strike.

Avi had, perhaps, chosen the worst of all days to sleep past noon. By the time he’d gotten up, chaos had already had a noticeable effect on the town. In fact, he’d noticed the ruckus outside before he’d noticed the change in himself. He’d stood and watched out the window of the room he’d paid for that night for ten minutes before noticing the glow in his reflection. At first, his golden eyes and shimmering skin had surprised him, but it hadn’t taken long to get used to the new form. The owner of the inn had turned into a raptor, of all things, and his blood had simply been injected with celestial light. He really couldn’t find it in him to complain.

After receiving some answers and letting reality soak in for some time, Avi had set his sights on finding his brother. He’d traveled here with Efrain, but the two of them had quickly parted ways, and Avi couldn’t help but worry about his brother having been turned into a raptor or something even worse. But, despite all of his worry, he kept getting distracted and lost in the chaos. He’d meant to mosey on over to Thalra’s place, where he was sure Efrain had stayed that night, but instead he found himself visiting everywhere else in Myrefall first. He’d helped a Yuan-Ti woman find her Mapach child, fought off several strange hybrid animals, guarded someone who’d turned into a puddle until they reformed into their original shape, and all sorts of other things he’d never anticipated doing before. He had to admit: it was a good distraction from the past few months. He felt more confident and empowered than ever. His passion, his sense of duty, his sense of self all felt reignited.

Despite his best efforts to redirect his attention toward finding his brother, Avi had found himself nowhere near Thalra’s house. Instead, he’d ended up near the Lictomp Yard, where strange screams and guttural noises seemed to echo from. He hooked his fingers in the holes of the fence, looking in from the outside. On this side of the yard, people had mostly dispersed. Everything was flooded, destroyed, and empty save for the unfamiliar creatures that seemed to have claimed this part of Lictomp. Avi stayed quiet, careful not to call the attention of one of the malformed beasts. Before he knew it, he was distracted again, thinking about all of the people past the flood who might need his help.

Cinder raised an eyebrow as his subtle attempt to ask for the familiar stranger’s name was ignored. That or he was being too subtle. Was he, actually? He had no way of knowing at this point, most especially since he didn’t even regard the matter to be of utmost importance. Names were nice and all, but he’s been in this business for a suitably long time, ever since his self-imposed exile from his own homeland, and sometimes, not everyone wants to share real names. As a shifter, he knows that too well. 

Although Cinder didn’t have as many shifter relatives as he’d wanted growing up, having been abandoned as a child by his parents, he did meet quite a few as he grew and traveled. He was quick to notice that theirs wasn’t a culture that kept their own language…or community. They were wanderers, vagabonds, and they mostly lived with other races, blending with humans and elves and dwarves as best as they could. Most of them adopt the language of their adoptive communities, like Cinder had, and they even tend to reserve their personal names for only a select group of people, the rest, most especially strangers, relegated with their wandering names. Cinder was a latter name.

He grinned as he fixated himself on the sound of gold and coins. The familiar stranger had too much gold? Cinder was in luck then. Perhaps his tongue was silver, after all, a magic seer of sorts. This day was indeed lucky, but most likely for him. The shifter offered the man a brief bow, his grin wider than ever. “Like I always say, an honest work of companionship is always better than a bloody bounty. You have my loyal protection, my wealthy good sir. No harm shall come your way with me by your side. That’s a Cinder guarantee.”

“Cinder,” he repeated, offering a hand to officiate their meeting. He was sure he’d met this man before, was sure this wasn’t the first time he’d been given his name. He had a strong feeling they’d met before at the hands of Melora, but it must have been a forgettable occasion to Cinder. That, or he had recognized him and Avi just couldn’t tell. Both were likely, because Avi was getting more and more forgettable as the days went by. “I’m Avriel,” he paused for a moment. If it was coin this man was after, then perhaps he should keep him under the impression that he was some sort of nobleman. The surname Crayhorn lingered on his tongue. He’d never used his brother’s name for anything, and surely this was insignificant enough that it would have no repercussions against his brother’s name. “Avriel Crayhorn.”

He started to walk down the Runswick streets, headed toward the road that lead into the woods. He’d handled himself time and time again in those woods, and he was sure this time would be no different, so part of him wondered why he was bothering to hire someone and put on such a facade. The truth of it was simple: he was lonely, and he was bored, and he had a knack for facades that he rarely ever used. Maybe if he could make someone else believe he was worth something, then the disappointment of the day would wash away and his trip to Runswick wouldn’t be for naught. 

“I’m glad to hear you value fellowship,” Avi turned toward Cinder as he walked. “Tell me - and I don’t mean to overstep - are you a follower of Melora? I could have sworn we’ve met at her temple.”

“Oh no Avi I get it! I mean If I was really really hungry and I had like no other option I would kill a man for a really good stir fry. It would have to be like the best stir fry I’ve ever had though. Don’t worry I know this great place where we wont have to like kill a man.” Sarkesh laughed shaking his head. Sarkesh led Avi through the market passing by some stalls that were just making him feel even hungrier.  “Oh well you know as quite as things can be with a war on and like a billion soldiers who don’t look after their gear. If you’re missing the gossip from the barracks I’ll fill you in.” Sarkesh honestly didnt have much to report outside of his duties.  “Rowan broke up with me because he’s being stationed somewhere else but… word on the street is we broke up because Rowan has a secert love child with some lady he met on leave. Also I’m apparently not supposed to know this so keep it hush hush.” “How’ve you been? We miss you in the barracks, or well I do at least. You never returned anything broken unlike a few people I could mention.” Sarkesh flashed Avi a wide grin. “You better be sleeping in for me.” 

Avi weaved through the crowd of the market, trying hard to keep his head. So many people were out and about at this time that he started to feel a bit confined. He looked around deliberately, noting all of the gaps in the crowd and the places he could escape through if he needed to. This managed to calm him a bit, but he was still on his toes - just in case. “I’m sorry to hear about you and Rowan,” he said, turning his attention back to Sarkesh. He couldn’t help but the upward twitch of his lips when Sarkesh explained the rumor. “As if he’d leave you for some lady. I hope nobody actually believes that.”

“I’ve been...,” Avi cleared his throat, much less willing to talk about himself than he was Sarkesh. It didn’t quite seem like the right time to mention how awful he’d been. Luckily, the past couple of months hadn’t been all bad. He decided it was best to focus on the bright spots. “Ewin and I are still together. He’s incredible-” he paused. Okay, perhaps it was best to focus on the bright spots that didn’t involve his flourishing relationship. “-Sorry. I’m still living with my brother. It’s him and I, my parents, a lot of occasional guests, and my duck. I have a duck! His name is Mickey.”

“I’ve had a lot of time for...hobbies. Uh...I built a house for Mickey out of branches and pine cones. He doesn’t go in it, though,” Avi took a breath. Gods, he sounded pathetic. “Anyway. Have you been up to anything exciting lately, outside of the army?”

With a wide grin, Cinder slowly approached his prey, almost strutting, his hands in his pockets. He put on the swagger of an overconfident charlatan, eager to haul in great amounts of coin for the day, though he was actually feeling more concerned that he would not fail and thus become unable to feed himself for the next few hours. 

Upon closer inspection, however, Cinder found that this fellow looked somewhat similar. Where had he seen him before? He just could not quite place it. Perhaps, he was just one of the many bounty hunters the city had to offer, not quite different from himself? If that were true, then either this man had a bounty on him they could cash in together or they were going to both be hungry for the night.

“I am!” He announced loudly, stretching his arms to either side, as if welcoming the uncertain embrace of the moody fates. “…and now I’m here. With you. …offering my services as the…" 

He cut himself off, reminding his tongue that it would most likely only end in argument if he asserted himself to be the better bounty hunter, assuming of course that this man was of the same profession. ”…one of the greatest bounty hunters in all of Runswick.“ 

He put on his best grin, before immediately, hastily, speaking the next few words, as if they were slaves running away from their masters as fast as their malnourished legs could take them. ”…for a measly fee of, give or take, one, two gold pieces.“ 

Cinder then cleared his throat, trying his best to distract his prey from what were essentially the fine print of this verbal arrangement, before continuing, standing a few inches from him, with an extended hand ready for a shake, for the physical signing on the dotted line. "It’s the best damn deal in all of Runswick, and you’re a lucky man to be offered such a once-in-a-lifetime arrangement. What say you, mister…?”

Avi knit his eyebrows together, briefly wondering what about him looked like he was in need of a bounty hunter’s services. He wasn’t offended, just curious. Was his anxiety that obvious? Or did he just look rich? How could he possibly look rich? The man’s offer was vague, and Avi couldn’t think of anything he needed to be done within Runswick that he could possibly pay him for. But, if he was remembering correctly, this bounty hunter was a follower of Melora - and it was true that Avi had some coin to spare. 

He paused for a moment, considering the offer that wasn’t much of an offer. What did he want right now? What could he possibly pay for? He just wanted to go home. He thought for another moment. And he was a bit lonely. Perhaps he could acquire a new friend under the guise of needing hired muscle. “Well,” he started, standing up a bit straighter and puffing his chest out. If he did indeed look rich, he may as well play the part. “I have no bounty for you to chase, but I do require safe passage out of the city. You can never be too sure, wandering these streets with as much gold as I have. You see, my hands were made for delicate work and for counting coins - not for protecting myself. If you accompany me out of the city and through the redwood forest, I’d be happy to... uh, share some of my wealth.”

Something tight and frightened in Efrain’s heart unclenched as Avi hugged him. He hadn’t lost Avi yet, he hadn’t driven him away with his ornery nature or reticence towards affection. He hadn’t scared him off when his mind had become a cage and he a puppet. He squeezed back as tightly as he dared with his uninjured arm even as the broken one protested the stress. 

Efrain had no reply, no retort, in response to Avi’s careful words. He’d been raised to do one thing: protect and serve. Even if he now knew that the duties Eobald had touted were farces, he couldn’t just stop serving and protecting. The very marrow of his bones compelled him to look out for others, especially those he cared for. Efrain swallowed and stared down at his boots.

“It’s a reaction to trauma.” Efrain’s voice was still thick and weighed down by guilt. “I get them too,” he explained. A mirthless, empty laugh escaped him. “All the time, actually. I’m sorry I triggered one.” Efrain patted Weasel who burbled and swiped at his sleeve. The cat was content enough to wriggle and pout in his brother’s arms. “They’ll ease, eventually, Avi. I promise you that.” He finally met his brother’s gaze again. 

“I’m so sorry. You might not blame me, and I can’t say how thankful I am for that, but I’m not as forgiving as you.” Efrain glanced down the hall towards the study for the briefest of moments before turning away as if stung. “I want to be honest with you, Avriel. I’ve been so stupid. I don’t even know the depths of that stupidity yet, but Eobald wasn’t who he said he was. I was a tool for him. And his work was cruelty and I didn’t realize it. It will take a great deal of time to explain what I found, and what I believe he was doing, and I’ll explain it all to you if you wish, but just know that I didn’t know of any of it even though I’m complicit.” He opened and closed his mouth as words alluded him. “I ran because I was scared of that realization. And I’m still scared of what more I’ll find out. And most of all I was scared that I’d lost you because of it, or that I might still. I’ll never be finished apologizing for hurting you.” Efrain knew that he was rambling and that everything he’d said had been disjointed and rushed, but he didn’t know how else to explain and apologize at the same time. 

Avi was relieved to hear that there was an explanation for his flashes of panic, that Efrain experienced them too. If his brother could face the flashbacks and the fear and still be the man he was today, then Avi had no excuse - and if his brother was promising that it would get better eventually, then he believed that. It was the first time he actually believed that he could be okay given more time. He didn’t say as much, though. He just looked down at Weasel, who was tossing his paws around and making things difficult. 

The next few moments were difficult to parse. Efrain’s words didn’t make much sense to Avi. He couldn’t imagine what Eobald could have possibly been up to, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to come up with the right questions to help him understand. Sure, he’d known that Efrain had little in the way of a childhood, and when Thalra suggested that the geas had been set in motion by Eobald, it hadn’t been difficult for him to accept. He could understand that Efrain’s late father was an awful person - but what kind of awful? And how could the blame possibly fall on his brother, who was good and honorable and kind?

Silence hung in the air for longer than Avi should have allowed, but there were so many thoughts racing by that he didn’t know which he should speak aloud. He wanted to hear everything, of course, but there was a high possibility he would understand very little of it. He didn’t really know what Efrain did - all of his work, his chemistry, his mutagens - and he was sure that a lot of Eobald’s doings would go over his head as well. Regardless, he wanted to know. He wanted to help, and he wanted his brother to be able to tell him anything. But maybe not right now. Chances were his brother was exhausted, and if he let him explain everything at this very moment, he probably wouldn’t take a break from it the entire night. He’d lock himself away in a study and get to work immediately. Avi’s gut churned at the thought of that. He just wanted to spend some time with his brother, really.

“I want to hear everything,” he said finally, “but maybe tomorrow?” He set Weasel on the ground again before taking a step forward and shutting his bedroom door behind him. Mickey was still at his feet. “I'll be here for you no matter what, Efrain - no matter what you find. If you’re on the hook, then I’m on the hook, too. We’ll find the best course of action together. But...we don’t have to do that tonight, right? You’ve been traveling. Are you hungry? You know, there are a lot of things I haven’t cooked for you yet.”

“Yeah, but you’re still the strongest war mage I fucking know,” Rovasha said with an exaggerative roll of her eyes, playfully nudging him with her elbow. She followed his eyes to the ring where all the beefy men of Romera gathered, every single one in fighting stance. It smelled of sweat and iron - not the sort they were pumping either - blood. The closed-off stony interior of the Fight Club, especially within the underground city, did nothing but harbor the masculine stench of musk. Rovasha couldn’t wait to be stationed in above ground, in the tallest peaks of the mountain range. In fact, she’d settle for just about anything with fresh air. At the very least.

“Stop trying to change the subject, bro,” Rovasha teased. “You know I’m a scout - please. Am I gonna have to drag you up there?” She didn’t intend to push a friend, but ever since they parted, she’s watched him wallow in misery, in anxiety, like something’s taken his soul - his life. She’s seen it on both sides of the war, in all her comrade’s faces. The same sadness plagues them all. Encouragement is the least she could do.

Maybe it was because she reminded him of simpler times, or maybe he just missed her presence, but Avi was loathe to let Ro down in this moment. He’d been moping around for so long that the idea of getting up there - even if the odds were dangerously against him - was intriguing. Wasn’t it about time that he had some fun? He heard the crowd groan pitifully in response to a fighter going down. Okay, maybe this wasn’t his exact idea of fun. Still, it would be nice to have something to bond with Rovasha over.

“Alright,” he sighed. “Do I sign up somewhere, or-?”

Now, normally, Grim didn’t think questions were stupid, because he couldn’t judge. But that? What was just said to him? When he was a little beaten up and had just walked out? That was pretty dumb. “…What d’you think?” he couldn’t help but ask, voice slow and raising an eyebrow at the guy. “Yeah. I did.” Grim gave the answer anyway, just because, well…he’d met people who weren’t the sharpest daggers before, and he wasn’t sure what he was dealing with yet.

Miraculously, Avi could tell that he’d taken a wrong step with his last question. The stranger seemed annoyed and unimpressed. This seemed to be getting more and more common as of late. Had he lost his touch with people? He tried to shake off the feeling of embarrassment. “I don’t spend a lot of time in this area,” he explained, “I was wondering what the competition there has been like lately. Room for a newcomer, you think?”

Date: May 3rd Time: Afternoon Location: Lunacrest, Runswick Status: Open

The first time Cinder stepped foot within the great city walls of Runswick, its massive redwood forest the primary draw for the wildhunt shifter and the beast within, he found himself directed by fate to Lunacrest, where the beautiful city’s many bounties were kept and celebrated. Right then and there, Cinder knew that Runswick’s popular tavern, for so many obvious reasons, would be the perfect place for him, a place he could call home. …if he wasn’t sleeping in random stables all over the city, anyway. 

Authorities, nobles, alchemists, collectors, farmers… It did not even really matter to Cinder who posted the bounty. As long as they paid well and the monsters were only deadly in theory, none so far has managed to kill him, he was going to make himself worthy of that gold. Of course, bounties on deadly monsters usually required more than one adventurer, so Cinder had to work with others to make his gold.

Today, Cinder was on the prowl for a bounty to feed him. Unfortunately, today’s bounties were all already taken, and even though some of them were still looking to recruit more allies, Cinder had already worked with everyone who has taken a bounty, and for some reason, they were all not fans of his work. 

It’s probably because he only ever tends to communicate with others in grunts and gestures. Or maybe it’s because he often gets lost in his own thoughts, reveries, becoming oblivious to his surroundings, leading to traps being triggered. Maybe it’s because he believes that meddling in the affairs of others only causes troubles, which is why he had rarely helped his previous allies whenever they ended up fighting for their lives, telling them he’d rather not get in their way, even though any brief assistance would’ve been very helpful. It never helped that he is quite secretive as well, failing to inform others of important details that could’ve saved them time and effort.

“Whatever then!” He screamed back amid the laughing and jeering at his expense. 

The shifter was used to this kind of treatment. He had been experiencing it everywhere ever since… The very shadow of the memory made him scowl, as if a disgusting drink had somehow made its way down his throat. His past had never been a fun trip down memory lane. It had always been more of a place he never wanted to visit, a place he was too disgusted to visit. 

There was no point in crying over filled bounties. “I’ll just find someone I can goad into paying for my service…any service. Just no weird stuff!”

Just as he opens the door out of the tavern, he spots a passerby outside who looks like they’d have gold on them, though to be fair, to Cinder, everyone except him probably has gold on them. 

“Oi! You over there! It’s your lucky day!”

Thought it was too early to tell whether the time he’d taken to recover from Arx had been enough, Avi found himself in Runswick. Finally, he was taking a leap. He’d start with something simple - rescuing a cat, perhaps - and soon he’d be on his way toward fighting again. What a fool-proof plan, he thought. But as he approached Lunacrest, his hands were shaking. He hated being this far from home. If something went wrong here, what would become of him? What was he to do when he got hurt so far from his family, from Ewin? 

When he finally approached the board, it seemed as though every job had been taken. There was nothing even remotely exciting left, and Avi didn’t bother to check if anyone was looking for an extra pair of hands. Instead, he took it as a sign from Melora. Time to head back home. Perhaps, if there had been a job open, it would have been the adventure that killed him. He wasn’t going to ignore that sign and wait for a dangerous job to be posted tomorrow.

He’d been outside of Lunacrest for a whole of thirty seconds before someone called out to him, and Avi found that his hands were still shaking. Frantically, he snapped his attention toward the voice and was surprised to find that he recognized the face. He couldn’t quite remember the person’s name, but he knew he’d met them a handful of times at a temple of the Wildmother. Maybe she really was trying to send him a sign. Maybe it really was his lucky day.

“Alright, I believe you,” He smiled, hiding his trembling hands. “What’s so lucky about it?”

Time: Evening Place: Khaggon Open

“If the question is ‘does your face hurt’, I’m gonna make your face hurt, so. Different question or go.” The vague threat the half-orc gave was accompanied by the point of a finger, a warning in itself. It wasn’t like the fight he’d just gotten in had been bad or anything, barely enough for the other guy to get hits in, but Grim just hated dumb questions when he wasn’t the one asking them. “So, what?”

Avi’s curiosity regarding the fight club had peaked over the last few days, so when he saw bloody-knuckled stranger near the establishment, he lost all sense of reservation. Typically, he was polite. He avoided staring and always approached someone with a topic completely separate from what he was actually wondering. Today, he’d meant to be upfront, but the half-orc beat him to the punch. Surely his question would seem pathetic in the wake of that introduction. Oh, well, he thought, and asked anyway. 

“Pleasure to meet you, too,” He gestured in the direction of the fight club. “You come from the club?”

“Fine,” he replied on instinct before shutting his mouth with an audible click. The lie made his mouth taste sour and his throat to constrict. “Well, terrible actually. I’m a bit better now, though.” His arm was still in a sling, but the bone was slowly knitting itself back together, and the throbbing in his head had lessened. Efrain loitered in the hall, his hand fidgeting at his side. How do you apologize for such a betrayal? He’d already apologized profusely for being too weak to resist the geas, but what felt more unforgivable was his abandonment after the fact. He’d left his brother behind to lick his own wounds and to panic like a coward. He felt his cheeks heat as he let the silence linger for too long. As he gaped like an undignified fish, he examined Avriel. He couldn’t see any physical injuries, but for once he couldn’t tell what was going on in the young man’s head. Perhaps he was disgusted at what Efrain had done, or pitied him, or perhaps he still feared him. Gods, he just hoped Avi could forgive him. For any of it. 

A meow from down the hall saved him from complete embarrassment and he looked up to see Weasel tottering towards them. The cat burbled and wound around his ankles. Immediately the knot in his chest eased. Weasel moved from his legs to Avriel’s, winding round and round his and burbling all the while. Clearly Efrain now had competition to be Weasel’s favorite. 

“I’m sorry,” Efrain blurted out. “I’m sorry I ran out after we looked in study. I should have checked to make sure you would be okay.” Between one moment and the next Efrain dropped all pretenses. He didn’t want to maintain this careful, tentative distance between him and his brother because of Eobald. It still made his stomach churn to think about harming Avriel, but he couldn’t let it destroy their budding brotherhood. He remembered the way his baby brother had shied away from him, though. He remembered the terror in his eyes. He never again wanted to be a source of fear for Avriel. He’d rather die himself. Slowly, to give him time to move away if he desired, Efrain reached forward across the distance between them to clasp his shoulder. He felt real beneath his fingers and breathtakingly alive. “How are you? Are you alright?”

His brother’s apology sent a painful shiver of guilt down his spine. He remembered the second the ashes started to settle, when Efrain was still terribly injured and Avi was still terribly afraid. He insisted that they start cleaning. How stupid, he thought now. It wouldn’t do either of them any favors to pretend as though it didn’t happen. Something in his stomach churned and ached, and he couldn’t just ignore that either. He’d made his brother feel as though he had to apologize for going through something traumatic. Oh, gods. He’d made it about himself.

After a moment of thinking about how he could possibly respond, Avi clapped a hand onto Efrain’s shoulder, mirroring the show of affection he’d made before giving in entirely and pulling his brother into a hug. He didn’t cling to him or cry like in Arx - thank Melora - but he hugged him as firmly as he could while minding his arm, hand flat between his shoulder blades. When he pulled away, there was still a storm in his gut. Silence wouldn’t do.

The only reason he made it out of Arx was because of Efrain and everyone else who knew his grief. He’d felt alone since then, but a realization settled upon him just as his guilt did: so many people had gone through what he was going through. Maybe not in the same way. Maybe their pain wore a different face and went by a different name, but grief was grief. He knew Efrain had faced it before; he’d lost friends to war. He’d faced this and come out the other side, so Avi knew it could be done. But he had no clue what Efrain was going through. He couldn’t even guess. Even if he knew all the details, he wouldn’t know the feelings, and he wouldn’t be able to assure him that things would look up someday. How incredibly lonely his brother must feel - and he certainly wasn’t making it any better. His grief and his fear - gods, especially his fear - were getting in the way. 

“I’ll be alright,” he said finally, ducking down to pick up Weasel who verbally protested but made no effort to move. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for...anything. I was scared, but not of you. I get these, uh...flashes of the battlefield. Makes me feel like I’m back there. But that’s not your fault. What happened wasn’t your fault, and I understand why you needed to be away for a few days. You know, you’re allowed to... You don’t always have to be looking out for everyone else.”

Avi cleared his throat. “Just had to say that.”

“Long time no see.” Rovasha said, tight-lipped. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, but he was an unexpected sight. She should’ve thrown on a disguise or, at the very least, masked herself better. Sure, it’s been a while since he left the army and they were the closer than most, but Rovasha’s usually on top of these things. It’s damage control.

“Yeah, that’s a no on magic.” She scratched her head, making a show up mussing up her hair as he posed his question. Discharge didn’t do him any favors. The last thing she want was pity if she was in his shoes, but it didn’t stop him reeking of desperation. She felt bad for him. “You know, you were a farmer before all this, right? That was hard work, laborious… you see where I’m going with this?”

“Farming doesn’t teach you to throw a punch, Ro,” Avi noted. Despite himself, he was already scoping out the place, catching only bits and pieces of the current fight through gaps in the crowd. He wasn’t sure if one of the fighters in the ring was the Zed she’d mentioned, but from what he could tell there was a clear winner. Maybe this wasn’t his kind of place, but Scratch had always tried to convince him to come. He never talked about whether or not he fought, or whether or not he won, but he was always enthusiastic about going. And Avi never joined him.

“What about you?” He asked, snapping out of it abruptly. He didn’t come here to face the guilt of never doing enough with Scratch; he came here because it was something different. He just needed something different. “Wouldn’t it make a lot more sense for you to be up there? I’ll stand on the sidelines, and even start a chant for ya, if you want.”

“Oh! Avi! It has been a while!” Sarkesh had heard of what’d happened at Arx. Word traveled fast in the barracks. When Scrag broke up with Sarkesh the whole army probably knew in a matter of hours.  Sarkesh smiled when Avi mentioned that he wanted to join him. 

“Oh hell yeah man of course you can join me! You have anything in mind? I’ve been craving a stir fry to be honest, but I’m game for anything i’m as hungry as a horse.” It’d be nice to catch up with Avi and see how he was adjusting to being out of the army. 

There was a tension that came with Avi’s poor ability to read people. Especially after messing up so badly, he felt a deep discomfort in the not knowing. People had reason to dislike him now, and his intuition was so weak that he might never know who actually did. But today, his insight spared him. He saw something genuine in Sarkesh’s smile, something that put him at ease. Even if the man thought him to be reckless or foolish, it didn’t seem as though he was opposed to having company, and that made it easier for Avi to continue walking with him. 

“I would kill for some stir fry- not literally. Well- I suppose it depends on how good the stir fry is,” Avi paused. It wasn’t a funny joke, but he smiled regardless. “How are things? A bit quiet, I hope?”

Time: late afternoon Place: Khaggon Date: May 1st Status: Open

Sarkesh had wandered in to the city center to look for something to eat. Lunch time had long passed but he’d been so busy sparring that he’d missed noon competely. He was fighting tonight, a big match for a spot above where he currently was. Though he’d been stopped a few times by some regulars at the fight club the third time being stopped when he just wanted something to eat was getting tiring. He wasn’t sure if they recognized him or not 

“Oh can I help you with something? I’m actually on my way to get something to eat.” 

Avi didn’t have much in the way of a plan for the day, but something took a vague shape the moment he saw the familiar face of Sarkesh. He’d always known the man to be a skilled fighter- in the army, he’d both admired him and enjoyed his company - but it was only recently that he’d caught wind of his reputation at the fight club. It’d sparked an idea somewhere within him. He’d never actually been to the fight club, but lately he felt bored and weak - and his magic? Well, it’d done nothing but cause problems.

“Actually, Sarkesh, I was hoping you might be able to help me with something, yes,” Avi replied after approaching him. “I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, but I’d love to join you if you wouldn’t mind.”

Date & Time: Night, early May Location: Fight Club, Khaggon Status: Open

Despite how it seemed, always in the wrong time and place she was, Rovasha was never one to initiate violence. Fight Clubs were familiar and even she craved a bit of nostalgia. She never got in the ring herself. It reminded her too much of a certain King’s army. No, these gigs were better from a distance. Still, thieves’ guilds, no matter the nation you were home, opened their doors to all thieving folk. It was so easy to fall back into old habits.

“Am I gonna see you up there?” she said, gassing up every other adventurer passing by. “Been a while since someone knocked Zed fuckin’ dead. It gonna be you?”

Avi had never set foot inside the fight club. Establishments run by the thieves’ guild were best to steer clear of if he was looking to protect his reputation - and his brother’s, for that matter. His reputation, however, was already in tatters. By now, everyone knew what he’d done to get himself booted from the ranks. He’d abandoned his station, went against direct orders, fought so recklessly he put civilians in danger. There was no coming back from that. The least he could do now was try to learn to fight. Perhaps a bit of blood at his knuckles would help him feel less useless.

He was somehow both shocked and entirely unsurprised when he came across Rovasha, mostly by the fact that she was egging on strangers. He pushed his way past those strangers toward her, making an honest effort to keep his head high despite the shame of his discharge. Surely she knew all about it; surely she had an opinion. He tried not to think about it. “You reckon I could take him on?” He asked, knowing full well he didn’t stand a chance. He had a feeling this place allowed fists exclusively, and that had never been his strong suit. Still, it sounded like more excitement than he’d had in months. “I’ve never been here before - how does this establishment feel about offensive magic?”

Time: Late afternoon.  Date: March 8th.  Location: The Crayhorn Estate, Khaggon.  Status: closed @glynwarrens.

Efrain had finally returned home after three days of panicking. There was no better word for it. He’d panicked. He’d hurt his dearest friend, his baby brother, and had learned that for all his attempts to help people, he’d simply hurt them. Anxiety coiled in his chest, around his heart, as he stepped through his own front door. He had only seen his parents briefly after the disaster, had mumbled something barely coherent about what had happened, and had fled their presence the moment they’d tried to comfort him. 

Only a week ago he’d comforted Avriel in Arx. He’d seen how hurt he’d been and how hollow he was afterwards and yet he’d still caused him more pain. Then he’d abandoned him to it. When they’d first met, he had feared that he would be a terrible brother, a useless one, and all he’d done since was prove himself right. He chewed his lip as he set his coat and things his own bedroom door before marching down the hall. He resolutely did not look at the study door. He’d disabled the lock, and the spell was gone, but the sight still made him sick to his stomach and caused his head to ache. In his absence, he had spoken to a high ranking cleric about the damnable geas and had been given a proper sling for his arm. They’d assured him that the pain in his head, the aftershocks, would fade eventually, but for now they felt inescapable and vile.

Too soon he was in front of Avi’s room. A door shouldn’t be so daunting, but Efrain would have preferred to face a dozen vampires and ghouls than to face his brother. He forced his breath to steady even as his heart continued to beat at a rabbit’s pace and knocked. “Avriel?” he called. “Avi, are you home?” 

In the past few days, Avi hadn’t taken much time to reflect on the events that had driven his brother away. In fact, he hadn’t taken time to reflect on much of anything. Arx was still a black hole in his brain, sucking up parts of himself that used to be so distinct. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Maybe he could stand to be a bit different, but maybe the timing was all wrong. Given how preoccupied he’d been with just getting by, he couldn’t actually tell how he felt about the past month. 

Miraculously, Avi had managed to add a few bold strokes to a painting over the past day or two. He’d crammed his easel in the far corner of his room, and had stared at the painting he’d started a month ago for an hour before adding to it. It looked messy now; he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. It was, however, better to mope in front of a canvas than underneath his covers. He’d moped all over the mansion, really, and this was perhaps the least uncomfortable place to mope. Maybe he didn’t have to reflect; maybe he was already making progress.

His brother’s voice broke through a shell that had been there since the study. If he’d been upset at him before - for running off, or even for that which he couldn’t control - it didn’t matter now. He came back. It’d only been a few days; he hadn’t been abandoned. He hastily made his way to the door, Mickey following close behind. When he opened the door, when he saw his brother’s face, he knew he’d missed him. Even if it was just three days, he now recognized a remorse that he’d managed to ignore before. He should have handled things differently, and he should have thought more about everything instead of burying every unpleasant emotion. 

Luckily, none of that seemed to matter much now. He hadn’t driven him away for good, and he had time to apologize once he could sort the words out in his head. “Efrain, did you head out for a bit? I hardly noticed- Did you head to the shops?” He wiped his hands off on his pants and broke character in an instant, huffing out sharply before scanning Efrain for any injuries or ailments. “How are you doing?”

“Ah…” Jharvas stopped trying to catch his hair, not unlike a dog who was running around in circles trying to catch its tail, and turned his attention back to the strange human. “I didn’t even know I had a favorite color until now. Blue? Because I’m a triton?” He let out a loud laughter, striking the table playfully with his strong right hand. “Green is a nice color, too.” He tried to return the favor, appreciating the man’s standards for colors and favorites, as he took another sip of the drink. The surface had better green than the deep sea, at least that was how Jharvas took to it. Lots of green, too.

The triton paused and squinted at the human, looking him over from head to what he could see of his toes. He could not, not really, if only the upper portions of his torso, and even those were obscured by both shadows and the alcohol blurring his sight. “Do you look like a soldier?” The words escaped his lips without much thought, not that he was incapable of such a thing in his current state. “I can never tell these days.”

He remembered the battles he had during the invasion of Arx, the wins, the losses. He remembered the invading soldiers’ helmets and armor, the sharpness of their spears, how their body plummeted to the ground helplessly when his fury overcame their maliciousness. He remembered the soldiers on their side, the brave men of Arx, the fishermen and townsfolk, the many faces of the docks, taking up arms to defend and take back their city. They were all soldiers then, in that point in time, but he could no longer remember the faces that fought with him, perished for the same cause he had taken arms for, All he could remember were the screams and the blood and the clashing of metal upon another. He grimaced at the thought, shaking his head.

“Rolland is your king, is he not? Why would he discharge you, and with great honor? You look like there’s still a fight in you. A lot of it.” It was possible Jharvas was talking about something else, someone else. At this point, it was possible his ass was doing the talking for him.

Avi paused in the wake of the triton’s question. Did he look like a soldier? He certainly used to, when he had a uniform and a station. What did a soldier look like, beyond that? He wasn’t particularly strong, and he’d left a lot of his confidence behind in Arx, so he supposed now he just looked...normal. He was a civilian, young and inexperienced and unimposing. “No, I don’t suppose I look much like a soldier,” he shrugged. “Most are fighters, I suppose. I always stood a better chance at a distance.”

He struggled to keep his head high as the stranger questioned his lies. He knew he didn’t look impaired or injured or like the king would have any reason to honorably discharge him, but if the triton saw fight in him, he was sorely mistaken. Even if he hadn’t broken so many rules, if he hadn’t been so reckless, he had a gut feeling that the army wouldn’t want him anymore. They wouldn’t want him like this: a fraction of who he used to be, terrified all the time, sleepless and drinking to get through the days. It was a painful reality to accept, but his officer wasn’t wrong about him. 

“Well, it wasn’t up to Rolland - at least not directly.” Avi swam through a sea of incoherent thoughts to get to the ones he could speak aloud. My mind isn’t right, he wanted to say, Arx broke me and now I’m unable to fight, but I still fought honorably. It was partially true, but it wasn’t how he wanted to be seen - not by this stranger, and not by anyone. “I lost my powers in Arx,” he said instead, “I didn’t know it was possible, but I was injured badly. Physically, I’m...better, but my abilities haven’t recovered. I’m no good to the army without them.”

Jax sighed quietly and nodded. He sat down next to the half-elf. Jax shrugged a bit. “Yeah, sure, why not?” he said to Avi. He gestured to the bartender for another whiskey. When he looked back over at Avi, he noticed the piece of paper in front of the half-elf, but he couldn’t quite make out any of the words and he knew he wouldn’t be able to actually see what the paper said without making it obvious, and he figured that wasn’t smart.

He looked back up at Avi. The guy seemed pretty wasted. No one got that drunk this early in the day because everything was peachy. He arched an eyebrow and took a sip of his drink. “So… I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that something’s wrong.” Before Avi could respond, Jax continued to speak. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna push it. Can’t help but notice is all.”

“Is it that obvious?” Avi sighed, looking to the certificate once more before tucking it away in his bag. He didn’t mind Jax pointing out the state he was in. In fact, he was surprised he cared enough to notice. Of course, he hadn’t been hiding anything - he was far too exhausted now to  even try - but it was still impressive. “Usually I’m better at pretending.”

When Jax’s whiskey came, Avi scrambled for his bag, rummaging for some coin for an embarrassingly long amount of time. The certificate he’d just crammed in there came loose in the process, floating gently to the ground as if it didn’t carry so much weight. Avi kept looking for coin. Finally, he found success, and slapped the payment down on the bar. “You’re making me crave whiskey,” Avi slurred, “Maybe I should get some whiskey.”