View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNBCvJOsefw

"How did it get so late so soon?"
--Dr. Seuss

Nightsongs (Woljiff)

Woljiff wasn't going to shank her, of course. Or even steal from her, really. But he was just a little bit curious. So he crept into her room, and made sure his footfalls were as silent as he could make them. She had a little side room, no bigger than anyone else's, despite the fact that she was clearly the chief. With every word she spoke that pretended they were all equals or all friends, she was reminded of the fact that she was definitely the one in charge. The room was dark, probably, but he was a Tiefling. He didn't have any problem seeming her form, huddled up in bed. Perhaps he'd just root around in her bags. They were… huh, where were they? He couldn't see them. Of course he couldn't, he realized, and almost laughed at himself. She'd have to be pretty stupid to leave anything of hers out in the open.

If he was her, he'd have put it in one of those cabinets, but not one of the obvious ones, and had that terrifying poppet of hers guarding it, ready to leap out and start clawing people to death if they tried to steal it.

Suddenly he wasn't so sure about any of this. But before he could retreat in imagined terror, he heard her voice.

She was singing, and he did not understand the words, mumble-singing in her sleep while thrashing as if in the throes of a nightmare. Yet the tone of voice… it was like the song you'd sing to a child, or that a child would sing to you. It was creepy. "Di? Di? Balanta," or something like that she chanted out, and then… something, fae doo la? No, he was hearing it wrong. But it didn't matter. He crept forward to look at the horn polish that was on the night stand, but also to listen more closely. The horn polish was… not better than any of the stuff he'd had. And here he was sure that she was holding back on the good stuff to keep it for herself? Though honestly he'd respect her more if she had, because the stuff he had was just the worst. Made the horns look dingy but clean. Huh! He frowned and shifted backward on the balls of his feet, trying to make no noise at all. Then he heard her singing continue as she switched, for a moment, into a more recognizable Taldane.

"Drift… like… cattle, or… water…" before turning over, almost into something like a thrash. Her words were faint and odd, and he watched her for a moment longer. Huh, she really was weird, and he had no idea how she knew so many languages. He could barely speak one, sometimes. She really was an odd one, but with a shake of his head he decided to just leave her to her night songs.

Contracts (Greybor)

It was not hard for an experienced assassin to slip into a city beset by war and demons. Demons were sloppy, clumsy, and bad at their jobs. They should not be underestimated, but their chaotic and vague natures meant they weren't all that careful. So he easily slipped around demon patrols, let alone the pathetic attempts of cultists. He was able to slip around scenes of such horror and nightmares that a sentimental dwarf would do something. But he was not sentimental. He did stop, briefly, in the face of a family, including two children, being abused--with the threat of rape clearly present--by a group of cultists. He killed two of the cultists because they were in the way.

It was not a matter of sentiment, as distasteful as the implication of rape, let alone of children was. They were hardened cultists, unlike the gutter trash that he was sure made up the bulk of the forces. It was just convenience, as was killing a pair of cultists herding a half-dozen street children away. They were in the way, and getting around them would have lengthened his journey unnecessarily compared to the danger of killing two deranged cultists.

His path was not otherwise obstructed by anyone, and those few times where there was the threat of obstruction, it was almost trivially easy to bypass them. The tower loomed, as he went unseen, beneath the sweeping gaze, alone despite all the demons that might well wish to kill him just on the principle that he had standards--something they never would have.

It was an interesting thing to think of, and he would be happy to be done with Kenabres. He doubted he'd meet anyone interesting that he wouldn't be killing, and in honesty he'd be glad for it. He did take a very, very brief smoke break on the way, after the street children incident. He smoked for just a minute, counting the seconds, and making sure to keep well away from anyone who could smell the smoke or see it, either. It was a slight relief, but that was all, and soon he was back to work.

Greybor was a very good assassin, a dwarf who had his profession and did it well. It was a good enough profession, let him work with his hands, and he was quite good at it. He thought, perhaps, that he'd take what he got from this job and deposit it in some trustworthy Temple of Abadar. He had quite a pile of gold, truly, squirreled away in a half-dozen different locations so that they could not be so easily dragged out of him. Of course it also meant that there would come the time when some of them would have to go to the winds. He'd die, sooner or later… but he'd survived this long, because he was good at this.

He would hardly wish to jinx it, but he was sure he'd have no problems at all. He finished what of his cigar he was willing to, and then he moved on.

Unlikely Allies (Bemir the Squeezer)

Bemir didn't understand how he was still alive. His luck had been up, his ticket had been punched, the moment it turned out that Sister Albre had been looking for the likes of him. She wanted to kill him, just because he'd strangled a few people. What else was he supposed to do? If there were not witnesses it'd be harder for him to be convicted, and it'd get him plenty in the way of coin. Oh, indeed, he thought it was glorious that the big city had things like that, ways that someone with just a few talents could get ahead.

Okay, okay, also it was pretty fun to strangle people to death, but that was just a side benefit. He clutched his fingers and thought of the death that had been awaiting him… and then someone had saved him, and lied for him. But he didn't understand why the fat druid did it? She'd been protecting all the survivors, but if it was just about helping people, surely she'd be a stupid moralist and rant about how it was always wrong in every circumstance to hurt people, and so she'd have to give him up. But Eudomia the Druid hadn't, and now they were going through the night towards the Defender's Heart. They'd almost died a half-dozen times. He hadn't been any help, even if he hadn't lost some of his fingers. There'd been a reason why he'd strangled people in alleys. He was hardly a great soldier, but he rubbed his hands and considered it. Perhaps he'd gotten a new lease on life and should just not question it. He actually thought perhaps he could do… something else? He'd told Rekarth, Sendri, and Eudomia (and the others) that he was a miller, but perhaps he could become one in truth?

He wasn't sure. Sure, strangling was fun and had gotten him some coin, but it'd lost him some fingers and drinking was at least as fun if not more so, and playing darts and… all manner of things that he couldn't do if he was dead.

And the city really was fucked. He was no demon-worshiper even if he'd been told time and again that surely he'd be sent to the Abyss when he died. He wasn't going to help that along any, though. He looked around at the fires and the destruction and he couldn't help but hate it despite the fact that he was aware that half the people who are suffering and dying would laugh at the likes of him dying.

It was as the growing refugee group crept along that he finally got his chance. It wasn't much of a chance, but the fat druid woman was hanging back a little, her boar snuffling at the ground.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked, and she didn't ask 'do what?' No, she knew exactly what he meant.

She turned, and dark eyes took him in as she considered it. "You're a murderer and a monster. When you get a chance you should flee. But unless you're a demon, I wouldn't turn you into the Inquisitors for anything." And then, more harshly, "If every one of them was burning to death I'd be grabbing firewood to make sure it spread." She spat it out, bit out the words and glared. "They've killed friends. They've killed family. As long as fucking Hulrun is still alive, almost no Druid will help those fucking bastards." Her voice grew no louder, but there was such heat and energy that he couldn't do anything but take a step back.

"None?"

"There's a few, especially foreign sorts. But Druids, Shamans, Animists, half a dozen other kinds of adventurers… and most Witches, too, don't show up here. The Crusade clearly thinks it can do without us, so we do without them."

He'd heard other stories, that Druids had gone mad with the idea of vengeance and embraced even the Demons out of their hatred… but of course, it wasn't all Druids, and clearly not her. Probably? If she was on the side of the Demons surely she'd be killing them all right about now. Still, it was a lucky break for him, to get someone who hated the Inquisition so much that they'd send him--who had indeed strangled people and quite liked it--on to safety rather than help them.

It was almost hilarious, he thought. It was the kind of coincidence that gave people religion.

He peered out into the darkness for a moment and nodded: he'd take it.

Inevitable Histories 2

It is the case that there was something closer to Kenabres than the Northern Belkzen attacks, as far as "conflicts of importance beyond the east side" which is the focus of so much of this monograph. The bloody clashes there would ultimately impact the policy of the Orc Holds, and indeed that the Mammoth Lords would equally find themselves fighting desperately not to lose ground and, in the blood they shed, find themselves drawn even further into the war.

But on the west side, in one of the prisons, a revolt happened towards the end of the second day of the fight. Medoro Donnet, Revolutionary X #42, had been at first willing, or so it seemed, to simply sit it out. He'd been in the city to try to convince a party of people to join him on an expedition up to the lands of the Mammoth Lords, and beyond it apparently towards the land of the Witch Queens. The reason for this is not clear, but what is clear is that for trying to take away fighting Crusaders and for a number of other offenses he had been sentenced to six months in the local prison, alongside some of his followers, who were similarly radical.

Since this is meant for the general reader: what or who is Revolutionary X?

Galt was a supposedly revolutionary state supported and controlled by a secretive group, the Grey Gardeners, racked by fear, murder, and the fact that they had not had a single election since the revolution. Not even a sham revolution, or a trick. So just as there were enemies of the new government from aristocratic or simply humanitarian sources, there were radical critiques of the Galtean government, ones that seemed as the years go on to pick up steam and support not only among students, but among the masses who supposedly supported them.

These elements were still a minority, but were notable and notably disruptive to Galt, and so the ringleaders were often called "Revolutionary X" because they didn't want to admit that some former supporters and allies had turned coat. Revolutionary X, while in popular myth standing for "extreme" to represent how radical they were, in reality was a designation based on the bounty boards with an 'X' through the likeness of those captures and killed by the soul-stealing guillotine.

As with any such moniker, it had become a place of pride among such hardcore revolutionaries, a way to say that you were an enemy of Galt and yet a friend of some loose combination of Democracy, Radicalism, and the popular will. Most "Revolutionary X's" did not agree with each other, and indeed Donnet was more tolerant of demon cultists than many were comfortable with, willing in theory to imagine any number of desperate alliances if the foe was Galtean or Cheliaxian, just as those in the Worldwound were willing to accept Diabolic aid against Demonic threats.

Yet he and his few followers found themselves quickly changing their tune. The depths of this conversion is hard to tell, but they saw that the demons did not want a world free of states and overbearing Gods, but brutish petty Masters and a strong but unstable hierarchy… and so they rebelled, and fled towards the Defender's Heart. Donnet died, but a half-dozen radicalized prisoners and other radicals made it through to the Defender's Heart.

Most notably, though, their presence would create even greater tension, threatening to tear apart the fragile alliance already strained by the death of Prelate Hulrun at the hands of Satari and others who were heroes, and yet who had clearly served to further highlight the divides that had made Kenabres weak…
--From a Later History

Act 1, Scene iii: The Burn Victims' Joyous Paean ​

"We cannot afford to fight, or to let our differences divide us: we are but two steps from the Abyss, and having taken a single step back only makes it more important that we continue to draw away from it."--Commander Irabeth, 17 Arodus, 4713

"Hopes burned just like everything else. And yet when we ran out of hope, we kept on going, somehow."--Anonymous Crusader, Kenabres.

Sleepless (Daeran)

Sleep was never something that came easily to him. Oh, perhaps as a child he had slipped into sleep easily, but those days were gone and would never come back. He didn't miss everything about them, and when he woke up after only a few hours sleep he decided to get up. It was more sleep than he might get normally, and while there was indeed rest for the wicked…

That didn't mean he always got good rest. But of course it wasn't because of guilt, really: he didn't feel all that guilty, all things considered. Nor did he remain restless because of any innocence, oh no. If he had to guess, it was the drink. Well, and a few other things…

He allowed himself a single groan and got up slowly, stretching and glad that he was not that old. At the rate he was going he was going to be one of those people who made a production of getting up and got cramps in his old age, like when he was thirty or so. He smirked to himself, because of course he knew thirty wasn't old. No, that was thirty-five. He stretched and moved to get changed out of his night-shirt. It was dimly lit, but he knew where he'd put his clothes, and he hardly had come with as many outfits as he should have. Once he was changed, he stepped out and… was not at all surprised.

Hunched over one of the tables was a figure in a black robe. A very familiar one, for how her tail flopped out like a dead fish, occasionally twitching with nerves. The Tiefling, Satari. The orc, Satari. The odd, strange, dangerous and untrustworthy woman who turned as soon as he entered and said. "Yes, that was to be expected."

"Do I seem like the sleepless sort?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, without any pretension, hunching slightly over… ah, a journal of some kind.

"What's that?"

"Schemes and plans, plans and schemes," Satari said, dismissively.

"You didn't wake up because of schemes and plans," Daeran allowed himself to state. He knew it was true. He knew that there was no greater truth than that: however much of a schemer Satari was, it seemed clear that she was not awake because of that.

"You don't think I can scheme?" she asked, almost sounded offended.

"I think you are always scheming, but I don't think that's why you're awake." He was going in circles. He might as well dance around a pole and sing songs of the coming of Spring for all the good that it'd do him.

She shook her head, and reached for a goblet of wine. Ah, good, she too was a drunkard. Though on the other hand she only sipped it lightly, and set it back down with no particular relish or interest. Or did she? He was quite unsure, but he told himself that he'd pay it some small mind if he couldn't wriggle free of her company in the next few days.

"Why do you think I'm awake, then?"

"I think you couldn't sleep," he said. "Or cannot sleep well. It's amusing to think of it. Sleepless in Kenabres, the city that is so boring some days that you cannot help but fall asleep." He smiled.

"Yes, quite. I have not slept well in some years. You know why I came here?" she asked.

"No, but I think I am about to learn."

"I want to finally sleep. Whatever that means, and when I say whatever I mean it." Her voice was simple and casual, and yet he knew the meaning quite clearly. If she died in the process of whatever she was doing, she would not regard it as an unexpected outcome. He looked at her for a moment, and then saw the grin. Was she lying? She could be, he thought. She was the sort who did not believe truth was something she owed to others, he'd realized that.

She pulled herself up slowly, stretching and said, "Perhaps that's why I rest so little. But yes, do you want a drink? I have a bottle of wine, though I only opened it and will not be having that much more."

Oh. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he smirked to himself and let the realization sit there in the background while he said, "Of course, dear… what's your name again?"

"Going senile in your old age?" Satari asked, darkly, and all he could do is smirk and reach over for the table to take her drink and raise it.

"Salut," he declared, and drank down the rest of her drink.

Before The Cock Crows (Seelah)

Seelah woke up by stages, groaning. She had an itch on her arms, and indeed all over. She'd taken a bath, but it didn't stop her scars from itching after a long, odd night. She couldn't remember her dreams, but she remembered she'd been afraid and now she wasn't. She groaned and rubbed her head. Oh, it felt like she'd drank too much. But she knew what it was. She licked her dry, cracked lips and rolled herself out of bed with much groaning and frustration, and considered whether she should put her armor on or not. No, it was far too early for that, though she'd make sure to take a knife with her just in case. When she stepped out, she saw that she was the fourth person awake. Daeran, the lush, was drinking wine from a bottle while Satari seemed to be writing something down, taking notations, and Nenio was leaning over her shoulder.

"Oh, is that so? Though I cannot read the language."

"This is intentional," Satari said, with a shake of her head. "I read and write in many languages, and that makes it harder for others to read if I don't want them to. But I can be quite clear when I need to be.."

She trailed off and turned toward Seelah as her poppet turned as well. She'd been sitting on Satari's shoulder, and had been so still that Seelah was almost startled.

"Morning," Satari said to Seelah.

Seelah rubbed her eyes. "This isn't morning. The sun isn't up," she declared, and tried not to whine about it. She wasn't a complainer and she'd woken up earlier than this when she had to. "But I'm awake anyway."

"Yes, welcome," Daeran said, raising the goblet. What sort of person woke up with a drink? Seelah wrinkled her nose and admitted she knew that sort of person. But she herself usually tried to wait a while and get a good breakfast first. "If you could ask her when she intends for everyone to leave, that would be helpful. I have asked, but of course I am a mere Count, whereas you are a holy woman." He raised his glass and tipped it slightly, in a mocking gesture as he smirked at her and leaned back in his chair.

"When are we leaving?" Seelah asked, turning to Satari. She wasn't so spiteful as to refuse to ask now, and… she did want to know.

"Soon. We need to wake everyone up. If at all possible, we need to have food before dawn and be on our way not long after that." She sighed and rose up to her full, not that unimpressive, height. "We need to pull together breakfast, and I suppose I should do that… and I do want to talk to Gwerm. There's a matter of some importance, and the answer to a question I have will determine several things… but we do need to reach the Tower this morning… and then head back toward the Library and perhaps from there we can see about Woljiff's problems. But that depends on how soon we can do everything else." She said it all formally, a little bit as if she were stamping down an impression upon a page. This alone was enough to make Seelah pay close attention. "Which means that very soon we need to rouse everyone. I call 'not it'," she ended, suddenly speaking very quickly and smirking.

"Ah," Daeran said. "I am defeated." He flopped over where he was and took another pull of wine, despite the look that Seelah was giving him. "Oh, did you want some? Satari had a glass, I had two glasses straight from the bottle… but I'm sure we could pour something out for you. The noble crusader should drink breakfast first."

"I'll get breakfast ready while you do that," Satari said, nodding as if this was a piece of the plan and not a provocation. Seelah didn't believe it about Satari drinking, she wasn't one of those sorts who never drank but she was far too serious to wake up and start her morning with a glass of wine. She wasn't a lush like Daeran was.

"That sounds good. I could.. hmm. Daeran, could you wake up Ember?" Seelah asked. She understood they didn't always get along, so perhaps Dearan would be the one. "Nenio, could you wake Camellia, and I can wake… Woljiff, I suppose? And Lann?" She didn't know for sure about how they'd react, but he figured that neither of them would react too badly.

"Sure. I suppose I can do so. I had some interesting questions to ask Camellia…"

Yes, this was definitely not going to end poorly. But she might as well get to it.

Rousing (Nenio)

Observations of one Camellia Gwerm, Day Two

The subject appears to sleep surprisingly soundly considering sub-data #1, #2, and #3. Of course, all three points and pieces of information cannot be confirmed, and it is of course not particularly of interest. There are things about watching her sleep that are of some strange concern. Her skin is smooth, and hairless. For some reason I find that mildly strange and distressing.

Ultimately the more important fact is that she was a surprisingly deep sleeper. I was able to withdraw, though the moment I reached for a weapon, out of basic research, she instantly awoke and threw herself to the side with a shout, grabbing the rapier she kept by her bed and flicking it outward in my direction. She made very interesting noises of fear, alarm, and anger as she said, and I quote: "The spirits will taste your blood, wizard!"

"This is your wakeup call," said I. "I am to inform you that we are going to be leaving not long after dawn, and so this is meant to allow you to have time to eat before we go."

"What," said she, blinking at me in a way that I believe indicates a lack of intelligence. "Why were you by my bed? Just knock on the door, you insufferable cretin."

Ah, this was the Sesquipedalian tendency of those who were not smart to enlarge and expand upon their diction in order to simulate cognition. I knew and understood it well, from the outside of course as my perspective grasped firmly the enlightened viewpoint and how difficult it was for some to fully grasp.

Of course, that is why the Encyclopedia is so important, to fight ignorance and spread knowledge.

"I had some questions involving my curiosity about your relationship with your spirit," said I, designation Nenio.

"I'm not going to answer any questions at all," Camellia said.

"What is that?" I asked, pointing to a mark on the wall.

"I was practicing…" she began, and then made a disagreeable noise, having been made to answer a question despite that. I stopped to write down the answer, indicating another element that highlighted the strange nature of my new assistant's assistant. She was someone who needed exercise in order to sleep soundly, and thus she practiced her fencing and duelists' arts before bed.

This could indicate many fascinating limitations as to her ability to sleep at night, which of course would be fascinating in light of at least some evidence that indicated a personality defect of certain elements that "proper society" thought were relevant, such as not relishing in premeditated murder. Of course, these sorts of societal limitations are something to be noted but also to be ignored should they interfere with research! Science could wait for no 'ethics committee!'

Of course, if Camellia was engaged in antisocial behavior, it was because she was a rapscallion and a ruffian, rather than because she was a scientist. This was less forgivable, though of course data and information on the rise of naer'do'wells and the influence of them was certainly of worldwide interest! Thus I continued to chart and track the process by which she got up.

"I am not going to change in front of you, you freak," Camellia said, words biting. "Why don't you attempt to…" and then I saw her reach a conclusion. "Attempt to teach me something, if you are so interested in education, what do you know about vivisection, my dear companion?"

"Oh, you are interested in learning about vivisection," said I, and truly this was a fascinating and most joyous moment: I'd definitely recruit her when I was vivisecting a carnivorous ooze, which was planned for as soon as this annoying matter of the demon invasion was settled. "I'll have plenty to say, soon. Nonetheless: my assistant has told me that it is required to wake up."

Camellia gave me a look of some interest and bid me to leave in impolite terms. I eventually did so.

Gettin Crackin' (Ember)

Ember rubbed at her eyes, shuffling forward. But she couldn't remain sleepy that long. Daeran had knocked on her door, and called in, "It's time for all little Elves to wake up." His voice had been soft and a little bit smooth, and it'd sounded so familiar for a moment that she'd almost gone back to sleep to chase one last dream. Her father had a smooth voice, he wasn't one of those people who boomed and thundered. He'd had a gentle voice when he sang to her, and a soft voice when he woke her up.

She'd been having a dream, but Soot had crowed and she'd pulled herself into wakefulness to odd sensations. Her feet didn't hurt as much as they should, and she was left a little confused. It almost felt bad, that her feet felt so good. She went through the motions of waking up and tried to think about what good she'd do today and a part of her was just too focused on her feet feeling good.

She shook herself a little and made sure to scrunch her toes a little and sing a little to herself, and that made it so that she was a little more comfortable. Downstairs, the smell of eggs was overwhelming. Her stomach lurched, and not entirely happily, because she wasn't used to all this food. But the smell of eggs was like nothing else, because it was so rich: it was the kind of smell that just caught the nose. Put a little bit of egg in anything and it just smelled different, just tasted different.

Ember loved eggs.

She didn't get to eat them often, but she'd always felt a as if they were the tastiest breakfast. That, and porridge.

Downstairs in the dining room, Nenio and Camellia were already sitting and taking notes. Seelah must be in the kitchen, helping Satari.

"You don't have to watch me so closely," Seelah called out. "I know how to make eggs. What sorta person would I be if I couldn't make my friends eggs after a night drinking?"

Whatever Satari said wasn't audible through the half-open door, but Seelah laughed. It was a rich, deep sound. Ember was glad that her friends were in such a good mood.

Well, some of them.

Woljiff was slouched in a corner, already back asleep, and Lann was moving through what seemed like practice arrow-shots, but slowly. It was like a dance, almost, but she'd seen how he could hurt people like that.

…Ember had hurt people yesterday, but she skipped in and settled down as Soot left her shoulder to fly around a little bit. The table was huge, way too big for two people, and it smelled a little dusty.

"Ah, Ember-child," Nenio said. "I believe that is your designation?" She looked as if she did not care because she continued, "But I would like to ask you a few questions about homelessness in the region. How is it treated? Is there perhaps a useful anecdote, or do you perhaps know other sources?"

Nenio leaned forward, and Ember admitted, "Most of them are dead." She kept her voice light, because what was the point of mourning? Or rather, she was really sad but she could be sad forever, and probably would be, and it would not bring a single one of them back.

"I see, I see. They usually are the first victim in times of trouble, or so other interviews have indicated: either of the threat, or those who consider them the threat itself," Nenio said, her voice soft but not kind. But that was okay, Ember had had enough sometimes of kindness that didn't go anywhere, because it was so sad: so sad to see people who clearly were good people but didn't seem to know how to be.

Compared to that, there was something to be said for information… though she also knew many people, or knew of many people, who had all the knowledge and didn't do anything with it. She honestly did not have an answer.

She just did her best and helped people and hoped it all worked out, even though she knew it probably wouldn't! It was just that this was no reason to be sad or to give up.

Ember settled in to answer the questions Nenio had to ask, and allowed herself to relax… even if it felt weird, all the good things she had. She knew it was selfish, and so she decided to redouble her efforts to be nice and help other people to make up for it.

She was just thinking about how she could do that when Horgus Gwerm came down to eat, smiling as wide as he normally could and with only a few complaints.

Ember kicked her feet, ate, and soon enough found her confused at the direction of the conversation.

Huh?

A Few Little Questions (Seelah)

Later she'd be almost impressed by how Satari pinned him down. Horgus Gwerm came down to the dining tabl, and there she was with a side of meat and an egg, and a promise that there was more on the way. She set it all down carefully, the egg runny and yellow, though she never would have guessed that's how Gwerm liked his eggs.

Had she somehow noticed that little detail yesterday morning? Seelah had not the least idea, but she had clearly chosen the food for each person carefully. In a baffling display she'd given Nenio porridge with egg and meat and everything else cut up into it, sitting and congealing. And yet Nenio had thanked her for the "improvement to efficiency" gained by being able to drink one's whole breakfast without having to bother with chewing. She'd done it too, in a display that she was only glad that Ember hadn't been around to see, because it was not something any minor, or for that matter anyone who did not have a stomach made of iron, should possibly witness.

Ember had come down, and she'd been fed quickly and easily, and--Seelah would later note--on food that it would be easy to take with her.

All of which was to say that, as soon as Horgus Gwerm was trapped with food in his mouth, Satari said, "Nenio, would you please go with Ember, perhaps ask her about charitable organizations for the homeless, something of the matter? In another room, if you would."

She said it so smoothly, as if it was an agreed upon plan, but Nenio didn't seem to mind, saying, "Ah yes, Ember-child. We should discuss this matter with some privacy so as to allow us to find the true answers… in science!" She stood up, eagerly, her eyes aglow, not even aware or more likely not even caring that she was being moved around.

But Seelah did care. "Satari," Seelah said, quietly. Because she'd sent away Ember right before she'd done quite a lot of violence against Prelate Hulrun. She didn't… she couldn't make this into another fight, but she couldn't help the tone of her voice.

"Seelah," Satari said, her expression hard to read. "It's simply a matter of a few questions."

Seelah had understood exactly how Satari had put questions to Prelate Hulrun until she'd decided he deserved death, and then she'd killed him. But Horgus Gwerm had not witnessed that first-hand, and while he seemed nervous he did not seem deathly afraid. Lann had tensed, though, and Woljiff looked as if he was considering running for the exit.

"What questions?" Ember asked, as she stepped away with Nenio.

Satari did not answer until Nenio was gone.

Satari turned to Horgus Gwerm, who seemed to have at least a guilty enough conscience that he thought they were about him. Of course, it was also his house, and so if there was some matter to discuss…

"I went on a walk last night, after I had my bath," Satari said, her voice casual and even. "I saw a few things which did not quite make sense, or rather which had two possible explanations, and I have been teasing it apart in my sleep, and then when I awoke. So I'd like to ask you about it, since you are the master of the house, the keeper of this grand menagerie… and I say that as no insult, because any mansion is a matter of dozens or hundreds of people, servants and otherwise, trying to put together something…"

"Oh yes," Daeran drawled, because he'd been given a sort of porridge soup and he'd long since set it down in favor of drinking in the atmosphere and indeed he seemed almost gleeful. "Why, the things my servants have gotten up to. I have heard many say that the whole of the mansion has become a den of depravity, and of course that cannot be from my actions: why is it not said that I fear the Gods?"

"I'd fear the gods too, if I were you," Lann said sourly.

Seelah agreed. If she was as utterly without character as him, she'd be terrified of death and what came after at all times. Camellia seemed disapproving as well, and for all that she seemed selfish she was not nearly as dedicated to mischief and misdeed as he was. At least, she'd heard nothing bad or good about Camellia, and only bad things about Daeran, and everything she'd seen had borne it out.

Even Satari seemed frustrated, if perhaps a little amused, raising an eyebrow and saying, "It may be possible, yes, that this is the doing of one of the servants, or even one of the invaders… though there are a few things that raise questions. But I do need an accounting of it, if you'd like to hear what I found."

What other choice did he have? Seelah watched, and wondered just what this was about?

Desperation (Camellia Gwerm)

Murder is of course the answer to this problem, but she is no fool! No, she understands exactly that if she really did suspect Camellia, then her food is poisoned and she is going to die soon. Everyone knows witches can do that, and Satari has no honor: it is one of the things about her that seems so appealing, her complete disregard of so many things that supposedly matter. She's ruthless, but the problem is she might have ideals: that ruthlessly bound to a will to actually enjoy herself, and something other than the tainted blood of Tiefling and Orc, might almost be… fascinating.

It is, still, just a little bit as she watches the scene and tries to affect disregard. She takes a bite of her meat, and wonders whether it being slightly raw is some sort of sign. She does enjoy rare meat, but she is no cannibal… well, she does not indulge in that generally. It is an interesting enough thing to try once, but it is so unhygienic. Or maybe she has simply done it wrong, perhaps she should… no, she focuses in.

"I was checking around one of the supply closets, as one does, and near the back, past the parts that had been ransacked, I found cuffs and chains of various kinds: including several designs banned with one exceptional circumstance in this region. I am quite aware of the varying standards and rules that exist involving torture devices and cruel and unusual shackles." Satari says it so evenly, but Camellia knows that this means she's been caught. She does indeed like to experiment, like to indulge in her love of making others suffer.

Some of the collars make it so that moving the wrong way will pierce your neck, and she's toyed with the idea of poisoning the tips so that even a single little mistake would mean death. But as it is, the wounds are only skin deep, barely there, and it is possible--if she wishes to indulge herself--to nurse someone easily back to full health only to then finish them off… but she is usually not that patient.

Oh no, she is usually the sort who enjoys indulging herself at once, but she wishes she were more strategic about it. It would be interesting to kill slowly and carefully, for the enjoyment of it, stretching it out like a glass of fine wine… and so she indulges in all manner of delicious scenarios.

But now she's been found out.

Camellia does not tense. No, she watches.

"I didn't think it likely that anyone would bring such whips, chains, and other devices with them," Satari says, slowly. "And if they did, they'd be in use rather than meticulously cleaned at the back. It could be a servant doing it."

Camellia wishes she could stop to shake him, because no, that is not an option. It is a trap: if he claims that, she'll have some proof that this is not the case. At the very least, if he's claiming the servants are engaging in torture and murder under his nose, he is opening himself up for many, many more questions. But Camellia must continue to eat, heedless, her voice unused as she considers her rapier by her side. If she darts forward, can she pierce Satari through her black heart in time to avoid any spells? It would confirm her guilt, but if her guilt is already confirmed then what is the point?

"A servant?" he asked, nervously.

"But I think it unlikely. It was near the very back, in the areas that had to do specifically with the resources for your fanciest parties, your… personal affects, as it were. So it makes it most likely that it is yours."

"What sort of things?" Seelah asks, like a fool.

"I could show them to you," Satari says, "I'm quite familiar with them. They're quite illegal, but I'm sure if we were to bring Hulrun back he would no doubt have used a few of them… in my experience, those who profess to love the laws the most love only those laws that aid them, and hate those laws which do not. But that's rather beyond the point."

"Familiar?" Horgus Gwerm asks, and she has to keep from sniggering.

"Oh, we'll get to that. Torture devices, and illegal ones, ones that specifically cause pain and suffering such that they can only be authorized by royal decree, or one single exception to the laws and rules, and one admittedly honored more in the breach than the practice." She is moving towards something. Camellia knows the look of a predator who has bitten down into juicy prey: she has a mirror, after all.

She almost smirks for all that it is her life that is on the line. Yes, it could also be Horgus's life, but who would truly believe that he is the killer over her? She is the one who has the actual killer instinct.

"So it seems, based on the evidence, that you own prohibited materials whose most obvious and first use is for torture and illegal iimprisonment."

"Figures," Woljiff says. "People say all sorts of things about this place." He looks over to Daeran. "Course, they say all sorts of things about the Arendae manner too… so, hehe… not saying anything for sure."

"Are we going to be taking him in for questioning, then?" Lann asks. "Or… is this the trial." He asks it so casually, and she sees his hand move to his bow.

"Perhaps and perhaps not. You see, that is the first explanation. But there is a second explanation for what these could be," Satari says, her voice lilting and amused. "In fact, without any other evidence we might even say it is more likely or at least more easily confirmed."

She prepares to leap. This is a trick, she knows it is a trick. She's going to say something and then prove how it isn't that, she knows this--

"They could be devices meant for sex, and other similar and related things," Satari says, and Camellia, one moment from leaping, freezes.

What?!

Desire (Horgus Gwerm)

"While a few of the implements are the sort I've never gotten to use, I recognize and have used several of them," Satari said, so matter of fact about her deviancy. Horgus Gwerm did not even know how to react. If he expressed disgust with this, or surprise that she was apparently so similar to his daughter, it would give everything away. He was left gaping for a moment.

"Why would anyone use something like that?" Seelah asked curiously.

Count Arendae was laughing, gasping for breath, doubled over in a moment of hilarity as he wiped his eyes of tears forming at their corners, clearly having a fun time at the expense of Horgus.

"Because they like pain, within limits? Because they like being controlled, when they agree to it," Satari said. "Or, more topically, because they like controlling others and bringing them pain… if they agree, and if both parties enjoy it." She smiled as if this were not the kind of ghoulish decadence that had people speaking of the sinful south. Not that Horgus Gwerm cared much about these assumptions. Trade was trade, and so he did not allow anything like such worries to influence his mercantile ventures. "Those are truly the only possibilities: that Horgus Gwerm is a torturer and criminal, or that he perhaps needs some advice on being careful… I didn't see any of the books I expected in the library, but considering the fact that you have a daughter around… perhaps." She shrugged, and leaned forward.

He could see it.

She was amused.

Slowly, he began to understand just what this was. Of course she didn't believe that he really was involved in something like that. Maybe she was even lying about being interested in it: but if he did not embrace this, if he did not provide proof, then she would assume the opposite. She was toying with him, as she set down a piece of paper and began to write on it with a pencil, nodding to herself every so often. "Is this the case?"
"Yes, it's… it's a personal matter. If the secret of Horgus Gwerm is a matter of worldwide import, the secret of what, if anything I do with my time is far from your business," he said, which had the great fortune to be true. He had slept with one or two women in the time since his wife's… death, and he had kept this intensely private and secret even from Camellia, but he also knew that rumors swirled around him. Who would so doubt that a rich nobleman might have beastly tastes? After all, the now calm and faux-innocent looking Count Daeran Arendae had rumors of every kind of depravity and vice imaginable.

"Ah, I see. Then perhaps some of the books I suggest will be passe for you, but I would not wish for you to go too far at some point." Her voice said 'I'm watching you.' No doubt if there was any proof at all that he, or Camellia, was involved in any deaths she'd be able to discount the absurd possibility she'd set out… she would have if she had any proof, he did not doubt that.

She was giving him a way out because if he took it, then later if anything else came to light he'd be trapped.

Still, he swallowed, caught under the intense and even predatory stare of one Satari, who had no last name to curse or blame for her failings. He did not doubt that she was a bastard, and not merely of unmarried parents but unknown ones at that. But he was also aware that in this moment he was… cruel. Cruel and exhausted and afraid for his daughter.

"Go too far? You would accuse Horgus Gwerm of going too far?"

"No, I would not accuse. But safe practices can be implemented, or not based on ignorance or the lack of knowledge as much as anything like malice," Satari said, gently. "It really is not that uncommon, all things considered. So I might as well do my duty."

If she was someone who took pleasure in the suffering of others, then this certainly explained this moment perfectly, though he had not agreed to it. But then, did he think that this mattered to those sorts? He was less sure of that. "Ah, yes, I'll… peruse this… list?"

He looked down at the paper, and the first book was, 'The Physicke of Suffering, Or How To Safely Give And Inflict Pain For The Purpose of Pleasure.'

"An old one, to be sure, but not too bad when it comes to simply outlining the medical requirements of such acts… and explaining how it works, with reference to the structures of both brain and soul, though mostly the former," Satari explained, and wrote other titles, some more modern, some strange and obscure. He had not thought there were nearly so many filthy works of… ugh.

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised, and said, "I hope I hear no more of this, or any suspicion that… well." She shrugged, and those knowing eyes once again said 'I will be watching you.' Horgus Gwerm did not shudder, but he did look away, as Daeran decided to make everything worse.

"Could I see that list? It's such a strange, unfamiliar thing you're speaking of," he said, with the most faux-innocent voice he had ever heard.

"Oh, I doubt that. And so far as that goes, it's down to Gwerm to decide if he wants to share. I should get up, I'd like to see if I could watch the sunrise."

Ah, the day hadn't even technically begun, had it? And already this is what it was. Lovely. Honestly, he desired to have never gotten out of bed, if this was how it was going to go.

Unlikely Heroes 3 (Rekarth)

The dark glow of a dying city made a good backdrop for their trek. They'd saved another Crusader and by now there were dozens and dozens of people who were counting on them to survive. It was frustrating, because he'd feel like an even worse person than usual not to try to save 'em. But at the end of the day, it was important taht he got back with the information on when the enemy was attacking. He h ad it down to the hour, an' that meant that the Defender's Heart could survive with his help. He had to think it was still holding on, that's what it seemed like. It'd been enough time that he'd probably know if it had fallen. There'd be refugees coming from there, and in the distance… yeah, he could see it. The roof of the Defender's Heart was pretty recognizable, and so he turned to his temporary companions. It'd worked out, in the end, even with Sindri's absurd moralism and the druid's stubborn pride… though she had been far more helpful than Sindri, actually managing to accomplish something each time that Sindri derailed them with useless scruples. She saved the sick and dying, and she'd helped get everyone else through this, and now here they were. They'd almost made it, and all that was left was to make it the rest of the way.

The roof peeked out over the rest of the buildings, faintly visible and yet cresting over the edge of all of the smaller buildings. The Defender's Heart was built to be a tavern in a city of the world, as much as it was in this smaller northern land. It was meant to be the capital of an entire Crusade that in its most active moments could swell the city two-fold or more. "Almost there… see that roof Way over there, that's it."

"This area isn't liberated, so either they're locked right up against the damn walls or there's something here," Eudomia said, and yeah, it made sense. There had to be something, though he wouldn't be entirely surprised if Irabeth couldn't spare many people. It wasn't as if adventuring parties just stood around waiting to be called on for things like this.

"It's fine, it's fine… goodie, we're almost safe," Sindri declared eagerly, the little liar all but dancing around as everyone started muttering eagerly. They all knew that this long day was almost over. One way or another, the dawn was coming, and it would either reveal their little gathering for any enemy passing by.. or reveal to them their promised destination. He could not call himself optimistic, but he had to hope that it'd be that easy. Just a short walk.

---

Of course it isn't that easy. Through a crack in the wall the six of them that are something like adventurers looked at the enemy before them.

"It's… huge," Sendri said, his voice managing to be faint for a moment before he hissed, "And extra bloodthirsty to boot! What's this moody fellow doing here?"

Rekarth knew that the answer to that was that he was causing chaos, destruction, and misery, same as any demon.

"What kind of creature is it? All covered in spikes…" Sendri smiled, but only for a nervous moment, clearly trying to deflect his reasonable fears, "Must have the hardest time sitting down."

But Sindri spoke up for his joke. "Shut yer trap!" he hissed, as quietly as he could. He knew that creature, and knew how dangerous this was. Kalavarkus could chain down someone's very soul, enslaving it to their fell and horrible will. And leaving them vulnerable to be dragged into the Abyss no matter their morality, though he'd heard stories of strange things happening with the process… though he had no idea what twisted things someone trying to force a person of law and justice to rot and scream in the Abyss.

"If it hears yer yapping, it'll use you as a cushion." It was bad enough to die, but the idea that he'd be dragged into the Abyss after… he knew he wasn't a good person, but he wasn't no demon worshipper. "Fighting is not an option. It could spit at us and kill us dead… and then enslave our souls." He shuddered.

"So you know what this is," Eudomia said.

"Of course he does. Who doesn't have nightmares about this thing?" Valmont asked, the orc flexing their muscles. "If the plan is for us to fight that, I'll just stab myself, it'll be faster."

"We should sacrifice someone, so that the rest can run to the tavern while the beast is busy with them," Rekarth said.

Sendri gasped. "Give up their soul to the Abyss?"

"It'd take more than one person to distract them enough for all of the civilians to get away. If we're doing that, it might as well be all of us, except you," Eudomia said, leaning in. The heavyset woman snorted. "If I could wildshape, I could probably distract him and then get away, but…"

But she couldn't.

"And who exactly's gonna get fed to the monster?" Tuvol said. The dwarf hefted his axe. "We're not here to die."

"And what will the civilians think?" Phirry asked. The Halfling was squinting, and her gaze was nervous. "If we're choosing some of them, and not one of us."

"What are we, cultists?" Sendri demanded in a hoarse whisper. "We're not going to sacrifice anyone. We can just have em… climb up there!" He gestured to the roofs, which might be able to let everyone cross, but what about the sick, and the limping? How were they going to get across. It'd just be a faster way to die, and he said as much. Hopping over rubble…

"I think we can guide people across," Eudomia said. "But if it comes down to it, I'll jump down to distract him." She grinned, and patted her boar on the side. The animal was too well trained to make any sudden, inconvenient noise, but snuffled slightly and looked up. "Me and 'im will do what we can… though honestly, if you could find a way to take him with you. Should only be one sucklin' pig shittin' emself an' dying." She gave a dark look at the demon, and he felt at that moment that she knew.

She knew in the dark pre-dawn hours that there was no way that everyone made it across without being noticed. She was volunteering to be the sacrifice… but hopefully the only sacrifice.

What could he say to that? 'Please, don't leave me with Sendri.' Because honestly getting rid of Sendri would be better. But… it was true he'd rather not have there be anyone lost at all. But he wasn't stupid. He knew that sometimes your only choice was to make a sacrifice to save everyone else. It was basic triage. It was the basic, and the fundamental, problem that faced everyone when the enemy was Demons. Anything and anyone was better than giving an inch to Demons trying to invade the world.

"Sendri, can you use your magic again? The stuff you used in the graveyard?" Eudomia asked.

"I don't know… I don't really control it."He'd noticed that. Sendri had awesome and horrifying amounts of strange magical power and no understanding of how to use half of it. It was yet another reason not to trust him. "I don't think it wants to come out now."

"Sorcerers," he said, and he let his contempt show for that. "I'd like to see a soldier whose sword doesn't feel like slashing today."

Rekarth didn't bother to listen for Sendri's rejoinder. He didn't give a shit. He had surviving to do.

---

The landscape certainly said something about why it was so blocked off. There was a lightly burning building, and a half-dozen other buildings all around, each of them not yet on fire but sure to be eventually, and down past the demon was a pile of carts and other wreckage,a nd a half-collapsed building that meant that the only way through was to squeeze. He got what everyone meant, because jumping across a bunch of burning buildings was hard bordering on impossible, but trying to make it through that gap would probably lead to a deadly bottleneck. But he didn't say anything.

Rekarth hardly liked admitting he was wrong, and he'd be damned to the Abyss if he was going to say anything to Sendri that sounded like encouragement to get even more stupid ideas. He wasn't the kind of person who needed encouragement. He was the sort of person where, even when he was right, you made sure to keep him tethered down.

Rekarth didn't like him, but he'd probably wind up dying for the idiot.

He watched as one, and then another, and then another person hurried through the house. This early on in the fire's lifecycle, it was still at the bottom, and so though a few people coughed most of them made it through. One by one by one they went, while the six warriors stayed behind, until all that was left was Bemir, who he was pretty sure was a murderer, and the six of them.

"Alright… I'm… going," Bemir said, looking over at Eudomia for a moment, and seemingly trying to see something.

"Get going," Eudomia grunted, and then turned to Valmont. The Orc perked up. "Can you take my darling?" She gestured to her big, rather furious looking boar. "You're going with Phierry and Tuvol, and then us three will be right behind you."

"Let me tell you something," Rekarth said, and he stepped closer to Valmont and said. "Late afternoon tomorrow: that's when the attack is coming. They might come a bit earlier or a bit later, but you have to pass that on if I die. All of you." He'd kept it close to hand for fear of betrayal, but who would break their bond at this point? It was the worst possible time, because it wouldn't even get you anything.

"Okay," Valmont said, and then they hurried off, beginning to climb the rubble, a hog snorting at their side and seemingly following their lead.

"Alright, let's go!" Sendri whisper-yelled, and then began hurrying up the rubble. Rekarth followed, and tried to make sure he was keeping close behind. The heat was starting to lick at his ankles, sweating pouring down his back. He was no longer necessary, though. As long as the others got away, as long as they survived, then the Defender's Heart would have a real chance to prepare. They'd have a real chance to… to do everything.

He lived for this. His loyalty was not cheaply bought, but whatever else he was, he would keep to it tirelessly and endlessly. He took a breath, and redoubled his efforts as he gripped and pulled at rubble and making it to a clear floor. All he had to do was then get on the roof, and then they'd get to the other end of it. The smoke was growing dense, and Eudomia had managed to outpace him. She was big, but she was strong and seemed to have endless wells of stamina. He just had to get a little further. His legs were starting to ache, and the ground was buckling. Almost there. Almost…

And then all at once the floor crumbled and he grabbed for a board in blind desperation, piercing his hand straight through with a huge, rusty nail. He could not help it, he briefly let out a shout before he bit his tongue so hard that blood welled in his mouth. The monster roared and suddenly turned, seeing the group. He hung above the flames, kicking his legs and trying to make what peace he could. There wasn't much of it to make, but he knew that in the end there was going to be a death after all.

But it being his… typical, just typical. And then a hand reached out and hauled him up as easily as a fisherwoman does a flopping stupid fish. He felt like that stupid fish, as Eudomia looked at him and said, "Well, there we go."

Below, the monster had turned, and it saw them.

He knew what was going to happen. He was too exhausted to do anything. Would he do anything? He wanted to live.

Eudomia grinned, and then leapt down at the creature, waving her hands as vines formed from nowhere and lashed down its legs. She landed in a roll and turned to face it as she began tossing magic at it like there was no tomorrow. And there wasn't. Everything she could do together wouldn't even give it a wound. And yet she continued to fight.

"Come on," Sendri yelled, and not at Rekarth. But he took that bit of advice to haul himself up. People were running now down the street just past the barricade, the blockade that made retreat all but impossible. "Come on, Eudomia! Get out of there! You can do it, I believe in you--"

"You idiot," Rekarth hissed, feeling his tail stiffen with anger and fear, "Don't make her sacrifice worthless…"

A few seconds could be an eternity. He knows how this will end. He doesn't want to look. She's backed up already, up against the barrier. She closed her eyes, no doubt not wanting to see her death coming. They've made it through the ashes and death: the city will survive, but that never meant all of them would. Rekarth probably should watch, should witness… but he also should get out of there.

He began climbing down, knowing it'd mean he wouldn't see her final moments. But that was a good thing. He liked that he'd not have another damned nightmare.

"Fly--" Sendri yelled out, and then there was a noise as they began to run.

It was a noise like the air itself was rippling, and then…

And then…

Soaring up above the barrier was a falcon, big and just a little too large, just a little too familiar looking, but beautiful, gorgeous, heaven itself on the wing because it meant…

The falcon flew over the barrier and someone was screaming at the top of his lungs, yelling, 'You can fly, you can fly!' He didn't know who that idiot was, or why he was laughing, until he realized he was that idiot and began to run! The bird took to the wing, flapping around them as the monster tore down the barrier in a single mighty blow and began to chase after them.

Yet he couldn't feel anything but pure, unbelievable joy. "I knew you could do it!" Sendri panted, his voice coming out as a series of gasps, a series of joyous exclamations that took up valuable breathing room as they all ran, Valmont and the others a bit ahead of them, them a bit ahead of the closing demon, and the civilians ahead of everyone but the gap closing as the edge of the building loomed in the distance. Would they make it? They had to, they had to make it!

When he saw the Crusaders pour out of the Defender's heart, he knew they'd finally made it.

They'd delivered the message.

Departure 1 (Lann)

They depart as they arrive, without ceremony. Not that he liked that kind of thing, anyway. He thought that all the ceremony in the world couldn't add up to a single practical thing. He understood why people insisted on it, but it was another silly, ridiculous thing. He spat on the ground and felt as if he had more reasons than sourness at Daeran to feel so miserable. Surely it couldn't just be that he was flirting with Satari? He was not that petty, because it was not as if he truly knew her. He'd kill for her, but that didn't have to mean anything. Or rather, he knew he'd kill for a lot, including his people. He felt as if he was going crazy. She was being friendly with him, and joking around with him, and that with sex was a relationship, right? It's what it was like with Wenduag.

She'd slid up to him and whispered something suggestive and then the next day play a prank on him and joke around with him. He couldn't believe that all of it was a lie. It didn't make sense for all of it to be a lie. He was going to kill her, and he was going to do it without understanding just why she did what she did. She could have easily gotten what she wanted by keeping to herself and being one of those solitary hunters, and luring people in like that. So it had to mean something, it was just that…

Ah! And there he fucking went again. What an ugly thing, to be able to circle around and around a problem like a dog sniffing his butt. He took a deep breath and looked out at the slowly lightening sky. It was a good day, all things considered. Fall was still a long way off, and winter not even a dream, and both of them only half-familiar to a Mongrel who lived beneath the earth. If he lived to see Rova, then it'd mean they'd won and survived. That was more than he could expect.

"Alright, is everyone packed up?" Satari asked, looking at the gathered group. "We won't be able to go back after this, and if anyone needs to use the bathroom they'll have to wait." Her tail twitched a little in obvious amusement, as she looked around at everyone assembled, him included.

"Wouldn't we just find a corner?" Lann asked, with a smirk.

"Of course you would say that," Camellia declared.

"Consider waiting until you find something expensive, first," Daeran suggested, with a breezy wave of his hands. He didn't seem to realize anything was happening, and indeed the cluster of people all seemed remarkably comfortable. Nobody else seemed like they were thinking of Satari's words to Horgus Gwerm.

"Good idea," Lann said.

"But seriously, Ember, are you ready to go?" she asked, turning to Ember. Ember nodded, looking eager.

"Which way are we going?" Ember asked.

"The way around would take extra hours, we're going to try to go straight on through, across the inner walls, and check out the tower… and then swing back and head up north to reach the Library. After that? Woljiff… will you be able to guide us to settle your problems?"

"Of course, chief," Woljiff said, eagerly. "You're going to back me and do this? Cause I kinda was sure you would, but I get that you're busy…" He looked like he was trying as hard as he could to pretend to sound shy or respectful, but his tail told the real story, wagging like he was a dog. Lann smirked at the thought and considered what they'd be doing.

"Not too busy to settle affairs with the Thieflings… especially since I have things I'd like to offer them."

"Oh boy," Seelah said under her breath. Lann got that. He bet that she was going to offer them a chance to team up and go against the demons. And, to be fair… what else were they supposed to do, besides flee or hide?

Of course, being cowards and weaklings they no doubt would prefer to continue hiding, but he at least understood her departure… she was trying to gather up the loose odds and ends. He had to wonder whether that's what this was really about? Getting Horgus Gwerm to work with them. The money was nice, but he didn't know if she actually cared about that. Lann was forced to consider how little he knew about her… but that was normal 'up there.' Of course it was normal up there, because most people didn't know each other. There was no way to not know more or less everyone else or at least know of them second-hand.

So on their departure, he could not help but feel that at this rate he'd get to know everyone… but somehow even if he did, Satari would remain a cipher.

---

They hadn't been walking for long before Daeran began to cause problems. Lann wanted to focus on the surroundings, for there was both beauty and horror in places like this. The wreck and ruin was familiar enough, but the remaining hunts of something that might have once been otherwise wasn't. Everything was rundown in a way that was never run up. But this? There was even a park in the distance, just sitting out just at the edge of sight. There were cracks, scars, and collapsed buildings mostly in the way, but he breathed in the surprisingly clear air. It was a fine day, a little chilly because the sun had only just begun to rise, but he'd lived most of his life without the sun. If he died in the next few days, he'd at least die under the sun.

But right now he was thinking less of death and more of murder. Ember had skipped ahead a little bit, dragging Woljiff with her, and everyone else was clustered around chatting as they moved. Their voices were hushed, but other than a few cultists who quickly died or fled in terror, there didn't seem to be anyone who could stand up to them. He'd enjoyed the chance to stretch his arms and get a few good shots in on people who he could practice his aim on without regret because they were murderous scum, but he wished it'd taken longer. Then he wouldn't have to hear this.

"So, I find myself offended by something you had implied, dear… whatever your name is," Daeran said, smiling at Satari and leaning in.

"Oh? Just one thing? I must be slipping," Satari said, and her tone of voice sounded a little like it did when joking around with him. Which meant she was probably flirting.

"You implied I might have some understanding of whatever… deviant thing you were talking about, or as if I wouldn't need such a list," Daeran said, his voice coy, clearly about to play some stupid game.

"You're asking me why I think you don't need to know more about bondage and various other things?" Satari asked, and Seelah turned away, looking awkward, and Camellia was ignoring all of them, and… everyone except him and Daeran seemed pulled away in one manner or another.

"Yes, I am--"

"I know that this isn't the first time you've been presented with this…"

"Why?"

"Because there's no way nobody's tried to gag you before," Satari said, except there was something vicious in her tone, something he couldn't miss or misinterpret, that had Daeran rocking back for a moment. If he didn't know better, if he didn't know that someone rich and handsome like Daeran didn't feel things as dull as hurt and pain, there was genuine hurt there for just the barest moment at the venom in that voice, and then he laughed. He wasn't the only one, Seelah snorted at it and Lann couldn't help but join her.

"Oh, you're too right…"

But despite his pretend good humor, Lann thought he was taken aback, and why not?

He moved forward and said, "Are we gonna go around the park?"

"Might as well go through it," Satari said easily, with none of the biting venom.

Ha! Clearly the Count had done something to annoy Satari, though who knows what. He decided to stick close and see just what was going through her head.