Viridos, Chapter 7

[Tone 6th]

Takeda let out a long sigh "[BCOLOR=#000000]It's been two days and I haven't found a single man that would suit the General.[/BCOLOR]" he mumbled. "Oh come now swordsman do not give up. I'm sure Viridos has at least one man to meat the needs of Amalia." a familiar female voice sounded next to him. "I suppose Arania... very well I will give the land one more chance to impress me." Takeda quickened his pace. The merchant stalls turned to bright green fields, then thick tree lines, and back to rolling fields. Hours past before the two came to thick meadow, a cool breezy accompanied the dull roar of the ocean. They stood on top of a large hill and looked down onto the port town. "It's quite a site isn't it?" Arania asked. Takeda took a deep breath of fresh air "It is definitely beautiful. It's a nice change to the the gritty inferno back home." his mind was clear and his heart calm.

"Excuse me!" a voice called from the bottom of the hill.

The swordsman turned and saw a man, clad in green leather armor, waving. Arania and Takeda made there back down to the man.

"Can I help you?" Takeda asked.

"Perhaps. Word has been going around that you have daughter that you need married. I think I would suit her well." he boasted.

The swordsman chuckled "My what confidence. What makes you so sure that you are right for my daughter?" This man was already losing points with Takeda.

​

"My strength knows no bounds. My mind is as sharp as a blade. I will protect her with all that I am." he looked the match maker in the eye.

The first two statements didn't even phase Takeda, he had been hearing those lines his entire search, but the third got his attention. He stepped closer to the young man and looked him over. "Who are you?" his voice was monotone.

"I am Nack Yal warrior of-" Takeda raised his hand. "I didn't ask for your title, just your name." he titled his head. "You say your mind is as sharp as a blade, tell me the name of Hosia's indigenous flower." he held his hands behind his back.

Nack fidgeted and struggled with the question "The.... the Water Lilly?" he squeaked out. "Are you asking me or telling me?" Takeda stared down the young man. "Telling sir." a frown was faint on his face. "My dear boy I find lying despicable, good bye." he turned and began walking away. "No stop!" Nack called. "I said good bye. Come Arania." The two kept walking.

Takeda took out a long piece of parchment and scribbled down Nack's name and wrote "Lair" next to it. He sighed "Arania I fear that this nation has nothing to offer me in the way of suitors." his gaze focused on the town in front of him. "Perhaps not, though I still find it funny that you claiming the General to be your daughter." she gave a hallow smile. "Well I can't go around asking men if they would marry the first General of their enemy." he chuckled. "It look likes I will return empty handed." his eyes were dim with sorrow. Araina patted him on his shoulder with a gloved hand "At least we found my family and a cure for my illness." she comforted him. He gave a small smile "Yes that it true, I am glad that I could help." his smile grew to a grin. Arania took out a little black glass ball "To think all that evil is now trapped in this ball." she rolled it in her hands. "Indeed Viridos 'magic' is something quite to be hold." Takeda agreed.

The warm sun started to set as the two got back on Till's boat. "I hope you..... found what..... you were looking for." the old tree said. "Yes sir I think we have." Takeda nodded as he set down their bags. "Ready to... return?" Till stood up. The warrior looked at the Nocturne beside him and smiled "Yeah, yeah I think we are." "We leave in one... hour." Till moved to the cabin.

The stone gates opened as Takeda exchanged looks with the guard at the top and nodded, he nodded back. The swordsman looked over the long list of failed suitors once more and sighed, there must have been at least two hundred names and reasons on it. "Forgive me Amailia." he frowned.

 

[Snakey]

Betrayal

"I'm sorry Dob, but times are changing." Lannis handed his former bodyguard a hefty sack of coin. "You got skill, but that just doesn't cut it anymore."

Dob stood stonefaced, but his trembling hands lifting out as he retrieved his pay betrayed his real feelings of the news. He held the purse aloft for a moment before speaking, "You too Lannis, really? Am I just not good enough anymore? Just some puny cut-purse with a dinky sword?"

"Don't so this Do-"

"I saved your money-hungry ass three times in the past voyage alone," Dob interrupted, "Not counting that whole feud ordeal you have with your ass of a cousin." He tipped the purse and began counting out the coins, scrutinizing each one as he transferred them into various hidden pockets. "What's the chance that half of these are fake?"

Lannis retreated a foot back, "Yes Dob. Three times. If you weren't such a..." The merchant choked on the word before he spoke it, "... Dare I say 'normal' man, I wouldn't have been attacked once. I mean, if I didn't know you better, I wouldn't think of you more than a eccentric merchant with a thing for swords. By the Czar's dead heart Dob, you look more foppish than me or most other merchants for that matter."

Dob inspected himself, despite brawls and heavy work his fine clothes showed no wear and his weapons were unblemished with neither chip nor stain. His head perked up in sudden realization "You hired No-Neck didn't you? I suppose he's getting double what I made?" Dob eyed the large draken still working on the deck, safely out of earshot.

Lannis's patience had visibly worn thin, "His name is Kraik, Dob. You saw what he did, he picked up a thug and chewed his bloody head off!"

"I killed four men in the same fight!"

"You don't understand, Dob, I've already admitted you have the skill. What you don't have is intimidation. Men expect to die by the sword, hey, some even seek it. Being an honorable death or some shit." Lannis paused in expectation of rebuttal. When nothing came, he continued, "Having the last thing you see in this world be the back of a draken's throat, that's what puts fear in men. And that brings me to the whole point, you're not intimidating. At all. No one is looking for flash, or style. It's all about brute fear. I'd rather not have to deal with an attack at all than have to be defended. You get what I'm saying?"

"So, what happens when you come across a man with spine?" The former bodyguard flung his given sack to the ground, four tin coins spilling onto the pier where they stood. He sighed and turned away from his former employer, ignoring his calls as he made his way to Hosia proper.

Musings

It was the third time. First a man with arms wider than Dob's head, second a Forest Kin as large as the oak he resembled. Now it was draken with a taste for blood. All living mountains, a wide enough variety of such that he couldn't claim racism as the cause for his continuous unemployment.

The real reason was always much more insulting.

It was always the same. Some up and coming merchant looking for a guard is delighted that the famous Dob is up for grabs and snatch him up. Over the course of the route they act all high and mighty, insulting and berating low-level crew members until a swabby snaps and tries to gut them while they sleep. Dob would run the sob through and his charge would wake insulted that such scum would even consider doing him in before running their mouth at their only protector. Perhaps Dob just had bad employers, but this exact series of events had become almost a tradition of late.

It seemed that uncontrolled trade had not only swelled merchant's purses, but their egos as well.

Burning Curiosity

Dob navigated streets and canals of Hosia with proficiency, passing his usual haunts with a burning purpose. No inn or tavern could quench the fire that burned in him, he sook something more. His destination quickly made it's way to his sight, The Brothel of Belphebe.

He approached the entrance, throwing the door guards his weapons before they could even ask and tipping his hat, partly out of courtesy and partly to show he had not sewn spikes into the brim. The brothel itself had classed up greatly since his last visit, fans and and sheets both silken-make abound as well as a whole new slew of hard-faced guards. He walked through the mist of perfume and musk. Groaning and moaning ringing through the halls. One sound of pleasure stood out from the others, the animistic groan of First Mate Jarich. It was almost impressive how quickly the man made it here from the docks.

"Looking for a good time Dob?"

Dob turned to see a small woman, fair haired and gifted. Thoura, a staple of the establishment. "Sorry, but if I wanted a cheap fuck I'd just paint breasts on Jarich's back and have my way with him." Dob ignored the offence in Thoura's face, finding himself smirking as the animistic moans ceased, "No, what I'm looking for is someone bigger, like... like a living mountain." Dob raised his voice with every word, earning him the attention of the nearby guards.

"Is there a mountain I can conquer among you?" Dob Yelled. The room joined Jarich in silence and two guards went to draw their truncheons, but stopped when a mass raised itself like a wave from a pile of silk sheets. A female draken stood, towering far above her peers, Dob figured he would only come just above her elbow. The giantess made her way to the dwarfed sailor, gold finding it's way into her massive hand as Dob grabbed it to be led away.

"Do you think my head would fit in your mouth?" He quietly asked as he was led to a vacant room, "I have a burning curiosity that needs some scratching."

 

[Ner0]

Hall of Mirrors, gray

Seventeen. The number circled his consciousness, taunting him. The memories from each of the chambers tormented him as he forced himself to remember. He had to keep his mind active. Something was gnawing at him, tearing away at his grip on reality. He knew that extended time in the maze had adverse effects on the psyche, perhaps it was something in the air. He nudged of the suspicion and took another swig from his watering skin, a cool feeling of hydration pulsed through him as he continued to recount the events of the rooms he had visited so far.

He pushed deeper into the tunnel. The rope hung lazily behind him, dragging on the ground as he traveled. It surprised him greatly that he had not yet encountered any others within this maze. He had thought that a few of the prisoners would have harassed him by now. Perhaps he was having a lucky day, or maybe something had scared them off. He shuddered at the thought of something monstrous enough to scare off the residents of the Shartan. He quickened his step momentarily, but quickly reverted to his normal pace. What was it that had him on such an edge?

He cursed himself as he realized he had stopped recounting the events of the other rooms, but soon gave up the struggle as the eighteenth chamber drew near.

Mikael stepped through the archway and into yet another hall. Statues of young men and women in different positions of horror lined the sides of the chamber. A red carpet lined the floor, leading up to a strange golden pedestal at the end of the chamber. The darkness prohibited him from seeing beyond it however, and his eyes were drawn back to the statues. He studied one from a short distance and found himself amazed by the detail. The statues were so lifelike that he could not help but have an eerie thought pop into the back of his mind. He stepped closure. It seemed impossible, but the figures even had small stone hairs on their fore arms, and the clothing they wore hung on their bodies like actual cloth.

It was bizarre and frightening, yet he found himself compelled, pulled towards the statues as if some force were goading him. His hand raised to touch them, if only gently. Everything froze for a small moment as his hand drew ever closer to the surface of the statue. He was drawn to the eyes, glass mirrors that drew him in. In the reflection he saw himself, but not just that. He jumped back at what he saw, and fell onto the velvet carpet. His eyes glanced around the room in paranoia as he confirmed that everything was in its proper place.

He could have sworn he had seen them. The other statues crowding around him, preparing to rip him apart. He turned his back and sped from the room with haste, unable to shake the feeling that they were watching him go.

With glassy, soulless eyes...

 

[KoolaidKing]

Zoarjiradh nodded and took the scroll. Reminding himself to read it as soon as he gets the chance. The guards turned and escorted him to a room, where he would be staying the night. After the guards had left, he closed the door, and sat on the bed, with a creak. He pulled open the scroll and read it over. He didn't understand all of the wording, but from what he could see, it was just outlining the deal they had made over the Zoaris, two bushels. It did not, however, specify how many hides would be retrieved. I guess however many we can get and carry, Zoarjiradh thought with a shrug. He than sat down on the bed, and mulled over how he would find more of the curious beast. After a short while of thinking about it, a voice croaked from somewhere, "You are invited to stay the night to rest." Zoarjiradh jumped up off the bed with a yelp and reached for the jungle knife hooked on his harness, his eyes flicked around the room until he pinpointed the source of the voice. The little brown frog was perched on top of the bedpost, and was peering up at Zoar. Zoarjiradh scowled, embarrassed that he had been scared by something so minuscule. But it was a good thing, because he had now been reminded that he also needed to speak to Shekar. I'll do it after I fulfill this contract, because it's getting pretty late and I'm tired. Zoarjiradh shrugged, and pulled his harness off, draping it on the best where the lizard had perched before. He mad sure the door was closed and then retired to the bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the sun rose and the cock crowed, Zoarjiradh woke up. With a tired yawn he hauled himself up from bed and tugged his harness on. He reached for the doorknob when he realized he was forgetting something very important- the lizard. He turned away and looked around the room, sighing with relief as he found it in a corner, curled up into a ball. He scooped it up and dropped it into one of his numerous pouches, then exited the room. As he emerged into the hallway, wiping the sleep from his eyes, he looked either which way for anyone, but saw no signs of life. He walked down the hallway, the floorboards creaking lowly, until he turned a corner and found himself face to face with a large, brutish looking guard. "Ah, excuse me sir, but do you happen to know where and when I could talk to Belshebe? I want to accept her contract." After giving him a long, cold, glare, the guard said "You can find Belshebe in her office. Just knock before you try to enter." With a nod of thanks, Zoarjiradh turned around and walked over to the room where he had met Belshebe before. He was quite confident, as he had come up with a plan, and an excuse if they didn't find any of the animal. He could retrace his path as best he could, they would get the two bushels, and then search for a while in the vicinity of where Zoar had found the animal. If they didn't find it, he'd just mark it off as an extinct animal or something. As he approached the door, he was surprised to find it open. He peeked inside, and when he saw Belshebe at her desk, he entered, with a light knock. She looked up at him from something she was scribbling on her paper. "Ah, Zoarjiradh, have you decided whether to accept the contract?" Belshebe smiled at him, though it didn't reach her eyes. With a nod Zoarjiradh replied, "Of course. I have devised a plan to attempt to find more of the particular animal. I also clearly remember the route I had taken to the poppy fields."

 

[Falcon]

There was a single pointed difference in the way Shekar and Balphebe operated. Belphebe we well know, popular even. Clients knew to come to her, that she would create a contract or refuse and her terms would be clear.

Shekar preferred to operate in the shadows.

Her little antique shop was known, but not obviously prosperous. neither was it particularly easy to find as it was set in a little out of the way nook in the market district. While one could set up and watch Belphebe's brothel and mark who entered, when, and with whom, Shekar's less than honorable clients frequently arrives a random points in the day, frequently in the fourth watch of the night, and they were always disguised. It was easy enough to know most of who came to the brothel, if not their reasons. Clients came to Shekar when they wanted Anonymity.

No one came to Shekar if they were unwilling to work with uncertain terms.

It worked well, Bephebe and Shekar running in the same circle when they had never before even marketed the same goods. Most might think they were in direct competition, yet that was not the case. Belphebe was the face, she got the credit, she knew the routes, anyone who needed the sort of help they offered would most likely go to her first. yet though her clients were fewer it was Shekar who struck the more lucrative deals and shouldered the burden of greater risk. She collected from those Belphebe wouldn't even look at.

There was, after all, a reason Zovalias had singled out her shop as the location of their original meeting.

the cargo Shekar moved was sent out under a variety of aliases. The cargo she obtained likewise hidden. She made smaller runs with more captains, sometimes splitting up shipments between them. Even if once sank at least a portion was guaranteed to reach the buyer. Shekar traded goods for goods, goods for favors, vary rarely did any actual currency cross her palm. In this uncertain day the value of such could very quickly drop leaving her penniless. She preferred to collect favors and work in commodities that would always be appreciated. Iron for example. It was in very high demand at the moment.

She invested in people as well, giving then what they needed and trusting in their potential to one day rise to great height. Then she would collect. Once the future was decided the leaders of the world would look back and remember her, all she had done. It was that future she worked toward.

 

[Rain of the Night]

Riven - Within the Library, green

A few days… It had only been a few days that Modakra had spent in the great forest city of Riven. It was rare he came to these places, only when he had a few things to collect from the wild flora. This time, the reason of his visit was an odd one. It was a request from someone he knew of by reputation, but never thought to meet him or even communicate with. A messenger had come, not too long ago, with a message of Tattersal. It had surprised him at first, but he read on to, curious of the nature of the message. After reading the all of it, it created a slight panic within him… The infection he spoke of was nothing he had ever really heard about. The task demanded was a fairly simple request, but the hardships to get to it were beyond what Modkra though was capable of. Unfortunately, with the danger this "infection" presented, he could not simply deny his request.

This is what had led him here, to the libraries of Riven. He spent those days in Riven reading over books upon books, trying to puzzle together something that could be of use. There seemed to be very little information on the Aux-Eaters that could be found, even less something that could help cure those who have been infected. He knew of plants, extremely rare plants that had the capacity to influence the states of Aux. It was, in fact, the first thing he tried to find, but with no avail for now…

With a gentle sigh, Modkra turned the page of his book, having yet to be lucky enough to find anything that was truly of use. He scanned the pages many times, searching for the relevant information. Nothing. It was a reoccurring theme; finding nothing of use to the whole problem. Not only that, but the city in the trees was tense… The rumors of the infection coming near was terrifying news, but not one that would have Modakra back off from what he was demanded to do by Tattersal. Reading the final page, he closed the book he was reading and set it aside. Today, at least, he would have some help of a friend. She had yet to show up, but he had asked to meet up here that morning, so she would probably not be too far. There was lots to be done and very little time, it seemed.

 

[HnossofHel]

She rushes though the crowded streets of Riven. Her hair a mess because she had to rush. Her days have been filled with reading books and filing since she had worked here at the library in Riven. She loved this city and the knowledge it had hidden in the walls from old lessons taught to kids to new found breeds in the forest. Yet day she was rushing for a new reason, one of great importance she was told.

Her friend of many years that she new from many visit to the an old library she worked at. He got her a message late last night that said he was back in the city and need of some urgent help. The note didn't mention what was of urgent need she figured he'd tell her upon arrival but it was eating at her on her way. She pushes open one of the big library doors and slides in.

She tries to be quite going up the stairs to the research tables where he wanted to meat. Bushing hands over her hand to make it look less tasseled as she climbed towards where he sat. She gets to the top and walks to the seeing him shove a book aside. Quietly she walks to him and taps his shoulder,"Hello, I think you requested my help," smiling sweetly down to help.

 

[unanun]

Greetings Kindly Modakra, green

As a member of the Hosian apothecary association, I am writing to you with a simple request.

Teadoir, our minister of herbs and drugs, has been missing for a month. In his stead, there are none who can procure for me a certain flower that I require. Our minister may have left his old notes and diary in his private corner of the Riven library. I suggest you look there.

I am aware of the growing tensions between our merchants, as well as the High Clad who have different objectives in mind. Your safety is guaranteed while you are within the Riven tree's shadow.

Travel safely.

It was a simple message ... but it left no room for negotiation. So the apothecary set off.

The Riven mothertree rose before him. Its form continuously shifted. From the outside it was a skeletal tree, a giant spine running upwards to the sky and branching forever into green bulbs. The tree pulsated with the winds, breathing the poisoned jungle air and releasing it pure. As he broke past a line of wiry forest kin, the illusion fell and it simply looked like a giant leafy creature. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the kin pull a spear point from a giant, writhing centipede. It spurted black ichor and extinguished itself on the mossy forest floor. The corruption steadily pushed against the Riven tree's umbral line.

"Courage, Mikael." Faern repeated his mantra. It always came at the right times, when they were traversing the last sixteen chambers. Most of them contained an expired creature of some sort or another, and in their death throes they left behind tortured mementos.

The Shartan rotated again.

"Look ..." Zim pointed beyond the door. His armour dulled from the indeterminate time they had spent in the prison-labyrinth. The golden saber glimmered faintly, but his shansheng was debasing .. returning to plain, dull bark. He shed the armour and left it on the floor, which gladly accepted the gift and returned it to soil.

Beyond, a trail of fresh blood led into the dark.

 

[Ner0]

The guide stopped in his tracks. The shadows were thick here and he had nearly missed it. He focused his senses and it became discernible. An awkward grunting sat in the distance, alerting the group to the presence. He internally thanked Zim for his awareness. Something was dulling Mikael's senses and it was starting to show outwardly. He motioned for the other two to spread out. Whether a wolf or a giant stood behind this corner, Mikael wished to take it by surprise.

The three approached the corner silently, using the sounds of the creature's grunting to judge its awareness of their presence. On this occasion it was Mikael that made the error. The heel of his boot scuffed the ground lightly as he stepped forward, the sound was inferior to a pin drop but it may as well have been a battle cry. Immediately the grunting noises silenced, only to be replaced by a scuffling of feet and a cracking of bones.

The giant rounded the corner, dwarfing the party with it's presence. In a single hand it held the half eaten corpse of a man easily twice Mikael's own size. Rigor Mortus had kept a hand axe in the clenched fist of the giants' meal. Blood stained the monster's face and small bits of flesh hung from its mouth. A snarl formed as its maw opened to greet them. Thick string of saliva draped across its teeth as it let out a roar of challenge. Bits of rotten flesh flung out and landed on the ground before Mikael. As the roar silenced Mikael prepared himself for the beasts' charge.

Surprisingly however, the creature did not immediately rush the guide. Instead it studied him with an ominous intuition. As the two locked gazes Mikael saw the man behind the monster. This giant studied him with the eyes of an expert, and Mikael returned the same gaze. Both men were hunters, and both men recognized the other's experience. Mikael steeled himself as he realized what it was that he faced. "Stand back," he warned the other two, "I will handle this beast." Mikael lowered his stance as he prepared to face the King of the Shartan.

 

[Salsacookies]

The Shartan

I sank into the deepest shadow I could find, held the body up like it's standing as a trap and waited for the rest of my meal. Yes, this will be a feast.

"Oh boy! Whoever messed with MY Crew, is getting the HOOK, HAHAH, you dead soon ya know. Come out ya lot, and, I promise, I'LL END IT QUICKy QUICK!" "Brother! BROTHER!!! Eh, you can stop hiding, Come here BROTHER!!!" BROTHER!!!" "Eh, quiet down will ya! This is no time to be shouting brotha throughout the halls, we find him, kill who took him, and bring him back. Now, QUIET YOURSELF, AND BE THREATENIN, YA PILE o dumb flab! Oh buddybuddybuddy BUDDAYYYY!!! Come out for YA BIRTHDAY HOOKANG!!! HAH, COME OUT YA COWARD!"

At last, I saw the two of them rounding the hall. The fishy one looks crazed and rearing for a fight. The big guy... trying, but still obviously distraught. I feel it's best I try to take out the big one first, by his look, he was the one who looked like he was shouting brother, therefore, other than size, if he saw his dead brother, he'd immediately go into a berserk rage, and I don't feel like fighting for my meals, best if you don't have to. Still and quiet, they will see him now.

"Brother! Where'd ya go? You look hurt, come here, I'll help. "Hey, stop for a moment. This looks off to me, like a trap. Hey there Long-Ears, How was your trip? Are you doing fine? Just stand RIGHT There, and we'll come straight to ya, okay... FRIEND!!! ALRIGHT, Here We Come.

They then began to walk slowly toward the body. The big guy is in front of the fish man. All according to plan. I took the body by it's leg, and, with all the strength in my legs, I lunged toward them with lightning strike speed, and attempted to club the big guy's head with it. The big guy, however, was faster than I thought. He dodged below the body in a very graceful fashion for someone his size, and ended up behind me. I heard his axes hit the ground to prevent him from falling, and a big thud, signaling his failed attempt at catching himself. The body, however, hit the fish directly on the head, propelling his body to hit the ground hard, incurring a second hard blow on his head, along with him amusingly bouncing up in a standing position, before finally toppling over, and staying down. He has a huge gash on his head, and he is bleeding profusely. I'm pretty sure his hooking days are over.

The body I'm holding, I feel, is too damaged to be of any use, so I threw it to the side. "No. No! NO!!! Brother killer! I I'm going to kill you. BROTHER KILLER!!!" I turn to him to see we he will strike, but before I could see where he'd strike, 2 axes immediately embed into by armless shoulder and left pectoral. He then kicked me in the stomach, dislodging the one ax, but leaving the other in my chest. The pain overwhelmed my rational thought, and the last thing I remember is lunging at him, before everything went into a red haze.

I hear a noise, and suddenly, my senses return. A new sight greets me, and almost causes my rage to return. "HUMANNNN!!!". A human a fraction of my size stands before me, returning a gaze towards me. "Stand back, I will handle this beast." His stance then lowered, ready to fight. This human is a fool, and I will make him pay dearly.

Mikael

*Big gasp of air, then a long moan of pain* "*cough* "Brother. Where are you? Brother?" *Stands and begins to walk limply*

 

[unanun]

The trio froze. The Shartan that they had been fighting for a long, indeterminate amount of time instantly became a backdrop in which their new challenged was framed. They sized each other up. Faern stood with his spear casually tilted, yet the looseness of his stance suggested an innumerable amount of ways he could stab the Grendel. Acolyte Zim radiated unfocused killing invent, his hand shaking on the hilt of his golden saber.

Diplomacy first. The inhabitants of the Shartan weren't insane. They were evil. Crucial difference.

"Grendel." Faern's even voice cut through the miasma. "You remember us?"

The monster sucked a piece of gore from its teeth in response.

"I am Tattersal's -"

The body with the mangled face whistled past him and embedded itself into the wall, head wedged between accepting stones and roots. Faern did not flinch, but the golden steel rang loudly as Zim pulled the saber from its sheathe. The pure tone echoed through the Shartan. Its call would be the roar of a predator to some, and the siren's lustful summons to others. The creatures of the Shartan began to move.

"- lieutenant." Faern brushed a sliver of blood from his cheek. "We are here, Grimagar, to take you home. Come home."

"To Pegulis."

 

[E.T.]

"Very good, I await the goods you have promised." Belphebe said the smile on her face, the perfection of a politician, looked genuine but hide that seamless smirk that so many dignitaries were blessed with. Curt goodbyes were exchanged and Zoarjiradh left with the feeling that if he failed the chances that he could enter Hosia again safely were slim to none. And Belphebe was left the feeling that there would soon be new items that she could market to both Viridos and Kaustir, perhaps even Pegulis if the building tensions lead to something more than a stalemate. Was she looking forward to a war? Well she could not deny that the potential profits were something of a boon. However she knew that she, along with the other merchants, would have to be careful when dealing with these fractured nations. It wouldn't due to show complete loyalty to any specific group, then again it would be bad business to make any of them feel estranged.

But a sly smile peaked at the corner of her mouth as she pondered as to what any one of the nations would do if they decided to alienate themselves from the merchants. Be it food, wood, metal, drugs, or simple luxuries who, at this important junction would be willing to cut of the merchants that kept their political machines turning. Well Tattersal might try, he was a Viridian at heart and while that was admirable it was easy to see that he despised the merchants that circled lazily so close to his beloved city's heart. He could smell the carrion in the air and he might be the first to try to push the merchant's out to a more comfortable distance. Not that that would change much, for Hosia was becoming to crowded. It was an inconvenient hub to maintain, with heavy moisture came rot, rust, and water damage making it a risk to keep anything within the city for a length of time.

So the clever rats of the city had jumped ship and found a new land to call home. The roots of Viridos ran deep but they had long been gnawing at the core. They would rip themselves from the dirt and sail to a new home where there would be nothing but merchants, profiteers, and whatever scum could peel itself away from the underbelly of the city. Already, bit by bit, massive beams plucked from the forest had been brought to the island. Some were sunk in the water to create a sturdy if plain dock for the boats that would soon arrive in force. Some had gone to form the scaffolding of the first buildings the island had seen in a very long time. All was proceeding as was planned.

"Is it time to see Shekar?" Came the lazy voice of her Aux as it drifted down from the rafters to settle on the overcrowded desk.

"I suppose it is." Belphebe said spreading the wide piece of parchment out once more to look over the words she had written there. It seemed a long while since that secret meeting when Shekar had asked her to write this document. The many drafts that had been written and rewritten had been burned to ash in favor of secrecy. It would not do alarm their more sensitive allies when the merchants themselves were not quite ready for their announcement.

 

[unanun]

While Tattersal stalled Kaustir, his Lost Band quietly worked to free Viridos. When Tattersal was young, he was exiled from the green lands by the Cinnabar Clad. They were content to have the Hosian port occupied by steel and fire wielding merchants. He was the one that accepted and learned from them, using their own tricks to drive them out with the still green Kindly Ones and their imperfect golden steel. In the eyes of the Clad, learning the culture of those who based their life around exploiting Sunne and the Cataclysm was more of a crime than letting them intrude on their coast.

Yet while he fumed in the labyrinth forest, the Clad also had their own directive. The Jade Prophet passed down warnings drawn from the far beyond. They charmed ancient trees to life and empowered the kin of Viridos to great heights and strength ... and sent them down to the southern border. There they stood guard for decades, mossy green eyes blinking against the fine dust that perpetually swirled over the Deadlands.

From beyond an old terror dwells, said Kairos. A quiet, brooding life that Ilium did battle with during the Cataclysm. But what were they, the Clad asked. Kairos did not answer. He only bade that they would slay anything that emerged from the Deadlands.

Elsewhere, another group of exiles worked on Tattersal's problem. Ironblood stumbled through the southern Viridos badlands alone. Her two companions were long lost - like Naya, they were set upon by the shadows of the Kindly Ones and dragged away at night. The assumption of Viridos by the aux-eaters was all but complete. The forest remained unchanged - still a poisoned, verdant mass, but the population was lifeless, glassy-eyed and dragged around in the capitol of Edelon by puppet strings through their aux.

An adobe of the earthspeaker. It looked like it had been unoccupied for a long time. But the earthspeaker left no trails where he walked, and left no sign of his existence on Sunne. Finding him was wholly a matter of chance. He only appeared in the whistle of the leaf, or the splash of the surf - only when most unexpected. So Ironblood chose to search for him in the one place where he would normally never show, a definite place of home.

 

[Rain of the Night]

Riven - Within the Library, green

Reaching over for the next book he would read, he felt someone tap upon his shoulder. With a slight turn of his shoulders, he looked over it. A smile immediately ran across his lips as he discovered who the individual that took his attention away was. "Viktoriya! I am glad to see you." He spoke almost excitedly, getting out from his chair. His arms wrapped around her to give her a great hug. It had been a while since he had seen her. He stayed in this embrace for a moment before letting her go and smiling warmly. "It has been so long my dear friend." He spoke softly. It didn't hit him yet that he was dragging the women into, but he did really need her help. He turned to his books and thought for a moment.

"We need to discuss a matter… In private. I have found some quarter's that will let us have some time without any disturbances." His mood had already become heavier with the thought of what he had to talk to her about. Modakra grabbed a few books that he had taken out earlier and brought them with him, motioning for her to follow. They walked through the halls and eventually went through a wooden door to reveal a small study with shelves of books. Once inside, Modakra closed the doors and locked them, a gentle sigh leaving his lips. He turned to his friend and walked towards the desk, letting one book hit the top of it.

"I'm sorry I asked for you in such short notice. I didn't realize I was going to be here until the day I left for here." He said, grabbing two chairs from the room and bring them over so they could sit down. "I was asked to find some research from someone of the Hosian apothecary, along with a request from another individual. I found the man's notes, but I discovered something grave." His eyes looked up at her as he handed the notes over to her. They were notes of a flower that would help for some kind of infection. That was merely from a simple glance. When you searched a little deeper, there was clearly a hidden message behind it. Modakra had discovered it was about the same lines of the demand he was given by Tattersal.

He looked up to her, having lost his smile. "There is an infection spreading, one that would affect the Aux of individuals… It is the first time I ever heard of it and it is never something I would imagine possible." He said as he then turned his head to look at the books in the room. "I need your help to find some notes or books that could help us cure this infection. Anything that would affect the Aux and heal it. I've found nothing for now… But I know you know these libraries better than I do. I was hoping you could help me with this."

 

[unanun]

A convoluted path.​

This itch was not quite the one Dob had in mind when Belphebe gave him a rock with wings silver painted. He followed the flitting trail from building to building, showing it to someone who pointed him to the next someone. In his mind's eye, although he was running in spirals around Hosia, they led ever closer to the docks. Once, he had the clever idea of skipping right to the ship with the silver wing so blatantly painted on its side - he was turned back and spent the next hour tracing the proper route. Perhaps he was being successively vetted by each scoundrel that jerked their thumb in the direction of his next walk.

"You're Dob."

"S'me." The dandy smoothed his pantaloons and tightened the scabbard at his waist.

"Come on, then."

"What. No interview?" His hand was already resting on the hilt of his sword.

"You've got a recommendation. And a reputation."

Perhaps his old employer was lying. Dob looked behind him and saw the uncouth and beastly left behind, the slightly dim-witted ones or the ones a little too close to the ground and trees to think for themselves. He allowed himself a slightly narcissistic though - it was the talent that was leaving. It wasn't the times that were changing. His old boss probably saw the writing on the wall and tried to jip him of his last paycheck.

So much for the itch.

Is the same as a straight line on water.​

The merchant-bodyguard tried to appear unimpressed and choked for his arrogance. A short journey from the Hosian shores, the city-ships of the Prosperos pierced the sea fog. Painted as much in rust brown as white, the giant barges sailed with K'Larr's stolen technology, scaled versions of the turtle ships the Draken looted from the Kaustrian navy.

To the merchants, the fat, toting Draken was something akin to a little fetish of wealth, appearing with his three-finger hands overflowing with coins, ambition, and power. K'Larr came and went, answering only to hidden conspiracy, whispering words with Zolvalias and another shadowy figure (Trask?). His subtle touch was everywhere: glittering gold and other goods smoothed over any difficulties, forcing the path level for the massive imports of steel and sulfur for the cannons that bristled from the ship like a Kaustir cacti.

As their small ship docked, Dob choked again with disbelief as the sights, sounds, and smells of Hosia and Avarath greeted him. Merchant stalls, giant cranes lifting commodity, and sizzling fish and dried lizard exploded from the interior of the floating city, pushing him back. He composed himself and pushed into the warm, salty mass with the same confidence he used to navigate his trade on the shore.

 

[HnossofHel]

She looks at her friend and bites her lip. "I would need more information to be of help. Do you know when or what state people are in when their aux's are infected. How many are there? Does it spread and at what rate?" She looks at him worried about this issue because many in this land need the aux's.

She moves around the room her fingers tapping her chin has she thinks. "If we new how and why, I could figure out ways to help. Rather elemental based or plant based." She was worried too because she had her own aux and what nothing to happen to it. She wondered what races got it first and how fast it could mutate.

"What all to you know about it infection wise and I wonder if it has happened before in some form." She had so many questions about this topic.

 

[unanun]

"Are you sure about this?"

The stairs had ended a long time ago, carefully engineered protrusions of the heartwood from the Riven tree. They spiraled up her thick trunk, helpfully coated in thick, rippled bark for their feet.

In the large knot at the base of the Riven tree, Viktoriya had led them into the deepest recesses, where the dim canopy light faded and gave way to soft, glowing moss. Here, memories were not written down in the sacred sanskrit, or scrawled in common Sunne in the travel diaries of various explorers and apothecaries; they were passed on in the fading echoes of Kairos, in the shuffle of the vines and the pulsating moss, the particular way insects flew from place to place. The entire room itself was a memory, and one had to know where to look to start reading off the story.

"When the undertakers lay our people to rest in the tree's heartwood ... " her mesmerized speech was as much a reflection of the diorama as it was of her feelings, "... we connect with Ilium this way."

"What way?" But she was already leaving the knot, guided by the echo of a prophet. Modakra scrambled after her, filling a pack with food and shelter as they ascended the tree.

"The architects told me that the bark is too thick at the ground to get to the heartwood." The librarian grunted and reached for a branch. "If we .. get .. to the canopy .. I'm sure .."

It was too easy to get lost inside the dense foliage of the Riven mother tree. Entering the bush from the central trunk, all sense of direction was lost, all paths were the same. Dim shades of green and yellow from the filtered sunlight cast no shadow. The only sign of progress was downward pull of their weight as they climbed upwards - even the branches refused to get thinner, hour after hour.

 

[Snowday]

Getting By
________________________________________________________

Even while dramas of merchants and monsters unfold, the city goes on. No blockade can stop an overworked soul from finding his way to a tavern or brothel, or make the children look up from their game of marbles. So long as their lives are unaffected, the common people of the city proceed as normal.

It was a little quiet in that part of town, the part where you could hear the echoes from the heart of the city passing through like lively ghosts - shouting merchants, laughing people, clinking glasses. But when you looked up, all you could see were forgotten shops and the people ignoring them, all on their way to main street. It was enough joyful noise to bait them in, and enough blissful silence draw them out, eventually.

But woven in between the noise and silence was music. It danced between passers-by and over the heads of children like a docile faery. The faint song of some reed instrument could be heard from down the block, but you had to look to the earth to find the source of the noise - namely, the ground. If you stared at your feet for long enough on that stretch of road, you might spot her. A small girl, no older than ten or eleven, sat under the window sill of a coffee shop, playing a lively ditty on a reed flute. Her canvass trousers were old and dirty, her knobby knees poking out from holes in the fabric. Her hair needed a good wash-and-brush, and she was scuffed and smudged and weather-worn all over. In spite of this, she smiled around the mouthpiece of her flute, her eyes bright with humor. In front of her she had placed an old tin can, which, upon further inspection, held a precious few coins. The little brown mouse that was her Aux snoozed on her shoulder, hidden by a frizzy black curtain of hair.

A man, clearly well-to-do, passed down the sidewalk. The girl looked up. "Lovely day, innit, master?" Tem called after him in a slight lisp, trying not to stare at his fattened purse. The man ignored her. "Gots elsewhere t'be? Have a good'un, then!" The man left without a word, and she resumed her song. A few strangers offered their coins, and some even stopped to listen for a few minutes, but she was otherwise ignored. It didn't quite bother her, though - at this rate, she'd have enough for a good meal by noon. She'd probably still end up having to steal some bread for the younger urchins, but if she bought a bigger, cheaper loaf, she might be able to feed everyone - everyone who needed it, at least.

"Thank ya, mistress!" Tem offered her thanks to the woman whose coin had been the last of her winnings, just as the clocks struck noon. But when she lowered the flute from her lips, she could hear something new - voices from within the coffee shop. Agitated voices. Quickly, she began transferring the coins from her can to her pocket. Just as she was finishing up, a burly man stepped out of the coffee shop, eying her distastefully. "H'lo there, master!" she greeted, barely concealing the fear rising in her throat. Sensing the impending danger, she grabbed her can and flute. "What can I do fer - hey, what're ya doin'?" The man took hold of her shirt collar with one meaty hand and scooped her up. Tem jammed her fingers in between the taut cloth and her neck, gasping for air. "Aw, c'mon, mast'! I wasn' hurting no ones!" The man began walking to the end of the block, ignoring her pleas. She could feel herself swinging like a pendulum in his grasp, the collar of her shirt digging painfully into her neck. "Aw, now, c'mon! I betcha five pence I's can plays your favorite song!" Tem cried out. The passers-by ignored the scene - Hosia was crawling with urchins, and only law enforcement and grandmas cared if they were mistreated. "You's look like a Sir Simon's Ditty kinda fella! I's can plays that! No? How bout Red Rabbit? Or -" Upon reaching the end of the block, the man chucked her off the curb, cutting her off. Tem gave a small yelp of pain.

"If I catch you loitering round my shop again, it'll be the last thing you ever do, brat." The man was gone before she could recover herself. His threats hardly offended her, but there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes - she could feel the scratches on her knees beginning to well with warm blood, and her head was throbbing from the force of the impact. She hurt all over, and to make matters worse, all of the coins had fallen out of her pocket and scattered onto the street. As she began to gather them up again, she lowered her head to hide those shameful tears. ​

 

[unanun]

Deeper, grey

Deeper,

Down.

Zim's footsteps boomed in his ears and his heart thundered in his chest. He tripped and desperately scrabbled onward, through doors unknown and paths unseen. Always at the edge of his vision a giant, grey arm grasped the corner that he had just turned around. His pursuer seemed to stop every time he fell, waiting for him to get back up before moving on.

In his hands he clutched the mangled head of the forest guide. The old jailer was supposed to retrieve the divine artifact inside the Grendel's head - a pearl that would allow the one who swallowed it to access the kin's dreamtime. But it still slept inside the one-armed beast. It had not taken kindly to Mikael's suggestion, and he watched his own body as his head floated high up into the air before expiring. Faern caught the jailer's head - then found himself staring at his own heart, grasped in the hand of the Grendel protruding from his chest.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Zim held back the sobs racking his body.

Amaltas. If he could find the great unicorn who shepherded the Shartan, perhaps he would grant him mercy. Deeper he plunged into the jail, lost in the sloughing matter and squelching moss. If he ever made it out, he feet would likely have to be amputated from the poison.

The labyrinth shifted again, and before him stood the glorious dark unicorn. Zim fell to his knees in supplication, and his eyes continued sobbing into the ground as the disguised Entropist gored a hole into the acolyte's head and sucked out the matter within.

 

[HnossofHel]

She leads the way into the tree. Her hands on the branches, her eyes closing using the tree to lead her into the center of the tree. She felt the pull the energy of the tree this must be the same energy that protects and sustains the aux. Her mind hummed with sounds from the tree, she took this job with her friend to protect her aux. She pauses to wait on those following her they all are searching for the answers.