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Angelcynn: The Myrcian Conflict - Act 4


Shin
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"No, no no, if the two of you had plans, far be it from me to interrupt. Besides, as I said, Sidney and Adele are off somewhere. If we're going to find clothes, I'm roping all of you into it. And yes, quite! I've already found a set of rings for myself and Adele~ This place has been so wonderful, so far. It's got a far different atmosphere than Wyke... I like it." Yes, Raewald was being quite pleasant, on the whole. Cass found herself smiling wide, thinking about it all. Those negative thoughts won't be getting in the way of my day! Not this time. I've friends, and a whole city to explore~

Or so she thought. Of course, Claire knew nothing other than books, how trifling. But, the mention of Malaphar... Well, perhaps Cass would've shied away from something so sinister before, but now, with what she knew of things... "Oh, really? Then count me in. I'm sure if it has something to do with that maniac, you'll need someone to watch your back while Freya's watching your front. We can't let our best mage get herself into more trouble, can we?" Cass snickered, the thought of what had transpired with Scuttles both amusing in the moment and a grim reminder of the sort of thing Claire got stuck in with.

"Besides! If I'm to stuff you in pretty clothes later, I can't have you wandering off out of my sight. I've nothing better to do, so, where is this lead, hmm?" Cass leaned in, forgetting for the moment that she had none of her weapons on her. Surely Freya had a spare knife, if things got dire.

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Arrow Guard

The fletcher looked puzzled by Owen's request, someone who was looking not to get hit by arrows wasn't a concept she'd come across much. "You mean you need a way to not get hit by arrows? I've never had anyone ask me that before... but I think I might know a trick that my grandpa told me about." she pondered, interested in Owen's request. "I can't do it myself... it's something fancy with a shield."

She stopped for a moment, lighting up upon a sudden realisation. "I'm friends with one of the guards! I know grandpa showed him the trick! If you come back tomorrow, I can bring him over and he can show you! He's a lot bigger and stronger than you, but the technique should be the same! He's a little scary, but he wouldn't hurt a fly!"

 

Bad Manners

The doorman grinned, looking at Alain's icicle intently. Initially, he hadn't been too impressed with Alain's party trick and appeared intent on continuing to insult him. "That's right you goat-shagging librarian. I'll shove that icicle right up yer..." he began, only to stop as Alain's eruption of icicles posed a more material threat. "I think yer full of frozen shit, packed in like snow up yer arse. Lettin' it all stink out yer guts if yer catch my drift."

Moving to the side, the doorman gestured for Alain to enter. "Welcome to the Cursing Horseman, yer badger nosed foot fungus. I see yer fit enough to mingle with the worst."

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"Very well then, Ted. I will leave Nacht in your care, I look forward to the result." Adele replied, taking her new piece and hooking it on her belt, before turning towards her companion for the day, the Toulousean bird rider... who looked considerable smaller than usual without his accompanying large slab of poultry.

"Marcus, I'm finished here for now, and plan to take a look at what else the market has available. If you want to follow along, you're free to, but if you wish to stay here for now, that is also fine." She mentioned, figuring it best to keep the man in the loop, before exiting the blacksmith and walking down the street. The next place of interest wasn't very far, Adeltrudis turning the corner to find herself faced with an armoury. Deciding she may as well see what they too had for sale, she stepped inside...

Adele enters the armoury!

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Alain couldn't help but be amused. Proud to the very end. Oh well, he'd gotten what he wanted--no need to pull rank in a place like this. "Good to hear it, be seeing you then," he said, nodding rather politely to the burlesque man, and making his way inside. The Cursing Horseman was... an interesting place to say the least. The atmosphere here was far more wild than at the Codger, which he'd noted had been a little subdued. Maybe he just hadn't been paying attention though. He'd gone to the Codger for business, here, he was actually a patron. And as a patron, the first thing he wanted to get out of the way was food, so he set about doing just that. 

"Hey," he said, beckoning the bartender towards him. "Mind tellin' me what you guys got for food around here?" He wasn't expecting much, just something to sate the hunger and last him through the afternoon. 

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"It's really different from Hull." Claire nodded in agreement, although she hadn't really seen a lot of the city itself yet. She'd have to take a better look around earlier, in a less... questionable area than the asylum. Cass was still insistent on coming with her however, which was a little disconcerting. It's just a stupid dream, don't let it bother you... 

The frustration showed on her face for a short moment, before giving way to a sigh. "I suppose a lunatic asylum is a little bit more dangerous than a library, isn't it?" Claire hoped that they would have better luck than in Magon with it, but she had been advised to take help with her. The more the merrier, I guess... That was what she tried to tell herself anyway, although she still wasn't overly enthusiastic.

"There was a mention of Malaphar's magic in a book I read." she explained, trying to brush off her prior thoughts. "The person who brought it to the library apparently insisted that it was evil... and then he got locked up." The mage supposed it made sense, and perhaps he was just genuinely insane, but if they were allowed to speak with him, it might be the most concrete lead she could find on the wizard.

Edited by SB.
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"I would say so, yes! So you should have extra help. I'm coming with you~ Besides, I can just follow you even if you say no. The last time I let you alone I found you with an arrow in your leg. I'd much rather that be the worst condition I find you in, Claire." Cass was probably chiding her too hard, but it was a serious worry. They were in a new town, and... Heading off to an asylum, goodness...

"Really, Claire... You just love getting yourself into trouble. Perhaps you're trying to get me to notice you? 'Come save me, princess,' hah." Cass had to make a joke of it lest she grimace at the idea of Claire heading towards an asylum instead of shopping or relaxing.

"In any case, let's go, then. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can relax like normal people, yes?" How much can we even get out of someone who's lost their mind over something like this, anyway? Time to find out, I suppose... Cass hadn't missed Claire's moment of discomfort, either, but there was a time and place for that. Besides, it could've simply been related to the asylum.

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Just because Scuttle attacked me in Magon doesn't mean I'm completely incapable... Claire offered an irritated huff and shrug in response to Cassandra's concerns, although her joking comment took her by surprise, making the mage completely stop briefly. "Umm, yeah. Definitely." she responded, glancing away awkwardly.

"Aaaanyway, let's get going." she quickly ushered the trio along towards... where she thought the building was, anyway, althouhg her focus wasn't entirely on the task at hand. How do you always find a way to get under my skin Cass? It was irritating. Even in dreamland, Claire couldn't find a way to get back at her for it. That's not even real, stop being an idiot. Ugh... She really wished that something that wasn't even real didn't bother her so much, but it did. What a pain...

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"Yes... we'll see about that, then." Sidney muttered, glancing away. "Mostly I hope she doesn't want me to try and make up for the time... I don't think Owen would be very happy about that, nor would it really help Raewald-Wyke relations very much at all. I'll just ask him about it after." That's probably smarter anyway. "What's happening in Myrcia? I haven't heard much of that. Is there any combat going on, or do you think it's something that will happen?"

The comment on her mother's thoughts on the garden brought a smile to Sidney's face. "Well, she always liked the paintings more. I'm surprised she'd be opposed to a pretty garden, though. Owen will like that, though it's not quite as grand a sight as the royal Wykian guardian, but I'm sure he'll find the quirks of our home interesting."

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"Truly?" Owen's hopes were raised, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. "That would be wonderful, then. I'll make sure to come by tomorrow." He bowed, only briefly, towards the storekeeper. "I realize this is an odd request, I'm very grateful, perhaps tomorrow I'll buy something as well." It wouldn't do to leave the shopkeeper empty-handed after a favor, they were people too!

Well, that was all he wanted to get done that morning, so with time to spare, Owen made his way out of the fletcher's. Checking on the soldiers as they carried their belongings to the castle, and guaranteeing rooms in the noble's wards for his vassals would keep him rather busy!

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"Two thousand? That's...a lot." It was at this point Serge realized he was very under prepared. Both of the mercenaries were asking for quite a bit to hire them, and he didn't have that much to his name just yet. Still, unlike the blue haired woman, this lady gave good reason for such a high price. Repairs did indeed cost quite a bit, and the thought of their own personal ballista did interest him. Not to mention, she was far more friendly than his previous encounter. At the very least, she knew how to joke, which was a good sign. He envisioned her getting along with Hans and Lars nicely. "...Alright. I'll admit, I don't have that much with me, on hand, but you've interested me. My name is Serge Molenli, leader of the Hearthfire Crew. And I can return later with the money in tow, or you can follow me to meet my employer, as well as the group I'm traveling with." Serge then blushed, and scratched the back of his head, realizing what he had just said out loud. "That...didn't sound as good as I thought it would. Eheh..." Back at Wyke, he had had the money on hand to hire all four of the mercs, but this time he was waiting on Owen to give him the money he needed. The thing is, Serge didn't want to ask for an amount and it either be too much or too little, though the former could have been solved by simply returning the money he didn't need. Of course, that still didn't account for pay... "Ahem! So, whats your decision? If you come with me now, I can give you the details about the job sooner rather than later."

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Harming Arms

The armory was less of a bustling workshop and more a display of general arms and armour, the rows of blades and weapons certainly were more organised than the blacksmith. Considering the number of soldiers that were present in the building, it seemed that the establishment was popular with the army. An older man was at the desk, a rather large and musclar one who appeared to be missing his right arm from the shoulder down.

Armoury Wares Revealed!

 

Colourful Vocabulary

"Fuck you, lady legs, enjoy your visit." The doorman replied, leaving Alain to enter the bar.

Whilst not necessarily as dirty or foul as the Codger, the interior was still very rough and ready. The room was full of undesirables, cruel and violent looking folk who one wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley. Thugs with twisted faces, goons with broken noses, the bar had collected perhaps the most grusome assortment of people Alain had seen in a long while.

The bartender wasn't much better, behind the battered counter was a man covered in scars. Leaning over to listen to Alain, it became clear that something had taken a good chunk out of his right ear. "What's that clown humper? Yer need something to eat?" he asked, practically climbing over the bar to listen to Alain. "We got all sorts. We got roast pigeon, fried pigeon, pigeon pie and the chef's surprise. Any o' that tickle yer fancy?"

Another patron didn't appear happy, approaching Alain and the bartender menancingly. "Oi, badger breath! Where's my pie, don't serve a badger in a dress before you're done with me!" he barked. The bartender looked at him, putting his hands on down on the table firmly.

"Yer take yer flounderin' back to the pond with yer, fishguts." the bartender retorted, apparantly hearing this man far better than he had Alain. "Takin' another order ain't gonna make yours not happen, this fancypants in bloomers will be waitin' too!"

Cursing Horseman recruitment revealed!

 

Fruit and Loops

The asylum was tucked out of sight in a rather shady part of town, it appeared even the low lifes didn't really want to have much to do with it. A dark stoned building hidden amidst the slums, the only indication it were any different was the guard posted at its door, with a spear at his side and keys on his belt. As the trio approached, he did a doubletake, perplexed by the fact they were in that part of town, let alone heading for the asylum.

"Hello there, ladies. Gotta say this ain't a part of town that you want to be wandering around in." he warned, looking especially at Cass and Claire. "Only having one guard with yer is mighty brave. Surely there ain't anybody you want to talk to in here, all a bunch of headcases talkin' nonsense."

 

Garden Plans

"Your mother had insisted on another flowerbed, but I felt that something with more character would be better for the centre of the garden." Anthony replied, avoiding the topic of Myrcia and his daughter's prison sentence for the time being. "There's only so many roses a man can look at before he wants a change."

His tone became more solemn when it came to Myrcia, Anthony was visibly troubled by what was on his mind. "Myrcia has been under financial pressure from Deira... their economy is barely managing and their army has no means of even holding Deira back if they chose to invade. Intelligence suggests that Deira will be moving soon, and with Wyke under fire only Raewald would be able to take them on. A war of this scale hasn't been seen for centuries, the result would be devestating either way."

 

Employment

Vesta at least appeared interested in Serge's offer, but she appeared a little hesitant at his mention of not having the money currently. "Oh? I'm glad you're interested in hiring me, Mister Serge... your employer will have the money, right?" she asked, curious to the nature of the assignment. "I mean, if you think they'll want you to hire me, that's great... but a little more information would be nice. I need more details if I'm going to follow you to meet a mystery employer! It's not that you seem suspect, but it's more for my own safety than anything else."

Edited by Shin
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Angus received Morta's upbraiding placidly; her rage washes over him, secondary to his own disappointment. "Didn' even understand?", the mooncalf mutters to himself. "Really can't handle this delicate crap f'r beans." It was an oddly powerless feeling, and stung Angus' sense of duty. If he could louse up his personal life this badly, how gravely could he ruin greater affairs? 

Nelon's interruption was more welcome than he knew. He understood, at least. Was it just her? Only Engel knew. Angus begins to offer Nelon thanks, but the boy's jaw quickly drops. "I've lost it." He's realized something, but not soon enough by half. "Did I even mention I didn't know 'til after we..." His senior knew by now, but Angus still wouldn't say it. "Does it get any easier?" Angus cocks his head not unlike a dog--the bear even mirrors the motion! "Or is 'mostly doin' right' outta reach too?"

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Claire was silently glad that the scholar had told her to bring copany with her. Travelling through the city slums just to find the place was not exactly what she'd been hoping for. WHen they'd been in Hull, she'd kept well clear of those areas, but times had changed. If they wanted to find the truth, it seemed unavoidable.

Either way, the guard's warning didn't sway her decision at all. "I understand that there was a former priest admitted here recently. I... happened across one of his old books, and I was hoping that I could speak with him about it. We can handle ourselves." Perhaps what he'd said didn't bode well, but they'd dealt with far worse than a bunch of disarmed hooligans. They had nothing to worry about.

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Serge looked to both of his sides. This information could be used easily against enemies of Prince Owen, and he didn't know how trustworthy the people around him were with information. Indeed, coin seemed to be the ruler in this, and many of these people may easily sell out the Princes whereabouts for a price. So, he motioned for the lady to move in a bit closer, and when she did, moved up to her ear and whispered quietly so no one but her could hear. "My current employer is Lady Adeltrudis Herman of Wykian Nobility, and her traveling companions include both the Prince and Princess of Wyke. My company, although small as it is, currently serves as their bodyguards, among other things." He backed up, crossed his arms, and spoke at a normal volume, once more. "It sounds far fetched, I know, but it's the truth. And I can't say anymore without you taking the job. I warn you, though. It's as dangerous as it sounds."

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What a wonderful area of town to be visiting... Cass couldn't help but reminisce over Wyke's own slums, seeing these back streets. It was expected, really. Raewald couldn't be all glitz and glamor. Every city had its lower class, after all... Right? Nothing to be too concerned over, really. With Freya and Cass there, Claire was unlikely to run into any actual trouble. In fact, trouble was going to come from them. Cass didn't quite appreciate the man's comment, as they approached the asylum.

"One guard? Perhaps you've forgotten your spectacles at home, but this fair woman is being escorted by two people perfectly capable of snapping whatever happens to get in her way. Really, now. No respect, just because I'm wearing a dress." Cass huffed, folded her arms, and waited for Claire to ask what she needed. We can handle ourselves indeed.

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So this is the asylum. The building was about what was to be expected, a cold and hardened place to keep in all the people judged too crazy for normal society. One guard stood before them, and already Cass seemed to disagree with him. Also to be expected... "Regardless of your assessment of the strength of my companions, even were I the only strong one among us, you'd find me to be up to the task of defending them," Freya informed the man.

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Experience

Nelon seemed to have some sympathy for Angus, either that or he were too polite to agree with him. "Baron Kearney, at such a delicate age you are balancing your own title, your aid for Prince Owen and your own personal life." Nelon replied, giving Angus a thoughtful nod. "If you were able to carry such a burden alone from the beginning, you would not need to grow any further. I cannot say I fully understand your relationship with Morta, but I believe it is not in your character to intentionally cause harm. You may not have the word now, but you will find a way to speak to her."

Continuing down the market, Nelon pointed out one of the stalls, manned by a middle aged woman. The pile of cloth in front of her was a promising sign for Angus' mission. "At least you will be able to solve one of your woes today... but I would like to see you with regards to your combat ability." Nelon added. "Whilst valiant, your techniques are unrefined and leave you incredibly vulnerable. If you wish to continue to serve Prince Owen, I would very much like to help nurture your abilities. Even with my wounds, there are things that I can show you."


Lost Souls

The guard smirked, Cass' response hadn't particularly changed his mind. "Awfully brave of you to wear a dress, I'm sure some of the inmates'll appreciate it." he replied, stepping to the side to let them through. "Let's hope that tincan keeps the three of you safe, anyone choosin' to go in a place like here probably deserves to stay."

Claire mentioning the priest caused the man to chortle, his gruff voice letting of bursts of laughter as he unlocked the door. "You mean old Ezekiel? Nobody's come to see him in years, no friends, no family. Not even the church send people to see him." he added, opening the door slowly. "How about you see how brave you feel after you've had a wander. He's the last door on the left, just before the stairs. Maybe if you like him you can take him home with you!"

The shadowy entrance to the asylum gave off an eerie aura, the depravity and dread housed inside almost leaked out to the street. Moans and groans could be heard, the occasional shriek or mad laughter adding to the cacophony. Rusted bars trapped the inmates in cells lining the entire corridor. The darkness consumed their far vision, but there were at least a dozen cells in view.

 

High Class

Vesta leaned in to listen to Serge, anticipating some sort of ghastly task. Was it such a task, one so secret that it had resulted in only a whisper? Furrowing her brow, she expected the worst, but the moment he uttered Adele's name. she leaped back - almost falling from the table.

"You're a bodyguard for royalty?" she spluttered, her whisper so loud it could barely count as one. "They're in Tytila? That's crazy, there's so many questions that I'd need answers to... but if they're royalty, they should be able to cover the cost. I need to wrap up a few things here, but as soon as I've got the money and made my repairs, I'll take my ballista anywhere you want me to."   

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"The roast!" he exclaimed, hoping the bartender would hear him over the incessant whining of the other patron. The tea store had done little to remind him just how obnoxious bottom-dwellers could be when they congregated en masse. That said, he would never admit that he had been anywhere near as inane as a child. Thinking about how he could have very well ended up like these men given enough time though, made him shudder. He thought to make a prayer for his family, but he wondered if invoking Belial's name would be more akin to a curse rather than a blessing. 

Reward them for their kindness and keep them from despair--for it is by their hand that I was led to your service

Good enough. 

His order taken, and his prayers said--he looked out now into the sea of "badgers" and "fish-guts" wondering which man he'd have to throttle before they collectively understood that he was "danker" than all of them combined. Much to his surprise, he realized that the answer might very well be no one at all. He had to look twice to make sure he wasn't suffering from any adverse side-effects of the tea he'd been served earlier. But no matter how many times he looked away, she was still sitting there. It was a wonder the whole room wasn't transfixed by her. Boorish men like these, and not even a half-dozen of them even paying her any mind? If anything it was absolutely suspicious. He thought about asking the bar-tender but he'd already gone off somewhere, likely taking more orders or some such.

She's pretty yes, but in a place like this...? He didn't doubt the possibility that she had some fatal flaw about her. Something not apparent just on the surface but he wouldn't find out unless he spoke to her first. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized the amount of shallowness his reasoning exuded, but he just couldn't persuade himself to have to deal with the alternative. Fish-guts or pearls? The answer was a little too obvious at that point. "Excuse me miss, I hope this seat's not taken?" he asked, seating himself next to her. Her features were even more striking up-close and the way she juxtaposed the room was rather astounding. He sat in silence for a moment, deliberating on how best to proceed. 

It's a conversation Alain, not a political discourse.

"Are... you a mercenary by chance?" he asked, noticing the blade by her side.

Good enough.    

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Trouble in the Homeland, Part II of II

 

Another day, another tussle.

Susan lowered herself onto the log to sit and exhaled deeply, taking a much needed break. All around her, the group of enforcers, marshals and sellswords still laid moaning on the ground, nursing their grievances. It had been a challenging, but not unexpected twenty minutes. Scuttle would have had no chance. Susan, on the other hand, excelled in being outnumbered. When the last one dropped, the merc leader had surrendered to her terms without a hint of hesitation. There he was, last man standing, obligingly spreading out a map of Angelcynn.

Her terms had been simple: mark out their mercenary movements, bases and camps, and he could go free. The less Susan could stumble upon them and have a repeat of this incident, the better. She studied the map carefully, noting the red crosses and dots, when a small blip on the charts caught her eye. “There. On the outskirts,” she pointed to an unmarked location, “That’s where the village of Perte should be.”

The mere leader snorted, “Yea. Should.”

She furrowed her brow, confused. “I remember. Prince Owen visited them. He removed their debt and the village built a statue out of straw and mud to commemorate his generosity. That was Scuttle’s . . . my first tale about them.”

“We got a job offer to burn the place down from one of your own people. Hung Count Alleun on a tree when he didn’t want to cooperate with us.” 

“You did what.”

He shrugged flippantly, “Maybe the Prince shouldn’t have been playing favourites with his vassals.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be going around killing innocent civilians,” she rose up with a tempered roar, brandishing her shiv.

Whatever easily-strung cowardice she had seen in the man wasn’t so apparent now, for he simply sighed and said, “Lady, you got some nerve worrying about some mudhole home for twelve with all the chaos that’s happening in Wyke right now.”

Her anger waned a bit, but she stubbornly clung to her shiv in her hand and shouted back, “What are you talking about?”

“The invasion? Deira being right at Hull’s doorstep with a hundred siege towers and battering rams?”

The imagery that came to her mind was nothing short of biblical. Hull’s walls had been masonry perfected, but even reinforced obsidian crumbled under enough pressure. 

Intercepted ambassadors. Smuggled weapons. An army moving in the blind spots of four different nations. This had been a plan years in the making. No more anger, just gripping concern now. “How soon before . . .”

“This is Deira we’re talking about.” He spoke the truth she feared. 

Susan pinched the bridge of her nose, alarms ringing in her head. Good Hope, the orphanage. Her friends. They were all in danger. “How come we didn’t see this coming?”

“With Wyke’s best warriors and most their gold halfway across the globe, it was pretty stupid, yea. Alright, I’ve answered all your questions. Now let me and my men go—“

A sickening gasp swallowed the end of his words, no more soundless than the quick, methodical motion Susan did to slip her shiv into his ribcage. A bit of a grunt as she shoved it deeper to create an exit wound. 

Twist.

Shove.

The man’s agonal breaths laboured on, slower and less frequent, as the red blossomed underneath him. By the time Susan took one of their horses by the reins and rode off, there was only the sound of the forest. 

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"Awfully brave of them to try anything just because someone's in a dress. Folly on them if they wish to. They'll see what it gets them." Cass was quite surprised to be getting this from one of the guards in town, was there something about women here? Just like Wyke? Ridiculous. I'll have to give them a taste of proper Wykian women, then. Between myself, Adele, and Freya, we'll show them. "Old man Ezekiel, is it? Let's see him, then. Come on, Claire. How brave I am after a wander, pft..." Indignantly, Cass ignored any warnings, and trucked along inside, shoving her nose up at the guard.

And perhaps he would've been right before, but after dealing with Malaphar and the twins... Well, this was pretty par for the course. "Lovely place, hmm?" she asked quietly, walking along. She could've sworn that all eyes were on here, and it probably was because of the dress. "What?" she asked to the inmates, raising her voice some, "haven't seen a women in the past ten years?" With a huff, she waited for Claire to take charge. "Go and find your old man. I'm only here to break faces once they get unruly... I'd really love to see someone try." She stared into one of the dark cells at someone huddled in the corner, shaking her head. "How do these people even get this far gone? Really..." As much as I am used to this, it doesn't make it comfortable, simply tolerable. The sooner we can get out of here, the better... Truthfully, she wanted to hear more of Malaphar. That talk with Alain had left her... Wanting. And wanting not to be left out of information, anymore.

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"Years?" Claire frowned. I guess it wasn't so recent after all, then... It was all a matter of perspective, she supposed, but it didn't bode too well. If he wasn't insane before, then well... would he be of any help at all now? They just had to hope - although she wasn't feeling too optimistic after all of the sounds coming from the inside. The sounds from the corridor were unnerving, but they'd dealt with far worse. Cass seemed to be in a good enough mood to joke about the situation, which made her feel a little more comfortable. 

"There shouldn't be any need for that, as long as they're kept inside their cells." If she actually needed Freya or Cass as muscle, she'd really have to question the security of the facility... although Claire supposed that it wasn't likely to receive a lot of attention. Either way, the guard's instructions had been simple enough. She ended up taking the lead, trying not to acknowledge any of the other lunatics. Part of her couldn't help but wonder however... Should Emmet have been in here? If he was still alive, it was a toss-up between sending him here or to prison. Neither were particularly appealing options.

"You have to wonder..." she nodded at Cass' statement, but she didn't have time to think more deeply into it. They'd finally reached the cell, where the old man was waiting as promised. After a few moments of silence to gather her thoughts, the mage began speaking. "Your name is Ezekiel, isn't it?" She paused quickly for confirmation, before continuing. "I was hoping we could speak. I found one of your old books about illusion magic, and I was hoping you could help me understand some things. From what I've heard, you seemed, well, passionate about it." That was the most flattering way she could think of to phrase his apparent bouts of lunacy. She hoped that it wouldn't take too much coaxing for Ezekiel to begin speaking to her.

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"Ha, that does seem like the specific sort of thing she'd want. I like the fountains, though... they add something different. You don't see fountains in other places, and the Montana family has always had a different sort of style compared to everyone else! So it seems fine to me," Sidney reasoned. The switch between such a silly topic to one much more grave made her mood switch rather easily in turn. "Then I can only further hope that we find a way to avert the conflict that looms on the horizon... with Deira acting so suddenly, I'm not confident that's the case, but perhaps if Wyke and Raewald can align together we could end this swiftly if things do come to blows. We seem to be in troubled times regardless of any case possible other than Deira suddenly completely retreating and offering peace."

Sidney rose to her feet, walking to the leftmost door at the top level and looking at the short hall before it, which lead to two rooms and had one painting. She seemed pleasantly surprised at what she saw. "You didn't get rid of the picture of us all!" she exclaimed. "Well, it is a very nice picture, even if I'm much older than when it was painted. I thought you'd be too mad to leave it." She walked down to the second door, which had a handle covered in dust. "Did you even touch my room at all?"

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Pick Up Line

"Right you are, you little crab tickler. We'll be on it in a jiffy." the bartender replied, still trying to fend off the other patron. Passing through the other ruffians, the lone women had been left alone by the crowd. The f that she were clean and not even remotely grotesque quite possibly raised questions. Smiling slyly as Alain introduced, she shuffled her seat, giving the scholar a place to sit down.

With long dark hair and unflawed features, the woman simply couldn't belong in the slums of Tytila. "Awfully polite, aren't you? Is this your first time?" she replied, gesturing for him to sit. "As it happens to be, I am... may I ask why you're so curious?"

Mad, Bad and Sad

Leaving the guard behind and passing the other cells, Claire's group were subject to haunted stares and mad grins, the darkness thankfully obscuring the deplorable captives present. Most just sneered at Cass' comment, but one man was either brave or mad enough to speak up.

"No, but ain't seen a whore in a dress like yours since they locked me up." one cackled, rattling the chains that bound him. "Plenty of room in this cell for the two of us..."

Reaching the cell at the end, Ezekiel was perhaps the most quiet of the inmates. He wasn't a terribly old man, perhaps somewhere in his fifties, but his hair had greyed, his scraggly beard and gaunt features most likely a result of his time in the asylum. Ezekiel looked up at Claire with empty eyes, a deep sadness present in his gaze.

"Speak not the fells that become of thee, for Engel will see your light." he muttered, not blinking at all as he stared at her. "For the ground you have trodden on, the air you have breathed is beyond that which the great father above has given onto us. Those who have seen his face draw back in fear, the mask the demon wears cannot hide the intent to ruin all that Engel has given life to..."

His ramblings trailed off into an intelligible noise, his vision dropping down to the floor in front of him.

Style and Glamour

Anthony remained sat in his chair, peering over as Sidney went to inspect the house. "I had assumed you would have returned eventually. One year is not enough time to fully revise your room. Your mother was adamant to ensure the household was unchanged on your return." he mused, relaxing back into his chair. "If you had gotten another year, I would have been tempted to have made it a game room. Chess has become rather popular lately, a game of battle with one's own wits. Perhaps if Prince Owen were to visit he would grace me with a game or two."

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A whore, is it? "Absolutely disgusting. Not on your life, worm," was all the goon deserved in response, his taunting not phasing her. Ezekiel was another story. His rambling after Claire's simple question would have been normal enough, but why were they spouting off about Engel? Alain had asked her once, what her relationship with the church was, and she said that she'd neither cared for nor hated it... But truthfully, if forced to give her entire opinion, it was less than favorable. Now seeing a man clearly past his prime, his mind broken, rambling of their 'God'... It was unsettling.

"Are you sure he's worth anything, Claire? I won't pry you away yet, but I feel that... Unless you know exactly what to say, he's going to stay shrunk up, like this... Funny, all this talk of Engel, and the fear in him, you'd think he's had a meeting with Belial! Hah. What a joke..." Or Malaphar... I'm not sure which would be worse.

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Despite Vesta's poor excuse for a whisper, no one else seemed to be looking their way. Perhaps these people wouldn't be as shady as he thought. He turned back to Vesta and nodded. "Right. I'll be back with the two-thousand later, then. " With that, he made his way outside of the Heroes' Guild...and let out a heavy sigh of relief. He had actually been able to convince somebody to join. Granted, Vesta wasn't a part of the Crew just yet, but he was able to convince her. But it meant nothing if he didn't actually come back with the money in tow. But he actually succeeded! But maybe-

Serge shook his head. If kept thinking about it too hard he would stress himself out even more. He took one more deep breath to calm himself down. "Right...What to do next?" He asked himself. As much as he wanted to simply go to Owen now, get the money, and come back, that was only one replacement for the three he had lost in less than a week. ...Well, technically two, but the longer Emily went without waking up, the more anxious he got about her. He had little idea how it would affect her if and when she woke up. Not to mention, how would he explain it to any newcomers he brought along? Oh, this was one of my mercenaries. She died, but we gave her a weird liquid and her wounds closed up! She hasn't woken up in a week, and we have no idea what will happen, but we're hoping something good! Only the most insane would stay after a story like that, and despite how questionable their group was, more crazy people would not be a good idea. Still...Even if Emily woke up, there was still at least one other person he could hire to bring the group back up to full strength. But who else could he hire? It would be extremely embarrassing to go back in to the Heroes' Guild, after he confidently walked out. There was that other lady he spoke to, but he already had a bad feeling about her. Serge considered simply hiring just Vesta and be done with it.

Serge looked towards the direction of the Mages' Guild. Morganna had been someone with magical prowess. Maybe another mage to replace her would be a good hire. But after a moment of thinking, Serge realized what he just said, and once again shook his head to remove such thoughts from his mind. People weren't tools to be replaced like that, and Serge wasn't about to simply hire another mage just to fill the gap that Morganna had left them with. No...That was not the type of boss, nay, not the type of person he wanted to be in life. But at the same...with the death of Emmet, the entire group was down a healer. Sure, Cassandra had experience with a staff, and both Larissa and Adele's personal butler, Sebastian, could use a heal staff. But none of them were quite as effective with one as Emmet was. Plus, once the contract is over and the Hearthfire Crew has to go their seperate ways from the Prince and his group, Larissa by herself wouldn't be enough as a healer. Both the group and the Hearthfire Crew needed a new person who was adept with the staff, but would he find one at the Mages' Guild? For that matter, would they even let him in? He had no magical prowess, whatsoever, and both of the former mages of the group were gone in their own way. He sighed, yet again. Where was Claire or Alain when you needed them?

And just like that, upon thinking of Claire and Alain, his mind became focused on another matter, entirely. Throughout the many weeks that he had been with this group, he had been recluse, barely speaking to or paying attention to anyone. Indeed, it was one of the things he had torn himself apart over while bawling his eyes out over Emily's corpse a week prior. He had promised himself he would at least be more interactive with his own mercenary company, yet here he was, letting them roam to who knows where while he was alone, desperately trying to make decisions for himself. He had no idea where anyone else was, as he stood there just outside the guild. He chuckled, and shook his head once more. Serge really had no idea what he was doing, even after all this time. And he was alone, just like he had been for several years on his way to the capital of Wyke. With that, his new goal simply became...finding someone. Just...someone from their group to take to about things. He needed advice. He needed help. And he really needed to get his priorities straightened out.

And so...Serge decided to make his way to the Armory, hoping somebody he recognized was there.

Serge begins to go to the Armory.

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