Round 1: Team D

Round 1 will begin at 3 PM EST on Thursday, February 2, 2017.

Quote:

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You stumble upon the refugee camp either to assist the Rangers or by other circumstances. The cat like race of people you encounter do not speak any known language. Three combat ships are bearing down on the camp. Their origins and purpose, like those of the refugees, is unknown. An ideal thread will address the communication issue with the cat people, the purpose of the combat ships, decipher the symbol and will identify the origins of both parties. Please note the term refugees was coined by Ceidon to describe an unknown group of crash victims. It is entirely up to you whether they are actually refugees.

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“I am looking for the ronin Taka.” The words filtered through the room of people. It was a crowded place, an oft used stop for mercenaries and brigands. The tavern was alive with the sounds of soldiers carousing even if it was early morning. An arm wrestling match was at one table, a card game at another, it was the usual chaos, perpetuated by the usual suspects.

The speaker wore the green cloak that had become synonymous with the Coronian Rangers. Her black hair kept back in a warrior's braid. Pointed elven ears broke the taut nature of her hair, even as her boiled leather armor smelled of the soaps used to maintain it. She was looking at the gruff man at the bar, who seemed to ignore her for a moment, relishing a bit of his drink. “I said-”

“I heard you, what do you want with him? I’m not about to let you get a chance of sticking him with a knife if that’s your play,” the man replied. Tanned skin marked him as a more exotic form of human. The lack of armor seemed to go against everyone else in the room. In a bar where everyone had armor and weapon, he was merely dressed in commoner’s clothes, loose fitting and slightly dirty, as if laundry day had been skipped recently. Blue eyes bore into the golden irises of the elf as a battle of wills began.

The elf turned before she spoke, “I need him for a diplomatic mission. We are in need of warriors who know diplomacy and could prevent an incident. For all I hate of that man-”

“Who beat you after offering you a way to save face, isn’t that right Captain?” The words were spoken with a hostility that implied history. If one could have insinuated a murder with mere syllables, then the speaker had surely done so.

“This isn’t about what happened at the Gates-”

“Bullshit it’s not, it's because he tried to offer you peace before he delivered you your ass you’re mad at him. It’s also why he’s perfect for this job. How many men do you need?”

“Just Taka.” The elf replied as she leaned against the bar and looked the man in the eyes.

“He’s not going to like that and you know it.”

“I’m not about to give him a forum to restart the Ixian Knights. The fact he hasn't been hung as a traitor is beyond me, but I feel it has something to do with ending the stalemate here. Either way it’s not my place to question the order, I was told competent warriors capable of diplomacy, and the Ronin came in with you lot. I refuse to give him a platform or an edge out there. He’s necessary as a warm body babysitting some retainers for a nobleman. If he can do that and get the hell out of here I’d be much happier.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you really think of him Captain?” The foreigner said with a devilish smirk.

“If I have to endure another smug lecture about that man I swear to the thayne above-”

“That is enough Taicho Nadiliya. I now know what you came here for. You can talk with me. Erickson-san, you are relieved,” The heavily accented voice came from behind Nadiliya who turned to see the ronin behind her. She could see the telltale white eye from behind the porcelain mask that he wore to cover his face. She had seen that face once, when he had been beaten to bloody pulp by Elijah Belov. She had wondered what his game was until he successfully flooded the walls with men, and every missile weapon upon them was turned upon the guardians of the city.

Having to call the surrender had been a bitter pill to swallow, and she never forgave the ronin for it. She had lost being a captain when the city had been given back to the crown, even now she was sure she would never rise in the ranks from where she was. She wanted so badly to stab the man, but having been ambushed by him in the bar she knew he was prepared for just such an occasion. Erickson raised his beer in toast to his commander before moving from the bar. Nadiliya shook her head slowly before she spoke, “Refugees from a foreign land were run ashore on the west coast not far from here. The Republic had elected to send two people to try and open relations with these sailors who seem at the moment unable to communicate. Your job is to babysit them while I maintain the quarantine around you. Do you accept?”

“Orcs?” Taka asked pointedly as he watched the elf. His eyes never straying from her hands.

“Catfolk. Do you accept?”

“You are exceedingly forward Taicho, is there a problem?”

“If I could do it without you, I would have. Do you accept?”

“You must wait for my reply.”

“Do. You. Accept?” The words were forced through clenched teeth.

“How many of my men may come?” Taka asked, ignoring her question.

“None. Do you accept?”

Taka tilted his head studying her, finally he spoke up, “Will you be present?”

“Yes, now do you accept or can I try to find the next soldier who can follow orders?”

“I accept.”

The words seemed to sour her disposition more.

~*~

The journey had not been arduous. His sack hoisted over his shoulder with his weapons firmly in place. The crackle of branches crushing under the weight of his sandals was not lost upon him, the lack of stealth. This wasn’t to be a mission taken silently. This mission was on a clock, with the distant ships coming to the shore. Either they needed help and protection, or they were to be apprehended and returned to whoever was upon those three ships.

Taka knew the answer would be a shade of grey, either answer could be true, and until he knew the specifics, he would wait to prevent acting out of rash urgency. He continued to follow Nadiliya remaining silent as he heard the water kami gently whisper in his ears. It was reassuring that his newfound allies had not abandoned him yet, and he was in need of allies in times like these.

Finally they broke into the quarantine zone, catfolk moving about to break down the camp. Taka could tell the panic they were in, tails tucked close to body, ears pressed back against the head, they were afraid of whatever was coming. Something had them spooked, that much was obvious. Being a member of the Yanbo Port guard had forced him to deal with the nekojin more than once. The fact he knew their dispositions would help him at the least, he could tell when fear turned to agitation, and be able to respond accordingly. The camp itself had been made in a stand of trees, forming a natural windbreak. The clearing, current occupants notwithstanding, was rather open, though with the running about the leaves and detritus had been shoved aside until the dirt sprung through. The soil was soft, almost a loamy quality giving an earthy scent to the clearing, even as water was poured where the campfire had been.

He turned to Nadiliya before he spoke, “Gunso, where are my charges?”

She glowered at him before she pointed to the far side of the clearing, “They would probably be over where the bulk of my men are waiting for you before proceeding.”

Senator Fordstein's spirited eyes gorged on the majesty and motion of Radasanth's cityscape beneath him; it was all his for the taking. For once, the scheming senator paced anxiously; all his civility had been drained by the burden of puppet mastery. Creaking leather and the ominous rattle of dry bones joined the gasping whisper of his breath. Distracted by the new sound, he dragged his exquisite loafers on the rug's thick pile and spoke. "Gum, my dear Gum, I have become so intricately familiar with the delightfully aboriginal din you bring to my office.” Turning away from the sweeping glass of his panoramic view, the politician greeted his provincial guest with a smile and a nod. A long desk, lacquered to a shine, separated them. Gum glowered back, snorting discontentedly through the breadth of his nostrils. The shaman's compelling dignity stemmed from his verbal minimalism and the imposition of his people's traditional attire; only straps of fur and leather kept him from nudity.

“Well, quite,” sliced the senator's retort. “We have important business to attend to.” For a second time, he left an inviting gap in his monologue; but again, Gum offered little more than the beady glare of his scowling silence. The senator's well-manicured fingers crumpled a sheet of paper with frustration. “Perhaps I'll expedite our hitherto limp confabulation." With both of his hands planted on the table between them, Fordstein leaned aggressively into his guest's immediate periphery. "Mr. Gum, I trust you are aware of the grand armada awaiting us to the south?”

Gum's sullen grimace came to an end when his lips broke to speak. “Of course. Many people are speaking of it. People are afraid." The senator pulled back, satisfied at having provoked a response from his underling. "People are wondering why our own navy waits in the dock," Gum continued. "People say our navy is a match for these invaders. A point with which I agree.”

“I suppose the cat will be out of the bag soon enough,” smirked the senator, taking a moment to smooth the slick extremities of his ornate moustache. Gum adjusted his stance, slightly taken aback by the senator's cryptic response. After uncrumpling the dogeared page, Fordstein handed it over to Gum's arthritic grasp. “Read this.” Even the opening words of the document caused the shaman to rub at his wrought forehead. “This is ill-advised, Senator Fordstein.” A puff of apprehension blew from Gum's vexed frown. “You have come to know me," implored the shaman, "I have no aversion to death nor the dealing of it; it is just another morning to an old soul.” At last, the shaman's stoic demeanour was overcome. “But this, your plan; innocent souls will not be spared. I cannot abide this.”

Blustered, Fordstein shot back. “Corone is a storied stage, bloody with perennial grudges. I will not deny our fair nation the satisfaction of retribution. I can't imagine a peregrine individual such as yourself would understand.” The volley missed the mark, Gum was not offended; the stinging xenophobia of Coronian natives fell on deaf ears. “But then, you don't have to understand, do you?" The senator's skilled manipulation found the target with a one-two follow up, and so his reluctant partner snarled back. "This is your land." It was all Gum could say, but he said it with a jagged bite. "That's why we have our little arrangement," laughed the senator. The deal of which they spoke was a capitulation the Dheathain native regretted more with each passing day; the senator offered political support for Gum's fledgling nation—the Xangu Nation—in return for access to his unique skill set.

Chest first, Fordstein tugged on the rich velvet of his lapels and insisted upon professionalism. “Ignoring the whimsy of your conscientious objection, Mr. Gum, do you understand your mission?”

“Yes," Gum replied curtly, the senator's condescending magniloquence had begun to bother him. "I understand my part in this. I am to intercept both the Rangers and these runaways." Perplexed, Gum begged a question, "If needs be, am I permitted to kill green cloaks?"

Fordstein nodded and pursed his moustachioed lips with camp delight. "Gum, political complexities are something you shouldn't concern yourself with!" Pointing back to the page in the shaman's hand, he instructed Gum to, "Keep reading!"

"It says," continued the shaman, "it is my duty to prevent news of this plot reaching the people of Akashima.” His own people, hundreds of miles away, suffered under the yoke of imperialism; Gum's eyes welled up at his becoming a cog in the machine of another empire's expansionist aggression.

Recognising his operative's faltering emotion, Fordstein stepped in. “Don't worry, old bean. This won't be as hard on you as you think." He rang a servant's bell and set his eyes on the bevelled panels of his office door. "We have for you, Mr. Gum, a fabulous opportunity for personal growth. You'll be working with a partner. I have compromised my significant bank balance to purchase the time of a very special individual."

“Goddamn it Master.... “ Amari muttered bitterly to herself, her complaint drained out by the echo of footsteps as they bounced off the walls of the long and narrow corridor. For a government building the place was quite bare with naught on the walls aside from illustrious ornate gas lamps which flickered and cast shadows across the small entourage. Couldn’t afford damn carpet, aren’t these meant to be government folk under nobles? Cheap bastards. She thought to herself as she kept her tri-coloured eyes to the floor watching her warbled reflection in the polished granite as her boots clicked against the stone. “Tch.”

Amari rose her head to have her eyes rest on the two large and burly men in front of her. They were clad in ornate armour that looked so pristine that she doubted their combat experience, if at all. Hell, she wondered if they ever even got dirty. One of them glanced over his shoulder, green eyes locking with her own. Amari smirked. “Yo.” The man’s eyes widened in fear as he quickly whipped his head back forward. The red haired woman grinned as she quickened her pace and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Aww, what’s with that look?” She teased in a singsong voice. “Are you afraid of lil’ ol’ me?” She asked as she pulled back and forced him to stop walking. The man tried to shake her hand off him as he jerked back.

“Git offa me, I know what yer capable of!”

Amari let go and her arms casually fell to her sides. “Oh? Does my reputation precede me?”

She could hear the hiss of metal as the other guard shifted behind her, the situation was quickly escalating. Not that Amari cared, she had been stuck afloat on a shitty ass boat for weeks only to be dragged straight off it with nary a days rest. “That’s enough, Red. Let’s go. Boss is waitin’.” The second guard spoke in short, sharp sentences in a low voice. Amari sighed as she pulled away. “Wasn’t going to do anything, you peg me as some sort of murderous monster.”

“Well, you do come from the Crimson Hand, surprising really… from what I hear that Ulroke guy can barely lead his way outta a pap-URGHhhh...” There was a clatter as his sword dropped to the ground. His insults turned to wordless pained cries as he gasped for air. His hands scratched and tore at Amari’s arm but to no avail. Her tiny hand barely covered his throat but it didn’t need to. Her thumb pressed hard into his trachea and plumes of smoke wafted up from under her touch. His skin peeled and began to take on a green hue.

“Don’t. Fuck. With. My. Master.” Amari drew in close and hissed the words into his ear. Towering over the guard as he dropped to his knees her eyes watched his intently waiting for the moment he fell into unconsciousness. It took mere seconds till his bloodshot eyes rolled into the back of his head and Amari let the man go with a ‘thunk’ as he hit the hard floor.

Amari dusted her hands, “Right.” She turned to the other guard, her eyes travelled down to his pants where there was a distinct wet patch. “Considering you just pissed yourself I suppose I can assume I won’t have any further problems?” The man shook his head as he licked his lips and gulped. “Good.” Amari said with a smirk. Normally, she wouldn’t be so aggressive but she had to vent and she didn’t take too kindly to others speaking ill of the man in charge of the Crimson Hand. She had earned the right, some pristine fuckwit in another region had not.

A shrill and distinct chime of a ringing bell interrupted any further alteration between the two. The guard coughed to clear his throat. “Fordstein calls for us, we should-”

“Pick up yer friend then, might give your boss a heads up though. I don’t appreciate being treated like ‘the help.’” Amari said as she gestured toward the unconscious man on the floor. The second guard sighed as he bent down and hefted the man over his shoulder and pushed past Amari in a passive-aggressive manner. Amari let the man have his win, it was probably the only highlight of his miserable week.

She followed him down the corridor toward a wood panelled door. He gingerly shoved his side into it to wedge the hunk of ornate wood open and carefully put his comrade down on the ground. Amari sighed as she stepped over the unconscious man, flipping crimson hair over her shoulder and without missing a beat explained the situation. “One o’ your men pissed himself whilst I assaulted the other. Get new guards.” She jerked her hand over her shoulder at the two behind her. “These guys are shit.”

Senator Fordstein glanced from Amari to the two men behind her then back to Amari. His moustached lips twisted up into a smirk. “I’ll make a note of that, Miss Red.” He gestured to an empty chair next to an older man. “Please, take a seat.”

Amari approached the large varnished desk. “I think I’ll stand, thanks.” She muttered absently as she drew a single finger along the well polished surface. She inspected it as though she were looking for any signs of dirt. His bright and spacious office was just as dust free as his servants’ garb. “Quite frankly, such decadence makes me uncomfortable. I’d rather just get to whatever it is you need me to do.”

Fordstein smoothed out the long black hairs of his moustache as he retreated to sit comfortably in his plush leather chair opposite Amari and the older man. “I see my fortune will not go to waste.” He said with an amused grin. Fordstein gestured to the strangely garbed man sitting beside Amari. “This is Gum, he will brief you on your duties. I take it you have no concern with-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Fordstein. I don’t give a damn what you want me to do, chances are - I’ll do it. I don’t need to listen to you prattle on about shit from your high horse in the safety of your office.”

Amari turned to Gum, her eyes glancing up and down his wrinkled and dark skinned form. They briefly rested on the skulls that adorned his neck, Amari had questions about that, but they could wait. She extended her hand in greeting. “I’m Red. Just Red.” Gum reluctantly extended his hand and shook hers, repeating his name for the sake of pleasantries. “Gum, a student of Do U and a proud shaman of the Xangu peoples.” Most would smile, but Gum did not. Their introduction ended with the interruption of Senator Fordstein.

“Right.” Gum said coldly, narrowing his eyes at the man.

Amari wasn’t the best with social situations, and normally missed the mark when it came to social cues but this was as obvious as a slap in the face. Amari gave Gum a wry smirk, it was clear the two did not get along. “Yes, right… “ Amari said as she turned her back on Gum and approached the desk, she placed her hand on the polished indented side of the wood as she extended her other hand to shake the Senators. “Might want to get those men cleaned up, place is gonna smell like piss.” As she spoke the hand resting on the wood gave of a soft, crimson light. She lifted her hand revealing a burnt imprint of her hand on the desk to Gum. Fordstein wouldn’t see it till the two were long gone.

“Will do Miss Red, in future try not to poison and burn my men.”


“I’ll keep that in mind.” Amari said with a shrug as she left the room with a smirk as she imagined the Senators reaction to a blemish on his otherwise impeccable bubble of a world.

Spumes of frothy whitecaps licked the base of the steep, pitted cliff face, their foamy texture sluicing flotsam and buoyant wreckage. The salt-smelling wind drove the waves in their endless cycle, riding it an alien scent that spoke of fouled peace, of a silence waiting to explode into the unyielding din of chaos. Worry had stirred in the nations that had caught the scent, and so they had risen with the intent of gauging this new threat.

Light receded to the birth of dusk, a faint purple tinge in a firmament barely lit by the sun. And beneath this heavenly conquest, the land fell a sharp plunge of a thousand paces, forming the eroded cliff itself; a natural wall of defense and border to the republic of Corone, its capital city squatting far north to this shelf of land.

Silhouetted against the darkening horizon were the originators of that same scent: warships. Bearing a foreign, ominous-looking standard and anchored in wait. Initially-three, the vessels had appeared without warning, their unforeseen arrival tolling the silent bell of threat across the continent’s entire coast. A couple measures had been taken to assess the situation, including the sworn protectors of Corone and their own sellswords.

Motionless at the cliff’s edge, Azaranth Ubissad studied the ruined remnants of the third vessel. The craft had run aground a couple nights ago, its huge bow a twisted ruin that had received a fierce blow at the moment of impact. Of its three masts, only one remained upright, the flag it once flew bearing the same, queer figure found on the ones of its two distant brethren. Its massive hull was lined with deep, cannon-fired pits, betraying the man-made nature of the damage’s cause.

Nevertheless, what could have been garnered and recycled into a more serviceable state had been already dumped into the encampment behind him. The survivors seemed to come from a land known to no-one, speaking a language none could begin to fathom. Communication, at this rate, was all but impossible.

With a final glance at the vessel pair, Azaranth turned on his heels and approached the railing that enclosed the campers. They were oddly reminiscent of Akashima’s Nekojins; cat-like and skittish, generally nervous when caught in foreign lands.

Understanding them was never part of his job, in any case. That was left to the so-called diplomats, who made a poor job of their own game. The survivors, after all, were either too stubborn to cooperate— “Or too threatened.”

The Rangers were rather too elaborate in expressing their vow to protect their own land, so the feline folk’s demur was no surprise anyway. Regardless, it was just another job. Protect the charges and, more discreetly, keep an eye on his newly-arrived 'partner.' There was, of course, ensuring that their charges went to and from the ships in once piece. Simple, for the journey would be nothing but a few nautical miles offshore.

What they were to do on board, however, other than perhaps determine who actually helmed them, was anyone’s guess.

These ones don’t seem that eager for the others to come to their rescue. Escapees, maybe? Azaranth flicked his gaze to the black-armored, masked mercenary. He strode a couple paces, stood before the man whose eyes stared out through pitted holes in his bone-white mask.

“Greetings,” the monster-hunter nodded. “Name’s Azaranth, but call me Anubis.” He paused, taking a brief moment to avoid any error in his pronunciation. “Taka, right?”

The man gave an inflated nod, seemingly only to convey friendliness. “I am indeed Taka, are you one of the two I am to protect?”

“No, I’m actually here to help with that.” Even Azaranth felt the untruth in that, for he was not to reveal his exact purpose. Not yet, anyway. Don’t really trust these Rangers, but I’ll play ball for now. “Guess I’m your partner tonight,” he said, pausing. “Speaking of, where’re our charges?”

“I have no clue, I was told I would find them over here, my guess is I am being thrown about the camp for their childish games,” he shook his head slightly, like a gelding shaking off a moth fly.

Azaranth shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to wait for them to show up.” He then turned, once again setting his somber gaze on the two frigates. Only a matter of time now.

The ronin’s eyes gazed across the camp as the creatures moved about it. Their hunched nature made it hard to tell true sizes, but they seemed to be creatures that came up to the height of his chest. He drank in the scene of panic before him and witnessed the tearing down of their temporary refuge. He looked over at his partner in protecting the diplomats and spoke softly, “Watch for our charges, I’m going to try and communicate with them.”

He ignored any potential argument his partner could offer as he walked towards the middle of the camp. The equipment was hurriedly being tossed into a pile, almost prepared for elsewhere when Taka approached. A single Catfolk moved forward and stopped him before he hissed out words in their tongue. He held up a gauntlet clad hand in greeting to which the Catfolk seemed to give an exasperated hiss. Taka knew he wouldn’t be the first one trying to talk with them, and would be far from the last. He gestured to the nearby bay where the trio of ships had been spotted and spoke, “To them?”

The cat creature ignored the gesture and spoke, “Cal chuck, na duck.”

Taka listened to the words, he watched its language. The body was stiff, taut at the shoulders. If he were to guess it was struggling because whatever it said, it was important. The creature grabbed a stick and began to draw, and Taka knelt with the creature as the soft dirt was once again marred by the stick. When it was done a symbol lay before him, and the ronin gently traced the lines with a finger. He felt a kinship to those lines, a sense of familiarity that was wistful.

They are weak and annoying, the thought slithered through his mind, forcing its way into the forefront. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the dark thought, and shoved it back. He was focused on the task at hand, at the meaning of the familiar symbol. His eyes seemed to drink in every detail as the Catfolk looked at him. It seemed to recognize something in its demeanor as it spoke up, “Ick notch! Cal nicto gammut!”

One of the other moved forward and watched the Ronin as Taka turned to his partner, “I recognize this. I can’t remember where from, but these lines, they’re familiar to me. Have you any idea what they mean?”

He shook his head, almost ready with the negative. “None. Never seen it before, really. Tried to ask ‘em to explain what it signified - used gestures, even… It’s useless.”

He’s as useful as they are. Should kill them all, save us the hassle of hunting them down later… the thought twisted its way through his mind, and he almost felt himself in agreement. He clenched a hand subtly to resist the thought’s invasion, and cleared his head once more. Now was not the time to deal with such thoughts. With a mind empty of everything he looked at the symbol in the dirt again before he nodded and stood.

“This is supposed to mean something to us. Whatever it is they nearly got themselves killed trying to tell us. I think they're frustrated that they have effectively given up their lives for this, and no one can understand them,” The ronin sighed. He knew this was the reason they had come, they were hoping someone would recognize it. He had given them hope at least in seeing the symbol and interacting with it at a more involved level. He looked at the two Neko before him before he spoke, “I see this. I know this, what do you want?”

It doesn’t matter kill them and be done with it, this is beyond your means little falcon, another dark thought invaded. Taka was at odds with the Oni that resided even now in his blood. He was always on guard, there was always the possibility his thoughts could be twisted by the demon inside. He grimaced, glad to hide the act behind a screen of porcelain and shot back;

Silence, this is not your realm, and my body is not yours.

Yet… The dark thoughts seemed to be underlined with an uncomfortable silence. The Ronin knew the oni was most likely laughing to himself. He had little time to care as he snapped back to reality. He stood and nodded to the creatures who seemed to relax and let out a long breath, visibly relieved, as if they truly believed the message had been delivered.

The horse was not a prevalent form of transport in the undergrowing sweat of the Xangu Basin; as such, Gum had not been exposed to the boreal art of horseback riding. Despite his frustration at having to sacrifice secrecy, the ever pragmatic Fordstein had instead outfitted Gum and Red with a wagon and driver to facilitate their hasty arrival at the runaway camp.

Smelly and claustrophobic, the wagon's interior betrayed the squalor of the pig farmers it had been requisitioned from. The tension of tomorrow's battlefield was something Gum was familiar with. Though, in the past, the wars he had fought in had always been his wars, his people's wars. The pungent smell brewed in him the reflective remorse of a wrong yet to be done. Akashima's people had done him no harm; more than that, they were much like his own people: desperate for the dignity of independence.

The duo were halfway there before the conversation began. "We will leave this wagon behind once we are close enough." Gum stared down the ugly hook of his flat nose; he offered the Crimson Hand's representative no more cordiality than he typically offered Fordstein. "While Senator Fordstein tells me they are expecting us, we still need to approach them with caution." The bumps in the road churned his stomach, curdling his anxiety. Bracing himself against his seat, he looked up to measure his companion's response.

She huffed indignantly in response, “Why do you think they hired me? I’d rip the skin clean off any hostiles within twenty-five feet of us.” A moment's grin flashed across her face; it was a promise of the vicious danger she brought to the operation. Then she laughed, it echoed with the cold; her eyes pinned Gum down, asking if he was in on the joke.

Red's personality unnerved the middle-aged shaman; that effervescent spark she possessed was more than he was able to cope with. "Red, I believe you. Death travels with us tonight." A necklace of three shrunken heads bounced over the gaunt shaman's bare and bony chest; he grabbed the shrivelled curios to limit their motion. "Tell me, do you feel any concern for the Akashiman people?" His skin bunched into wrinkles around his eyes, and his brow furrowed for the question's gravity.

She sat silent, letting minutes pass without answering his question. If there was a war within, she hid it behind a composed facade. Those eyes, still binding Gum's focus, showed their unnatural colour; he'd never seen eyes of green-gold and red, but dark beneath. “I’m not paid to think about it, nor are you. This world is shit, sometimes the innocent get the short end of the stick. Best not get all sentimental, it’ll get you killed.”

"I understand. I believe we will succeed tonight." Reservation came as the hallmark of Gum's conversational style, he wished to refrain from sharing his own inner turmoil. It would be unwise to allow Red to know his sentimental weakness. Thankfully, the driver saved him from having to pointedly refuse her a reply. "End of the line!" said the driver, calling back from the front of the wagon. "This is as far as I was paid to take you two."

The cart had left them on the outskirts of a forest atop a hill which overlooked their destination. Amari placed her palms firmly on her hips as she squinted, assessing the scene below them. It was a little difficult to see with the fading light but it looked as though an encampment had been set up. Small tents and campfires dotted the inside of a fenced off section. “Is it just me, or do they sorta look like cats running around down there?” Amari asked Gum as she casually began to saunter down the path toward the campground.

“Catfolk. Yes.” Was Gum’s uneasy reply as he quickened his pace to match her own. “We should take care.” He pointed to the green clad figures that surrounded the cat folk. “They are well armed and outnumber us. If we go in on the offensive, they would-”

“Blah, Blah, Blah.” Amari said as she waved off his words. The woman didn’t care for his cautious attitude. She needed to change the stagnant pace they were keeping. Amari turned on her heel to face her old and worn companion as she clasped her hands together in a loud clap before rubbing them to and fro. “Right!” She exclaimed loudly with a mischievous grin.“No use dilly-dallying, may as well get into the main part o’ the story, eh?” She said as she eyed Gum with a look that borderlined malicious.

“Failure would be unfortunate.“ Gum readied himself at her side, prepared for whatever tempestuous action might come next. “They are expecting us as representatives, not assassins. We should take a cautious-”

In response to his words four tentacles of light burst forth from Amari’s back, burning with a crackling crimson light. They shifted to and fro in the cool night breeze as though they had a mind of their own. Amari’s lips twisted up into a smirk. “I don’t do waiting, I can’t be fucked being cautious - and I don’t take orders well. Do mind your step, I’d rather not have to stitch you back together. I want them to know they shouldn’t fuck with us.”

Amari turned to continue down the path. The sheer extent of her abilities was evident in the surrounding flora which decayed and died out just by being in close proximity to the physical manifestation of her corrupted soul magic.

Amari glanced over at Gum who glowered in silence, she wasn’t entirely sure why he was so grumpy. must be an old person thing. she thought to herself.

As Amari and Gum approached the encampment, two things happened.

First; the green cloaked rangers reacted as any sane person would when they saw a damn tentacle beast coming at them… they drew their swords and took on a defensive stance. Some shouting the typical cries you’d hear one say; ‘Stay back’, ‘one step further and we’ll strike!’, ‘What the fuck are you?’ the typical cries Amari was used to hearing.

Second; what she was not used to, was the reaction of the miniature cat people within the camp grounds. Their shrill cries and chitters were in a language Amari hadn’t heard before. They all dropped to their knees with their faces pressed against the loamy, grassy ground. There was a sudden silence.

Are they… bowing to me in worship!? Amari thought to herself, the shock evident on her cracked facial features. Her eyes danced over the rangers who looked just as confused as she did. Her gaze halted on two men who stood close to one another. The first wore a kimono of dull greys and browns and his face was covered by a shiny stone mask. His appearance felt familiar to Amari but she wasn’t sure why. The other wore leather fatigues under a dark grey trench coat. If she were to take a haphazard guess she’d assume they were in charge.

“You.” Amari pointed to the two. “Mind telling me what the fuck is goin’ on here?” She asked as she pointed toward the cat people.

Azaranth blinked, studying the magic-crackling, crimson figure of the woman before him. Two pairs of wine-colored appendages stemmed from her back, trailing her like the tails of some demonic fox. Red hair drooped to the woman’s shapely hips - as if colored by the selfsame magic that spewed from her very essence. Like bared teeth, weapons hung drawn, cocked in warning at the woman and her partner for their rather precipitate arrival.

The second of whom was a dark-skinned man, his brown hair a tangled mess. Clad in nothing but hide straps for clothing, a sullen frown marred his crinkled features, and a single, blunt-looking ax hung from his hip. A rather lacking arsenal, thus hinting at his potentially being an expert in sorcery and other arcane arts. He was at the very least in his fortieth winter, Azaranth reckoned.

Still, in the interval the Salvarian had paid little attention to the campers’ peculiar behavior; for what reason would they bow in such unity? It was useless questioning them, alas. All he would get out of these people was a hiss and perhaps a few sentences that almost seemed to deliberately frustrate the monster-hunter. At first, this pattern had him questioning the entire peoples’ intelligence; yet, in retrospect, intelligent enough to helm a ship from some remote land, survive its wreckage and make camp with significantly limited resources. It was an interesting story to tell.

If there were a means to tell, that is.

Breaking through his reverie, the monster-hunter, despite his hierarchal position, voiced a request in a manner that could be discerned as an order by some. Much to his relief, no-one protested as every drawn blade was hesitantly returned to its sheath. There was little cause for concern, after all; their two charges had finally arrived.

With a knowing glance toward Taka, Azaranth nodded at the two others and said, “Follow me.” He turned and without looking back made for the cliff once more. At the edge, the monster-hunter noted that dusk was two bells away; they would have to make haste if they all wished to return before nightfall. He turned and motioned another reaffirming nod at his charges.

“What’s happening here is… Well, don’t know if you’ve been told, but what the hell: these ships showed up a couple nights ago. One was destroyed, reasons unknown. These guys,” he gestured toward the catfolk, “were on board. They don’t like the other two ships, looks like, so they had nowhere else to go other than here.” He paused. “Of course, since they’re not from any known land, we have no means of communication. Their purpose, origin and language are all unknowns.”

“Your turn.” Azaranth puckered his lips. “My partner and I are to protect you. Doing what? What’s your business with these people, if you don’t mind my asking?” He spared the other man a glance at the man, saw nothing but a lifeless chill in his eyes. “Also, I understand being showy with magic - I do - but some green cloaks are on edge. So… yeah, if you don’t mind that too. We don’t need another obstacle.”

The woman’s response came with a complacent huff. “‘Tis but the physical manifestation of my soul. No harm will come to people if they don’t fuck with us. It’s only an obstacle if you make it one, and last time I checked, sweetheart, we were the ones who hired you. So can it with the orders.” Her eyes darted to the catfolk. “‘Sides, seems like it has some sorta effect on the lil’ critters, eh?”

Azaranth studied her for a moment, opting to ignore the discourtesy. So some people can have corporeal spirits. Huh, who woulda thunk? In hindsight, she was right. He'd have to swallow his pride and listen to her, and in turn the man's, every command. Cooperation would prove elusive on this night.

“It does. Good,” he intonated. Think we just found us a clue, something to go by. Looking at how they all bowed when she appeared— they revere her, that much is clear. So, somehow, they’re related to this girl. Coincidence? Maybe. And the question is, why would they bow? What does she represent to them? “Now we know they’ll probably follow your orders - for whatever reason - so that should make things easier.”

A moment later Azaranth turned toward Taka. So as to not hear them, he leaned in and murmured, “Having suspicions. She may as well be behind all this. What do you think?”

“I think this matter is far from understood,” he whispered back. “If they bow to her is it out of fear or love? If it's the former, how long before they decide living in fear is not how they want to live?”

“Far from understood? We’re barely making any progress here,” Azaranth muttered, shaking his head as he surveyed the brown, chalky earth at his feet. “Got no choice but to follow ‘em around,” he said, mostly to himself.

When Azaranth looked up and spoke. His voice did not waver, as if the past gesture had not just occurred. “Alright, we’re at your disposal. What do you want us to do?” Joke’s on us. They might have heard everything, even from that distance.

They came to the shaman like the weather and the night: inevitable.

The first of the two men meeting them was obsidian clad; he stood like the curtain of darkness falling across them all. The mask hiding the stranger's face concealed a secret from most, but not from the canny gaze of the old shaman. There was a malice stalking him, using his living soul as an anchor in the Overworld. It wasn't just the demon on his back that set him apart, it was also the Akashiman attire. Gum marked him for the bony grasp of Oxxad, he marked him for death.

Gum daren't let the first from his sight, but the second man's consequence beckoned. Where the dark soul had been the night, the second was the wintry weather. Face-to-face, the shaman squinted at the man's pasted complexion, it was as cold as the salty onshore bite. A scar tarnished his face, and it spoke a warning to the shaman. When the pale face spoke, a Salvarian accent came out; he was offering their services. It was then that Gum's suspicions were wholly confirmed: the composite conspirators had made arrangements for them.

Another arrangement, the Corone Rangers, moved to flank Radasanth's representatives. He couldn't be sure if the grunts were in on the plot, but it seemed as though they understood the teams at least.

Gum did some repositioning of his own before he spoke. He stood back from Red and her flailing crimson, dejected by the realisation that she was more troubling of a partner than even Ebivoulya. "Red struggles with the strength of her spirit," he said, apologising on her behalf. "I struggle with the strength of her spirit too." With what light remained, he kept checking back across the rocky cliff for the encroaching threat; threat to them that was, not to him and Red.

"I am Gum, and for today, I am an investigator working on behalf of the Radasanthian government." They were only half lies; investigation first, assassination later. Now, staring down his targets, guilt shook the steady ship of his composure. Fordstein's grip made the Xangu native unnaturally deceptive; and so insidious were the senator's strings, Gum could only slide, bewildered, into complicit wickedness.

A whistle whined from the darkness, distant and dreadful. Something came from the salt sprayed ink and BOOM!

Gum, shaken, looked at the Salvarian first. Then to Red. The Akashiman last. The hapless rangers tumbled and fumbled, while the sleek foreigners displayed their feline grace, staying upright against the rumbling ground. "Hmm," Gum wondered, watching as the runaways scattered in two directions. Most tugged desperately at the masked man and pointed to his nation's horizon. It was only a matter of time before the tainted patriot got the message; words or not, it was becoming obvious. Meanwhile, the remaining cats fell to their knees, praying for Red to give them salvation.

"Must have been a warning shot," the shaman billowed against the cacophony of crumbling rocks. "It was not close enough to harm us!" His outward concern for their attack was genuine and deceitful in equal measure.

A mighty shell had shattered a section of the cliff face.

“The fuck is the fuckin’ fuckers problem!?” The slew of curse words, and then some, had erupted from Amari as she steadied herself from the rumbling of the attack on the cliff and the subsequent fall of the debris.

Her verdant gaze fell to the catfolk who were desperately grasping at the man in the dark kimono. His attire was reminiscent of the Akashiman woman Amari had met once. Her eyes narrowed as things slowly began to fall into place in her head. He was from there, or at least affiliated with their people, she glanced over at Gum and their eyes met - she understood that he had come to that conclusion, no doubt long before her. Amari would have to keep a watch on the masked man.

Her eyes fell to the grovelling creatures at her feet and her lips turned down into a look of distaste. “Can we do something about this?” She muttered as she took a step back, waving her arms to shoo the creatures away to no avail. One shuffled forward and clasped onto her coat. Amari grit her teeth in frustration, “You're gonna get yourself hurt.” She muttered, not that it seemed to get through to the cat creature, who insisted on rubbing its face against Amari’s leg. Amari kicked her leg, throwing the creature off her.

“No one told me there would be heavy gunfire.” Amari muttered distastefully, more annoyed at the cat creature who had stubbornly shuffled over and gripped her leg again than being shot at.

One of the rangers cleared his throat, his eyes nervously glancing at the feverishly swaying energy tentacles protruding from her back. “Could be the Ixian Knights, Miss. Perchance they wish to gain the upper hand by staging an attack on the refugees?”

Amari’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Ixian Knights, her Master warned her about them, just as she opened her mouth to say something the masked man interrupted with a rebuttal toward the ranger.

His voice was hoarse and slightly muffled by the mask he wore. “The Knights don’t use such dishonorable tactics!” His hand clenching in visible anger, “They don’t have access to gunpowder, there was only one man in the entire army who used it! Don’t let the wounds of the past cloud your judgement today.”

“Well then…” Amari finished. “I suppose we can rule them out then, eh, Knight?” She asked as her eyes landed on the masked man. “What was your name again?” She asked curiously.

“I am Taka. Who are you?”

“Red.” She replied, as the two spoke, one of the energy tentacles brushed past the needy bipedal cat creature, it howled in pain as it let go of her, an angry red burn across its side and face. The creature howled and cried and caused a stir in the other creatures.

“I told you to stay the fuck back!” Amari snapped. “Fuck me…”

“What did you do?” the Ixian Knight growled.

“Oh, like I did it on purpose!” Amari spat back, “You saw what happened. I warned you all not to fuckin’ get to close. You look like you’re from Akashima, you tell the damn things to leave us the fuck alone.”

Another cat creature hissed and leapt at Amari with intent to attack, before it touched her one of the tentacles whipped forward and caught it by its throat, slamming it into the ground with a sickening snap.

Silence followed the unexpected death of the refugee. Amari stared at it with wild, wide eyes. She hadn’t meant to kill it, it was reflex. The damn thing came at her. Her eyes shifted toward Gum who looked alarmed, as their plan was quickly unravelling. Before anyone could address the matter, the sounds of clattering rocks and muttering voices began to echo up from the cliff side.

Taka’s hand hovered over the hilt of Rengoku. His blood had already been simmering at the frustration of culture shock. The catfolk had been nothing but annoying by grasping at the edges of his Kimono almost pleadingly as they clicked in their tongue. He was mad because he couldn’t understand them, he was mad because they touched him, he was mad because he was relegated to guard duty for people who obviously didn’t need his help, and he especially was mad that he knew that symbol from somewhere.

A breath helped calm his mind, knowing he had come close to being swept away in the rage. The Oni was certainly pushing the frustration, making things just a bit more annoying, a fraction more maddening. It was death by inches, slowly marching him to his own destruction. One day he knew he would fall victim to the blood within him, and he would never come back from the tempest. Taka, however, refused to succumb this day, and so he pushed beyond his emotions to examine the facts.

They seemed to cluster about him, pawing at him with an urgent frequency. That meant that he had the look of someone they wished to talk to. They also seemed to throw themselves at the enigmatic Red, who seemed belligerent at best. His hand moved from the hilt of his sword, while he realized that there was the issue of not being able to communicate with the catfolk. Perhaps it was their actions that would speak louder, they seemed to realize that relying on their language would not help them in the least.

The gaze of the tainted warrior turned to the rangers who seemed more content to stay at the edges of the events going on than actually participating. It made sense, they didn’t want to be here, and they certainly didn’t want Taka to gain anything but coin for his troubles here. The Dark Blade knew he would have more a chance of redeeming himself and purging the Oni than getting the Rangers to side with him. He raised his voice to them, “Gunso Nadiliya, a moment!”

“Leave me be ronin. I’d rather kiss N’jal’s spidery ass than get involved. Just play your part, get your gold and leave me be.” The response was heated to say the least. Taka sighed seeing that he was going to get nowhere.

He tried one last time, “Nadiliya-sama, I need your help-”

“Shut it Dark Blade, I’m not going to play patsy to one of the Ixian Generals. So help me Yedda if you don’t stop bothering me I will shatter that fancy mask of yours and shove the shards so far up your ass you will be spitting porcelain for a week.”

He turned back to the Catfolk before he sighed, “What I wouldn’t trade for a Nekojin to be here, maybe they can help out. What I wouldn’t give for this to have happened in Akashima-” He paused when he saw all the Catfolk turn to face him at the naming of his homeland. He knew something had occurred then.

He tested his theory: “Akashima.”

One of the Catfolk seemed to nod emphatically before pointing at the rune. Akashima and the Rune? Was this how they said the name of his homeland? If so that would have explained the rune, but that seemed too crude. Why draw a rune when you are more than sure the people of the land don’t speak the language? It was especially foolhardy in that if they used their language it would have required either someone experienced in runes, or someone who could use magic to understand them to figure out.

Considering none of the people he saw as part of the diplomatic envoy seemed that capable of the feat, it meant the rune might have been another ploy. Besides, the sigil seemed so familiar, as if he had seen it for all his life. It seemed ingrained in who he was, and he knew better than to toss such feelings aside as a casual happenstance.

Perhaps you do learn, little falcon…

The Oni’s words were reassuring in a mocking manner. Taka knew they were at odds, but the Oni also knew it couldn’t be against him all the time. If Sen no Oni he could get Taka to believe they were friends, the path to damnation would be all but assured. The scent of burned gunpowder and stone wafted up as he heard another sound. Metal upon stone, and rapidly. Whatever was coming up had begun to gain speed. Taka moved to the edge of the cliffs and looked down to see dark figures climbing the cliff face at an alarming pace.

Taka gestured the Catfolk back before he called, “Prepare yourself, whoever attacked the cliffside will be upon us any moment!”

Guess they’re taking the party to us instead. Azaranth slipped his sword in its sheath, turning to face the new presence that made its way up the cliff face. Battalions of sailors, many of whom were no doubt soldiers, would soon be standing at the edge, armed and prepared to retrieve their kin. They would be unmindful of any resistance, from the Rangers, Azaranth or otherwise. Of course, this was mostly speculation; their true appearance and reaction was all but anyone’s guess. They’d all know soon enough, for the noisy climbing sounds grew ever closer and closer.

The sun was almost swallowed whole by the horizon, and, as one, a dozen silhouetted figures rose from the jagged edge, each individual straightening to his full height as he stepped forth. They all moved to form several arrays, halting in position - their ranks burgeoning by the second. Azaranth could discern no signs of climbing equipment— Unsurprising, with how they could all be easily mistaken for lions. Except these ones are bipedal, and likely pretty pissed.

“Normally I’d be surprised,” Azaranth murmured to Taka, “but after seeing cats the size of humans… well, expect we’ll be greeting leopard people after this.” Even he did not sense the humor in his words, for they were strained, ultimately affected by the seriousness of the situation. Adding to the tension still were the restless, shifting mass of the quarantined cat-folk; some baring their teeth in hackle-raised hisses.

Silence filled the now chill air, the new arrivals, some of them maned, standing broader and taller than that of their blood-relatives. The various shapes of weapons jutted out from their huge figures, ranging from single-edged daggers to long, standard-bearing spears, the flags ominously fluttering in this young night’s wind. Most soldiers were clothed in leather, save a couple who sported the heavy embrace of silvery chainmail.

Azaranth gritted his teeth. The orderly manner which they had employed in positioning themselves was too calculated, detailed - a telltale sign, Azaranth feared, of battle.

Sighing, the Salvarian spoke again with slitted eyes. “Let’s go greet our guests.”

None spoke, or moved, as he and the others approached the small army. All eyes were trained on them, no-one from the lion-like soldiers so much as glancing toward the cat-folk. Which was, he reckoned, the sole reason for their presence. While darkness now mostly commanded the land, what remained of the dimming half-light was enough for Azaranth to see the displeasure in the lions’ amber-colored eyes.

A maned, armored general stepped forward to meet the four warriors. There was an elegance to the manner in which he carried himself, though it felt awkward, almost as if deliberately stifled in the presence of foreigners. Chin kept high, the feline warrior paused, leaving no less than four paces between him and the shaky entourage.

“Kal chuck na duck.” The creature’s voice was like distant thunder in Azaranth’s ears. “Dee not cors, imot kin A’khim. Dek horst hont lot Kevlarok.” Azaranth followed the warrior’s gesturing hand, his gaze falling on the cat-folk.

Kevlarok… Azaranth paused in thought, then flicked his gaze back to the maned general. “We do not speak your language. We know only Tradespeak.” Azaranth gestured toward him. “Who are you?”

“Imot kin A’khim,” he reiterated, pointing toward himself. “A’khim.”

“Alright, A’khim,” Azaranth nodded. At least you understand me. “I am Anubis,” he said, then made to introduce the others when suddenly a single soldier left the ranks, striding toward the cat-folk with intent, sword in hand.

Azaranth glared at A’khim, who was silent as he watched his soldier with narrowed eyes. Swearing under his breath, the monster-hunter twisted and ran toward the errant lion-man. “Cover me!”

Unmindful of A’khim’s shouting, the Salvarian halted before the lone soldier and halted.

Steel sword ringing as it left its scabbard, Azaranth snarled, “Back off.”

The lion-man bared his fangs in response. “Kit mi koy!”

Screams erupted from behind Azaranth. The soldier growled, bringing his arms up. Cursing, Azaranth side-stepped as the blade bit into the spot he’d just occupied, steadying his grip on his own. The weapon quickly came again, this time from the side, missing his shoulder by a hairbreadth as he stepped out of its way.

There was no chance he could placate the beastly warrior, no time for thought itself - as steel met steel, the shafts skittering along one another. Azaranth barely held underneath the huge sword, muscles straining against the creature’s awesome strength. His resistance wavering, the monster-hunter leaped out of its path as the weapon once more met the earth—

This time without the intention of letting his opponent live—

And if the soldier felt regret, there was no way of telling - for the only thing he felt was the momentary kiss of Azaranth’s sword, a red-colored kiss that spanned his throat from side to side - the creature sputtering and gripping his throat in futile attempt to save himself.

Heaving for breath, Azaranth turned his gaze, meeting the small army that approached to avenge their brother. Whose body spasmed as it met the earth with a heavy thud, the life slowly leaving him as hundreds of weapons left their sheaths.

Oh, balls.

Tension filled the air as everyone watched Anubis, looking for the first sign of action. The warriors looked across at their dying brethren, even as the pool of blood stretched across the ground. Taka knew his hand was over the hilt of Rengoku, but stayed his blade for now. His eyes taking in the situation as he observed the leonid warriors.

The conversation had beared fruit beyond what Anubis had done. While he had been stalled by the lingual barrier, it seemed they were not. Either they knew Tradespeak and were purposefully not speaking it, or they could understand but their throat could not speak it. Either way he recognized the way these warriors carried themselves. It was the markings of the superior beings. These warriors were not used to being challenged and their authority was to be absolute.

They acted like the Samurai of Akashima, lording their power over a lower caste. It explained why the cat folk seemed on edge and further why there was so much disdain for the word Kevlarok. These sailors were Kevlarok, and if Taka were to guess they were akin to the peasantry of these people. Which meant the peasants saw fit to warn them about Akashima. It was the move of a truly desperate person, exercising what little power they had.

It all snapped together in an instant and Taka spoke to Gum and Red, “They’re invaders. They don’t want Corone they want Akashima, that’s why these people wanted to talk to me and seemed to recognize the name of my homeland.”

As if to underline his point the leader A’khim seemed to bare his teeth at the sound of Taka’s homeland. Taka knew there was more to it than that, the rune was style a mystery, and one that he was so close to understanding. He looked out over the sea, lanterns lit up on the ships showing more than the three from earlier. It was a veritable fleet. However to march an army across Corone would be suicide, especially without the support of such a fleet, that would have required…

“We had it wrong all along, the nekojin weren’t drawing a rune, they were drawing a map. Of the rivers and outlets into Yanbo Port Harbor. It was meant to line up with a map, to show where we were going to be attacked. I knew I recognized it, not a single member of the Port Guard could have said they graduated without having those very lines burned into their memory,” Taka confessed. He looked to Anubis before looking at the other two, “We need to secure the Nekojin from A’khim so we can find out more of what they know. Perhaps get a court shugenja to translate for us. If they are invading Akashima it’s only a matter of time before they push further inland...and we already know they can.”

Taka drew steele, letting his blade shine in the light of the moon, finally rising over the crest. The scent of the sea comforting him as he prepared himself for battle. He spoke, his voice firm, “Anubis, if they threaten to overwhelm us, run to Gisela and find my second in command. He will know what to do.”

He drew his second blade adding it to the first as Taka dropped into the first stance of the Storm’s Eye Style. His breathing evened, his heart remaining steady as he closed his eyes, then looked upon the Leonid warriors not as potential threats, but as an enemy. His gaze hardened while he waited, daring the first one to begin the dance, and invite him into the fray of battle once more.

A roaring torch seared out of the maritime murk and towards their diverse assemblage. It landed before the body of the invader's slain out-rider. Gum lowered his eyes to the mottled amber light, it made visible the lion-man's gruesome visage. Of all people, the shaman knew something of the majesty of the panther family. Still, he had never before seen such an evolved lion; and yet, he reflected, for all its might, it still fell as a victim of the Salvarian's aptitude. I do not wish to face the scarred man in combat, he thought, admiring the foreigner's clinical prowess. More fire followed, it swept into the Coronian night. The attacking force were launching volley after volley of flares in an effort to illuminate the location where their scout had forged ahead.

With the falling fire, everything was illuminated . . . _{More than just the terrain.}

To the shaman's unease, he watched with dismay as the bandaged Akashiman began unraveling the conspiracy. Gum felt a jolt squeeze his tired old heart and he battled to chasten any outward hint of his distress. This is too soon. We are not ready to strike. Gum wanted to wait until the full complement of bulky cat warriors arrived to slash out at the runaways and their skillful friends. In the privacy of his mind, his panic increased as he watched the Akashiman delegate slot home the final piece of the jigsaw: that his home country was mapped out on the floor before them.

Gum glanced at Red, fishing in the colour of her eyes for any hint of recognition. If she hadn't cottoned on, Gum certainly had, and his worry was that everybody else at the table was just as well informed; the monstrous felines from the boats were coming for Akashima!

The flames from the flares spread through the windswept coastal grass, dry and yellow; and so did his lies, they burned into the night's crooked uncertainty: "We must hasten our journey to Akashima, and warn them of the incoming attack!" In all his days combined, he hadn't perpetrated as much trickery as he did in that one night. For the Xangu native to bring death to them all, he had to persist with the rotten pantomime. His cheeks baked in the glowing heat while he shot his eyes back and forth between the Salvarian and the Akashiman; he was scratching at their exteriors, hoping to uncover any suspicion they might hold for his lies. "They are coming, we must go!" Urgency was the oil for the mechanism of all scam artists.

Red, the Crimson Hand's chosen agent, finally met Gum's dull eyes. The shaman mouthed at her discretely, "Steady. Not yet." She mouthed back, "Why the fuck not?" While they discretely engaged, the others were concerned with the enemy's approach, the flames all around and the recent revelations about their final destination! Under the pressure of their plot's blistering pace, the stoic shaman would have to come to the fore with the same hasty resolution. "I will return," the shaman explained silently, his lips exaggerating each syllable. He then slipped into the flaming undergrowth while only his comrade was watching and the other two were distracted.

The heat of the spreading wildfire was overwhelming the gaunt shaman, his clothes were beginning to ignite. Gum was going to die in the flaming scrub. His dead master, a grand shaman with a strong spirit and stout magic, came from the trees and the rocks and the wind. Do U whispered to Gum, "Transform, Gum." The intensity of the moment took away his focus, as did the dread for his coming crimes. "Death is not the end. The lives you will take tonight will be born again, feel no guilt. The Xangu must persist and our teachings must go on. If you fail tonight, then our nation will fall. Continue!" Gum knew it, he had fallen into the of a role of a cautionary character, recounted since time immemorial; he was a good man under the whimsy of villains.

Gum's flesh rippled, repelling the licking flames. The skin on his body split, and thick fur grew from the tears. Within his body, the bones mangled themselves. At first dour and sorrowful, his eyes grew alive with golden yellow. Holding his hands to his face, he felt his fingers and toes morph into hulking paws with massive claws. His human teeth, suddenly impotent, fell from his jaws and into the mud below; a predator's complement of skull breaking canines and stout marrow crunchers grew to replace them. The old human body that restrained his every step was gone, he had been reborn a jaguar in its prime. He was a true cat, unlike the bastard cat-people surrounding them.

He leapt from the dangerous fire and disappeared further into the bush. From the shadows, he would stalk them, becoming the death he had foreseen.

Amari grimaced as she watched Gum dart off into the wilderness of the woods, the fire was quickly spreading and swallowed up the path he took. It left her alone with most of the rangers, if you excluded those who turned tail and ran, the tiny grovelling cat folk, what appeared to be bloody giant bipedal lions, and their two appointed bodyguards. Well Shit she thought to herself, among other expletives. She didn’t want to deal with all of it. If she had it her way she’d just turn and walk away from the blistering fire, the dramas of politics and the clusterfuck that this mission had become. Unfortunately, her way was not the way. Be damned with what Gum said, he was the one that fucked off into the bushes, it was time to start silencing some folk.

“You.” She gestured toward the man whom had introduced himself as Anubis.”Move the grovelling -” She paused, realising how irate and hostile she had sounded. She cleared her throat and changed her tone to a more authoritative one rather than volatile. “Move the refugees inland, downhill. Fire burns faster uphill.” Amari felt a little proud of herself for knowing that. “Gather the refugees and ensure whatever the fuck they are,” She gestured toward the larger and more aggressive of the creatures. “Don’t get through to the little ones.”

Amari’s tri-coloured eyes turned to Taka, “And you - come with me, we’ll need to talk to the Rangers about clearing a path through the parts of the forest that aren’t engulfed in giant searing flames.”

Taka nodded, but Amari couldn’t tell if he was believing her charade. The red headed woman turned on her heel and quickly headed toward the opposite end of the forest that Gum had entered, with Taka in tow. Her red and violent tendrils of energy flailing wildly behind her, the forest and flora around her began to decay and rot at their very presence

“What are you? No human would cause nature to react like that.” Taka asked as he kept a safe distance behind her.

“Not human.” Amari replied as she paused her stead, they were far enough away from the others now, shielded by the thicket of the decaying forest. “And unfortunately for you, not on your side.” She said as she slid off her leather jacket and gloves, revealing the dark cracked lines that marred her skin, the tips of her fingers were entirely blackened. Now was as good a time as any, she’d have to silence the man to stop any word getting to Akashima.

“What are you-”

Taka was unable to question her further, Amari had turned to ambush him, her tentacles aiming for his limbs as she had gone to jump him.

He should have expected this. The woman had killed in cold blood, it should have been easy to tell she would attack. The Ronin chided himself for being left open when the tentacles suddenly seized his arms. He struggled against the bonds, only to find them unlike anything he had ever encountered.
“What are you-”

He felt them tighten even as he tried to bring his weapons to bear against the woman. It was a fight he couldn't win when the pain of contact caused his skin to burn. He didn't let out a cry of pain, but he gurgled as he was held down. The blades leaving his grip as he was brought to the ground.

His sole good eye held no fear, no rage, just a calculated calm. He knew she would explain soon enough the cause of his incarceration.

His words turned into a gargle as Amari leap onto him, pushing him to the floor with her hand clasped tightly over his throat searing his flesh. Her tendrils bore done onto his flesh, wrapping around his limbs. Amari may not be physically strong, she may not be able to wield a weapon but be damned if she didn’t have the upper hand right now. With one hand still on his throat she used the other to rip off his mask, she was mildly surprised at what she saw, his skin was marred with the same black inkiness as hers. Amari broke into bitter laughter at the realisation that the two held more similarities than first thought. “You’re like me!” She exclaimed between her fits of giggles.

“We are not the same, you gave in,” He managed as he struggled against the tendrils.

“SHUT UP!” Amari snapped, as the tendrils around his limbs tightened till cracks were heard and his skin began to bruise and pools of blood formed underneath its fleshy surface. Amari winced as his bones snapped, feeling the same pain as he did. Unlike him however, Amari had dealt with the pain on a daily basis, with her Masters bone manipulation and shared masochism techniques. Amari grit her teeth and pushed the pain down so she could continue.

“There is still time for you. You haven't completely given up…” he struggled against the tendrils even as he hissed in pain. His voice remained even as he gritted his teeth, “Stop this, if you join me, we can put an end to senseless slaughter and save lives.”

“No, there isn’t. Payment has been made, the lives of others don’t matter, hell, our lives don’t matter.” Amari leaned down sneering at him as he struggled to speak. “This is business, Taka, you being part of the Ixian Knights is just a bonus, I’ll be sure to send Master Ulroke your regards.”

His eyes took on a sad almost pitying look before he closed them and bared his throat, “Stop toying with my life. Give me the warrior’s end and be done with this. You were right, you are lost, and you refuse to be found.”

“That’s no fun~” She quipped. Amari paused as her jeering face fell away to a more solemn one. “I’m so damn sick and tired of people telling me that. You have no idea who I am, what gives you the fuckin’ right to judge?” She tightened her grip on his throat, and he was unable to answer her between gasps of air. His eyes began to water and become bloodshot.

“You know..” She spoke quietly as she watched him struggle to breathe. “I met an Akashiman woman once, Master Ulroke had enslaved her and her sisters, not many survived. I told her once, if I could make it up to her I would. I suppose today is your lucky day.” Despite her words she refused to lessen the pressure on his trachea. “You’ll live, barely.” She said dully, “but you won’t be talking. My debt to Akashima, and it’s people are repaid.” She watched as his struggles gave way and his body fell limp, Amari checked to see if he was still breathing, his chest slowly rose and fell. Good.

Amari pried open his mouth and with her fingers glowing a soft red, she cut his tongue using her own fingers in a scissor motion, she quickly cauterised the wound and tossed the useless piece of flesh to the side. Amari stood and wiped the blood from her hands onto her pants.

’One down, one to go, Gum better have made some progress.’

Amari made her way back to the clearing, to say it was utter chaos was an understatement. Swords clashed and the ground was splattered with blood from rangers and catfolk alike. Shrill clicks and chitters rose over the sounds of the roaring flames. “Fuck me…” Amari muttered as she headed toward the fighting.

“Where’s Taka!?”

Amari turned to Anubis and shrugged, there was no longer reason to hide their objective. “Dead. Probably.” She turned to a nearby cat creature who was shaking one of its fallen brethren.She wrapped her hand around it’s tiny throat, a red glow formed and a sickening snap was heard. The creature fell over its deceased comrade. Dead.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“My job. If you don’t want to suffer the same fate, I suggest you and the rangers get the fuck out of my way.” Amari said dully, glancing at her hand and noticing the black marks on her fingertips were slowly travelling further up her fingers. It seemed her actions as of late held more consequences than she realised. Amari didn’t have time to worry about it right now though, she was in the middle of a battlefield. Another cat creature came at her, and in the same fashion as the first, it too had fallen to the floor. Amari winced and she felt nauseous. Still, she had to continue.

The refugees would not survive tonight and Akashima would remain blissfully ignorant.

Spires of smoke rose to foul the night sky, the wall of fire slowly reducing the surrounding bush to ash. The half-ring of flame was like an abandoned, glowing bastion of the sun on this fateful night. The night that marked the beginning of the demise of a small kingdom, and the birth of something else. Distant. Menacing.

Azaranth stepped back from the flames. The heat that left the quickly growing wildfire had sweltered him in his bloodied undershirt. He stood motionless among the bodies of the dead and dying, disbelieving what he’d just been witness to.

Even with the Rangers’ help, it had been almost nothing short of suicide to engage this many of the enemy. After all, the sides' expertise played little part in deciding a battle when there were mere scores against a hundred. As could ascertain the many fallen greencloaks, it usually led to nothing but death.

And the fact that his only reliable comrade was now presumed dead had engendered angst in the monster-hunter. His chances of survival upon hearing the news had grown significantly slim.

For it was clear as day now; neither Amari nor Gum, who had suspiciously disappeared, were to be trusted. Plans to investigate the pair of warships had led to battling those who helmed them, all in defense of a sulky group of an alien race. He had never agreed to defend these so-called Kevlarok, or meddle in international affairs. And even had he the choice - in retrospect - he would not have accepted this undertaking.

Alas, there was little he could do now.

Turning to a nearby greencloak, Azaranth spoke, “Hold them off. I’ll round up these guys and escort them somewhere safer.”

The woman's elven face creased when she narrowed her eyes. As if doubtful of his intentions. “Go.”

He turned, then paused. At this moment he noticed that this was the woman going by the name of Taicho Nadiliya. “You know you won’t survive this.”

She grinned. “Not the worst way to go, is it?”

Azaranth studied the bloodied brunette for a moment, felt something sharp in his chest. He nodded, then turned away, blinking quickly.

And so the remaining, thinned ranks of Kev warriors seethed as they shifted where they stood, bloodied weapons glinting in the firelight. Outnumbered and exhausted, the few remaining Rangers stepped forth to match the lion-warriors. A grimace stealing across his features, Azaranth edged toward the contracted mass of servant Kevlarok. Ignoring the meaningless pleas and tugs at what remained of his armored trenchcoat, Azaranth found the same Kev that had drawn a map of Akashima.

“Kal chuck! Kal chuck!” it implored, gripping his wounded arm.

Azaranth winced, yet did not shake off the clingy cat-person. He studied the creature’s eyes, eyes that were filled with not fear, but desperation. “I don’t understand. I need you to follow. Tell everyone. Follow... away from this place—”

“Nit! Nit! Kal chuck!” The Kev’s grip hardened, shaking his arm as its plea intensified. “Gorst ni tut Akashima!” Its grip weakened slightly, “Akashima!” it repeated, finally releasing him.

Recognition ripping through him, Azaranth was silent as he let the words register in the storm that was his mind. Somehow, some way, he could understand what this Kev requested - if not from the name of the sole nation this group so wished to help, then from the powerful look in its eyes. He could not tell how, nor why. But the pieces of the puzzle simply fell in place.

“Akashima,” Azaranth nodded. “Go, Kevlarok… in peace.”

The Kev’s face calmed as if it too understood him, tail flicking. Giving a firm nod, the monster-hunter twisted, and, sparing a glance at the skirmishing greencloaks, sheathed his sword and jogged down and away from the battlefield, where was the edge of the inland forest and the beginning of the merchant trail to the nearby city of Gisela.

Taka. You’d better still be alive.

Gum had become another feline figure in the night; and while the shadow and flame obscured him from sight, that cover couldn't hide from him his own conscience. While Red didn't know it, he had moved through the brush and followed along with her, witnessing with frustration her gung-ho approach. From the crackling woods, he had snarled at her crude assault of Taka, the innocent and dutiful Akashiman. She had done what he had been afraid to do: make the attack without overwhelming odds. His partner's words, "This is business, Taka," had caused the fur on the back of his neck to bristle; it chilled him even against the heat of the wildfire. Watching a man defending the independence of his nation like that struck a sorrowful chord for the Xangu native and his inner tumult deepened. As Red left Taka almost dead, Gum wondered to himself, would it really be the end of my people if I turned against Senator Fordstein's wishes? Does he really command that kind of power? I fear I would not be able to defeat Red nonetheless.

A foreboding thunderhead rolled ashore, its broad and heavy expanse closed over the dying sun and provided the final black of night. The ultimate arrival of the hulking lionkin and the battle that ensued provided Gum his cue to emerge from cover. Crouched, his triangle ears pinned back and his tail twitching with excitement, he was watching and waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on his victim. Before him, playing out against the backdrop of fire, blood and thunder, was a lonely encounter; a brutal lion reared back, showing its bare barrel chest to a plucky ranger, who himself was pouring all his might into the tight grip of a shield and sword. Between the two combatants, whimpering on the floor, was one of the meek form of a shriveled refugee. The lion drove forward, swinging a deadly battle axe at the devout ranger.

At that moment, Gum leapt from the bushes and and made a choice he would have to carry forever. He pinned his victim to the ground, the weight of his feline form pushing his enemy face first into the dirt. The thunder broke and the rain poured; the fire all around hissed. The jaguar shaman sank his jaws into his prey's skull, piercing the brain; it was a trademark kill. Gum had chosen, he murdered the lowly refugee while both the ranger and the lionkin reeled and watched. I must do this. I must secure the support of Senator Fordstein, otherwise my people will perish. Gum released his bite and let the limp body fall into the mud. The lion-warrior moved to stand beside Gum, his fellow feline. It seemed as though the invaders had been expecting a jaguar's arrival all along.

Together, the lion-man and the jaguar squared off against the lonely greencloak while the refugee's blood ran fresh and pink, swirling in the puddles. Livid at the complications of foreigners and his homeland being invaded, the ranger rushed against the odds and lunged at the two beasts opposing him. Gum slid in the mud, trying to dodge the attack, but instead felt a stout shield bash to the head. With a frustrated grunt, the lion shook his healthy mane; it was as if the ranger's attack was an unnecessary bother. "Rack, rack! O dukt, gerg." The lion's words were maddeningly exotic to Gum, but he nevertheless knew exactly why his ally was frustrated: the greencloaks weren't in on the plan. They were defending their homeland, as was their duty. Then, without warning, the lion-man stretched out his heavy paw at the head of the ranger who was steadying for a sword swing. Holding his foe's head in his paw, the lion lifted the ranger off the ground and jolted him back and forth. With a broken neck, the ranger fell to the floor and the leonid bellowed with content.

Squelch! Gum knew the sound of metal entering flesh. He twisted his long body to see another ranger, whose face was speckled with warm blood. The jaguar's ally fell to the ground, slumping next to the runaway's lifeless corpse; there was a sword jammed deep in the lion's back. Taking a few steps backwards, the shaman tried to put some distance between himself and this second greencloak trying to attack him. Eye contact, he thought, could maybe clear the air; after all, Gum could not speak while he was in jaguar form. Shaking his big cat head, Gum thought he was free to plea with the ranger since the ranger's weapon was still jammed hilt-deep in the dead lion. His confidence was misplaced. The ranger pulled a knife from his boot and launched at Gum, tackling the big cat to the ground. Gum heard that same sickening noise, the sound of sharp metal slicing into flesh. Then the sting of pain. The ranger had plunged a dagger into Gum's rear thigh.

It was the pulse of shock from the wound that fueled Gum's transformation, he turned back into a human before the greencloak's eyes. Recognising Gum as a friend, the ranger jumped to his feet and backed away from the wounded shaman.

"Help me to my feet, please." His calm words were juxtaposed on the canvas of a storming battlefield.

The greencloak obliged, "Sir, I had no idea it was you. I apologise." After helping Gum to his feet, the greencloak stumbled back and realised something, "Are you a traitor?!"

"No," said the shaman. "Red and I are acting on orders from Senator Fordstein himself. The agenda to stop the other two and the refugees is the agenda of the cooperating nations of Radasanth, Gisela and Serenti. We are moving against Akashima."

"What?!" begged the ranger, his thoughts spun with anger at the unnecessary deaths of his friends

"Yes," conceded the shaman, "Spread the word amongst the remaining rangers—stand back and let the lions through on their way to Akashima."

"Y-Y-Yes, of course," stuttered the ranger.

"Fordstein said there will be medals in it for all of you."

With Gum, Amari, and a number rangers working together, the refugees had no chance. It was a slaughter, they were defenceless and the way they were torn apart was nothing short of brutal. The encroaching bipedal lions didn’t bother Amari nor Gum, once the rangers let them through they laid waste to the catfolk that fled and stormed onward toward Akashima.

The two now rode on a single horse, with Amari taking the lead as they headed back toward the capitol. Leaving the ashen remains of a fire and battle behind them. Gum had his wrinkled hands wrapped around Amari’s waist and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, it was a damn inconvenience that he couldn’t ride his own horse. It wasn’t hard.

“Why are you still eating that?” Gum asked from behind Amari, his tone audibly disturbed.

Amari shrugged as she bit into the crispy haunch that once belonged to one of the tiny cat refugees. “Honestly, they don’t taste that bad, kinda wish I had more.” She offered Gum the piece she had. “You should try.” He held up his hand and politely declined.

“Red, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Amari shrugged, she didn’t care what the old man thought of her, they had a mission to do, and they succeeded. Akashima would be invaded and if all went according to the senator's plans it would eventually fall under the Corone Government rather than remaining a sovereign nation.

“Your hands are blackened…“ Gum said as he gestured to her hand with a pointed finger. Amari glanced down at it, he was right. The signs of her corruption had gone beyond that of tiny fractures across her skin, her fingers were entirely black and it was encroaching onto her hands. “Ah. That.” Amari replied, dropping the last of the cat haunch to the floor. “Ya see, my race is the Ar’Tuel, I don’t have a full understanding of what I am yet but it’s been made clear that any negative action I take, anything that results in death causes… well, some form of corruption I guess.”


She could feel Gum tighten his hold around her waist, his tone shifted to one of concern. “Why do those things Red?”

His question caught her off guard, sure she had heard similar statements before but none that were so straightforward. “If I don’t, who would?” Amari asked. “I’m not the smartest person around, but it was clear even to me you were struggling with this mission. I figure I’d take the brunt of it, I have no personal attachment to anything, so it’d have less of an impact on me.” She offered Gum an unseen smirk, “Could say I did it for you, or you could just say I did it for the gold, or for the hell of it. Its up to interpretation.”

Amari felt Gum’s head press against the back of her neck and it took all her willpower not to have him off of her then and there. She hated her personal space being encroached upon and this old man was all up in it. “And you healing me, was that for the gold too?”

She felt him lift his head once more and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Something like that, although if you keep up with the touchy feely crap I’ll stab it again.”

The two would continue on to meet the Senator, who’d congratulate them on their work, pay them with money stained in the blood of the innocent and they’d part ways. Amari wasn’t sure if they’d meet again, she didn’t care, but it was safe to assume that they parted ways on somewhat amicable terms despite the macabre circumstances.

Leaning forward in his saddle, Azaranth snapped the reins atop a sable gelding, the beast zipping through the darkness like a piece torn from night itself. He had ‘borrowed’ it from the Rangers on his exit from the battlefield, leaving the company's number of horses minus one. Azaranth doubted that such a loss would prove so much as mildly hindering; besides, even if the Rangers were to be affected by the forfeiture, it was still a necessary sacrifice to make.

The mount, however, had proven to be an enduring animal; of its few traits, it seemed, patience was a prominent one. It would display more and more effort to accord with his commands, in silent answer to his inflated snaps of the reins and side-kick from the heels.

A rather favorable horse, he decided, fitted for the itinerant profession of monster-hunting. Thus, he had gone on and named it Ramses.

"Hiyaa!"

The scent of saltwater hung faint in the air, where behind the flanking treeline paralleled the continent’s jagged coastline. Wrinkling his nose at the salty odor, Azaranth now noticed that the wildfire's glow had faded to nothing but a lint of gold in the horizon; it would be, he reckoned, fewer than a half-dozen bells before he was within sight of Gisela’s towers.

The city that would always stir sour memories in his mind, ever since that fateful journey from its vessel-filled harbor to distant Beinost. And in light of this sentiment, the four-bells journey proved rather unpleasant. His new companion, however, and the old motive of doing the greater good barely held him aloft.

He was wounded, tired and despondent - how, after all, was he going to find Taka’s second-in-command in time? It seemed like he was, in truth, fighting a losing battle. Ramses was swift, but time was ever swifter.

Neighing suddenly, the horse came to a skidding halt and reared alarmingly, its screams ringing through the surrounding boles. Calming it with magic, Azaranth peered through the gloom and found its cause for panic. He then dismounted, a passionate scowl marring his features.

Stepping forward a few paces, Azaranth halted before the mildly familiar presence. The outline of the tall, lone figure showed no signs of weapons. “Out of the way. Or die.”

The figure was motionless when a moment later the voice of A’khim rung once more in the air. “Kal chuck, wunduniit. Duk ot oy, A’khim. Imot kon Azaranth.”

Whose breath left him through gritted teeth. “I'm tired of your bullshit. I won’t ask you again - let me through.”

The Kevlarok's tail swished behind him. “You are impatient, warrior.”

Azaranth’s brows rose.

A’khim seemed to savor the moment, then spoke once more with a jarringly heavy accent. “I expect you would want me to explain my… revelation. The language of the Kevlarok is a sacred thing, and here I am conversing with you in yours out of necessity, and my superiors’ knowledge.”

"You know Tradespeak?" Azaranth asked.

“Obviously, and so do a couple others of my kind. But let us not dwell on mundane matters; I understand that time is of the essence, and that you must travel to Gisela posthaste. But before I let you pass, I ask you one thing. Answer honestly: why risk your life for a small, insignificant pocket of land? Why do you wish to help Akashima?”

Azaranth could not decide whether to answer the query. He was in a race against time, but outright attacking this Kev could lead to his very demise. And with his being in an already weakened state, Azaranth chose to cooperate, for the time being.

The next few words soured his mouth. “Because it’s right. A concept I’m familiar with, unlike you. Now let me pass.”

“Why? Why suffer for a nation - is it relatives? Family? Or merely an inclination to sacrifice others and risk your own life in favor of the Akashimans?” A’khim questioned. “Tell me, I want to hear.”

None of your damned business. “You’re asking the same question, which I’ve already answered. Hurry up if you’re not done. Trust me, you don’t want to test my patience.”

A’khim, seemingly unaffected by the threat, continued, “It is futile.” Azaranth requested no explanation, for it came on its own accord. “There are already two legions on their way to The Capital. They have been on the march for precisely four days, with only one remaining before their arrival.”

Azaranth grunted.

“Do you truly think that helpless excuse for a company could do aught for the Akashimans? Even if they were to try, Corone would not allow them to meddle.” The Kev paused, tilting his head in thought. “You have not an idea, have you?”

The hell is he talking about? “No. Enlighten me, and do it quickly.”

“The Senate of Corone has attempted to reach an agreement with us, but alas, with the slaughter of our people, we shall carry on alone with what was in the plan: invade Akashima and crush its little army. I am here to kill you to stop the spread of such… sensitive information, but instead, I shall act as if we had never met. Consider it an act of kindness, and my own curiosity.

And one more thing, Azaranth - after you reach Gisela, do not meddle further in this. It is not your war. Go back to your home. Fight, perhaps, when it is your country that is being invaded. That day, I should tell you, is not far to come.”

The Salvarian’s breath was harsh in his throat, the air painful as it left his lungs. He struggled, “I will see you then, A’khim. And if you have the audacity to so much as gaze toward Salvar, I’ll kill you with my own hands. I promise you that."

“I look forward to the day.” The grin was visible even in the darkness. “Now, assuming that you value your own life, I suggest you leave now before my entourage arrives.“

Hearing the sound of horses, Azaranth twisted and jogged to Ramses, swung into the saddle once more. When he looked up he saw that A’khim was gone, the rustle of underwood betraying his path of exit.

He sent the stallion into motion, the lump of dread burgeoning in his throat. This isn’t looking good. Two legions already, and not to mention that stationary fleet. The bastard’s right, Akashima won’t hold for long, even with the advance warning. But I need to hurry. The sooner they know the better.

And so Azaranth Ubissad of the House of Ubissad made his way to Gisela, in search of a fantasy, where overhead, lightning streaks danced to the booms of thunder, the rain descending in endless droves. Within moments, both man and horse were soaked to the skin.

Indeed, the forthcoming weeks were looking rather grim.

This thread had the best story of the first round, introducing a mysterious plot to overtake Akashima. It also gave a purpose for the Nekojin being inside the territory. The story was well paced with hidden motives revealed at ideal times. It also featured the best character in the first round from gum, who ultimate decided that the only way to save his people was to side with the enemy. As a result, the greatest strengths were story and persona. What prevented higher scores was the odd write out of Taka. I never got the impression he was a particular threat to the plot. There were also some feminine tropes in Mari’s early posts that are overused and trite. The weaknesses were setting and action. The actions were very confusing, requiring several re-reads to understand exactly what was going on. Fez’s descriptions were far too over the top in terms of detail. It broke the flow of the writing. Overall, this thread had the best story of round one, leading to an above average score.

Story- 7 (The best story of the round. The write out of Taka was odd, as the thread did not particularly build him to be that big of a threat to the plot)
Setting- 4 (Dense writing detracted from the story)
Pacing- 6 (The thread flowed well, but ultimately the pacing was negatively affected by confusing actions)
Communication- 6 (Verbal cues were fine)
Actions- 5 (Actions were confusing and somewhat difficult to follow for a variety of different reasons including imprecise adjectives, overreliance on metaphor and some usage errors)
Persona- 6 (Gum’s excellent persona was overshadowed by a cliché introduction and limited development from Mari and Fez and Tainted Bushido’s rushed death)
Mechanics- 7 (Some usage errors, but no notable spelling errors)
Technique- 6 (Lay of the metaphors. This was ridiculously dense)
Clarity- 6 (Negatively affected by actions)
Wildcard- 10 (All elements met; full participation w/ timely posts; no powergaming)

Total- 63/100

Gum receives receives 546 EXP and 63 GP
Mari receives 806 EXP and 77 GP
Fez the Kid receives 588 EXP and 63 GP
Tainted Bushido receives 720 EXP and 63 GP

Rewards have been added on 4.0!