#ajcorp

The large crash of glass shattering echoes through the open halls of the castle and all Nights can do is sigh and go back to work. It seems it happens at least once a week, so she has stopped bothering to go out and look. She simply goes back to the book she is reading as she lounges on one of the couches in the sitting room.

Several minutes pass without any further disturbances, as though nothing had happened. Then distantly, a voice calls out.

[BlueSky] Niiights!

It calls out again, louder, as though the source is getting closer very rapidly.

[BlueSky] Niiiiiiiiiiiiiights!

Nights groans as she closes her book with a soft thump and puts it down. She sits up and stretches before looking down from the platform she’s sitting on. [Nights] Over here!

Blue dashes into the sitting room, sliding to a stop on the wooden floorboards, looking somewhat panicked with her ears pricked and fur ruffled.

[BlueSky] I think the newbie is broken!

Nights calmly makes her way from platform to platform, then down the stairs to where blue stands panicked. [Nights] Raziel? What do you mean ‘broken’?

[BlueSky] Well… something went ‘crack’ and I’m pretty sure humans aren’t supposed to go ‘crack’. I think.

Nights sort of looks both confused and concerned at the same time as she describes the ‘crack’ noise.

[Nights] Uhhh…. No. No, they should not make that noise. Where is he?

[BlueSky] After he ran into a wall we went to the forest. He then ran into a tree and didn’t seem to want to move much.

She starts to hop back towards to door, keen to get back to him.

[Nights] Why did he run into a tree?!

Nights briskly walks behind Blue, trying to keep up with her, all the while imagining every scenario in which someone would choose to run into a tree.

[BlueSky] I don’t think that was part of his plan. He was trying to slow down but doesn’t seem to have quite nailed how to land properly. I mean fair’s fair, it’s not the easiest thing to master.

They walk through the courtyard, Shattered glass litters the grass and roots. Nights looks up, seeing Raziel's window utterly shattered. There is no blood but there is bark missing from the large oak as they pass. They quickly walk out the large doors and make their way down the bridge over toward the sacred forest. There, in the distance, is Raziel, standing perfectly still with his hand on his back amongst the bright trees.

Blue bounds ahead to check how he is doing. She paces around him, ears back, still nervous about touching him.

Raziel grins awkwardly at the sudden return of Blue, he starts to walk slowly in circles, rubbing his back. The pain has reduced in amount but he still feels rigid from the impact against the tree. Upon spotting Nights he waves.

[Raziel] Morning Boss! Lovely weather this evening, don’t you agree?

[Nights] Blue said you were … uhm… broken? *She shouts out before she starts to jog toward him, her coat jangling with all the things in it as she goes.*

[Raziel] Broken? Well I’m not sure about broken but I am... *He goes to approach Nights before grimacing in pain from attempting to move.* In a considerable amount of pain! *He continues to rub his back.* I may or may not have decided to do another magic experiment that made me pick a fight with gravity... and a tree….

[Nights] So… it hurts to move but it only hurts in your back I hope? *She says in concern while she reaches into the inner pocket of her jacket to produce a shining flask with intricate carvings on it.*

[Raziel] Yeah that's right, I used a spell to try and reduce the damage,  but I guess I crashed a bit too hard… Although if you think I look a state you should see the other guy *He points to the human shaped dent in a nearby tree, pieces of bark lay scattered about the landing zone with the giant cracks now going up the makeshift safety net*

*Nights mutters something about that she’d have to be in the accipiter to make that kind of dent, before opening the flask and offering it to Raziel. The liquid inside is dark and foul smelling, like a strong chemical that’s not been ventilated properly.*

*Blue backs away and pulls a face as the strong scent meets her sensitive nose.* [Nights] Here, take a sip of this. Uhm… only a sip though.

[Raziel] Huh, I always did wonder what you kept in that, I always assumed whiskey or something... *He politely takes the flask off Nights, taking a moment to smell the liquid inside* smells like Jägerin...well, to your health Boss! *He takes a small swig of the flask's contents, coughing for a brief moment as his body reacts to the drink* Definitely not Jägerin! I almost had deja vu of Dante’s homemade rum... what actually is that?

[Nights] Give it a moment and you should be able to move back to the castle on your own. You just pulled a muscle, nothing major. *She says this ignoring his question rather quietly. She steps beside him and encourages him to stand up strait.*

[Raziel] Well that’s a relief, I think I’ve broken enough bones this year to say the least... *A very sudden wave of relief flows through Raziel as Night’s concoction starts taking effect*...aaand that’s way more powerful than I thought that stuff would be, power of science, never ceases to amaze me! *He laughs as he stretches his back, testing himself by bouncing up and down on the spot*

Nights cringes watching him, knowing when it wears off it will be all that much more sore. [Nights] You should try not to stress it more… it is still injured, you just can not feel it. Come now, we should go, and you should lay down.

[Raziel] That! Is a fantastic idea...let us be off! *He giggles as he turns towards the castle, somewhat stumbling as he walks onwards, quickly turns around in confusion* Oh! Blue! You're here too?

[BlueSky] Hi. *She deflates as it seems all her worry was for no reason.*

Nights looks over in concern, she didn't think this batch had that much of a stimulant mixed in. Then she realized he didn’t listen and mutters a few curse words under her breath.

[Nights] For bolts sake, you took more than a sip! *She says scowling at him* Now I gotta watch you…. *she sighs rather annoyed.*

[Raziel] *He smiles sheepishly, raising his hands in a surrender like pose* Sorry Boss! I honestly thought it was something a lot weaker and that I could handle it…

[Nights] Well we better get back to the castle before you pass out…. I have half a mind to make you bring it back up.

[Raziel] No need, I should be able to survive the journey..Now...*He points towards the castle* Onwards!

[Nights] He is gonna crash soon. *She says while rolling her eyes and trudging behind him toward the open back gates.*

[BlueSky] Well, don’t they say third time’s a charm? *Blue responded, carefully watching Raz walk.*

They walk along the long bridge and up the flagstone path to the castle, Raziel seems to slowly lose energy as they walk up hill and Nights gently encourages him forward. The large castle flag flaps lethargically in the wind above as they enter the back gates. Nights turns Raziel in the right direction with a hand as she heads toward the West tower library. They step onto the levitator and move up toward the warm cozy library, the whole time with Blue anxiously following, not sure how she could help but wanting to be there if needed.

As they enter she climbs to one of the elevated platforms with a series of large leaps, and settles down to peer over the edge at the two. Many books line the shelves sitting on the floors and a fire forever goes in the corner in the fireplace. The couches sit against the windows and large lounge chairs sit around the coffee tables in front of the couches. Nights points to a couch and and orders Raziel to lay down as she empties a trash can in the corner, filled with random scrap paper, and places it next to the couch.

Raziel flops onto the nearby couch in the library, the warmth of the room not helping his now already drowsy state. He struggles to keep himself awake, starting to wish now that he had actually paid head to Nights advice and had less of the concoction.

[Raziel] *He sighs and yawns* From zero to one hundred in less than five minutes... that truly is an interesting medicine you have there Boss.

[Nights] It does not do that in proper dosages. *She says as she settles into a chair after picking out a random booking that interested her. She's taken off her jacket in the warm room, laying it  down in a pile next to her as she settles herself in the chair.*

[Raziel] Duly noted..*He rubs his eyes, propping himself up to have a proper look at the collection of books on the library shelves*...Hey Nights, on a different note, don’t suppose you have any books on flying do you? Magic or otherwise?

[Nights] Many. As well as many notebooks on the subject. Perhaps when you feel better I will show you. *She could feel the blue eyes staring at them, but didn’t look up.*

[Raziel] Damn, I was hoping to start now *He yawns again,sliding back down onto the sofa* But okay, sounds like a...plan...thanks again…

The concoction finally takes it toll and Raziel falls asleep, it's less than a minute before he starts snoring.

Nights snorts in disbelief as she crosses her legs and settles into her book.

Not all of which he'd allowed, a few had taken their leave over it — something he didn't particularly mind. No need to conform to rules they couldn't abide by nor would he put the comfort or safety of his own crew in jeopardy over a single entity.

As of that morning he'd put his mind to those who'd figured they could lose themselves into the crowd, dissolve without ever being known or simply those used to a different type of settlement. It didn't matter, he'd learn each individual by face, name and capabilities eventually and he would seek them out if they wouldn't come before him.

It's one such individual that had brought him before one of the tents. Jangles enters without much ceremony, the flap of fabric thrust to the side as he steps inside.

There is a lantern mere inches from his face that makes him recoil briefly, an unnatural greenish light twirls almost invisibly behind the foggy glass. One of his metal fingers taps against the crystal, the light flares. Deep-set eyes narrow before he ducks under it, continuing his way towards the counter.

There doesn't seem to be a salesman, either hidden behind wares, some other compartment of the tent or simply just out of his line of sight.

[Jangles] Y'surely got wares.

Bolframmon appears from out the corner of the tent, his gear and collection scattered about the place and certain spells and barriers have not been set up, bar the dangling lantern of an unusual flame you could be convinced it is just another tent. He is surprised to have a visitor so soon as he has not even put up a sign saying what this place is. He studies the man briefly, clearly seeing from his attire he’s a Dreglander and must be one of the few running this new town. Either that or he’s just a really nosey one who came to see what was about.

[Bolframmon] *he coughs to announce his presence before approaching* I do indeed have wares, sir! Although I must apologise for the state of the place, I was not expecting customer or company anytime soon.

The sound catches Jangles' attention, he turns from the multitude of odd looking wares over to the owner of the place. The Dreglander doesn't hide his brief inspection, his eyes flicking from head to toes and back. He cocks his head briefly, his brow raises just enough to light up his eyes by the reflection of the flame, they flick over to the rest of the tent, his mouth purses slightly making a 'not-bad'-expression.

[Jangles] Tidiness ain't a thing y'gotta fear with me about. Y'do yer business as y'see it.

He steps away from the counter, turning more towards Bolframmon, the glint of the lantern showing his shabby outfit consisting out of a sleeveless vest and a pair of slacks. They might be a desert-camo, though it's difficult to determine whether the plethora of stains is a design choice or the result of wear-and-tear.

[Jangles] It's Jangles, by the way. Ain't here for y'wares. Got nothin' missin' from m'life. Nothing that y'can find in a random tent anyway. Real reason I'm here's t'see if y'got anything missin' on yer own end. Is my job t'see everyone happy an' dandy an' fantastic. Ain't gonna have a sit down and a sob, tho. Just lookin' t'see if yer needin' a supply-a-power or water, really.

Bolf’s faced changes to a surprised expression at Jangles’ offer, he wasn’t too sure what to expect here but the offer of help certainly wasn’t on that list. He smiles as he extends his hand towards Jangles.

[Bolframmon] A pleasure to meet you Jangles, my name is Bolframmon. I appreciate the offer for power and water, but I will be quite fine, I’ve come prepared already. *He looks about his tent again.* Although once this mess is organised and the rest of the tent is set up, I think a drink might be desperately needed.

[Jangles] Basically Bolf then.

He eyes the hand that's inching towards him, he raises his corresponding hand, the metal glinting in the low light of a few lanterns. There is a hesitance in his action as he extends his, a split-second of doubt before he allows the other man to take it.

[Jangles] Ain't a scam that I'm runnin'. Won't mess with y'things and only askin' what's fair in 'xchange. But if y'got it down all's the better for it, 'suppose. Just lettin' y'know it's on the table. We've also got decent tradin' routes outside adda settlement so if yer needin' fer something specific y'can let me settle up arrangements.

A sly grin snakes onto his face as he hears Bolf, his body language becomes a bit more open, stiff muscles in a defensive posture slacking ever so slightly. A satisfied grin ending in a gentle chuckle.

[Jangles] Ain't that what anyone's needin'? We've got a nice diner 'round here somewhere. Good prices, great patron. Or else I'm sure y'can find someone willin' t'trade a decent bottle fer onna y'wares. Just outta curiosities sake… Whadda y'dealin' anyway?

[Bolframmon] A diner? Well, I could use a good meal too, I’ll go have a nose later. As to your other question…

He steps away and gestures towards the various items scattered about, upon looking books of various sizes can be seen, necklaces and earrings are gently hanging of a stand, and some sort of weapon can also be seen sticking out of a barrel.

[Bolframmon] Without the long winded explanation, you can call me a merchant who specialises in magical wares. Relics, spellbooks, enchantments and potions etc. Basically if you need something magic based or need something removed, I’m your man.

Jangles' mouth twitches, like he'd just bitten down on a lemon or set his teeth into something rotten. His hand is quick to retreat to his body, fingers coiling back into his icy palm.

[Jangles]  Fuckin' Benign ain't guidin' shit today! Haddan inkling, yeah.

The curse dies off into a weak sigh. It's a weak lie, an attempt to save face if only for himself. He'd been suspicious of Bolf but for the same reason he is suspicious of anyone not from the Dreglanders. Anyone he couldn't pinpoint with one look.

His gaze goes over the tent and the wares on display again, as if he could see the corruption dripping off of it now, he couldn't. Boxes don't act suspicious when they're different. They might glow or groan but installing a few LEDs or throwing your voice could give you the same effects. Pretend magic was more common in the Dreglands, pretend magic was a niceness, an escape… Real magic was something people would escape from.

[Jangles] Cannai ask y'the keep this on the down-low? Ain't lookin' t'make a big deal outta this… But y'chose a peculiar place t'set up shop. Dreglanders ain't fonda things that ain't… regular. Gotta bad history. If y'gotta sell dancin' candles or self-readin' books don't put them out on the curb 't catch attention. We've gotta rule that keeps us happy: If it don't have t'magic it shouldn't. I don't givva shit what y'do behind these here curtains. I givva shit that my people ain't comfortable. Y'do yer business behind this here cloth and we're all happy an' dandy. That business bleeds out onto the streets and I end up comfortin' a sweet thing and explainin' that there ain't corruption nibbling at their home our bussiness-relations might end up a tad strained. I tend t'snap when I'm put under strain…

Bolframmon raises an eyebrow at the sudden reaction and request, was he afraid of magic? It had been a long time since Bolframmon had been in the west but he swears that they handled the realisation of the arcane better than this. But this man has been polite and he has no intention of causing any trouble yet.

[Bolframmon] *raises his hands in a mock surrender pose smiling at Jangles.* You have my word, sir. My business will only take place in this tent! Your people need not fear me and my wares and it will never get out... Unless you guys want a magic show? I still have the top hat and magic wand somewhere…

[Jangles] Good.

There is a timbre to his voice, a low growl akin to a threatened animal. A defence installed in him from a young age. Something feral that many of his countrymen share with him. His arms twitch, the loose bolts rattle against the metal rods. If he'd still have skin he would have goosebumps by now, how fortunate that metal has difficulties displaying the more minute details of interactions.

[Jangles] No need ferra sharp, condescending tongue. Things don't need 't get hostile neither. Just a word-a-warning… real friendly-like. Things get… uncomfortable when y've only gotta blade and y'know opposite you's a guy that can melt ya with the flick of his eyes. It's better not to let the general people think 'bout such things. Fear tends t'breed stupidity… Ain't nobody served with stupidity.

A deadpan look, almost serious haunts Jangles' face for a brief moment, his eyes crawl up from a point of nowhere and back to Bolf. Upon seeing the man's face his familiar grin places itself on his face once more.

[Jangles] Don't mean drinks're off the table… Might just not let ya get 'm fer me.

At that final sentence Bolframmon does a mock gasp and puts his hand on his heart, but behind the act the gears turn in his mind as he puts together what kind of situation he’s now in.

In short these folk aren’t the biggest fan of magic and sound prone to turn into an angry mob at a moments notice, for now he’ll have to bite his tongue and play nice with the other children.

[Bolframmon] *still on mock gasp stance* Why Jangles! We’ve only met and yet your words hurt me so, *He grins and chuckles.* but your rules and advice are accepted and heard loud and clear, if anyone should ask about me just tell them I sell remedies and random antiques. Would that make you easier, my friend?

Bolframmon's words roll around in Jangles’ head for a brief moment.

[Jangles] I can be a right bastard without even tryin', Bolf.

His grin stands fast on his face, faltering slightly as the topic switches.

[Jangles] Can live with that. I'm sure there's mora yer type skulkin' 'round. These typa places tend t' attract 'em. Y'can deal with 'em, no problem. Y'can sell old shit to Dreglanders if they're into it but if y'know it's magic and they don't… I'm gonna trust y'not to sell it t'them. I don't wanna stick my arm in another wasp nest knownin' 't can be avoided. Dreggies point 'emselves out. If I know of others like yerself I'll let 'em know yer a good one t'interact with.

There is a pause, Jangles fills it the only way he knows how; making odd noises with his arms or clearing his throat. He still feels the dread creep around him, what few and short hairs he has on the back of his neck stand upright.

[Jangles] Gonna wish ya good luck with yer wares then… Suppose I came to say what I hadta… If ya got more questions y'can find me at the general store… The little tent with the hairy elephant in front of it. Y'll find either me or Roan there. Roan always knows where I am.

[Bolframmon] *He bows politely* Thank you, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, no doubt I’ll be around soon to invite you for a drink. *He starts to head back to the far corner of the tent before turning back and smiling at Jangles* And thank you for your warm welcome.

Jangles sets a foot back, his other is quick to follow.

[Jangles] I ain't goin' nowhere. I'll be seein' y'round.

The landscape around ADEF-FAC is more visibly modified than the area around Fair-co.  Metal-specked concrete blisters jut out of the earth around the sullen dome of the main building, crowned with dead lamps and the angles of communication relays, all dark.  Patterns of abandoned fields are still visible, spread out around the more obvious buildings; fallow now, with scrub already rising into new woodland at the edges, where the once-rigid treeline is bleeding out across the old margins.  The actual structures stand firm but their edges are beginning to soften, worn down by the gradual entropy of wind and rain pitted against old engineering.

The more violent scars in the landscape’s recent history are also showing signs of succumbing to inevitability.  Impact craters and the mouldering remains of old testing rigs, crumpled outbuildings and broken crates, all wrapped in fresh tendrils of bellbind and colonising moss.  Weedy opportunists, but green and alive, in contrast to the slime-blacked mess of the rotten barley fields that ring the Silo.  Even the great, shock-sharp crater in front of the main door has yielded a little.  Some of the alien smoothness to the sides has given: split stones have dislodged, rolled to the bottom in small piles of scree amongst muddy pools; animal tracks and burrows trace new pathways into the earth, between patches of dandelions sprung up alongside the still-trickling streams, fed by the open mouths of severed pipes.

But it is not only nature that has been busy, in Mother’s absence.

The – unusual – residents of the mouldering husk in the hillside have been gone for months now, and the last legitimate ones long before that.  Yet the building is no longer empty; the door standing forced-ajar, and there is the faint sound of distant music crackling in the air.

-

* The specific effects of time and neglect on the scene do little to catch S_R’s attention.  The damn place was a wreck when they left it, and it’s more of a wreck now.  Big deal.  He has other things to focus on - and the idle chattering of the AGRI mob behind him isn’t helping.  They have come to the edge of the treeline, just north of the FAC, and there is only unsettlingly-open ground between them and the building now.

*He turns to the hulking idiots in tow, and snaps his fingers a few times to get their attention.

[S_R] Right.  We - *he jabs a sharp gesture towards C_K* - are going to scout this out.  You lot.  Stay.  Here.  ...what?

*He stops, irritated, as an AGRI near the front raises one callous-mangled hand cautiously.

[Sage] Y’mean, like right here, or…?

[S_R] I mean don’t fucking waltz off and get yourselves killed.  Stay in cover, don’t go attracting attention.  Pick flowers.  Scratch your ass.  I don’t care.

[S_R] You’ve got the radio.  Don’t move until you hear from us.  Clear?

*A mumbled chorus of ‘yes’ follows, as the two remaining Mothermen spread out, dropping down to lower their profiles as they head out into the open space.

It wasn’t that C_K wasn’t listening to his Captain, more that he was paying more attention to the world around them. A tension between his shoulderblades, his head cocked slightly to one side and gaze turned away from S_R and the gathered AGRI Wards. Listening.

Listening to the faint sound of music filtering through air much fresher than he was used to. The rush of wind through the cracks in crumbling walls. The tiny sounds of creatures scurrying unseen. Waiting for something to come along that wasn’t as harmless as rats and insects. As always his primary objective was watching his Captain’s back. And then waiting for orders.

As soon as S_R was on the move, C_K fell into step behind him. Ever on guard and silent on his feet. Not needing an order to hunker down and make himself smaller, less visible to the naked eye. He knew the ropes better than most and as a unit, the two men were like a well oiled machine. Despite the bickering.

[C_K] Nice pep talk there, Captain. I think they’re really starting to warm to you.

[S_R] Imagine how much I care.

*There are a few rusting remains of old boobytraps still scattered around the barley, but the rotting stalks do little to hide them now, and they are easily avoided.  As the two men get closer to the Silo doors, skirting the edge of the crater, the sound of music is even more obvious to intently-listening ears.  S_R crouches down, batting with disgust at a few insects that buzz idly up from the disturbed flowers, and peers across at the wedged-open doorway.

[S_R] We closed that, didn’t we?

*Not much passed by C_K’s notice. Never really had done and it was something that he clung to. Not quite a photographic memory, but close. And they certainly had closed that door. But it was the tracks surrounding the silo that he had noticed first. Nothing that animals could have done. And it was from someone who wasn’t trying to hide. Who didn’t think that anyone else would be coming this way.*

[C_K] Made double sure we did.

*S_R nods, slightly.  He’s pretty sure - very sure, and it isn’t like he’s a man especially prone to self-doubt - but it is… reassuring, to have C_K’s assessment match his own.  He’s willing to admit to himself at least that the little prat’s tracking skills are rather above his own.  Which is fine.  That’s what delegation is for.

*The Mothermen make their way down the side of the crater - carefully, just about managing not to slip on the mud and rocks - and after a few more checks for new boobytraps, or ambushes, slip in through the opened doors.  The inside of the building certainly hasn’t improved since they were last here, and indeed the upper room looks even more of a wreck than before.  Not just from degradation of the previous damage, either.  Someone has been doing some serious scavenging, and S_R’s narrowed gaze tracks along the torn scars in the walls, where panels have been wrenched free and the empty shells of wiring insulation hang limp.

Music is floating up the stairs.  The two Wards spread out again, checking the room as they rotated around the stairwell; C_K’s fingers twitching; S_R’s pistol drawn.  Positioned in an opened pincer - they wait.

*A large segment of panelling joins them from the corridor, clattering against the grated floor. After a brief pause, a tall gentleman in a somewhat travel-worn green suit enters the room, swigging from a rather old-looking bottle of whiskey; some archaic brand. A freshly-torn bundle of cabling sits crammed into one of his suit pockets. He pauses, mid-step, then licks his lips clean of the strong alcohol. His lips break into a wide smile.

[Lennart] : Good morning, friends! Quite a day for endeavouring spirits such as ourselves, mm? What an opportunity, left to fester in the dirt~

*Lennart tilts the bottle-neck towards them meaningfully, looking around the cavernous space of the Silo’s entrance hall.

*Both Wards start slightly at the sudden clang, and for a few heartbeats the sharp poise in their movements gives out, as identical expressions of abrupt confusion staple across both bearded faces.  C_K recovers first.

[C_K] I… Fuck… What?

*Not his most eloquent moment. The Ward visibly shook himself and stood straighter, rolling his shoulders back and cocking his head slightly to one side. Green eyes narrowed on the taller man, annoyed by how he had to tilt his head back slightly to take him all in. A breath. Held. Let out slowly. The man was not like any he’d seen before, but he was absolutely certain his Captain would know what to do. And the slight glance to the man at his side along with an eyebrow raise said as much.*

*S_R takes a bit longer to react.  Considering the tangle of concerns, half-suspicions and paranoia that had wrapped around this trip in his mind - this isn’t what he was expecting.  Some overgrown idiot dressed like a bush and swigging something that smelled like solvent even from here.  When he does react, it’s closer to instinct, and the gun swings out in that familiar action, pointed at the new grinning face.

[S_R] Who. The hell. Are you?

*The stranger gives a broad, (not literally) disarming smile

[Lennart] : Lennart Pengersen, my friend! Here, I do remember…

*He gives an apologetic grin, patting himself down, rummaging in pockets and hidden compartments of the tailored suit.

[Lennart] : Ah, yes! Here we go! It has been some time since I’ve had to use one of these!

*The businessman presents a small card, stamped with a monochrome gear design and embossed with flourishing font, because of course it is. It reads ‘Lennart Pengersen - Businessman and Champion of Blessed Opportunity’. He holds it between the two Statesmen, making no real effort to move closer but taking an exceptionally real swig of the whiskey once more.

* S_R doesn’t move for another second or so, other than his eyebrows, which are making a break for his hairline.  Finally he nods C_K towards the card, not moving his aim from the big man.  Who seems annoyingly disinterested in having a gun pointed at him.

*His own eyebrows finally lower and after a quick scan for any weapons that might be about the man’s person, C_K reached out and took the card. Eyes quickly scanning it before letting out a little huff of disbelief.*

[C_K] Yeah… It really does say that…

*The card was turned over and over in gloved hands but it didn’t make sense from any angle.*

[C_K] He’s… Got his name on a bit of card…

[S_R] ...in case you fucking forget?

*Lennart looks between them, finds straight faces, and begins to laugh. His large chest heaves with mirth as he shakes his head, finishing the whiskey bottle and sitting down on a piece of debris (formerly a storage container, contents 26 x Can of Mushroom Soup).

[Lennart] : Oh, it has been such a long time since I have dealt with Mother’s Boys, forgive me!

*He sets the bottle down on the floor between them.

[Lennart] : Say we meet at a business gathering, and it is a very cordial affair, with much exchanging of information between businessfolk such as ourselves. Very useful! But in two months time, perhaps when you require my services, how will you recall it all? Surely it is much more… efficient to have all of the vital statistics kept before you in attractive font, yes?

[S_R] If I couldn’t remember, you clearly didn’t make much of an impression.

*The Captain is starting to unfreeze from his initial confusion.  Still has the gun raised, but his expression is settling back into a more habitual scowl, as his gaze tracks across the man in front of him.

[S_R] Alright, card-boy.  We’ve got your name.  Now - what are you doing?  Bearing in mind this is a State Facility, and you’ve sure as shit recognised what we are.

*Lennart smirks, leaning back against the wall.

[Lennart] Is it? It doesn’t look much like one, my friend. Why, usually one of your lovely little FACs has plenty more people, no? Some electricity, even? Maybe an AI?

*He examines the back of one of his gloves, thick and brown. Durable. He doesn’t actually remember buying them…

[Lennart] Seems more like a ruin to me, although I’m not an expert…

*S_R’s eyes narrow a little further.

[S_R] This A-D-E-F-Facility is under the purview of FAIR-CO, and the - * it isn’t a hesitation, not quite, but there is a flicker of fresh scorn somewhere under his voice that isn’t entirely aimed at Lennart* - ‘Mothermen’ Security Extraction Force.  All property, resource, personnel and anything nailed down or not: Is ours.

[S_R] So.  I’ll ask you.  Again.

[S_R] What. Are you doing.  Here?

*Lennart’s grin doesn’t falter

[Lennart] Listen, this does not need to be difficult, my dear, well-armed friend.

*He stands up, cracking his knuckles a little bit. A few more bones crack than are meant to in his older form.

[Lennart] We are both here for the same reason; just picking apart a wreck, no? The only difference is you get paid by your… facilitator, or something, and I am paid by you, ideally. I have retrieved plenty of valuable material, documents, components and equipment, and would be more than happy to part with them, with only minimal labour costs incurred…

*C_K had chosen to be silent for the moment. Straightening his back and rolling back his shoulders to be the silent shadow at his Captain’s side. Breathing slowing and form becoming completely still. Almost unnaturally so. As the strange man stood and cracked his knuckles, a further shift came over the Ward. An almost dangerous air as his eyes narrowed slightly and his hands curled into fists at his sides.*

[C_K] Careful…

*The card crumpled in his palm*

[C_K] We have no intention of giving you anything. But we will be taking back what you’ve stolen.

*Lennart’s eyebrows raise, his grin remaining fixed. He briefly contemplates the distance from his hand to the drill strapped to his back-plate, the distance from the drill to his conversation partners. Perhaps later.

[Lennart] Friend, friend. My ‘stolen’ items have not even left the premises…

[S_R] Then what - exactly - makes them yours?

*He studies Lennart again.  The faintest flicker in the man’s stare, under the irritatingly-jovial facade.  Something more dangerous.  More interesting.

Something that might be useful.

*S_R tilts his gun upwards, enough to take it out of line of the man’s forehead, and his expression returns to something more conspiratorial.

[S_R] Although I’ll admit, it saves us some time.  If you’ve found anything of actual use in this chlorinated shithole, I might be persuaded to forget we met you.  Or better.

*Lennart smiles wide, his older face creasing.

[Lennart] See, much better… Even in the State, business is important… deals might as well be my lifeblood, my boy…

*He suppresses a chuckle

[Lennart] But eh, forgive me, I don’t keep up with the young ones’ interests so much. What is of use to you, dear ‘Mothermen’? Enough to come back to a barely-chlorinated shithole by this point..?

[S_R] First?  I’m not your boy.

*He holsters the pistol, and instead fishes something out of one of the pockets of his jacket.  Doesn’t show it, just yet, but folds his arms firmly with his fists closed tight across his chest.

[S_R] Captain.  S_R.  I don’t have it on a card, so I guess you’ll just have to remember me.

[S_R] Operational records.  Functioning electronics; storage ideally.  The AI’s scrap and half the general systems are outdated and fried, so you can keep any of that garbage you’ve dragged up.  Anything with a State security mark above Rank Three, or looks like it’s been Redacted in a real fucking hurry.  And -

*now his fingers uncurl, revealing a small vial, with a copper cylinder inside, stained with ichor*

[S_R] Anything that looks like this.

*Lennart frowns, leaning in to squint at the vial-held substance.

[Lennart] Electronics..? You would be lucky, friend S_R. Please, tell me you can smell the burnt plastic in the air…

*He smirks, stepping back once again.

[Lennart] There is a reason I had resorted to liberating the basic wiring, rather than more… complex technology, ha ha. Records, those I may be able to help with. Your… Facilitator’s rooms are always bountiful with information~

[S_R] The less of this fetid tomb I can breathe in, the better.  *His nose wrinkles at the mention of burnt plastic.* Right.  You know what we want.  Our own team will be joining us for our work, and I seriously suggest you don’t get in their way, or try taking any blessed opportunities.

*S_R turns to C_K, still eyeing Lennart with sharp suspicion.

The inside of Bolframmon’s tent is lit with gently guttering points of multicoloured light, contained in strange lanterns of smoked glass. Arabesque shadows are cast around the wares laid out for sale, and saffron incenses smokes on the dark wooden shelves. Books of every colour of ancient leather are stacked in leaning piles, amongst rolled parchments and boxes of carved yew wood. The door, of draped cloth, is pulled back shyly, curiously, and a young woman steps wide-eyed into the tent.

Finding no attendant, Isabel approaches the little table, where several daggers of beautiful, scintillating alloy are arrayed for inspection on a cloth of silk. Below them, a sword, inscribed with unknown runes and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Isabel carries a simple cage of rain-rusted brass. Inside, a few subdued songbirds chirrup. Bundled over her shoulder are rolls of linen, calico, embroidered taffeta, and held in the crook of her elbow, oddly iridescent hand woven lace in guipure style. The young woman looks weary, and her hair has been made untidy by the recent rain. [Isabel] … Hello? Sir? Madam?

[Bolframmon] *heard in the distance* One moment!..

Bolframmon appears out from behind the counter, almost out of nowhere, the lanterns about the tent change colour to a bright blue upon his arrival. He smiles at his guest although his eyes show a brief moment of surprise. His customers were of varying ages and cultures but it had been a while since someone had entered his tent so young. But there was something else about her that he couldn’t put his finger on, it's almost as if there was an air of familiarity about her, it almost reminded him of home.

[Bolframmon] Good Afternoon my dear! How can I be of help?

Her voice is watery with nervousness. But she smiles and bows slightly.

[Isabel] … I have birds for sale, Sir, and fabrics too; none salvaged nor burned! Threads, too, pins, nothing State, no substitutes. The lace is good Sir, hand made… Now, a man of stature ought to have some embellishment… Customers don’t like to see a threadbare merchant … Shall we try this?

The young woman hefts the fabrics onto his small table and places the cage on the floor. The birds cheep and flutter anxiously. She lifts a portion of silk, dyed in a gradients of blue and presses it against Bolf’s shoulder.

[Isabel] Oh how it suits you! You’ll be the envy of all others! And how about a plump little bird or two for supper? Why, they’re delicious soaked in Armagnac…

Bolframmon raises an eyebrow at the young lady and smiles, she’d almost make a fantastic saleswomen if she didn’t sound so nervous. But why is she nervous? I’ve done nothing to make her that way... He takes the fine silk into his hands, making sure to keep eye contact with the seamstress

[Bolframmon] No doubt your wares are lovely and this is all well and good, but you’ve yet to answer my question; how can I help you? What exactly are you after miss?

She meets his strange eyes. Her own are a shade mismatched and her hands, against him, are gloved.

[Isabel] … Honest trade Sir - Shoes for the horse, tabac… The road is hard… And you can’t sell anything to these State-ones, they’d rather die from the cold than trade for a woollen cloak… Foul men. There. Now this seam should lie flat. A man should dress every day as if he might meet his bride, or his worst enemy!

He chuckles at the last statement His Bride or his Worst Enemy, last time he was well dressed she turned out to be both. He still felt like she was after something else, but he decided to play along. At the minimum he was getting some additions to his robes.

[Bolframmon] Very well then, let us trade! I have some fine tabac from down south that I’ll exchange for this lovely silk you’ve bestowed upon me! And that black songbird *He hears the songbird chirp, it sounds worried* and no I’m not going to eat you little one.

She makes a sound of discontent, moving around him to bunch the silk into dramatic drapes.

[Isabel] Well, how much tobacco? Silk is expensive Sir. Very. And this is almost certainly dyed with real lapis. It would be an injustice to let it go for nothing, and my Father, he’s a good man Sir, but he would be terribly angry, you see. You must get a good price Isabel, fifille, if we’re to eat! Yes, and the black one - well, you’ve excellent taste Sir, he has the finest voice of all! Only, the blacksmith has already offered me a pretty penny for him… I suppose I’d take a dagger, the tobacco, perhaps some oil for my lamps Sir, if you can spare it for a young lady? And a handful of your coin of course - for the lot.

She steps back, admiringly.

[Isabel] No brass of course. Now doesn’t that look handsome. Dazzling! You look clad in evening itself.

[Bolframmon] *he looks at the adjustments she has made to his robes, he grins at the handiwork* Well well, the young lady has beauty and brains it seems! I have plenty of tobacco to trade and you raise a hard bargain! But on consideration this is exceptional craftsmanship so I accept! But on one condition…

He places a hand on one of the ornate daggers, its handle decorated with runes and its blade intricate but clearly deadly.

[Bolframmon] What does one as lovely as yourself need a dagger for?

She looks aside. Her voice becomes a murmur.

[Isabel] Well... In case I meet my worst enemy of course... Since I am already dressed for him.

She bows in her blood red cloak.

Bolframmon looks at the young girl, finally understanding her nerves. Who is going after a young girl? Then he remembered how disgusting humanity can be, and they call him the monster.

[Bolframmon] Very well… then we must arm you with something that matches your attire my dear.

He reaches underneath the stall and pulls out a small blade, its blade straight on one side but curved at another, foreign symbols etched upon its bottom. It’s handle is leather leaving diamond patterns up to the guard and on its sheath, a  a small charm hangs from it. Both handle and sheath almost matching the red of the young ladies cloak.

[Bolframmon] I received this on my journeys through the east, the little charm there is one of protection, may it serve you well… *he places the sealed weapon in both hands and presents it to girl*

Isabel takes the blade. Her careful, merchant eyes take stock of the item, the weight, and finish, all in a polite, but thorough manner. She thumbs the blade from its sheath.

[Isabel] … I’ll show him my blade is just as sharp as my wit and my tongue.

She lays the blade down on her bolts of fabric, and lifts the cage where the little wild birds flutter.

[Isabel] Well, come out, little fascienne. Shhh.

She eases open the little rusted door. The birds panic, but her quick, gloved hands seize the blackbird securely. She brings it from the cage, oddly subdued in her hands. A few threads of spider web cling to the feathers of the bird, and she picks them off.  Bringing it close to her lips she whispers a few lulling words. It’s cheeps soften, until the bird’s eyes are blank and it is unmoving. Isabel brings up her other hand to close around its little neck. She pauses, eyes narrowing.

[Isabel] Are you certain you won’t have him for supper, chou? I will pluck ‘im for you.

Bolframmon raises his hand to halt her and shakes his head

[Bolframmon] No no, the bird won’t be eaten, it's much more useful as it is right now, more entertaining too.

He walks around the corner, returning with a black steel bird cage, its frame decorated with wires looking like vines and flowers. He props it on the counter before pulling out a small bag out of his robe sleeve. The bag is made of a similar material to his robes and looks somewhat full, it jingles as he places it down and opening it reveals a large variety of currencies. He takes out a few gold coins and slides them over to his customer.

Isabel looks over the transaction and the markings in the coins of soft, old gold. Bolf has been generous, and she gives a nod of thanks, before laying down the fragile, seemingly sleeping bird beside the coin. [Isabel] One less for the pot! He will wake up. Take him. She watches as Bolf also prepares a bundle of dried tobacco leaves, and she places the coin in her needleworked leather satchel as he does so, tucking the sword under her arm and the bundle of tobacco in the crux of her elbow. Isabel turns, shouldering her burden of silks, rags, and fabrics, and lifting her cage again. [Isabel] If I catch ‘im a Mrs. Blackbird, Sir, I will come back. They will duet.

[Bolframmon] *he smiles at her as he places the bird in his new cage* And I’m sure a lovely duet it will be *he bows* A pleasure doing business miss.

Isabel departs his tent, laden with her goods, returning his smile with a wink.

Bolframmon turns his attention to the bird, gently stroking its wing as it awakens. A brief tingling sensation flows through the tip of his fingers, a sign of magic.

There are no more distractions, no more people; not with jangling bionics nor with charming leopard print. There is only Roan amidst a sea of scattered boxes. There is a stack of finished packages set behind the counter, neatly folded and upon it, with the help of a stencil and some white spray paint, a happy message of 'Welcome'.

Roan's idea, the memory of cold nights accompanied by the silence of darkness and silent roar of an empty stomach enough reason to ensure nobody else would live through the same if she could help it. Perhaps a waste of resources to some, but to her it might show as a sign of gratitude and welcome, perhaps enthralling others to join… Perhaps just-… her way of making this world slightly better.

She puts the torch in the last box, four times 1-0… For now it should be enough to give to the people outside. Her hand rummages through it, accounting for everything she had set out to put in there;

A blanket of thick material — industrial and layered with a fine sheet of plastic on one side for multiple uses, a torch — small, weak but self-sustaining with a crank on its side.

A portion of field-rations — high-calorie bread made with protein powder, pork fat, nuts, and honey, salvaged with just a few spices and herbs, enough to just cut through the gritty, salty taste of the fat but certainly an acquired taste. Along with a re-usable metal tin of water.

The last item: a container with ointment, an off-white in colour, and it's only explanation — a small scribble of felt-tip pen, hastily scrawled: 'for pain//AB-AS'. She'd caught snippets of Rocksalt's little explanation, something about an ointment, antiseptic and pain-relieving because of morphine something or other. Not medication, merely preparation.

Her hands have long since memorised the practise of folding the box and within a second the cardboard slab reaches under and over the rest, sealing it. The last one, she puts it with the others before dragging the chalkboard outside and standing it next to the hairy, plastic elephant. Although heavy and loaded with sand for stabilising she sets it down without much effort. She goes back inside, cleaning what few stray-boxes are obstructing the knick-knacks and wares on display.

For newcomers to the Settlement:

Free welcoming packet upon saying 'hi'.

Ask inside.

It was a bi-yearly tradition for Matis to place his backpack on the slightly worn head of the plastic, decorative elephant outside the sewn together tent as he rummages around to find a new, full canister of oxygen. Even the very faint drizzling rain appears right on time for their arrival.

He hears a faint hiss when he unscrews the empty canister and  a soft ‘click’ when attaching the new one to the nozzle. Leaning against the elephant; his eyes rest upon the chalkboard sign next to him as he takes his time to catch his breath. His men wait and continue to do so until Matis pockets his oxygen and shoulders his rifle. Their reticence to speak is their greatest talent, most of the time.

With a small limp in his step, Matis enters the tent the same way he does every other previous time he visited: Like an injured, wary wolf with its upper lip every so slightly curled into a sneer. His men follow soon after.

Roan recognises him instantly, that shrewd and sharp face with parchment-like skin stretched so taut over it it might crack open any moment. His is a ghastly face; pale, defined and aged. His is the face she imagines when there is talk of ghouls and Drowners.

But she knows better than to judge by looks alone. She knows Matis, one of the first outsiders to have arrived in Blue Light after the message went out. She believes him to be kind, a bit of a windbag but kind. She pities Matis and his men as she already stretches her arm sideways, dragging a box with prepackaged waffles her way. Dry, as good as tasteless, but at least filling and likely holding more nutritional value than whatever paste they smashed through those raspy-sounding faceplates.

[Roan] Matis! You made it back again! I was kind of afraid you-…

The young woman trails off, a look of concerned horror replaced with an innocent, if slightly guilty, smile.

[Roan] How are you? You've lost weight again, haven't you?

How odd it can be to hear ones own name spoken with such friendly glee. And how odd it is to hear his name being spoken in the first place… By now, he knows it is almost futile to teach anyone with Dreglanders’ muddied blood running through their veins, to address him the way they should. Yet still he insists. After all, if even a Mother-forsaken Unward can be taught new tricks, Roan will eventually learn as well.

[Matis] ‘Lieutenant’.

The Breathers eye the box she drags closer with hunger. All but N_H know what’s inside. The young woman’s polite questions go unanswered.

[Matis] I am not here for small-talk, girl. Now unless you are guilty of false-advertising… we will take our ‘welcoming packages’.

[Roan] I mean each time you leave here and I'm thinking: 'He'll look better next time. He can't lose anymore, can he?' But by the Benign you get here and it's… It's kind of infuriating… I try my best but your boss-lord-whatever… He's just forgets to feed you. Maybe stick your nose in his face? Works for Waffles.

She babbles carelessly; sweet, delighted but painfully unhindered by certain social stigma. It isn't long before she notices the curious and timid faces of the Breathers peeking up behind Matis. The box is pushed forwards and a friendly nod is given for them to take what they want.

[Roan] Go on, no need to be afraid. They’re fine!

She speaks with a light voice, delicately pronounced as if speaking to a small animal or child despite her likely being the youngest in the entire tent. Her gaze returns to Matis. Her innocent smile breaks open to a wide almost sinister smirk. Perhaps Jangles might have rubbed off on her more than she'd realised.

[Roan] You didn't say 'hi', Matis, dear. Besides that's kind of the reason behind it! Get to know people, friendly talk! Being nice. All that good stuff!

The Breathers linger behind Matis; like sheep behind their shepherd. They will go as far he can see from the corners of his eyes but not a single step beyond that point. Her invitation falls on deaf ears. The younger ones of the small group briefly glance towards Matis but hold their position.

It’s quiet in the tent as Matis assesses both Roan and the boxes she offers. He places one hand on the nearest Welcome Package and slides it closer to him over the counter. She’s right… The one condition to receive a free gift such as this one was indeed listed on the chalkboard outside. And Matis is, of all things, a man who likes to play by the rules.

[Matis] Alright. If you must know, girl; Our dietary requirements are met and maintained. Indulging is an affront to Mother. A sin that weighs... B_W…-

He lifts the box in both hand and passes it to the Breather closest to him.

[Matis] - ...about…-?

The box is opened and the Breather inspects the food-rations inside.

[B_W] -…about one and a half pounds, sir.

The box now remains with the Breather.

[Matis] About one and a half pounds.

His dark, half-hooded stare remains on Roan but is only broken briefly as he glances towards the rest of his men. With a nod of his head he allows them to come forward and take a box for themselves.

[Matis] And you will gain an important life’s lesson: If you would like to continue to talk to me, girl, you will refer to me as ‘Lieutenant’ or ‘Sir’. This is your final warning before your actions will be classified as acts of non-compliance and hostility against the written trade treaty with FAIR-CO. Am I clear?

There is a knife-like sharpness to all interactions with Matis… No, a better comparison would be a fire… in the rain. Difficult to get going but once it's started it might temporarily be comfortable but too close and you get burned. The sputtering fire coughs once, twice and seconds later Roan blisters her fingers due to carelessness.

She fidgets on her feet for a few seconds, knocked off-balance by the sudden wall erected between them. Her brow creases in confusion and worry. Defensively she takes the box of waffles, the stack of welcoming packets forgotten. She takes out one packet of waffles and slides it over to B_W, another one is slid to the position of a Breather near him and continues until every one of them has one in front of them. Her fingers remain on the packet in front of Matis, shy eyes slowly gazing up to look him in the eyes.

The Breathers take what’s now theirs; leaving their waffles and packets untouched as they put it all in their backpacks. They begin to groan under the weight and fatigue. Matis’ face turns the other direction as Roan’s eyes focus on him. Head down; a shadow over his eyes now.

[Roan] I-… I didn't do anything you just said. I'm not trying to insult you. I'm being nice… Far nicer than Jangles ever is with you. I wanna—…

She sighs in defeat, her brain racing to catch up with the scenario she somehow ended up in.

[Roan] I wanna see you happy, Mister Felon, sir. I wanna see everyone happy. Beeyuuw, Eyecks, Ahetch… Just everyone. 'Sirs' and 'Lew tennants' will only distance that.

Matis reaches for his oxygen mask, inhaling several times while Roan talks. His strength is spread thin and the cold rain and aching joints have worn him down to the bone. Some distance is exactly what he needs right now. And speaking of ‘distance’...

[Matis] Tell Jangles -…hgnn…- We will set up camp near the border. Same rules apply.

There is only a solemn nod at his words, a weak 'Will do.' before her eyes dart from one miserable, starved soul to the other. Her eyes stay fixed upon B_W, she stares at them, the side of her mouth twitches.

Her hand returns to the box, the package crinkles in her hands before she slaps another packet on top of the one she just gave Matis. The sadness doesn't stick to her face. A cracked expression immediately broken by sheer happiness and the unmistakable grin of success.

A sweet aroma fills the air, the rich smell of chocolate, almost strong enough to be smelled outside the small merchant tent, comes flying from the door behind the stall.

A happy whistle can be heard, also coming from the back, as Bolf strides into the store with a tray of cookies.

[Bolframmon] Aaaah, just like mother used to make... delightful! *He swipes one of the cookies and takes a huge bite out of it.* Yep…I’ve missed having a place to bake… Wonder if I could sell these?

They decide to take some time from their own stall to look around the settlement and see if there is anything worth seeing. Cassius for his want to silently collect information on those around them, and Amor for his inability to stay still for more than five minutes.

The former is a mountain of a man. Tall and broad with facial features that can be deemed feminine if not for the strong jaw and two days worth of stubble adorning olive skin. Chestnut hair that normally falls to his waist gathered up into a neat bun at the base of his head. The sides of his head neatly shaved to show the tattooed letters 'C.S.'. Dressed all in black from shirt to tie to a tailored suit that has seen better days. Carefully cut out windows on the backs of black leather gloves to show intricate tattooed symbols that will give him away to those who know what they are looking for. Similar windows cut over his bulging biceps to show black ink detailing Furtherances.

The man trotting by his side is stark in contrast.

Shorter than his companion, but by no means frail. Lithe muscle and crude, amateur tattoos are on display as he has chosen to wear no shirt. Only a large leopard print fur coat draped over his shoulders and gold chains upon his chest. Handmade trousers put together by scraps of leather each from a different hide and mismatched army boots completed this frayed and ratted outfit. The hair on his head a shocking shade of white-blonde and standing mostly on end. The owner has long given up on trying to style it. This is hair that did exactly what it wanted.

Amor scratches at his barely groomed beard as the pair wanders up to the first stall. The scent of baking making his stomach growl and a slow grin begins to creep across his face. There is a low hum of warning from Cassius, but Amor is certain that Big J wouldn’t dream of letting anyone dangerous enter his settlement, so going over and saying hello and trying to get a bit of grub isn't going to do any harm.

[Amor] Ey! Y’handin’ those out? Cause, don’t see a fer sale sign or prices an’ shit. This mean they’re open fer grabbin’? Kinda hungry, y’see. Been hard an’ busy work, ya know? Name’s Amor, an’ the big guy ‘ere is Cass.

Cassius stays silent.

Bolf is mid-cookie when his guests enter the tent, looking at their attire he assumes they aren't of a magical profession, although one of the two has a faint air of magic about them. He swallows, smiles at the gentleman and gestures towards the cookies.

[Bolframmon] By all means my friends, come and help yourself! I’ve always thought food tastes better with company anyway, much like drink, wouldn’t you agree? *He stays seated, resting his arms on the stall.*

There is the slightest look exchanged between the two men. Eyes slipping to corners to glance at each other before Amor is moving. Hand reaching out and greedily grabbing three of the cookies in his paw. The slightest huff from Cassius was all the utterance he makes. More a sound of displeasure than a warning. The taller man slowly reaching out and primly plucks a cookie from the plate between his thumb and forefinger. The biscuit scrutinised for a moment before being broken in half. It certainly seems like there was chocolate in there, and a careful bite confirms it. A wary, yet pointed look is sent to the man beside him; who is in the process of shoving the cookies whole into his mouth.

Chocolate. How has this man managed to get hold of chocolate? From the careful exploration of his tongue, he determines either it was a very very good replacement or this man was richer than he seems. Either that or has smuggling connections far out of reach of those of the Dreglands. Cassius carefully considers how he is going to bring this up. Not a man of many words but he listens and pays attention. This is something that would be of use and interest to his companion. And perhaps to Jangles as well. Always know where the money is. It usually leads to the clutch of power.

However, it seems that Amor has been thinking the same thing. Around the prickle of magic his ever rushing mind is trying to ignore and avoid, he has noticed the sweet treat embedded in the cookies. Sugar isn't exactly easy to get hold of, but if you know the right people, say the right thing, have a certain something something to trade… You can get it. Chocolate on the other hand… Hell, he hasn't had chocolate in near enough a year and he was good at what he did.

[Amor] So… Y’loaded or sumink? Cause… Yer standin’ ‘ere handin’ out chocolate like it were jus’ fallin’ from the sky. Gotta understand, friendo, looks mighty suspish. ‘Specially since ya ain’t even had the politeness to offer yer name when I had the common curtus to do it right away.

[Bolframmon] Oh, I do apologise Gentlemen! Where are my manners? *He stands up from his chair, dusting off his robes of crumbs before addressing the two men.* My name is Bolframmon! Travelling merchant and expert in all magical goods, at your service! *He bows politely.* The chocolate you’re enjoying I got from a trade on my way here, I’ve a bit of a sweet tooth so I couldn’t help myself.

Bolf studies the men properly now as he stands up. This 'Amor' is clearly a man of action, and has some strength underneath that giant fur coat, that can prove useful later down the line. Looking at Cassius he locks eyes with him briefly, he can see the man questioning everything about this situation, gears turning and analysing Bolf to his best degree. I guess these are some of the head Dredglanders men, that 'Jangles',  he thinks. He smiles as the men continue to eat his treats, at least his baking is still approved by others

[Amor] Bol...fra...framinnon...faaam… I’ll call ya Bolly. Y’look like a Bolly. Don’ really go wi’ those fancy names. Too many airs an’ graces, y’ get me? As fer that chocolate trader o’yours… Guessin’ ya got the brass then? Wanna share the knowledge? Cause… Sure ya know… Chocolate kinda vanished after the ol’ Staties fucked it all up fer the rest of us. Well… I say vanished… Jus’ fuckin’ hard t’find it anywheres, ya know? Whole world seems like the fuckin’ wastes these days. Yer not from the State are ya…?

Cassius moves a little away from his companion to look at the range of items for sale. He can't really identify if things are actually magical or not, but he has a good feeling that they are a damn sight more legit than the bits of shell and bone that Amor has for sale. Granted, his friend put a lot of work into his charms, and the aesthetic ranged from pretty to verging on voodoo. But nothing that actually works. Amor doesn't work with that kind of magic. His is a raw power he tries to repress. Too much fear of being found out. Of being dragged to the Drowning.

[Amor] Not that I’d judge yer too -harshly- for bein’ a Statie, but…. Well…. Root of all evil an’ all that.

Amor pauses.

[Amor] Hang on… Hang on… Magical goods? So like… Tricks and shit? I do that. Yanno, find the lady, what’s your card. Hopefully there’s punters comin’ through who believe that junk. We both know magic ain’t shit, right Bolly?

Bolframmon raises an eyebrow and chuckles at his new name. He’d been called many things over time, Bolframmon, Lord Bolf and something that rhymes with Passive Stunt all came to mind. Another title for another social circle it seems.

He also couldn’t help but grin at the last statement, Root of all evil, bless these mortals.

[Bolframmon] Bolly will do my friend, and indeed! Magic is indeed a thing of wonder and intrigue, hence my passion for collecting and distributing it as such. Also to answer your question, no, I am not part of this State you speak of…*He looks towards Cassius as he's looking through Bolf’s wares.* See anything of interest? I can explain what it is if so?

[Cassius] No.

His voice is monotone but soft. Cassius feels no need to make any effort for someone they will be leaving behind in a few weeks. Bolf doesn't run the place and he as of yet hadn’t offered any help in trade. He isn't his… Thoughts pause as the word swirls in his head, one that hasn't sit right for a while now. Owner. It has been a long time since he considers himself to have one of those. A long time of Amor telling him over and over not to call him that. Because really, it is damn weird. He hadn’t bought him, he’d saved him. Big difference.

Bolf doesn't own him, doesn't run the trade-post, and so unless Amor demands he play nice, Cassius doesn't owe him shit.

But perhaps he is making excuses for his own prejudices. Old State life still ingrained in his bones. Amor can't help what he is, but this man seems to revel in it. Seems proud of it. Of magic and all that it can bring. Cassius is still afraid of Magic. He trusts Amor. He trusts the power thrumming through the man’s veins. But anyone else? He has to force himself to stop his upper lip from curling at the word Aberrant that slips into his mind. This is one prejudice that was hard to shake.

Amor on the other hand seems undeterred, although Cassius can see the slight tightening of his shoulders. The straightening of his spine. The slightest twitch at the corners of his eyes. The fact that his grin widens and his voice simply gets louder. There is fear around other magic users. A fear of being found out. And for Cassius, the fear that this time he won't be able to save him.

[Amor] So… Ya don’t wanna share knowledge then? Bit of a piss poor way t’start our lil' relationship, but whatever, friend. We all ‘ave our trade secrets I guess.

He peers over at the trinkets and charms set out on the stall. Narrowing his eyes a little as he watches Cassius’ long, nimble fingers delicately feather over one or two of the items. Amor doesn't know what any of it is for. Doesn't know what it means. And for that alone, he doesn't trust it.

[Amor] Yeah, but it’s a loada bollocks ain’t it? Magic an’ shit. Somethin’ t’impress the masses, all smoke an’ fireworks, innit? Good way o’making a living, an’ there ain’t no shame in trickin’ the stupid.

He forces the smile to stay even though he suddenly clocks onto what Amor meant. He actually thinks this is all fake? That I’m some sort of fraud? It has certainly been awhile since a mortal has disreputed the idea of magic, even longer since someone had insulted his trade. Relax, he means no ill intent, he’s just ill informed, the less he knows probably the better.

[Bolframmon] *laughs heartily?* Yes, but of course Amor! You’re a clever man. This stuff works very similar to faith, pull the strings in the background, put on a show and voila! *He snaps his fingers* Customers and opportunities arise! *He gestures towards the inventory on show.* I’ll have to put on a act for you all sometime.

[Amor] Yeah, I’m right clever, me.

The soft snort that comes from Cassius is pointedly ignored.

[Amor] Seem like a smart kinda guy yerself. Got a nice lil' set up here. How long it take ya t’make alla this shit? Takes me a while t’make alla my trinkets, but worth it in the end, yeah? Folks eat it up. ‘Specially the… Whaddaya call ‘em… Citizen types. Got a fucking hard on for even a sniff of magic. Pay out of pocket for a bit o’rock wi’ some string and paint on it.

He barks out a quick shot of laughter to hide the way his eyes nervously flicker across the wares that the other man is selling. His eyes lock with his companion briefly and Cassius gives him a knowing little look. Neither have the ability to gauge someone’s power, but pushing their luck isn't on the cards. Just because Cassius has seen Amor destroy a wall with a wave of his hand doesn't mean that this person couldn’t do much worse.

However, Amor’s need to squash down any admittance that magic is real is too strong. A shield and sword he’d used many times before to deflect any thoughts that he himself might be magic. The unbeliever can't possibly hold any power himself. Keep shouting that gospel over and over again and hopefully he won’t end up being marched to the Drowning.

[Amor] Faith… Sure. Call it whatever ya like, Bolls. It’s still sleight of hand an’ fuckin’ magnets.

Why is this man so adamant on magic not existing? Bolframmon thinks, humans have always longed for these abilities, for fame, power or just for ease of life. Yet here this man is trying to reject every aspect of it. The notion confuses Bolf even more seeing as he could feel the dormant magic within him. Very well, if a simple magician he wants, a simple magician I’ll be.

[Bolframmon] Indeed, but we can’t deny, it's certainly some pretty magnets to the untrained eye. *He pulls out a coin from his robe, the copper shines in the light revealing its foreign designs on its body. Dipping it into a nearby lantern the coin starts to melt in his hands, Bolf then claps the coin into his hands, he opens them to reveal the coin has disappeared.* Cassius my friend, check your left pocket.

Amor’s eyes glitter at the sight of the coin. It has been a long time since he’d seen any kind of currency. He works mainly in trading. Kick the shit out of a guy for food and board. Do some tricks for some leather and fur. Couple of weeks of bodyguarding for jewels and a tiara. Actual money on the other hand…? Hard to come by. And his gaze is fixed on the coin as images of riches dance in his head.

The little squark of objection he makes as the coin is melted down is almost enough to make Cassius smirk. Although, the much bigger man’s expression becomes vacant the second that Bolf speaks his name. There is a stillness to the man that verges on unnatural. A beautiful marble statue stands poised in the light of Bolf’s lanterns. A bird-like cock of his head as he looks to Amor as if for orders. The shorter man merely nods.

Cassius dips his thumb and forefinger into his pocket and brings out the coin. Delicately gripped between his fingertips with a look of disgust on his face, as one might hold a dead shrew.

[Cassius] Huh.

The coin is tossed over to Amor who greedily snatches it out of the air and shoves it down the front of his trousers. If Bolf is happy for coins to leave his hands then he is happy not to see them again. Cassius wipes his hands primly down the front of his suit jacket as if he’d touched something dirty. Subtly giving Bolf the updown with eyes that relay his prejudice.

[Amor] Neat lil' trick ya got there, Bolly. Might hafta teach it t’me sometime!

He picks up the plate which holds the remaining cookies and salutes the man behind the stall.

[Amor] Was good makin’ aquis-i-tions wi’ ya. Might see ya again, friendo!

A wave over his shoulder as he turns on his heel. Swaggering away as if he’d won some kind of great battle. In his head, he’s done good. Made a connection with someone rich. Someone to either befriend or rob blind before they leave. Cassius gives Bolf a long, thoughtful look before nodding his goodbye and following silently after his friend.

Bolframmon bows his head before waving to the two gentlemen as they leave his tent, a smirk on his face as they leave, whether they'll become friend or foe… He can tell from this first meeting alone that he had made the right call coming to this settlement.

“Crystals in place, magic energy seems stable, almost ready to be tested…”

The sun has reached its peak over Castle Oakheart, a strong breeze dances through the walls and nearby fields. Raziel stands at the edge of the forest facing the Castle, stabbing the tip of his boots into the dirt, almost to test them.

The young mage has gotten back into his studies and amongst the notes lays a page of particular interest, its page covered in highlights and notes left to him by a friend, magic travel and enchantments.

After hours of research and experimenting he thinks he has finally made a breakthrough with the magic. The shining green gemstones embedded in the back of his boots proof that he deems himself ready.

[Raziel] Okay... Wind travel experiment: Take One…

He stretches his legs and arms, mentally bracing himself for what is about to come.

Blue looks up at the sound of a window breaking. She glances at the crow perched on the back of a chair. [BlueSky] Nights or Krauzer? *She asks without alarm. The bird croaks a response. *True, but not enough to be the kitchen. *She stands up and gives herself a small shake before trotting off down the hallway, out an unbroken window to scurry along one the branches of the central oak for which the castle was named, down the trunk into the main garden.

Raziel rubs his head and back as he finally gets up from his crash, he nervously laughs at the broken window while wincing at the pain.

[Raziel] *in a mocking high pitched voice as he walks from his accident* “Oh wind magic is easy, and travelling is even easier.” Lucina, you were full of crap…

Blue pokes her head around the corner curiously

[BlueSky] Wind magic was that? Oh, Raz, it’s you. *She walks over to offer him a hand up* If you want to join the glass breaking contest you’ve got a bit of work to catch up to.

[Raziel] *accepts the hand up and chuckles.* Yeah so I’ve heard... errr- sorry about the window, I was trying out something different from my Tome.

[BlueSky] Don’t you worry we can get that fixed in a day or so, but I would worry about books telling you to jump out of windows…

[Raziel] Err, that’s the thing, I was over there. *He hangs his head and points to the edge of the forest* I was aiming to go through the trees but the spell had other plans it seems…

Blue looks at where he is pointing, at him, at the window, then back to him.

[BlueSky]How fast were you traveling to make the window break? *She says incredulously* And how have you not broken something on you?   

[Raziel] How fast? No clue, was panicking, too much to check. How’d I not break anything or die? *He taps his vambraces, inside is a brown gemstone placed into the front plate.* I had a quick spell which hardens the skin and body to an extent with an earth crystal, I changed the gem just in case something like that would happen. You know, safety first and all that.

[BlueSky] Huh. Your magic sure is different from what I know. So ugh… why, were you travelling so fast?

[Raziel] *shrugs.* In all honesty I should have been able to control the speed, it's just meant to augment running and jumping speed, not send myself literally flying. Took one step after the spell and well... *He gestures a spiralling motion while whistling.*

Blue's ears go back slightly, before pointing forward with curiosity.

[BlueSky] You mentioned wind magic?

[Raziel] Oh yes! *He gestures to the green emeralds in the side of his boots, tapping them before facing Blue again.* Most of the crystals in my world have an elemental attribute, green symbolises wind and air, allows for fast travel amongst other things.

She gives an “Ooo!” of interest before taking hold of a boot and lifting it to examining the shining gem, apparently uninterested in the fact she is unbalancing Raziel and causing to him clutch at the wall for support.

[Raziel] *raises an eyebrow at the blue wolf holding his boot* Err- Blue? While I appreciate the balance practice, I could just remove the gem if you wanted to have a look-see?

[BlueSky] How weird! *she says, not listening* The Aer crystals that Krauzer uses for the wind element are yellow!

[Raziel] *sighs, realising he’s going to have to balance until she puts him down.* Oh really? I wonder how they differ in power or quality?

[BlueSky] Oh I wouldn't know, I'm not good with all that technical stuff you know? I just sort of go with it.

[Raziel] *laughs.* Yeah that’s probably for the best, less headaches that way...*He patiently waits for Blue to put his foot down* Errr Blue? Would you kindly let go of my foot please?

[BlueSky] Hmm? Oh right! Sorry! *She quickly lets go awkwardly laughing* Haha… still not got that whole space thing down.

[Raziel] *smiles.* It’s no problem. *He pulls out his Tome from his satchel, opening to a page in the midde, his finger tracing down the book.* I wonder what I did wrong? I think I need to have another crack at this…. *He suddenly stops mid-sentence, his finger lingering over a line in the Tome.* Ooooh! That’s why that happened…*He snaps the book shut* Care to watch and see this either go well or painfully?

[BlueSky] Well I’d rather you not hurt yourself, so I guess someone should watch in case you do.

[Raziel] *He chuckles.* Much obliged, although this should not go as poorly as the last time… Hopefully….

Raziel makes his way back to his starting point again, but this time taking five steps back. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a brown crystal and flipping it between his fingers.

BlueSky clambers up into a nearby tree, balancing on the end of branch, ready to leap down if needed.

[BlueSky] Try not to hit the wall again! * She shouts down.*

Raziel looks up to Blue and gives her a thumbs up, before looking dead on into the forest again. He taps the green crystals in his boots for luck before breaking into a run towards the tree’s.

About halfway to his initial starting point he shouts an incantation and a bright light shines from his boots. His speed suddenly increasing to an unnatural level, but he manages to stay in control. Upon hitting the starting point he lands on both feet and jumps, the spell sending him flying across into the trees.

Blue watches with interest, ears perking up as Raziel speeds up, then flattening again as he launches himself towards the forest. She winces at the crash and quickly jumps from tree to tree to make sure he was alright.

Raziel groans as he gets up, his body aches but but he couldn’t help but laugh at the ‘him’-shaped indent in the oak directly in front. The spell has worked and has successfully launched him forward into the air, however he had forgotten any means to either control his landing or to slow down. Luckily an earth crystal and a large oak had been there for an emergency stop.

Blue follows the trail of broken branches, making a mental note to tend to the trees later, especially the one Raz had collided with. She gives quick a concerned glance at the trunk, before she hurries to Raz’s side. [BlueSky] Are you okay? That was still pretty fast for someone so new at this.

[Raziel] *turns and smiles at Blue, stretching various muscles.* Err yeah… yeah! I’m great! I mean a bit of surprise tree attack but I think I’m good enough to- *At this point Raziel stretches his back and a loud crunch can be heard emanating from his body, he freezes in place from the pain.*

[BlueSky] Oh! Um, er… this is, fine! Let’s just, ahh… *She nervously hovers around Raz, unsure whether she should grab him, not grab him, leave him standing or have him sit back down. She falls back on her go-to solution.* Let’s umm… go find Nights. I mean, if you can walk. I can go! I’ll be very quick!

Crystals glow a gentle green, filling the room with an ambient light. It’s a late night at the castle, crystals of various shapes, sizes and colours cover Raziel’s desk as he runs through the pages of his Tome, his eyes glued onto the pages as his hand turns the pages, the other holding it steady in front of him.

The tome in front of him is filled with magic and secrets, but had one feature that makes it differ from other magic books. All mage’s of Caelum had this tome, but its weight and pages would differ depending on the mage, their knowledge and power would unlock more secrets within it and only the greatest of them would see the book in its entirety. Even greater ones actually had a chance to add to it.

Raziel turns one last page, finally finding what he is looking for. On it lay the designs of earrings and rings, a shining yellow gem always part of its design.

The night air whistles through the castle, winds quietly picking up leaves and throwing them at windows. But over the noise the creaking of floorboards can be heard. Steel capped boots tap on the floor underneath Raziel as Nights works away as the moon crests the sky. But the steady hammering stops and only moments later she appears in the doorway of Raziel’s lab, quietly knocking on the glass of his doors.

[Raziel] *looks up briefly at the sound of knocking, taking a moment to register what is was before returning his attention to the Tome.* Door’s open, Come on in.

Nights steps in quietly as the door creaks opens, approaching the table Raziel is at slowly as to not disturb whatever magic she can’t see.

[Nights] You are up late, what are you working on?

[Raziel] *’s hands hover over two crystals amongst the pile, both bright yellow and a large light glowing from both of them, he recites an incantation and the lights in both leave the crystals and enter the opposing one’s. He looks up and smiles at Nights.* On a few things to be fair, but the one right now might be of particular use to us at the Castle. You can help me test it if you would like?

[Nights] I… Do not think you would wish me to try to wield magic. It tends to go very poorly.

She shuffles closer, being cautious of the crystals scattered around the room and on desks.

[Raziel] *smiles reassuringly.* I assure you these are not dangerous and should cause no discomfort should the spell fail. *Raziel reaches for the two yellow crystals on his desk, keeping one in his right hand and extending his left with the other crystal to Nights.* One of the perks of this style of magic, anyone can technically use them once they are charged, but only a gem mage can power and manipulate what they do.

*Nights reaches out cautiously taking the crystal from Raziel, looking mildly uncomfortable while holding it careful with her gloved hand, turning it over with her fingers, testing its weight.*

[Nights] You are sure?

[Raziel] *nods.* Yes I’m positive, no harm will come to you. *He quickly looks at his Tome one last time, before closing it shut on his desk.* On top of this, the spell needs a strong bond between its users. You’ve given me a home and saved my life so I’m pretty sure that counts for something right?.

[Nights] I suppose.

*Raziel stands out of his chair and walks to the opposite end of the room, facing against Nights.*

[Raziel] Now, hold the crystal to your head and repeat these words: ‘Linimo Deociis’.

Nights shifts, unsure why she came up to stretch in the mage wing.

[Nights] Linimo Deociis. *She butchers the words, but it her words sound more like she is trying to speak angelic, the words twisting as she struggles to say them.*

Both Crystals light up briefly before returning to normal.

-Note to readers. Words surrounded in ~ is a telepathic connection and not said out loud, but is spoken-

[Raziel] *’s voice can be heard, but it's almost like an echo in the room, his mouth not moving ~Alright that should have worked~ *He clears his throat*. ~Can you hear me clearly on your end?~

Nights is searching Raziel's face. His mouth isn’t moving but she can hear him… but it is like a whisper though a bad radio signal. Full of static. Her mind races in confusion, accidentally flooding the connection with thoughts to fast to understand to anyone but her. She frowns looking down at the crystal then back up at Raz. [Nights] What was that? ~The nether was that, how does this work, what is going on, can I hear him but he does not make sound, does this crystal send signals, is this safe, what if the State has this, is this magic or something else?~

[Raziel] ~Calm down Nights, you’re perfectly fine. *He waves at her, pointing at the crystal.* What’s happening right now is a low level  telepathy spell, allowing people to speak in privacy or to get hold of each other from long distance. The translation for the spell can be summed up as ‘connect the mind of allies’.~

*Nights’ face scrunches into confusion and concentration as she realizes he can hear her thoughts.*

[Nights] So you are telling me… ~...you can hear my thoughts…~ and.. Urg, can barely hear ~yours~? *She keeps looking down at the crystal and back up, it looks like she’s having trouble keeping her internal dialog from spilling forth. It’s odd to hear her inner voice. It’s free of the cough she periodically has, or the roughness that clouds her normal voice. It’s sharp, and surprisingly young.*

[Raziel]  ~ It’s looking that way ~ ...huh. *He looks at the crystal, rolling it about in his hands, before opening the tome back to the page he was originally looking at, running through the next few pages* For some reason the link is strong initially, but a maintained connection seems difficult...so an initial message can be sent but nothing else, I can’t find anything explaining why though...

[Nights] A.. Magic user might have better use of this technology then I do. I would rather use my radio… *She says out loud, she’s trying to keep her mind clear, but she worries of what he can see in her mind if he can read her thoughts. She turns the crystal over then lifts it to the light to look through it.*

[Raziel] You may have a point there, still an interesting experience. *He places the crystal down on his desk, waving his hand over it. The crystals bright light dims down*...Also what’s a radio?

[Nights] Something similar to this thing,*She says as she places the crystal down on the table beside her and then leans on the table.* But works through electronic waves through the air and runs on electricity. *She says is rather matter of factly as she pulls from her pocket a small black box with an antenna and several dials next to a small screen with numbers on it.*

[Raziel] I see, interesting... *He smiles and nods, knowing that any further explanation would probably just confuse him further.* Well I’m gonna guess this’ll work better than my crystal plan. *He points to the small black box in nights hands.* Care to make me one? Or teach me how to?

[Nights] I think I have an extra I can rig to work. Should be simple, would be more work showing you how to work it however…. Electricity and all.

She says in amusement seeing the lights still off in the lab.

[Raziel] Good point and… Well made! *He laughs and scratches the back of his head.* But still, I thank you for your help with that experiment.

[Nights] You're welcome. It was an interesting break from my work. *She smiles as she hears a caw echo through the halls of the castle. Feno, sitting on his stand has woken up and found she is no longer sitting at her desk. Nights simply rolls her eyes as she hears him panic as she turns to leave.* Pardon, Feno seems to have panicked himself again.

[Nights] *pauses before she leaves*. I hope you are getting along with your crow as well… *She smiles before disappearing into the dark hallways.

At this point Dante flies through the window, landing on Raziel’s head and pecks him.