as soap ran into her eye and she shut that eye hard, unable to really rinse it out; she'd tear up and not-really-cry it out in a minute, no problem. "Such is the life of a citizen of Tutmose." She turned to look at Kuroda as she sat under the tree, and realized - she was still in just straight awe of the fact she was talking to a kitsune. They were probably hands-down her favorite myth, but yet here she was, talking to a real, breathing fox spirit ... except not a spirit? Ghosts? No, no, Missile, that's your blood loss talking, she reasoned. She was still quite happy though. "All are the same here - lost or wanting to be lost."

The diclonius leaned over the side of the tub, arms crossed on the lip and her chin on her forearm as she listened to her speak. Her open eye observed the room again, still in quiet surprise of the fact that the room still had its chairs, its pieces of furniture, but was so full of these beautiful cherry trees. When she mentioned that 'evil' didn't encompass an entire race, Missile slumped down in the tub a bit, not quite believing that. While she ignored the fact that her and Nikita's poor way of living - low-income jobs and as a result, low-cost housing - exposed them to some nasty dregs of society and that only shoved it harder in their shared face that humans were awful, she wondered now if only Earth humans were terrible. That had to be it. Earth humans experimented, shouted, hurt you, angry-

She noticed Kuroda had left once more and she slowly climbed out of the tub, arms crossed over her damp skin as she leaned against the edge. She disliked changing her viewpoint about ... other people; Nikita liked a lot of the patrons downstairs, that she knew, but she herself wanted to avoid them as hard as possible. She couldn't count the times she'd woken up with a pencil or hunk of charcoal in hand, sketching a bar patron from across the room. Damnably, she didn't understand why she couldn't draw - they shared a brain, dammit - but whereas Nikita's drawings were lovely, fluid, organic creations, Missile's always looked like something out of a schizophrenic's album: Inconsistent, sometimes jagged, sometimes swirly, and nothing was quite legible in the end as being a portrait or drawing of an actual thing.

"A group of honorable humans protected us - a story truly for paper and ink." Missile finally opened her soap-stung eye and smiled a little when Kuroda's voice returned - and then her jaw dropped. Was that a goddamn kimono!? She realized maybe her words were wrong - there were so many traditional dresses that she couldn't remember all the names - but she felt giddy seeing it. "It is actually how myself and many others escaped here."

"Could you tell me the story? I got here because m... my sister and I fell through a closet." She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "I'm still not even sure where "this" is. Tutmose is huge but I know it's only a tiny part of the world. I've seen a map somewhere."

The content’s of the box was interesting indeed. Bits and pieces of of human bodies lay in each box, rotting away, perhaps for some vulgar ritual or some odd fetish. Nonetheless, Halcyon was hoping for better. A tell tale roar let Halcyon know that he had little time. There was a shower of bits of flesh and bone, along with hunks of wood and metal as the the Chimera bowled through the shelf. Boxes and shelves flew everywhere, creating general chaos in the small room. Halcyon looked down and smiled. He had found what he was looking for. The gust of wind was not enough to move Halcyon much, but the obstruction of his vision allowed for the Chimera to somehow get on top of his back. He felt the natural heat that came out of the mouth of the Chimera. It was going for his neck. Oohhh. I could do some squats with this weight. Halcyon thought. SUPERSET! Halcyon thought smiling as he dropped to the floor and began to squat. At the bottom, he grabbed a large hunk of metal, around the size of a football, malleable and soft,  that had been blown from the shelves. “TOO BAD,” Halcyon shouted as he threw his head back, “IT’S NOT LEG DAY!” and thrust the lump of metal as far into the mouth of the lion as he could, and jammed it onto the beasts teeth, quickly withdrawing his hands and releasing an explosive wave of aura to loosen the grip of the Chimera.


All of a sudden, there was the crack of a whip and the Chimera lept off of Halcyon and into the darkness. Halcyon looked into the dark, and as he stood up, Gerald walked gallantly out of the dark, whip in hand and fedora on top of his top hat. "Looks like I came just in the nick of time, eh, old chap?" Halcyon smirked, standing up. “Maybe Indy,” he grinned turning his head and looking into the darkness, “If I hadn't just killed it.”

The interrogator's words were as pleasing as sweet wine. The fog receded all at once upon hearing them; his heart leapt within its calcium cage. Despite his quick and drastic change in emotion his face only flickered to display it before maintaining a nearly emotionless yet grateful gaze.

"Do not think that we are done with the investigation, or your connections, sir. An eye will be placed on you, you most certainly can count on that!" The interrogator said coldly with a finger in The Story Master’s face.

Overwhelmed with gratitude Tyros quickly grabbed the man’s hand that was still pointing at him and shook it vigorously before surrendering it again.

“Truly you are an honest man! I am indebted to you sir! I don’t even know your name, but I thank you. Please before you go, as an act of good faith and as a man of Highs' Society let me aid you in this issue if it pleases if you. I am most capable with a blade in my hand.”

Should the interrogator scoff or doubt his ability The Story Master would brandish his Wreath by stroking the ring on his finger. With his hand held at the center of glowing orb all twelve blades would begin to spin around it. They would build up speed until they were but a blur and with sparks flying they would slash a hole in the floor kicking up bits of flooring violently. He wouldn't stop the blades until he was satisfied that the man was impressed if not surprised.

Old Boar's Inn; Kuroda's Quarters
[Missle/Kuroda]

Missle's barely contained excitement did not go unnoticed by the kitsune. A soft laughter reached the diclonius's mouth dropped. "Come, you must be getting cold." She reached out, handing her the towel, waiting for Missle to dry herself before opening the kimono and holding it up as Missle slipped her arms through.

Kuroda sighed heavily as Missle finished dressing herself, the kitsune dropping gracefully to the soft grass as her six tails wrapped around her sitting frame. "What you ask is not simply done, young grasshopper." A wink was then issued towards Missle as she continued, "But I have told the story for moons..." She took in a breath and began to speak:

"My homeland, in which names nor location would be long forgotten by your people, was under the influence of war. The human's lord had greatly insulted another, more powerful lord, and the land was being pillaged by him by soldier. Simultaneously, the human's lord had forgotten to keep their promise to their protecting spirit. He abandoned the land and oni began to ravage the land alongside the human invaders. The lord knew he could not hold his own against both the oni and the opposing lord, so he committed seppuku, and his entire family."

"This threw the land into chaos, anarchy and eventually terrible poverty and suffering. The invading lord, now the lord of two lands, did not care for his subjects. He was too greedy, too proud, and all together evil. He did not protect his people and the oni continued their efforts, even doubling or tripling their attacks against villages."

Here, Kuroda would smile fondly. "But there are some who cannot be oppressed, those who cannot sit idly by and let their fellow man fall under the hand of evil and corrupt. One ninja, two ronin, and one monk wandered from village to village, protecting and removing the oni from the villages' regions, freeing them from such suffering. But it soon became clear that the oni were not the only evil terrorizing the people."

The kitsune shifted her stance, magically pulling a tea pot and two tea cups from a secret compartment from the tree behind her. "Tea?" Without waiting for a response, she began to pour, continuing her story as she did.

"Two wars were waged, and such an impact did this small group make that the lord of the land began to send entire armies to find this group. But they were defeated and the freedom continued. The people began to grow bolder and open rebellion soon rose with the people."

Both teacups were full. Slowly, the kitsune rose, carefully balancing the full teacup between two hands, slightly bending at the waist as she asked, "I am not boring you, am I, young grasshopper?"


Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Chad M.F.]

"Ayyy, that's the spirit!" The medusa waitress said with a playful wink before disappearing behind the wooden swinging doors of the kitchen. While Chad was left alone once more, his thinking wasn't incorrect. Someone had to stop the eventual impending doom that Fitz had left. A team would need to be formed and all that story jazz. But uh, it seemed Fate had different plans for Chad.

With his final statement, something would fly over his head, clunking him not-too-gently in the process: half of a chair. The blow wouldn't have been heavy enough to cause Chad to go down for the count, but it definitely would be leaving a nasty bump.

If Chad turned to see what had thrown the shattered piece of furniture, he would find that somewhere along the line, between asking the rat for a favor and flirting with the slithering waitress, a bar fight had kicked up. A creature (who had was wearing a bowler hat and far-too-tight vest) was drunkly shouting at a cowboy, who was dodging the barreling swipes of the creature's heavy arms.

"Now, can't we just reason?"
"Yew don't -hic!- desurve surch an hoonah, rapscurrleen!"

The fight was quickly stumbling its way over to Chad, the pair arguing all the while. If Chad didn't move within ten seconds, the pokemon would literally rip the stool out from Chad, swinging it over his head like a mace. "Imma go'n to croosh yew!" The wooden mallet toppling over the cowboy's head.



Tutmose; ???
[TSM]

Tyros's sudden gratitude actually surprised the officer as The Story Master grabbed his hand and shook it with the enthusiasm with a father who's child had just been rescued. Attempting to shake off the Highborn's shaking hands, he mutter something under his breath that sounded between a "you're welcome" and a "sniveling buffon."

Regardless, the officer made to take his leave, but was again prohibited by Tyros. Exasperation was plainly on his face as the officer turned and listened to The Story Master. The gentleman's offer actually cause the the officer to allow a deep throated chuckle to escape from his throat as he continued to puff on his cigar, jest plainly in his voice as he responded, "You, sir? I have not doubt with a fencing blade, but this is real combat! No, I must insist that--"

The officer got no further as the Wreath of Blades was displayed in a most flamboyant fashion, the air humming dangerously as all twelve blades thumped through the air in a cyclone fashion. The cigar fell from the officer's mouth in astonishment, but he quickly gathered himself, snuffing the tobacco stick out with a heavy boot. Coughing once, a sideways glance was given to The Story Master, one bushy eyebrow cocking as the officer gave Tyros a second glance. "I suppose your talent could be useful. Welcome aboard."

A heavy gloved hand stook out towards The Story Master, but was half retracted as the officer gave his final terms, "Remember, this is a military operation. What I say, goes. Do you understand?" If Tyros complied, he would nod once and shake The Story Master's hand and quickly strode towards the door, calling over his shoulder as he did, "Come! We have not a moment to lose!"

Not taking a single glance backward, the officer strode with purpose and speed, weaving out of the throng of medic bots and stomping soldiers, all of which greeted him as "Sir." or a swift salute, in which the officer quickly returned as they turned.

Left, right, left, right. The turns would be impossible to keep track of as they paced forward at double time speed. Eventually, they would end up where Tara had not been not an hour before - a ship bay. A similar transport would be before them, but this time there would be four shuttles, each of which were full of soldiers. However, there would be one more seat, in which the officer pointed to as both gentleman and militant officer hastily boarded the shuttle. "Take that seat, Tyros. I shall stand." The officer grunted gruffly as he grabbed hold of one of the many leather straps that hung from the ceiling. As the shuttles' engine began to fire up and muffled orders from the now closed shuttle began to issue, the officer's voice dropped an octave lower, speaking through a communication device that was present on his left forearm - a telecomm.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure you're aware of the situation due to rumors. Let me confirm the rumors have been true - The Council Palace has been attacked. The immediate order has been to defend all major stations and medical operations, under the council's protocol orders. Now that these places are secure, we are mounting an defensive attack against the invaders."

He paused, taking a breath and possibly to let this information sink in before he continued,

"At this time, we have no information with what we're dealing with - proceed with all precaution and be prepared to use full force, if necessary. Our ETA for touchdown will be in one hour. General Frondeur over and out."

As the message ended, every soldier present settled back into his or her "chair" and the general tossed Tyros a piece of fabric. With a glance, it would be an armband with a symbol on it. "Put it on - if things get heavy… you'll need it."





The Lows; ???
[Halcyon/Gerald]

Gerald's face would fall into a grumpy scowl as he quickly tossed aside the leather fedora and lengthy whip as he grumbled darkly, "Rescue a chap, and all he does it take all the glory? Why the nerve…" before he directed his attention, and his once more nonchalant face as he suddenly appeared not inches in front of the chaotic god, wagging his finger as he did, "Tch, not so fast, old chap. Ol' Missy is tougher than you think." Somewhere in the darkness, there was a heavy gagging sound, like someone was coughing up a loogie, quickly followed by the clatter of metal. A goat's bleat eventually sounded off in the distance as Gerald quirked an eyebrow in Halcyon's direction before swaggered away like someone who was proven right. "See?"

However, before Halcyon could make an immediate retort, Gerald spun around with astonishing speed, ending the flamboyant gesture with a tap of his sneakered toe, taking a flourishing bow in Halcyon's direction as if he was making way for a king, the odd man even removing his hat in the process. "Shall we?"

The first few turns were simple enough, no one could doubt. But even for a god, direction would soon become lost as they took turn upon turn, working deeper into the labyrinth. Finally, after ducking under a path blocking box (the space would be big enough for even Halcyon to fit), Gerald clapped his hands once in celebration, "Ah! Success! See, told you I knew where I was going, old chap!" The top hatted man would remark to Halcyon as they approached their escape from this warehouse maze: a heavy trapdoor.

Gerald put his hand on the ringed latch, about to pull it open, but then stopped mid-action. His grin was gone, and his eyes were as hard as steel as he looked at Halcyon evenly, "Listen here, old chap. I know this might be difficult for you, but you've had your fun now. What lies beyond this door… It requires absolute. Silence." He looked at the chaotic god again, double taking at his flaming figure. "Silence." He put a finger to his lips and the trapdoor opened…

The darkness gave way to the flickering light of candles, the long shadow of the descending ladder dragged its dark shape across the square cut stones of the floor below. Gerald would mount the ladder and beckon Halcyon to follow, quickly sliding down the ladder and landing on the floor with a tap. Stealthily, Gerald would remove his top hat and peek around the corner.

What lay beyond the corner would be highly disturbing to some, or highly comforting to others. A garbed figure would be standing in front of a group of seven kneeling figures, all similarly dressed as they sat silently. They were all placed in a ritualistic pattern around a circular symbol painted of the strangest color any mortal had seen. Depending on the lighting, the paint would turn appear red, but with the right shifting of light, would immediately turn to pitch black - it shimmered and shifted under the dancing candles. A dark language was being spoken over the entire procession, the candles' light reflecting against the shadows and against the bare stone walls. If one continued to look at the unfolding scene, eyes would detect the guardians of the entire event, standing stiffly and quietly as statues.

The language would begin to rise in volume; three of seven kneeling would produce hide covered drums, their positions forming a circle as the language began to form into three to four words, repeated over and over, forming a core shaking chant. Shadows would begin to slowly engulf the light, the candle light being suffocated by the ever-growing shadow - something was coming, and it would more than likely not bode well for neither of the pair of prying eyes.

Gerald turned to tap Halcyon's forearm, but then, the worst of things happened - Gerald's hat, which had been in the man's other hand, slipped from his grasp and the floor with a tap. As small as the sound was, it was enough - the garbed cultist's head turned to the direction of the hiding pair, his face fully revealed only for a brief instant: the glassed eyes of his mask glinted as the beak of a plague doctor pointed towards the ladder's entrance. A sickening, wheezing voice spat only one word, "Intruders!"

However, if Halcyon was tired of sneaking, and tired of following, and tired of waiting, reckless action against the trapdoor would not effect the ritual below. However, it would cause blades to be drawn by the guardians present and the all-too-familiar sound of Missy to be heard above the chaotic god at the bottom of the ladder...

As Chad made his triumphant stand with new determination and objective, half a chair was thrown on his head. Chad would have fallen to the ground if it was not for the bar breaking his fall. "AH-AHA-AH- OOOWWWwwww!..." Chad whimpered comically rubbing his head. Chad turned around and angrily shouted, "Hey! What the hell was-". before he could finish he already figured out the cause. There was a fight between a cowboy and a really big fat... cat? The fight was heading his way and chad quickly ran out of the way.

"Wow!" Chad thought to himself. "This cowboy isn't half bad, maybe he could be of some value..." Chad looked interested in the fight.

"Now, can't we just reason?" The cowboy tries to pacify the situation dodging every punch the giant would swing. But the brute responds in a drunken slurred, "Yew don't -hic!- desurve surch an hoonah, rapscurrleen!"

Chad's expression on his face clearly expressed his thought. "Then again, it doesn't take much skill to fight a drunkard." Chad's sighs "He is not the fighter I'm looking for, but maybe he can guide me to places I'm unfamiliar with."

"Tch, not so fast, old chap. Ol' Missy is tougher than you think." Gerald wagged his finger at Halcyon. Halcyon scowled as he heard the Chimera gag, and spit out the lump of metal. “Hmph… can’t catch a break. Try to kill like the olden days, but noo…” He muttered, dusting himself off. He turned towards Gerald, who had spun around and bowed, making the way for Halcyon. “Shall we?” he asked, removing his hat with a flourish. Halcyon smiled. This felt natural to him and  “Lead on.” He waved his hand towards Gerald.

The room was a labyrinth of shelves and boxes. Turn after turn, Halcyon followed Gerald as they snuck through the warehouse. Finally, after ducking under a rather large box, Gerald clapped with joy. "Ah! Success! See, told you I knew where I was going, old chap!" He exclaimed. A large trapdoor lie on the floor ahead of them. “Never said you didn’t…” Halcyon said, eyes wandering about the small area they had just entered.

As Gerald went to pull the hatch open, he turned to Halcyon with cold eyes and straight face. "Listen here, old chap.” Gerald said, his voice low. “I know this might be difficult for you, but you've had your fun now. What lies beyond this door… It requires absolute. Silence." Gerald turned back to the trapdoor, and did a double take back to Halcyon; “Silence.” Halcyon nodded. I’ll entertain him for now… No harm in it… He thought as he dimmed his hair. The trapdoor opened wide, and Gerald slid down the ladder. Halcyon hovered down the trapdoor and landed behind him, light as a feather. Gerald removed his had and peeked around the corner. Halcyon also sidled the wall looked on.

A circle of oddly clad women, seven in all, kneeled on the floor while one masked man stood at the front. The paint on the floor glimmered red and black as the light from the candles danced across the room. A language unlike any Halcyon had heard before. As he looked, his eyes caught soldiers, clad in flamboyant suits of armor stood, as still as statues.

The group began to chant slowly, as three of the women uncovered drums and began to beat them, and shadow began to rise from the floor. It slowly began to engulf the candles flickering light. Halcyon pulled his head from the corner and crossed his arms. Summoners. Disgusting. People involved in these cultic practices irked Halcyon. Back in Invot he had come across a group simmilar to these people, the Nyemons. They thought their “Deity” would protect them from his wrath. Very sadly mistaken.

Halcyon looked towards Gerald as he turned to tap him, but the unthinkable happened; He dropped his top hat. Halcyon was speechless. “...How.” He whispered to Gerald, facepalming.

The language would begin to rise in volume; three of seven kneeling would produce hide covered drums, their positions forming a circle as the language began to form into three to four words, repeated over and over, forming a core shaking chant. Shadows would begin to slowly engulf the light, the candle light being suffocated by the ever-growing shadow - something was coming, and it would more than likely not bode well for neither of the pair of prying eyes. He heard one of the cult members shout “Intruderes” in a sickly voice.

Rolling his eyes Halcyon turned towards Gerald and grabbed his collar, leaning in extremely close to the strange man. “This time.” He whispered to the man, eyes dark and devilish smile on his face, “Stay and see what you hired.” He released Gerald and turned towards the corner where the soldiers would come from, as shadow aura began to envelop his arms. Smiling, he awaited the coming of the guardians...

+++++++





Ganti woke up with a start. “Fitz?” She asked as she turned to see an empty bed. She could have sworn she had just heard him shout her name. “Eh. He’s probably down in the bar or something.” She muttered as she got out of bed and stretched. Even though she had only slept for half an hour, she felt great. She looked over in the mirror and fixed her hair. Putting her clothes on, she looked over at the ball of light that was Gaudete, who was still asleep. “What a strange family I married into…” She muttered, grabbing her sword and daggers and leaving the room. As she walked down the stairs, she thought about Hal. “He must be so lonely, back home all by himself. And my dad…” She shuddered at the thought of their son going on raids with her father, pillaging and plundering. She exited the stairwell and walked towards the bar. It was crowded and stuffy, but it felt nice; like the bar back home. Her stomach growled. “Hungry.” She muttered. She began to walk to the front of the bar, when she noticed a bar fight going on; A really, really, REALLY fat… Cat? was drunkenly swinging at a cowboy, and a man dressed in the strangest clothes. She rolled her eyes. Bar fights. But then, something caught her eye. The man in the strange clothes had left his table. His table had food on it. Free food. She smiled. Dashing over to his table, bobbing and weaving through the crowd, she grabbed a stool from another table, threw it down and began to shove the mans food in her mouth.

"Only a little cold!" Missile stuck her tongue out at Kuroda, thanking her for holding it up while she pulled it on, and as she secured it shut, she followed her and sat down next to her, knees up against her chest and arms around her knees. Her smile soon faded as she listened to the kitsune's story, finding it kind of miserable. Humans always forgot to pay their dues over time.

However, the story did take a brighter tone, and Missile took the cup gladly. "Not at all! It's like a history lesson. I've always liked reading about the past." She smiled - a weird feeling, as she didn't normally smile out of anything other than spite. But she felt wonderful and even slightly humbled by the kitsune, and she took a sip of the tea.

Liquid heaven. Holy shit.

The Lows; ???
[Halcyon]

Halcyon's frustration was understandable, but nothing could be done now. Gerald would shrug his shoulders as the chaotic god facepalmed, as he would whisper back cheerfully, "Accidents happen, old cha--woo-aho-hoho!" The odd man would find himself raised by his collar, staring into Halcyon's void-filled eyes, "Stay and see what you hired." Gerald would tug at his collar nervously as he responded before falling to the floor in a heap, "W-w-whatever you feel necessary, chappy--woop!"

Halcyon's aura and the room's engulfing shadows became one as the he stepped into the door's frame, soldiers coming towards him and the masked priest still pointing at him. Violence seemed so close and chaos would soon be upon the ceremony…

Or would it?

Suddenly, a collective gasp filled the air. All of the guardians fell to their knee, swords plantedd into the stone floor, heads bowed towards Halcyon. The summoning women began to moan and wail excitedly, their drums' beat growing louder and faster. The priest himself fell flat on his face in a bow, his sickly voice echoing over the ever growing darkness. "It is he! He has finally come, just as the prophecy declared! It is he! It is he!"

The drums pounded harder and faster, as the remaining for women following their priest's example and fell to their face, arms extended towards the chaotic god as the priest rose to a squatting positions, bowing with every step as he came closer and closer to Halcyon, raving like a madman as he did, "The Evergrowing Shadow! All hail The Bringer of Night, The Guardian of Souls! All hail the Caster of Shadows!"

With his final words he would again be flat on his face at the shadow god's feet, asking with a ghastly wheeze, "How may we serve you, my lord?"

Before Halcyon would answer, he would feel the tap-tap of a finger on his shoulder - Gerald would be behind him, grinning like a mad march hare as he cast a wink at Halcyon...





???
[Jeannot/Fitz]

The disappearance of Jeannot and Fitz was nothing short of spectacular. After all, it isn't everyday that someone disintegrates under the sheer power of a god. One thing would be clear - the body that housed both souls would be absolutely obliterated, so much that even the remaining piles of ashes would be minimal, leaving hardly a trace of the once living, breathing, talking body of the soul thief.

However, while the body was gone, the spirit lived on.

Souls are not cast about without direction or with immediate judgement in The Crossroads, for every soul sent is sent to The Valley of The Shadow of Death. How each soul arrived there all depended on the individual:

For Fitz, he was greeted by a blinding light, white noise clouding his senses. For Jeannot, he would arrive to their destination in an engulfing darkness; he would be snuffed like a candle in the dark, the little light that he did give off destined to be swallowed but the darkness that had been kept at bay.

Regardless of their last moments and their arrival to the afterlife, their destination would be the same. The pair would find themselves in a clearing, circular and surrounded by impossibly tall trees that were covered in ice and the melting remains of a never-ending winter. The ground they found themselves face down in would be the sight of a dying winter and the silent, wet comings of spring. Dead leaves mingled with crusty snow, all mixed together in a frozen mud that could only be brought by the breaking of winter. To their left, a icy lake lay, ice still clinging to its core-freezing depths. Not all that came to The Valley arrived here, but here they would be, face down and greeted with a bone-chilling wind that blew occasionally, but harshly. The air around them would not be much warmer, freezing the air in their nostrils and causing puffs of thick fog to come from their mouths like a smoking dragon.

However, when they would rise (and eventually, they would), they would be presented with two clear facts. One, the circular clearing held five machines of punishment, torture, and death, perfectly lined and spaced around the circle in a disturbing ritualistic way. The stocks, the guillotine, the gallows, the iron maiden, and the electric chair all stood solemn and cold, as if waiting for a passing judgment. The only sixth option was the lake, which seemed to fan into a bay of freedom.

Two, they would find themselves separate people. Fitz would be glowing bright, like beaconing lighthouse as Jeannot was a pale, white specter - two separate souls. However, they would not be able to wander far from each other, for a thick, heavy, and unbreakable chain bound them together, giving them not four-five feet to be apart. If the two attempted to struggle from each other, the chain would begin to shorten and tighten its grip. If they spoke any words above a whisper, their voices would echo into eternity. Regardless what the pair would do or say, nothing would happen. The could would eat into their core and the would around ten would be as still and silent as the grave.

At least, until either had looked away from another, backs turned, and looked into nothing with silence. Only then, would Jeannot be the first to see it. It would be impossible not to see the dark cloaked figure materialize from thin air,  as it instantly looked into Jeannot's eyes. The umbrella it carried would slowly fold to a resting position as it came to the soul thief's eye level, if standing or sitting (it would slowly drop to a squat if Jeannot was sitting). The air's temperature would dramatically drop in temperature (if that were possible), as a voice as cold and smooth as ice came from behind the rising large brimmed hat and glinting glinting of the plague doctor's mask.

"Soul Thief -- Hello. It's been a long time."

If Jeannot began to speak angrily or protest, laughter began to rise from beak. It would be quiet at first but then it would gradually build to a booming, mocking laugh...



Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Chad M.F./Ganti/James]

Chad's swift actions (besides failing to dodge the shattered remains of the bar chair), saved him from further hurt. However, his chair had not received such a positive fate. Ripped from its foundation, the makeshift mallet crashed to the floor by the hand of the roaring drunk. "Old steel yew -hac- insurlting fool!" the snorlax would cry out in a quickly mounting rage. James hands were be raised slightly in mock surrender as he continued to reason with, "Just calm down, fella! How 'bout another drink, eh?" Another barreling swipe sweet the cowboy ducking as the gentleman Snorlax belched loudly, any words he was trying to convey lost in the roaring gas. He pounded his chest and tried to iterate his previously lost sentence, "I dun't want enuther -hic- drink! I want my money back!" James scrunched his face in pain, tipping his hat as he spoke, "Fraid I can't do that, friend. You seemed to have lost it, fair and square, in a poke game you just wouldn't leave…"

The Snorlax roared with a wounded pride as the mallet was swung with a baseball bat technique causing the cowboy to fling himself to the ground as the wooden chair flew through the air. While James had managed to avoid the attack, Ganti, who was possibly so enticed with the delicious food (and the fact that drunken brawls were the norm for her), did not notice the swinging weapon until it was too late. The god's wife was sent toppling head over heels over the counter and into the Medusa waitress, who had just emerged from the back. The collision was heavy and would cause both females to fall to a tangled heap on the wooden floor.

Meanwhile, the fight was beginning to get noticed. A large ring began to form around the brawling snorlax and the dodging cowboy, jeers from the forming crowd echoing through the air:

"Crush the maggot!"
"Stoopid cowboy!"
"Get outta here, ya drunk polecat!"
"Oi! Who you calling polecat?"

Tensions throughout the room began to rise as the medusa untangled herself from the pile of woman, slithering out from behind the counter and into the forming crowd as she shouted one name, "Bruce! Bruce!" Meanwhile, James wasn't done poking at the snorlax. "Seems like you broke something. Had too much to drink?" The hammer had been tossed to the ground as the snorlax roared, smashing the floorboards as the gentleman hulk smashed where James had only been moments ago - he was fast. It took several more full-on swings of his heavy limbs before the Snorlax began to breath heavily, growing more and more frustrated. Eventually, bellowing as he did, he called out to the crowd, "Clint!" Nothing came at first, so he then bellowed again, spittle coming from his mouth as he summoned Clint again - apparently, whoever this Clint fellow was, he wasn't coming to the snorlax's aid fast enough. "CLINT!"

Suddenly, a gang of smaller creatures wearing bow ties and fedoras pushed and jostled their way through the crowd. The leader, or one would have to assume so, judging by the sunglasses that were on his face, replied to the snorlax, his weasel-like voice piping up over the volume of the forming (and displeased) crowd, "Whatchu need, boss?" A fat hand point at the once grinning cowboy, the snorlax's face twisted into a fat, smug smile. "Get 'im!"

With lighting speed, the group sprang forth all mannerism of mafia-related weapons: baseball bats, brass knuckles, knives, and even a tommy gun. "Right boss!"




Old Boar's Inn; Kuroda's Quarters
[Missle/Kuroda]

"Good!" The kitsune would say pleasantly, gesturing with her teapot towards Missle's teacup, as if asking if the diclonius wanted more of the "liquid heaven." Regardless if Missle accepted the offer or declined, Kuroda would continue:

"The rebellion, as with all causes, started slowly at first, but soon grew in power and the people were almost able to oust the ruling lord." A sad look on the kitsune's face appeared as she continued. "Almost."

"While the group did not know it at the time, the lord had made a deal with a powerful oni, and in return, the oni granted an army. This army of man and spirit completely destroyed the rebellion, scattering it to the winds and crushing all hope for peace, for both human and sprit. Laws were made, individuals hunted… mass genocide of clans… including many of my people." Her foxy eyes clouded, hurt and pain evident as the tale continued, "So we ran. Of what little people we had, we searched for a legend, a door that promised good fortune, prosperity… and everything that seemed too good to be true. I can't help but wonder the more the rumor was told, the more promises the door was said to hold."

She paused, gently stroking her tail..tails. Missle would be able to count seven as the kitsune continued, "The journey was hard, and we lost many, friend and family alike. But eventually, we found it, but little did we know a final battle was to come. We won, but a terrible cost - only myself and one of the original group survived." Kuroda's eyes began to water, but she quickly wiped them with a gentle finger and sniffed once, "But we arrived here. It was odd, strange, impossible. But we made a life here." Through watery eyes, a smile came forth, "It was a good life, but he unfortunately passed, leaving me and--"

Suddenly, a noise from the distance caused the kitsune to stop her narrative. She would quickly stand up, straightening her kimono as she did, "I'm sorry, dear -- please excuse me for just a moment." Without further explanation, she swiftly made her way towards the noise. There would be silence at first but then a hushed, harsh words began to fill the air. It would be impossible to tell what they were from Missle's distance, but if she got closer…

The bar fight began to escalate and soon a ring was formed around the two fighters. After multiple unsuccessful attacks, the large brute grew tired. The large cat called out for assistance, "Clint!" he called out. There was no response "CLINT!" he called again and this time a gang of smaller cat like creatures wearing bow ties and fedoras pushed their way through the crowd. In the mean time, the Medusa called out for help, "Bruce!.... Bruce!"

"Whatchu need, boss?" says one of the creatures wearing sunglasses. The fat cat pointed at the once grinning cowboy, the snorlax's face twisted into a fat, smug smile. "Get 'im!" At his command, the smaller creatures pulled out their weapons, from baseball bats, brass knuckle and even tommy guns.

"This is getting bad..." Chad thought. After a moment Chad's eyes sparked with a brilliant idea. "Wait! This guy got mad because he lost in a game of poker," Chad thought "meaning he could be really bad at bluffing. It's risky, but its worth a try. Let's just hope this cowboy can play along."

Chad quickly draws his gun and fires rapidly at the creatures, each shot landing inches away from their feet. "I wouln't lay a finger on him if I were you, 'pardner'" Chad says in a mock southern accent as he spits on the floor. He squints his eyes and makes a gruff looking face "Dat's my guide yer messin' with" He walks through the crowd and enters the ring with slow steps and legs slightly split apart with one hand on his belt and his other hand holding his gun pointed upwards. Chad then stands besides the cowboy and he subtly winks and whispers to him "play along" barely audible enough for the cowboy to hear. "Now I reckon y'all lost to my guide here, fair and square, in a hand o' poker?" Chad says lifting an eye brow and continuing with his southern accent "An' his money," Chad says for the crowd to hear making a round, "is my money!" Chad then turns to the gang and says in a low threatening voice, "Now, I have a lot more fire power in this ol' gun here," Chad says waving his gun to the gang and crowd to intimidate them, "than ya fellas have all t'gether" Chad pauses and begins to chuckle, "Now-Now, we don' need ta make a scene here." Chad opens up his arms taking a few steps back "I suggest y'all let it be, and go on yer merry way."

Kresnik wandered into the Lows, tired and weary, after many days of traveling. He had appeared at the Crossroads several days ago, and already he grew tired of it. He had tried, on numerous occasions, to return home; however, the connection seemed to be severed, and no amount of blood would allow him to open a portal back home. The dhampir kept his head held high and his back straight, and he refused to show any sign of weakness; predators preyed upon those who couldn't handle themselves. His eyes darted to and fro, analyzing everyone he had passed. This place was a shithole, a place where thieves and murderers ran about because no one higher above gave any damns about them. He knew of such places and he also knew that he was not going to be a victim.

Kresnik kept a hand at the ready in case anyone tried to make a move toward him, never once letting down his guard.

(OOC: I apologize for the short post)

His soul was withdrawn; he did not feel his body but he knew it was moving. The other soul felt desperate, he could feel it surge with power that welled within it. His Masters were right, other soul was stronger than he, but it lacked discipline, it seemed unrefined. The other soul's desperation grew into a hopeless sense of certainty, the other soul had made some grave decision.

The Master's spoke to it: ...you needn't save the body.

WHAT!?!?! Don't you dare harm that body!!! You have no idea how many countless hours it took to construct that body! If you kill it I'll KILL Y...

It was too late. With some sort of projection of his soul, he incinerated the body in two blows. Before he did so he spouted some sentiment and nonsense.

WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!!!! He shouted throughout his consciousness. It was the last thing he was conscious of before everything went black.

When he regained consciousness he was on his "face" on cold hard ground. "WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!" If he blacked out as a soul he knew exactly where he was. But he rose to his "feet" and took in the scene anyway. He was in a clearing. Super massive trees all around except for an expansive lake. The other soul (inconsiderate fool) was chained to him and glowing like some imbecilic fairy.

He began to shout at no one, "Oh no! You have no right to hold me here shade!!! I am living and neither you nor your master have any hold over me. My heart beats on the other side, how dare you bring me here to your false hell. This lowly place does not deserve the graces of my presence. I demand you show yourself you sniveling sycophant of death..."

His tirade was cut short by the presence of the one he called for. His grab was that of a plague doctor (stupid looking). The fool appeared out of no where and said,

"Soul Thief -- Hello. It's been a long time."

"Idiot, that wasn't me! And who do you think you are bringing me here?! You know who I am!!! Release me, immediately you fool!!!"

The foul thing before him began to laugh it was cold and disgusting...

“So… Good” Ganti moaned as she piled food into her mouth. She hadn’t realized how hungry she actually was. She slammed the bowl down and looked around for more food from strangers. Veal… Steak… Crepes… Chicken… Bar stool… Wait… What? Ganti thought as, violently, the wooden chair collided with her back, sending her face into the bowl, and limp body flying over the counter. In a messy pile, Ganti untangled herself from the Medusa as she slithered away shouting for… Bruce? “Owwwww…” Ganti rubbed her head. She looked around; she was behind the counter of the bar. She grabbed a napkin and was clearing her face of the food when it hit her; she was behind the counter of the bar. A bandit. Behind the counter of a bustling bar. She smiled deviously and began to slink about the the bar, poking her head up comically like a mere cat. When awkwardly coming eye to eye with a customer, she would slowly slink her head back down behind the counter, flicking her tongue at them. If coming in contact with a waitress, she would stand up straight and pretend to be serving a customer as a waitress, maybe muttering a bit of small talk like “Did you hear what happened to May last night?” Or “The guy at table 8 is such a perv…” After a bit of snooping, and grabbing a bit of the inn’s fine silverware, she poked her head back up and continued to watch the bar fight, which had escalated quite a bit…


+++++++++


Light. All around him. And blaring silence. The sensation was odd to say the least. As the light faded, Fitz rose. He had been lying face down on piles of dead leaves and snow. All around him, a circle of gigantic trees stood, and a frozen lake. The air was bitter and cold. Fog blew out of Fitz’s nose as his nostrils flared. He looked down at his hand’s; they were shining like stars. His entire being seemed to radiate light. He turned to his right as he heard a shout; “WHAT THE HELL!!!!” It was the other man; the thief. “Hey! You’re the dude that stole me from my body!” Fitz smiled as he pointed at Jeannot. Then he realized what he had just said. “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!!!!!” Fitz screamed at the man leaning in towards his face. Fitz’s aura raged around him violently, and the light he emanated became blinding. “YOU JUST UNLEASHED A TERRIBLE EVIL UPON WHATEVER PLACE WE WERE IN!!!! NO ONE CAN STOP HIM!!!” Fitz raised his arm to backhand the idiotic, pretentious thief, when he noticed the appearance of another being; dressed like a doctor in Assassins Creed (great games, Fitz thought) "Soul Thief -- Hello. It's been a long time." The being spoke, voice like ice. "Idiot, that wasn't me! And who do you think you are bringing me here?! You know who I am!!! Release me, immediately you fool!!!" The man protested while the being began to laugh. Fitz sighed and watched the two argue at each other. “A god can’t catch a break, can he…” He muttered as he continued to watch the display the two put on.

The Lows; Western Gate
[Kresnik]

The dhampir's attitude towards his new home was one that was generally shared by the new arrivals of The Crossroads - it was not their home and yet, it would have to be for the foreseeable future.

Though he wouldn't know it, the gate he had just passed through to enter the city had just been on lockdown, the guardians of the wall clumped together on the tall impenetrable barrier between their people and the grand Wildwood. An attack had threatened, but had been nothing more than a false alarm. Efficiency had allowed the gate to open once more and the traffic from the outside world had begun once more.

Unfortunately, fate had cast him to the outside of the wall, and unfortunately Kresnik would have to go through "The Procedure." While laws were not very highly regarded in The Lows, The Tala were vigilant with their own set of laws - things of high magical nature, explosive in nature, or suspicious or powerful individuals were not able to slip so easily into the city of Tutsmose.

The damper would find himself being funneled into a line, armored guards (or it could be easily assumed they were there for protection) stationed every so feet along the stone tunnel-like arch. Words of "next" were issued through the air every so often as the line shuffled forward for inspection of carts and people.

The arch itself split into three other arches, to funnel along the traffic smoothly while maintaining complete control of the city's traffic - the two outside arches were entrances, the exit was the middle arch. Simple enough, but terribly taxing on one's patience. Particularly since the "emergency" had back up traffic considerably. While it would have taken an hour or two to arrive at the front of the line, Kresnik would find himself beckoned by an armored guard.

"Please state your business in Tutmose." A radioed voice would sigh through his helmet as two other officers begin to attempt to scan Kresnik's person, one of them sweeping over his torso as one began to scan his legs with a baton-looking device…



Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Chad M.F./James]

Chad's shots at the meowth gang caused them to practically yip in surprise as they danced backward, flailing their arms as they yelled frantically:

"Woah, woah, woah, mate!"
"Just calm down, man!"
"What's the deal, dude?!"
"Frick'n maniac!"

The slowly forming riot even dropped quiet as they mimicked the Snorlax's muscle, taking a step back and murmuring excitedly as they all watched Chad frogmarch into the middle of the ring. When he started speaking, all eyes were on him, even the snorlax's. James caught Chad's wink, quickly and subtly returning it as a slow grin came to the cowboy's face.

Chad's theatrics were good, spectacular even. The crowd watched and gasped as he waved his gun in the air, taking another step back - the mouths tucked tail and ran behind their boss, all six heads poking out from behind the snorlax's huge frame as Chad laid his cards on the table:

Now-Now, we don' need ta make a scene here." Chad opens up his arms taking a few steps back "I suggest y'all let it be, and go on yer merry way."

Everyone seemed to nod in agreement at the convincing words. Some in the crowd began to wander away, drink in hand and a smile returning to their faces.However, there was one thing that Chad hadn't counted on: the snorlax.

The poor gentlemen was wasted - beyond wasted. Chad's theatrics were lost on the pokemon as a confused look came onto its face, as if trying to understand what was going on. At the end of Chad's proposition, he was the perfect picture of dumbfoundness, as if someone had knocked him over the head with a shovel and stars were in his eyes.

The large creature shook its head rapidly, as if trying to shake a bad dream and slowly picked up his makeshift hammer. He looked at the splintering weapon, as if trying to remember what its purpose was and then back to Chad. Then, words would come from his fat lips. "Git 'em -hic- both!"

The Leader Meowth would look up to his boss with confusion and nervously ask, "Uh, w-what, boss?"

The snorlax would suddenly wind up his arm and throw the chair-hammer with incredible force, bellowing as he did, "GiT 'EM BOTH!" The meowths suddenly gathered their courage, yelling fiercely as they all raced after their boss's bold action, weapons raised as they all yelled at once, "RIGHT, BOSS!"

The bar erupted with war cries and insults as total chaos broke open, glass bottles being smashed, fists flying, and all manner of weapons drawn as the once dull lulling atmosphere of the bar became a war zone.

It was far from over for Chad and James as the first meowth swung low at Chad's kneecaps with a baseball bat as James took a heavy uppercut from a brass knuckled fist…



The Crossroads; The Valley of The Shadow of Death
[Jeannot/Fitz]

The heated combination of frustration and anger echoed through The Valley's air, the sounds of the two souls arguing and casting insults carrying for only what seem to be an oblivion. However, this would most likely be lost upon the pair for they were too busy ranting to each other… and because the appearance of the dark being appeared..

Jeannot's words would be be drowned out by the laughter of the plague doctor, his display of his cold happiness echoing through the trees and the air. "Fool? Fool, you say?"

The Doctor suddenly vanished, his voice all around them as he continued, "How many do you think have pleaded the same as you, soul thief? People far more noble or innocent than you have begged, wept, screamed that Death had no right to hold them here. 'No!' They say, 'I am not supposed to be here! No! I have so much more to do! I have a family! I have a child! I have a mission!"

He would suddenly appear behind Jeannot swinging his umbrella at the soul thief's head, buffeting him heavily as he continued, "I have a pet dog!" Jeannot would find that such a frail looking instrument was actually quite heavy and thick, almost like a club. If he had been caught off guard or unbalanced for whatever reason, Jeannot could find himself falling to the ground, but this would depend on the soul thief. The Plague Doctor would rattle the chain with his umbrella, voice coated in amused glee, "Do you know how many, soul thief? Do you know how many?" Laughter would fill the air again as he walked around Jeannot again, to look at the soul thief's face. "If I could have a grain of sand every time I head such a thing, I would have the omniverse's largest desert." His voice would fall flat, the amusement melting away for a cold hard mid-sentence. "No, soul thief, you deserve the place where you are - dead and gone from the natural world. You release is not to come, and your soul is to be judged and sent to its new home. And judging that you have broken your line's oath…" Anyone who could have heard the Plague Doctor's voice, they could have sworn they heard a sinister smile in his voice. "I would say that you 'special' little mortal shall be sent to a not so pleasant place." The dark being would begin to walk slowly past Jeannot, completing a "U" shape walking pattern as he spoke, "And special, you are not, Soul Thief. You think you are a king among the dead, someone who is above the laws of Death. You ask who am I? Well--" As soon as he had passed Jeannot's left shoulder, he would viciously swing his umbrella in a swift arc, landing a excruciatingly painful blow at the knee's joint, intending to cripple Jeannot and bring the pretentious man to the ground. "--you should know." A black, muddied boot would be placed on Jeannot's fallen person, the Caster of Shadows grinding his heel with every "I" spoken. "I am the Shadow that Never Fades, I am the Evergrowing Shadow, I am Bringer of Night, I am the Catcher of Souls, and I am the Caster of Shadows." With the final title listed, he would firmly place the heel of his boot on the soul thief's spine and push Jeannot over. "And now… your punishment." The sky began to darken and the sound of crows began to fill the air. By the dozen, the carrion had somehow began to appear in the trees and on the machines all around the trio. Thunder began to rumble, "Let the trial begin."

A dark gloved hand moved to the leather bag that at the side of the Caster of Shadow's coat, reaching inside and pulling out an ancient, leather bound black book. The hand would open it and began to leaf through the pages, mutter darkly as he did. Eventually, the riffling of papers would slow, and carefully be looked through, the stained pages being read with great care. But even then, the pages would subside and the beak would look from the pages to the face of Jeannot. "All of your deeds, both for and against creation have been documented, soul thief. And let me tell you - death does not look kindly upon you." The book would slam shut as the cries of the carrion began to increase. "Jeannot Boisvert, for your deeds for the betterment and ruin of creation, I, the Caster of Shadows, pronounce your soul…"

The Caster of Shadow's voice would fall silent, his gaze looking past Jeannot and to the glowing soul of Fitz. It would glance at Fitz for a moment, to the chain that held the light god by the ankle, to Jeannot's chained ankle, and then to Jeannot himself. Thunder boomed and the carrion's cries continued viciously. Suddenly, a gloved hand was raised swiftly, demanding and then receiving complete silence from the surrounding birds. "You." The Caster of Shadows's attention turned to Fitz once more and the death god began to walk slowly to his fellow god. "You are missing something. Someone." The voice was slow, processing. However, it would quickly make way for a fiery anger, the birds cawing double from before as the umbrella's point struck Fitz's muscular chest. "It's you!" Jab, jab, the umbrella would punch as hard as any first Fitz had felt as the anger of the Caster of Shadow's spilt onto Fitz with each prod of his accessory, speaking with an unnerving venom in his voice. "You, him, and he, you. The responsibility of this falls on you!" With his last word, Fitz would feel something puncture through his sternum and be quickly ripped from the bone with intention of great pain.

"A undermining god and an oath breaking soul thief - what a day!" The Caster of Shadows would walk between them, the book in hand once more as he ripped through the pages, more than likely searching for Fitz, "And to find them both here so easily? Unthinkable!" The pages would stop and the glassed eyes would fall upon them, "Normally, I don't say this, but punishing both of you will be a pleasure, an absolute please--" His sarcasm dripping voice would halt, looking upon the pages, then at Fitz, and then to the pages once more. Closing the book slowly with a thump, he would then stride close to Fitz once more, cold radiating off his person as he came close to the light god's ear, a cold whisper working its way to Fitz's mind. "You are to judged, here and now, but I cannot help but think that you do not wish for your time to come yet. Perhaps I can offer you…" A pause from the death god allowed silence to work its way around the pair before the Caster of Shadows continued,"a proposition."

Chad's bluff almost worked, the gang was scared and he managed to convince the crowd of what he is capable of. Chad wasn't lying about everything he said. His gun is pretty good and much better than the gangs Tommy guns, however the snorlax in his drunken state ordered his gang to attack anyway. "Git 'em -hic- both!"

The creatures charged at the two men in a miniature stampede. Chad got distracted by the uppercut the cowboy took when one of those creatures swung at his knee cap with a baseball bat. Chad's futuristic boots absorbed most of the shock, however it was painful enough to make Chad jump up in pain holding his knee. "OWW! YOU BASTARD!!" Chad yelled as he recovered and kicked the creatures face sending him flying. "Damn! This is not good!" Chad thought to himself as he assisted the cowboy to fight back. "I'll use a smoke bomb to get us out of here." Chad warns the cowboy as he reaches for his bomb.

The strange man suddenly disappeared, his voice ringing out around them, "How many do you think have pleaded the same as you, soul thief? People far more noble or innocent than you have begged, wept, screamed that Death had no right to hold them here. 'No!' They say, 'I am not supposed to be here! No! I have so much more to do! I have a family! I have a child! I have a mission!" Death? Fitz thought, How can I be…? Fitz then looked down at the chain that connected him to the thief that was, currently, being beaten up by an umbrella. The chain had an odd glow to it, as Fitz’s eyes looked up and down it. Reaching down, Fitz grabbed it and picked it up. To a normal man, the chain was heavy and bulky, but to Fitz’s own surprise, it was as light as a feather. “So this is how Halcyon feels…” Fitz thought, admiring his own strength. Here, he assumed, his souls strength was unhindered by a body. But why can’t I use this power back in my body? Maybe I just need to train using it. Fitz thought. With this strength, Fitz was easily as strong as Halcyon, but it was obstructed by the physical realm. Fitz stood up and looked back at Jeannot, who was on the ground, getting stepped on by the strange man.

"I am the Shadow that Never Fades, I am the Evergrowing Shadow, I am Bringer of Night, I am the Guardian of Souls, and I am the Caster of Shadows." The man said, shoving his heel into the thieves back. Heh, that's funny. Fitz thought. Halcyon had called himself a couple of those names before. All around them, without warning, black crows began to fly in and land everywhere. Murder upon murder, these birds sat on the machines and trees, cawing mercilessly, as the man pulled a book from his satchel and flipped through it. "All of your deeds, both for and against creation have been documented, soul thief. And let me tell you - death does not look kindly upon you." The man spoke out, slamming the book shut. The crows cawed unrelentingly.  "Jeannot Boisvert, for your deeds for the betterment and ruin of creation, I, the Caster of Shadows, pronounce your soul…" Fitz began to form a ball of aura in his hand, light radiating from the gaps that his fingers left. He wasn’t about to let this man, who he now knew as Jeannot, die even to the hand of this “Caster of Shadows” fella. The man then turned his masked face towards Fitz, glancing at his chain and at Jeannot. Raising a hand, the Caster of Shadows beckoned silence from the crows, and stared at Fitz. “You.” He muttered as he walked towards Fitz. “You are missing something. Someone…” He spoke slowly, thinking. “Yeah I am. I’m missing flipping Halcyon, thanks to this nitwit.” Fitz grumbled, eyes glaring at the soul thief. The murder suddenly began to caw at great volumes as the dark being began to jab his umbrella tip into Fitz’s chest, all while shouting “It’s you!” The umbrella collided with great force, but Fitz was unmoved. In this elevated, transcendent state, Fitz barely felt it, even when it punctured his chest. He looked down as the wound closed up. He looked into the bare eyes of the man. He was dark and vile. "A undermining god and an oath breaking soul thief - what a day!" The Caster of Shadows said, happily as he paced in between the two, flipping through the pages of his ancient book. "And to find them both here so easily? Unthinkable!" “Believe me…” Fitz muttered, “He’s the only reason you’d ever find me here.” The man came to a page where his eyes would fall on the paper as he spoke to the two. "Normally, I don't say this, but punishing both of you will be a pleasure, an absolute please--" His voice paused. He looked from Fitz to the book, then closed it slowly. Walking close to Fitz, he leaned in to his ear, cold on his breath."You are to judged, here and now, but I cannot help but think that you do not wish for your time to come yet. Perhaps I can offer you…" Silence, as the land fell quiet. "a proposition." Fitz leaned in towards the mans ear, in the same way he had, muttering “Knock yourself out. But if you try to pull something…” Fitz said with a smile, angling his palm towards the torso of the man, still containing the ball of highly concentrated light aura, “Lets just say I know how to deal with beings of the shadow…”


+~+~+~


Chaos had broken out in the bar. Fists were flying, as were broken bottles and limp bodies. Ganti leapt over the bar and promptly punched the first person that came in range. She loved bar fights. Dashing into the fray, Ganti bobbed and weaved across the inn’s bar, grabbing wallets and purses from the fighters as she did. She noticed, in the middle of the brawl, the strange man with good taste in food get hit in the shins with a baseball bat by a big headed cat. “What a weird place!” Ganti smiled dashing in his direction. Sneaking up behind the man as he punted the cat across the room, she looked at his belt. There were small spheres attached to his belt, and he heard the man shout “smoke bomb” to the cowboy. Ganti smiled, grabbed the spheres with a quiet “Yoink!” uttered and hopped up on the other side of the man. “Hey buddy!” She smiled, throwing her arm around his shoulder, interrupting Chad. “Looks like you’re in a pickle! Too bad you don’t have anyone to protect you...” She said putting a finger to her mouth. Any response from Chad would be immediately cut off by Ganti’s wall of text. “Here, I’ll be your bodyguard! That’ll be 200 gold pieces! Oh, you don’t have any money? Whatever, I’ll just follow you around until you get some! Ok, lets see… with interest… carry the two…” Ganti counted with her fingers, standing in the middle of the fray. Bodies fly around her, she furrowed her eyebrows “Ahh I can’t focus here. Alright, we’ll just split the profit 60/40! Hee hee! Hey, thats the ratio I told Fitz he needed to pay me when we met… Ahh good times!” Ganti reminisced, still leaving the strange man dumbfounded. Then looking at the giant cat thing, she smiled. She dashed in the opposite and began to run around the bar, constantly leaping over and ducking under brawlers and flying bottles. She ended up behind the big cat thing. Smiling she drew her sword dashed towards her back, with every intent to leaping onto its back. Drawing a smoke bomb, she would throw it into the things face, take of it’s had, bop it on the head with the hilt of her sword, and leap onto a chandelier with an exclaimed "Wheee!!".

The dhampir analyzed the folk around him, mostly the guards, until he realized what was happening. It would seem something had happened, or was going to happen, and it didn't seem like he would get by as easily as he had hoped. Whatever happened while he was outside of the city caused the entire city to be wary, paranoid even. Kresnik cursed silently, removing his hand from his weapon. The guard that spoke to him made the dhampir irritated; the guard's apathy was not lost on him. "Must I have business here? 'Tis only a city," Kresnik quipped, lavender eyes narrowing.

Kresnik looked to and fro once more and found himself more irritated as one of the guards was looking him over with a baton-like object; perhaps searching for something heavily laced with magic or something searching for some out-of-place danger. He did not know, nor did he care to, but he was going to get into the city one way or the other. "If I knew what brought me here in the first place, know that I wouldn't be here, either. I'm simply passing through." He added a half-a-beat later, his eyes glowering with the intensity of a thousand suns. Kresnik made it no secret that he despised people of all kind, and he did not attempt to hide his distrust. However, he would humor these people for a while longer; but should one make a threatening gesture, he would surely immobilize them.

Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Chad M.F./Ganti]

James slammed against the counter, a grinning grimace on his face as he kicked back the flying, screeching fur ball. "I wouldn't do that, friend. These moments are the one that everybody is waiting fo--" James would be interrupted by Ganti, who more than likely stole Chad's and definitely the cowboy's as she let her self-hiring spill from her mouth in a rapid, energetic way. As she bounded away, James would shrug offandly, hands extended outwards before whirling around to block a drink patron's punch, quickly returning a left hook that sent his would-be-attacker flying to the ground. "Sound like you've got a new assistant, pal!" James would say with a grin.



Meanwhile, Ganti's would-be-assault on the drunken snorlax would never happen. Seeing that a figure was rushing towards his boss, Clint would crack his baseball bat across her shins, hopefully (and more than likely) sending her sprawling to the ground. "No one touches the boss without my say so, sweetheart." He would say, puffing out his chest as two more meowth appeared at his side, one with the tommy gun, and one twirling a butterfly knife across his knuckles. "And I say you is about to get stomped." His lackeys cackled as another swing of the baseball bat thumped through the air towards her head…



Tutmose; Western Gate
[Kresnik]

"Actually, yes. You must." The guard interrupted, in an in siting voice as he…she…it pulled up a tablet from its armored side and looking from it to Kresnik. "If you don't have a purpose for entering, there is not reason for you to be in our walls, Wildling."

However, as Kresnik continued, the guard would look up at Kresnik, as if something he said completely changed things, "So you're newly arrived at The Crossroads?" Before Kresnik could respond, however, the baton gave a trio of beeps. The guard scanning his limbs looked up at the questioning guard who then would look at Kresnik, beginning to move towards the dhampir as it spoke, "I'm afraid you'll have to come with me - further questioning will be needed." The other remaining guards began to reach for Kresnik, the one closest to the dhampir beginning to reach fir a pair of restraints..





The Valley; Judgement Clearing
[Fitz/Jeannot]

"Excellent."

The event to come forth was something that  no hunter or abolisher of darkness would have been able to predict. The Evergrowing Shadow's mask came to life, its beak opening to reveal a real mouth, the inside lined with tiny dagger-like teeth as Fitz would feel his aura being drained. The light that had been forming to a ball would be absorbed, feasted upon by the Caster of Shadows. As he ate, The Caster of Shadows' form would begin to change. His dark clothing would begin to turn to a shade of grey, lightening in color as the feasting continued. However, all at once, the beak would close, and the darkness would begin to return, both in the color of his clothes and the color of environment around the trio.

Wiping his mouth with his free right gloved hand, Fitz could swear he saw the mask's mouth smiles slightly as The Caster of Shadows spoke with a cold, calculating manner. "You say you know how to deal with beings of the shadow? Good. Then this should be fairly simple. Accept my offer and you will be able to go living in your mortal world - consider it a second chance. However, if you do not feel the need to return to your waiting wife and child…" The right hand would gently tap the book in his left, lensed eyes looking into Fitz's as he did, "Then onto our most pleasurable business dealings of before."