[Ravok Quest] Havoc in Ravok (Quest Participants Only)

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra woke up with a faint smile on her face, not entirely sure why in the first few moments of her consciousness. She felt strangely energize, having had a restful sleep, yet confused why this was so when she usually felt beat after pulling a long shift in the tavern the night previous. Catching sight of her own naked body reminded her of what had transpired last night and she remembered every caress and every kiss exchanged between her and the Acolyte. A guilty shiver of pleasure coursed through her slender frame, widening her smile a little further as the memory replayed itself in her mind. Her bare hands, free from the black gloves that covered the marks of Krysus, clutched at the sheets reflexively. It had been a good night, despite her initial misgivings. She knew she should be feeling horrible about it, especially when the realization came that she had just cheated on her lover, but she could not help herself. It had been very good last night. And Keating sleeps with other women, she rationalized, feeling a sudden surge of anger at the man. Why couldn't I - The dark-haired woman did not finish the thought as her gaze shifted to the window. The light seemed to be coming in wrong... Pulling the blanket and wrapping it around her chest, Cassandra stood up and peered out the sill. The reflection of the sun could be seen in the waters of the lake below, showing its position to be directly above. "I'm late!" she gasped. Cassandra whirled around in a rush to get dressed. The blanket wrapped itself around her leg however, and she fell to the floor with a thump. Disentangling it from her body, she threw the offending object back to the bed and scrambled towards her wardrobe to fish for a fresh set of clothing, not caring if the occupants of the building across from hers could see her naked form. Black fingerless gloves came on first, Cassandra so used to putting them on that it was almost always the first article of clothing she wore. She caught sight of the washbasin on the table and the gloves came off again as she moved off to freshen her face up a bit. A sip from a cup of water poured from a nearby pitcher soon followed as she washed the taste of the Acolyte from her mouth before she went back to dressing herself. Gloves, skirt and blouse soon covered her like a second set of skin. Slipping into her sandals, she grabbed her apron and then bolted out the door, pausing only long enough to lock it. And then it was a quick run down the stairs from there and an even quicker run across the Nitrozian plaza as she made a beeline for the Silver Sliver. Her long fingers combed through her tangled hair all the while as she ran. Cassandra had opened the door to the tavern when she remembered something important. In her hurry to get to work, she had forgotten to put on underwear. But the bartender was already gesturing for her to come over; she could not run back to her apartment. She knew she was in trouble. She had already missed half her shift that day. Biting her lower lip in apprehension, she shuffled over to the man. Her cheeks flushed red when he pointed out that Trevinus was back and he was waiting for her. Meekly, helplessly, she walked over to her visitor. The Acolyte gestured for her to sit down, and guilt and excitement warred within Cassandra's heart as she obeyed. While their clandestine union the previous night was purely a physical affair, she found herself enamored to the man and she could not understand why. He was attractive enough to be true, yet she had given herself to another and would never have considered being untrue to him. So why was it she felt this way for this other man before her? It had all started out forced the night before but now the mere presence of him made her want to throw her arms around him and be lost in the bliss of his physicality. Had he woven a spell upon her? Trevinus waved one of the barmaid over and ordered for them a meal. Cassandra, remembering that such was her job as well, tried to stand up, knowing that her fellow serving girl would not appreciate serving her. "Milord, there's no need to...I mean, I can get it for..." But it was too late. The Acolyte had already ordered and the withering stare passed to her by her coworker left Cassandra lowering herself back into the chair slowly, misery and guilt clouding her features. She thought of all the demeaning tasks they would force upon her later for the slight: endless washing of dishes, scrubbing the floors clean, cleaning spills and hauling the garbage to the dump outside the city. She did not get the chance to dwell upon it for very long, however, as Trevinus asked her about her mark. He spoke as if it was the most natural thing to bring up, like the weather perhaps, or how she liked her steak done. Cassandra suddenly felt paranoid. An image of the citizenry gathering in arms and demanding for her death. Her mark had made her a murderer after all. And nobody really liked Krysus, or her chosen. Cassandra felt like a target. But how could she tell someone as powerful as Trevinus to keep his mouth shut? "It's...no, milord. I-I have to hurt people because of it. Every...every day." Her voice was barely above a whisper, as she feared that the people around her might overhear. Most of the tavern patrons and the other serving girls were victims of plenty of her hurtful acts - from 'accidental' scratchings to stepping onto people's toes to splashing hot gravy on an exposed patch of skin of a coworker. Among others. She had a long list of misdeeds. "I do not want to hurt others but-but if I don't, it would make me feel pain. It gets worse if I ignore it. In a few days, if I don't do anything about it, I...I would die. In horrible pain. M'lord." He offered to help her, to give her, as he called it, "a legal outlet for the mark". Or even...remove it? Priskil be praised, can these agent of evil truly be able to rid her of that accursed Krysus mark? Her heart soared in hope...only to promptly crash down in flames. The mark gave Cassandra a connection to the goddess, and she knew, somehow, that it would be favorably received if she tried to get rid of something "gifted" to her. Krysus was a jealous and unstable goddess and she would likely punish her if she attempted such a thing, most likely by turning her mark into a negative one. Or making it worse that it currently was. Cassandra paled visibly. "I-I thank you for the most gracious offer, milord, but I...I fear I might be punished if I...if I forsake this...this blessing." Cassandra looked up at the man fearfully, afraid that she might have given offense for having turned him down. Would she be punished by him as well? He was a servant of Rhysol after all, and her rejection might be taken as an insult to his god. The city belonged to the lord of chaos, and to hold another deity in higher regard than him, even in fear, was just asking for trouble. But the Acolyte had bidden her to speak and Cassandra did.

[Alenias]

"It worked!" Alenias chirped happily, energetically circling through the air in celebration, "Aello, did you see that?"

Circling around again Alenias saw Aello standing up, and heard her talking to Jug again. Diving down to where her cloak had landed she transformed back to a human in a swirl of light and color, swirling her cloak up and around her shoulders, and turned to face the big man, "Yeah! What Aello said!"

Alenias wanted to help more with Aello, but when she stabbed Jug in the back it seemed like the fight was won. Jug didn't seem to be going down though. Looking around frantically for something to use to help with the fight. Spotting a piece of broken wood from the recently shattered table she grabbed it up with both hands and proceeded to swing it as hard as she could at Jug, yelling as she did so. She just hoped it would be enough to help Aello in the fight.

[Crismento Miren]

Crismento took the parchment from Korin and nodded. ”I shall make the best use of the information you are providing me with.” He waited for the Stryfe to leave before breaking the seal, even though there was little reason to do that. Once he was left alone, Cris opened the document and skimmed through all of the text letting his attention be grabbed by the names mentioned. He finished reading and then went through the information again, this time studying it in more detail. Crismento was genuinely getting curious about the whole conspiracy. He resisted the silly temptation to piece the whole story together with threads made of assumptions and concentrated on the details that he might use to convince that slave to open up. The Stryfe made the task a bit easier by providing Cris with a rough made up background in the Rising Dawn that he would use. Crafting a believable character required some real facts in order to be successful. After a while Crismento decided that he was probably as ready as was possible given the circumstances. The perfect conditions would have included some time to practise in front of a mirror or with a partner and a good night sleep to think everything over. Of course Cris didn’t ask for these requirements to be met and only took comfort in knowing that there had been times where he had to improvise with much less preparation. Once he had a strategy, a little too vague for his liking, in mind, Crismento was taken to the cell as if he was a prisoner. And he certainly felt like a prisoner. Cris had been given no guarantees that he would escape with his life should he fail this task. The cell he has been thrown into was in a terrible condition, to say the least. During the recent years Crismento got used to a certain degree of luxury, and even though his current room in Ravok was quite poor, the smell in that lockup made the con artist scrunch up his nose. However, now was not the time to be fussy. Cris had to become a member of the Rising Dawn, a prisoner of Ebonstryfe. Phillip only paid attention to the new arrival for a brief moment and Crismento understood that he will have to show initiative. It was better this way, since it would give him the position to steer the conversation to where he wanted. The slave looked defeated, so Cris figured he should be careful not to scare him into withdrawing. ”These bleeding cursed hypocrites,” Crismento said as if to himself, but loud enough for Phillip to hear him. ”They call themselves the advocates of evil and chaos, but quickly fall into an uncontrolled state of panic at a first slight glimpse of disorder. Betraying their revered ideals just to keep their power unharmed. They are scared of what they stand for far more than anyone else out there in the world. On one hand it is highly amusing; on the other hand, it is a disgrace to call such scum an adversary.” It wasn’t difficult for the man to come up with a rant directed against the Black Sun and the Ebonstryfe, because on some level it reflected his own anger and feelings about his captors. He would never be bold or foolish enough to express them directly as his own, but it felt good to let some frustration about his state out. The slave did not respond or show any interest in Crismento’s words, but the con man knew he had heard them and hoped it had the desirable effect in building the atmosphere. He looked down at a piece of bread beside his feet. At first Cris wanted chase the thought that had popped into his mind away, but then he remembered that he had recently willingly eaten food that was poisoned. This could have hardly been any worse. ”Do you mind if I helped myself to this? Hadn’t had anything in my mouth since I was brought in.” Phillip just shrugged, barely noticeably, in response. Crismento took it as permission and picked the bread up from the muck. He then walked up to the slave and sat nearby leaning against the wall. ”I assume you’re no friend of these bastards either,” Cris started a conversation. With his fingers he nipped off a little piece of bread and put it in his mouth. The taste was horrible. Nowhere near the meal he had got at the Silver Silver. On the bright side, this bread was less likely to poison him. Phillip didn’t seem very willing to answer the question. ”What I mean is that friends are rarely kept at the apartments of this kind,” Crismento softened the inquiry. ”I suppose…” Phillip's voice seemed to lack any strong emotion. ”My name is Meph,” Cris extended his arm towards his cellmate. The act managed to win some attention. ”Phillip,” the slave turned his head at the companion and listlessly shook his hand. ”It is a pleasure to meet you, Phillip.” Crismento sat there eating the bread, bit by bit, pretending to be thinking about his situation for a while. He then exhaled heavily. ”We meet in a rotten city, my friend,” he began in a tired voice, as if he had given up on something. ”I grew up in Sunberth, the town of lawlessness and true chaos. And even my hometown seem like a safe haven compared to this stain of bloody mud on our world,” he let the last words be covered in repulsion. ”I’ve been to Sunberth…” Phillip said in a low-spirited voice as if remembering something. ”I miss it sometimes…” Crismento tried to mimic the same miserable tone. The con man let the conversation die down again. He would have preferred to carry on at the same slow pace, but he knew the Stryfe wanted the results not the performance. Phillip didn’t look very happy about his current state and lacked any sign that would reveal him as a rebel, a fighter against the corruption. Was the slave questioning the motivations behind the acts he had carried out? This needed to change. Cris debated turning to a more aggressive approach. Ever since he had left Zeltiva he felt reluctant to employ his art. Crismento knew the risks very well. ’I’m not insane. Yet… I can control it… Control myself…’ The situation, after all, justified such decision very well. Cris closed his eyes and leaned back a bit. The recent surge of emotions had violently shaken his mind, but now he needed to put them all away. He needed to be calm and focused. Crismento felt the djed gathering, ready to infect his voice once he began to speak. ”When I came here I was disgusted by what this city had to offer, by what it stood for. The way people live their lives and how they were expected to live. Ravok is a rotting corpse and it is high time it was disposed of,” Cris sounded rather angry, but it wasn’t his emotion or even the words spoken that were important. It was the emotion that was being awakened somewhere deep inside Phillip – a vague sense of pride. ”And when I was given the opportunity to try and crush this decayed system, I was more than happy to jump in.” Crismento smiled to himself. ”First the slavery, then Ravok, and, finally, Rhysol himself!” He chuckled silently. ”You can say it is naïve, but I was ready to do it all.” ”You tried to do it alone?” This move seemed to bring Phillip to life a little. Crismento laughed at the question. ”Priskil, help me, of course not! There are others like me, people of great valor, who are ready to go through great lengths and risk their lives in order to demolish this scourge. I was recruited by one such Akalak.” Cris sighted. ”Sadly, we were caught yesterday while on our mission…” ”This Akalak… What was his name?” Phillip's interest appeared to have peaked. ”Harrol,” Crismento replied trying to hide his excitement. He could almost feel it getting warmer. ”Do you happen to know him by any chance?” The slave nodded. ”Ah, so I meet a like-minded soul in such dire conditions. I truly hope you don’t mind being called a friend?” Cris thought he could see Phillip getting a little less guarded. ”I don’t.” ”Thank you. I’d really like to spend my last moments with a friend. After all, we fought for a great cause and I would like to think that we will not die for nothing. That what I did… What we did, mattered. That we have made a difference!” Crismento tried to add some pain to his voice. ”Oh, how I wish that it would not end with us. Like this… I pray that those with whom we stood against this bane would carry on the burden. Let it not end like this!” Crismento focused his gaze on Phillip's eyes. The slave might have interpreted it as an intense, passionate look, however the meaning of it was hidden deeper. Somewhere, beneath the layers of thoughts, the prisoner’s mind would unwittingly find a simple message: ’Reassure me. I beg of you.’

OOCIf I did something wrong with Phillip, or anything else, let me know.

[Verilian]

Reaver The laughter reverberated through the room, growing louder and louder until Reaver's human ears litterally felt like they were about to bleed. It was no small wonder that the guards inside did not hear a thing. Through it all Kiochi sat patiently, his mouth closed and his eyes unmoving. Finally the laughter began to die down and eventually it stopped altogether. Kiochi continued to study Reaver as he recovered from the maddening attack, and finally when he did speak there were no echoes, no maddening laughter, only Kiochi's words. "Oh Reaver, if only that were true... You are what you are, no matter what you think you can be, and one day that will come back to haunt you. Oh, but I am speaking of things which you do not know." Kiochi smiled and leaned forward. "No, I am not. As I have shown you, it is. You already know them, you merely cannot remember. If you want books, you have only to ask. Now, as to your fate, I am sorry but that was sealed long ago. I can help you out with your current problems, though. As I said, the vial spreads madness and eventually destroys whomever it has cursed. The only way to be free of it is death. I think that you could solve this simply be switching bodies, yes? That should do quite nicely. But it won't help unless you have someone to pass it on to." There were sounds outside the door, and Reaver could hear the guards talking to one another. Kiochi glanced past the Nuit to the door. "Ah, but it seems we are about to have company. I will make this quick. Pass the vial on to those it was intended to curse. Find the allies of the body you took it from, find a way to make sure it passes to them when you switch. Do that, and you will be free of it." Kiochi vanished and Reaver was left alone. The voices outside his door grew loud enough to understand. "I still don't understand why you called me here for simple vandalism." "We had orders. It was the Nuit. Anything to do with him goes to the Black Sun, milord." "The Nuit? You mean Reaver? ...interesting." The door to Reaver's room, or cell or whatever you want to call it, opened wide and let in the bright light of the sun. A man entered and closed the door, pausing for a moment. "Hmm... How about we let some more light in here?" The robed figure crossed the room to one of the side walls and began to press against the wall with his hand. After a few moments he found a board that gave slightly to his touch and he pressed against it. At first the board did not move much, but the man merely took a deep breath and pressed harder. The board popped out of place, falling to the ground outside and allowed a stream of sunlight into the room. "That's better," the man said as he casually walked over to the table and took a seat opposite Reaver. The man was silent for several chimes, seeming to study Reaver. One of his eyes was solid white, the mark of a chaon. It was something Reaver should recognize, living in Ravok as long as he had. The man's robes were also emblazoned with the symbol of the Black Sun. The man's eyes seemed to look right through Reaver's mask and armor, seeing the undead creature beneath. In actuality the man was studying Reaver's aura. After a while the man shook his head and sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I must say I am quite disappointed, Reaver. I had hoped you were coming back to us." The man sighed and glanced down at the glowing vial, raising an eyebrow before returning his gaze to the Nuit. "My name is Trevinus Nitrozian, an Acolyte of the Black Sun. Do you know what this means, Reaver? It means you are in trouble and I am the only one who can help you. I am also the one who may see fit to destroy you. Now.. explain to me the events that brought you here, so that I may decide what to do with you." Cassandra Trevinus smiled and reached across the table, taking Cassandra's gloved hand softly in his own. Now he worked his magic, reaffirming his hold over her but mostly sending relaxing vibes through her to ease her worried mind. "Fear not, my dear. Krysus will not harm you here. Rhysol's protection even extends to the gods. None would lay a hand on you in this city. But do not worry, we shall offend the goddess no more. As I said before, we can grant you a way to satisfy your mark without risk of getting in trouble." Trevinus let go of Cassandra's hand and leaned back in his chair before he continued speaking. "You would not have to kill anyone, of course. But rather than use your mark on the innocent we would provide you with more deserving victims. Thieves, criminals, traitors, people of that sort. They would not know it was you, we wouldn't want them to recognize you should they escape or be released, but perhaps using your mark on them would teach them to obey our laws." "There will of course be a price. You are a beautiful woman, Cassandra. Men desire you, and perhaps some women, and they trust you. As you learned last night you can easily use this trust against them. The man you poisoned was a criminal from Zeltiva. He fled here to escape his crimes, but we have given him a chance to redeem himself. Should he succeed you may yet meet him again. Aside from that, there are traitors in Ravok and we may require your aid in extracting information from them in the future. I offer you an outlet for your mark in exchange for promise of future service. Does this sound agreeable to you, my dear?" Trevinus pursed his lips and rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he waited for Cassandra's reply. Before she could answer their waitress returned with two meals, a refill for Trevinus, and a glass of water for Cassandra. Cassandra would notice that her meal looked a bit burnt, and could only imagine what else the offended waitress might have done to it. Unfortunately for her, Trevinus noticed as well. "Did.. did you need anything else, my lord," the waitress nervously asked. Trevinus, who's eyes had been on Cassandra's inferior meal since the moment it had been set down, answered softly. "No," he reached for Cassandra's plate, sliding his own toward her and trading their places, "But I do believe Cassandra's meal looks more appetizing than my own. Is this some special recipe? It certainly looks different.. I wonder, were you showing her favoritism because she is a co-worker?" Cassandra speared a piece of burnt meat with his fork and held it to his lips. He started to bite but paused and lowered his fork. "Or perhaps it is that there is something wrong with this meal and you were retaliating against my friend here. I must say, dear, neither scenario would be pleasant for you. Well, what say you?" Tears were streaming down the waitresses cheeks and her hands were visibly shaking with fear. Many in the room had now taken notice of them, including the bartender and the bouncer who quickly looked away when the girl looked to them for support. "Well?" The girl began to stammer a response, "I was just.. I mean.. It was.. I-" "Cassandra is a guest at my table," Trevinus interjected, "For all purposes that makes her the same as one of the Black Sun. Did you know it is a crime to insult one of the Black Sun?" The serving girl was now crying so much she could no longer speak, and it only brought a smile to Trevinus lips. Trevinus was now working his magic once more as her turned his gaze on Cassandra, "Well, my dear. It seems our serving girl is unable to speak for herself. What say you, have you been offended?" It was all a test. The magic he sent Cassandra's way would indeed make her feel offended, even more so if she already was. Would Cassandra resist the magic and defend her co-worker, or would she betray her and allow whatever punishment Trevinus had in mind. All ears in the tavern awaited her response, the serving girl's tear filled eyes met with Cassandra's, pleading for mercy... But the magic, it was so strong... OOCThe choice is yours, but make sure it is a difficult one. If she chooses punishing the girl he also asks Cassandra what punishment she thinks would be fitting. That doesn't necessarily mean it's the punishment she'll get thouh.. Crismento Miren "Harrol has been captured?" Phillip's eyes widened and he seemed to barely register the rest of what Cris said. Shock was apparent on his face and for a moment it seemed as if Crismento's words might have had the opposite effect of what he was intending. But the magic must have done it's work, or Phillip must have found some new resolve, for his expression hardened into one of determination. He met Crismento's eyes, his own eyes full of renewed determination. "If there is anyone Fiona would risk exposure for it is Harrol. She might not be able to admit it but we all see it, she is in love with him. Surely you have seen it too. Priskil give us hope, she may just free us all!" Phillip threw up his hands and let out an elated laugh, leaning back against the wall of their cell. "I'm to be executed in two days! They won't get anything from Harrol, no way. They'll probably execute him with the rest of us. That's when she'll do it, I'm sure. We just have to last two more days.. then our chance for freedom will come!" Phillips mood had changed drastically with this bit of news. Cris still had no way of knowing whether his hypnotism had had any effect, it may not have even been necessary. Phillip shook his head, laughing again out of relief. "I can't even count the days I've been down here. Maybe two, maybe a hundred! But it was all worth it! Even if I was captured, I know Fiona escaped with the artifact. It's probably locked away in the safe house by now. Thank Priskil for sending you, Meph. Even if you did it with bad news, you have renewed my hope." Phillip was silent for a moment before turning back to Cris. "Tell me of your mission, Meph. Was Ervis there too? Was Fiona?" Roman Still dropped out. Aello & Alenias Jug roared in pain when Aello stabbed him in the back and tried to reach around to pull the knife out, but then Alenias was there beating him with a piece of table. Alenias was yelling, Aello was talking in her creepy way, Jug was roaring, and Burton was struggling to get back to his feet. After all, he had only been stabbed in the leg, it wasn't as if he'd been killed or anything. Jug also climbed to his feet and turned to face Aello. Despite the dagger to the back and the board to the face Jug did not seem too hurt. He lunged at Aello, but the wound made him clumsier than usual and it was a move she would easily be able to avoid. Unfortunately it also blocked Alenias and Burton from Aello's view. While Jug was trying to grab Aello, Burton had managed to get back to his feet, grab a knife from the table, and creep up behind the still distracted Alenias. As Aello dodged Jug she spotted Burton behind the Kelvic, but it was too late do do anything to stop him. Burton grabbed Alenias roughly from behind and pressed the knife to her throat, drawing a thin line of blood. His wounded leg was shaking unsteadily, and it was clear he wouldn't be able to stand. That wasn't a good thing.. if he fell the knife would slide across Alenias throat and spill her blood. "Drop your weapon, or the bird girl dies!" Burton's voice was no longer playful, he had sobered up, and it was full of rage. Aello couldn't be certain he wouldn't kill Alenias even if she did comply with his command. Several tense moments passed as Aello and Burton stared at one another, waiting to see if Aello would comply. Jug stood to the side, swaying from loss of blood. Everyone in the tavern was watching, including Burton and Jug's companions who no longer wore the amuses expressions they had before. One of the men stood and approached Aello from behind, drawing a sword. "Kill her, Burton," he shouted as he thrust his sword toward Aello's back. The sound of blade slicing through flesh filled Aello's ears. It sounded... squishy. The smell of blood filled her nostrils, and the pain... there was none. Nor was there a blade poking through her stomach, nor was she dead. If Aello turned around she would see the sword that should have killed her hovering in the air inches from her body, the arm it was held by struggling to keep itself outstretched. If she followed that arm to the body it was attached to she would see one of the men from the table, and if she let her eyes sink down to his chest she would see a thin blade poking out of it. The man's arm fell first, the sword clattered to the floor, and then the rest of him went down, crumpling in a lifeless heap. Behind him stood the man who's table Alenias had first been smashed into, and who had been covered in food a second time when Burton smashed her into him again. As he casually wiped the blood from his sword he spoke quietly, "I tried to stay out of this, you know. I tried to let it slide, but you four simply could not work things out. Now I had to go and stain my blade with this pathetic life." Burton interrupted the man, "Hey, what do you think you're doing! That was a city guard!" The man with the sword laughed and sheathed his blade, shaking his head. "I don't care who he was, honestly. He got in my way.. you guards need to learn your lesson. Your authority only extends as far as we allow it." The man pointed to the crest on his shoulder, the mark of the Ebonstryfe. "Now, release that girl. Burton, go to the barracks and await your reprimand. You should know better than to cause disturbances in public like this. And you," the Stryfe turned his gaze on Aello, "You are under arrest for the murder of a city guard." As if to punctuate the statement Jug collapsed at the same time, the wound from the dagger finally stealing the life from him. "I do hope you will come without a fight."

[Aello]

As Jug lunged for her, Aello took several steps back, avoiding his pathetic attempts at clutching her tightly between his meaty arms. "Is that the best you can do Jug?" Aello asked, an edge of playfulness still in her voice as she watched the man seemingly struggling to stand. Serves him right for so much as considering laying a hand on Alenias, the girl thought to herself, sickly satisfied, as her eyes lingered on his flesh. Until a moment later, when there was a flash of light; the glint of a knife. Aello looked up and away from Jug as her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade; looking for the source of the flash. It was only a few seconds before she found it: a blade resting against the pale flesh of her friend's neck. Aello's eyes widened, as several fresh beads of sweat appeared on her brow. There was blood. Aello's breath caught in her throat as her muscles tensed, he wouldn't dare... the girl thought as her grip tightened around the hilt of the blade even more. Her knuckles were turning red, and her eyes seemed so full of fury that it was surprising Burton hadn't already dropped dead. For what felt like a long time, Aello remained silent, and unnaturally still. But in reality, it was only a few minutes at most. Maybe not quite so much as that. "Touch one hair on her head and you shall regret the moment you first walked into this bar, is that understood?" Aello asked, as she finally tossed the dagger to her right side. It fell through the air, so slowly, spinning, twirling, and then clattering onto the hardwood floor. "Now you let her go Burton," Aello hissed her muscles continuing to tense. It was rather apparent that she was not enjoying this; and that she would like nothing more but to lunge at the man, and finally put an end to his pitiful life. You don't need the dagger to finish him off anyway, Aello told herself. Not when you have your bow, and your fists. The girl was out for blood. "Now," Aello hissed, as she heard footsteps coming from behind her, inching closer and closer. Now who would have the courage to make a move? Aello wondered, one of Burton's pathetic cronies trying to take advantage of an unarmed woman? Aello smiled, her eyes flashing even more menacingly, as she glanced over her shoulder to see who was coming. Let him come, her mind whispered, as she failed to see anything other than a flash. "He cannot kill me, not if he wants her..." Aello whispered, as she heard the familiar sound of a blade slicing through flesh. What the? It was then that Aello turned around and noticed the man that had tried to finish her off for Burton, and the man that had just saved her life. She simply stared at him, in silence. Why would he spare someone who had shed so much blood? Let chaos reign? "The mark of the stryfe..." Aello whispered, her eyes growing even wider, when she noticed his crest. Her palms felt so sweaty, so very cold, like death. A body fell to the floor. Aello glanced over her shoulder, "so I see," she said nervously, before turning back to the member of the 'stryfe. Why couldn't the bastard wear some sort of crest or something? Perhaps then we would have left him with little more than a few broken bones and bruises... although, that would surely lead us to the same fate. Jail; a cage, an inability to be free. But how free are you really, in this city? Aello glanced down at the floor, before looking up and giving the slightest of nods. "Very well," Aello finally replied to the 'stryfe, "take care of Yune, Alenias. Don't let her out of your sight," she called over her shoulder, as she walked over to the table with her things. "Now, if you'd like, I can take my own things," she said as she laced her bag over her shoulder, and picked up her bow in her left hand. She didn't care about the dagger, unlike some of her other things, it always came back. "You can take them later, if you'd like... just thought you could use a favor," she said, as she turned back to the member of the 'stryfe and eyed him up and down. "Lead the way... to jail," Aello said, as she swallowed a clump of saliva that had gathered in her throat. The 'stryfe member seemed to nod, and soon enough, the two had left the bar together, leaving Alenias and Yune to deal with the aftermath of it all. OOCA few things: I am leaving on Monday, and probably won't have internet for a while, so if this could be my last post in the group setting, I'd really appreciate it because I don't want to hold people up. Also, about the end, I didn't really know what to do, so I improvised. If the 'stryfe guy asks though, she will hand her stuff over. She will not attack him either. As much as she may want to sometimes. She will follow him/his directions to jail, and then sit there and rot... Um... I set aside a few days after this thread for her to be jailed before she, (hopefully), gets out somehow.

[Reaver]

Reaver did what he could to fight off the laughter as it grew in intensity. Just like casting too much, the physical side effects can only manifest if my mind allows it. If only my mind weren't so, vulnerable. "You are what you are, no matter what you think you can be," Misunderstood what I meant. I can be when I feel like it. I suppose I'd better not give him more fuel. He sat patiently as the critter answered the same way he did. Oh, he is a bit of fun. He listened carefully, quite sure to lock everything into memory that he wanted to know. As each sentence ended, Reaver nodded. He was sure to do what he could. "The Nuit? You mean Reaver? ...interesting." As the door opened, Reaver lowered his mask a bit, blocking off the light. As he closed the door, Reaver moved his chair to the opposite side of the table. He picked the other chair up, setting it on the side with the door. He sat down in the other chair, on a whim. As he did so, the man made more light, causing Reaver to shield his eyes again. He slowly put his mask back in place, as his eyes adjusted to the light. Two minutes, and Reaver decided to finally look at the man. He had eyes Reaver didn't like much. He set the vial violently against the table hoping to disrupt his gaze, again with no success. He tried to figure out just what the man was looking for... to no avail. As he went to start the conversation, the other man went first. "I am quite disappointed," Reaver listened to the man's words, putting together the hints left to him. Once the man finished, he spent half a chime putting his argument together. "Forgive me for not bowing, but my legs don't feel like doing it again after the last important guy I met. I know more then you think I know. One part bothers me. When could I play a musical instrument?" Reaver looked serious, but only to gauge the reaction. After his random question was over, he went to execute his loosely calculated response. "I was possessed by a demon formerly known as Reaver, I suspect. Seeing as he's not completely dead, I'd rather he not kill me. If you'd rather I not die at Reaver's hand, would you like to help me? I found the relic on the table there, on the corpse of an enemy to Rhysol you so thankfully let me work with. Sadly, it was not supposed to go to me, but a different enemy of Rhysol." Reaver paused again, thinking of how much information he should share. "I guess an ally of the demon that took me thought to give me insight. The little toy there kills whoever owns it, and passes to the next person who takes it. So, I would like to return it to an enemy of Rhysol, as it was intended to do. It would be a nice bonus if they thought it was an important tool for defeating Rhysol. It would then circulate around them and kill off a fair number, I suspect." Reaver let his voice trail off, and silence permeate the room for a while. "I suspect you can gather where I'm going with this. I'd rather not awaken a bear forcefully, yes? It would be such a waste, seeing both of us go down in such a pitiful manor. One more thing, before I let you go being all important and stuff. I'd like to borrow a book if I could. Let me correct myself, two. One for the effort at hand, another for myself. I heard a rumor I just had to ask, though I forgot to learn 'ask who?' Now then, be important and stuff." Reaver will gesture to Mr. Nitrozian, as if to say 'please start.'

OOCI suspect Reaver would be less rude if he didn't have the notion stuck in his head that he's dealt with Mr. Nitrozian before. ...on an equal level. Reaver is good at coming to odd conclusions, watch what clues you give him. XD

[Alenias]

Alenias was all ready to help Aello fight Jug more, even with how useless her smashing with the wood had been, but before she could do anything else she was caught from behind and had a dagger at her throat. Instinct caused her body to freeze, to keep from being hurt, but as soon as Burton shouted his demand her eyes went wide with panic.

This was just like with Treanas! She was being used to get the one who took care of her to do something! For a brief, frantic, moment she contemplated throwing herself forward, regardless of any harm she might suffer, to get away from Burton and his threats. Aello's words stopped the Kelvic though, and filled her eyes with tears. Aello would be upset if Alenias got hurt... she couldn't do something that would upset Aello.

Tears running down her cheeks Alenias held still until she caught sight of the man sneaking up behind Aello. Eyes going wide she opened her mouth to scream, but before she could the man was stabbed from behind by someone else. Confused Alenias watched the conversation between the man, Aello, and Burton. At the man's command Burton released her, and Alenias quickly jumped away in case Burton changed his mind. It seemed like this man was going to help them.

Then the man said he was taking Aello away, and Alenias' world came crashing down. She turned and ran for Aello, yelling, "No, Aello we!" she was cut off by Aello's words, her body freezing in place.

After a moment Alenias stood up, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as her lips trembled, "Y... Yes Aello," she whispered in her trembling voice, and then turned to look up at Yune, "C... Come on Yune..."

Trembling in fear and panic Alenias waited for Yune to come down to her, and watched with tearful eyes as Aello and the man turned and left the building. What was she supposed to do now? As Yune landed on her shoulder and chirped comfortingly an idea hit Alenias. Siriana said she would help if she ever needed anything. Ignoring everyone and everything else in the building she ran off with Yune on her shoulder to find the woman.

[Crismento Miren]

For a moment Cris thought that he had made a wrong move by mentioning the Akalak’s name. Of course it was a way to hint that he was on the same side as Phillip, but apparently Harrol’s status was of much more importance. The document that Crismento had been given stated that he was “one of their generals”. Clearly the con man should have handled this reveal with more caution. Phillip's shock just further reinforced the understanding of how important the Akalak had been to the Rising Dawn. Or at least how important his rank was. Or maybe he was more important than some others? Or simply considered uncatchable? Crismento’s capturers didn’t seem to have too much of information about that, but the Akalak was soon to be made irrelevant, so that probably didn’t matter much. Cris needed to get back at finding out something of use. Thankfully, while the man was considering what the slave’s reaction meant, Phillip's shock turned into determination. Cris wasn’t sure whether it was his art that counterbalanced the poor approach of the subject or if the signs of great distress simply were a false alarm. It probably didn’t really matter. Fiona… Was this the new alias of the supposed leader? For one, she was female. Phillip's mentioning of risk of exposure implied that she was in hiding, but that could probably apply to any of the so-called generals. The prisoner also seemed to believe that this Fiona had enough power to attempt freeing them all during the execution. The connection was definitely likely but not certain, yet. ”I’m afraid I haven’t noticed that, but then again I am well known to miss any sort of hints of affection or otherwise that other people show to each other,” Cris said with a small smile. It was unlikely that Phillip would be employing trick questions to expose him. After all, the slave didn’t show any signs of suspicion. However the liar wanted to play carefully, since one wrong turn was quite possibly enough to lose this game and likely his life. ”But I will take your word as truth. Priskil sees, your words give me confidence about our future.” Crismento listened to the inspired words of the prisoner. Phillip sounded certain that the Rising Dawn will make a move during the execution. If not the whole organisation, than at least that Fiona. The Ebonstryfe knew that they had one of the generals scheduled to be eliminated, so they should be expecting such possibility. After all, they didn’t appear to be stupid. The next move they were interested in must have been something bigger. Cris tried to turn his devastated expression from earlier into more similar to Phillip’s current mood, and appear somewhat relieved and secure, but he couldn’t tell how successful he was. The recent sequence of events left him exhausted, both mentally and physically. Now that Crismento had to put all the energy that had been left to him into remembering what Phillip was saying and quick thinking, things like his mien were pushed back further than secondary priorities. Some sort of religious artifact had been mentioned in the documents that Korin had provided him with. This Fiona seemed to be quite involved in the activities of the Rising Dawn. The safe house mentioned could have been the possible location of their next meeting that Ebonstryfe wanted to find out about. The directions that Cris had been given were so general that he felt that whichever way he chose to question Phillip, he would end up finding something useful and valuable. ”Crumbs of hope is all that we have left, yet with Priskil on our side it is the greatest weapon we can possess,” Cris followed Phillip’s words with a slightly philosophical sounding voice, while thinking how he would go about approaching the subject of safe house location. A brief period of silence ensued. Before Crismento could open his mouth, the slave asked him a question that he had hoped to avoid. There were many pitfalls waiting that way that he could fail into. On the other hand, it also presented an array of opportunities to strengthen their trust, approach variety of topics and direct the conversation towards where he wanted. Cris put a larger than usual chunk of bread in his mouth and started chewing it slowly. He needed a pause to think, but not too long and obvious to raise suspicion. The con artist could have also started telling a story immediately, but Phillip mentioned a couple of names, so he wanted to ponder about how he would work them in. Out of all the people in the Rising Dawn the prisoner only wanted to know about Ervis and Fiona. Did they gave him the most hope, most confidence? Were they the most involved in such missions? Which one of them was this Siriana? Ervis sounded like a male name. But why then he was mentioned first? Clearly it wasn’t a conscious decision on Phillip’s part, but for some reason he did it. Was he more important than Fiona and thus Fiona is not the leader, or was he simply more likely to have participated in the freeing of slaves? Cris was not capable to reach a conclusion on what the slave’s subconsciousness was trying to tell, so for now he left Fiona as a mastermind in his mental draft of the Rising Dawn hierarchy. Ervis was probably another general-type person. If Crismento worked within that framework, that meant he knew nothing about Ervis and only a little about Fiona. He was aware that if he included them in his story, there was likelihood that Phillip might notice inconsistencies. That meant Cris should be done with his tale quick, leading it to somewhere more important. Cris finally swallowed the piece of bread shaking his head and turned to Phillip. ”Neither of them were there. Of course I wasn’t informed what they were doing instead, but I think it ended up better that way, or they too might have been captured with the rest.” He smiled to himself as if an amusing thought had reached his mind. ”On the other hand, we might not have been captured at all if they were alongside us. Harrol, bless his heart, is a strong and fierce fighter, but even he didn’t have a chance in this ambush.” Cris then lowered his voice in a way he would be telling a sensitive secret. ”I think the Black Sun was informed about the planned attempt to free the slaves. I think… I think we might have a spy in the Rising Dawn. At the very best it was a pathetic rat that was involved with the particular mission and suddenly switched sides. At the very worst…” He made another, this time a bit more dramatic, pause as if not wanting to say what he was thinking. ”At the very worst it could be someone among them,” Cris accompanied his words with a knowing look and let Phillip’s mind to replace the last word with something meaningful to him. Any well-functioning organisation that was capable to pull of such stunts as the Rising Dawn had to have some sort of layers of hierarchy and varying degrees of information available. There must have been one or two among ‘them’ that Phillip liked and trusted least. ”I… I wouldn’t even know what could be done if this was the case….” Crismento briefly entertained the idea of accusing Phillip of betraying them and driving him to make excuses, but that had huge risks of backfiring and hurting their new relationship. He let his face lighten up a bit. ”Whatever happened, I’m sure Ervis and Fiona will find out the reasons behind that," Cris felt more confident to mention both names, just in case. "If there is someone not to be trusted, I believe they will reveal them. I think they should gather together soon and discuss such possibility. I wish I could advise them to,” he ended with a slight smile.

OOCSorry for constantly taking days to reply.

[Cassandra Coven]

OOCI am so sorry for the late post. Been on a rut if you guys didn't know. Hopefully I'll be able to return to my usual posting pace again. Cassandra blushed as the Acolyte grasped her gloved hand, and, because the clothing article was fingerless, she could feel the roughness of the man's hand through her fingertips, but his caress was gentle. She looked up as Trevinus reassured her, and she could not help but become lost in the piercing gaze of his pale eyes. She could only nod in agreement at his proposal, and not one that was coy as she would give any other patron offering her a little bit more tip if she spent a few more minutes lingering by his table to converse, but rather it was meek consent to the Acolyte's words. Truth be told, she would not even remember what she had agreed to once the man had left, only that he had promised her an outlet, a release for a fundamental need. She would have spoken, though she doubt it would be anything but the blathering of a sycophant eager to stoke the ego of a man in power, but the meals Trevinus had ordered for them earlier had arrived, delivered by Cassandra's rather disgruntled coworker. The plate of food given her had a smaller amount of servings and the meat appeared a little too burnt, as obviously intentionally left on the grill a little too long. It was not much different than the meals she took when rushing to work or after reheating leftovers after a long day at the tavern, and really, Cassandra would not have made an issue out of it. Trevinus did however, and now he put her on the spot by asking her what should be done for such a deliberate offense. The poor serving girl was desperately looking at her both in apology and for support. Cassandra could feel the fear radiating from her like a physical thing. But she also felt disgust and irritation, as if the Acolyte's ire was something infectious. The dark-haired woman frowned, disturbed by the strangeness of the emotion. It was apt for the situation but Cassandra had always been diplomatic when it came to easing tension. She had always been a peacemaker. And yet she could also not deny the strength of the growing anger in her heart. The other serving girl had already noticed her expression and had covered her face with her hands, uncontrollable sobs punctuating the shaking of her shoulders. Save for the girl's crying, the whole tavern had lapsed into silence as everyone awaited her response. A wide range of thoughts ran through Cassandra's mind right there and then, from making the other serving girl pick the burnt meat up with her bare hands and cooking and replacing it, again with her bare hands, to spitting at the girl and throwing the plate of food in her face, to taking one of the knives and cutting the girl up with it before using the god-given mark to make the pain worse. It was all so very vindictive and Cassandra almost got carried by it that she had actually started reaching for the knife before she caught herself. What is wrong with me?! Cassandra thought, trying her best to understand why such strong emotions were flooding within her. If it had happened at any other time, she would have just given the other barmaid a weak smile and still eat the food served her. But she felt so different whenever she was around Trevinus. Vaguely, she recalled a similar experience the previous night, how the man had made his way into her bed. She never wanted to sleep with him but it still happened and she even found herself wanting it, a direct one hundred eighty degree turn from what she had initially felt. Was what she was feeling right now his doing? Cassandra shook her head to clear it, her dark locks working themselves loose to cover her face. When she looked up again, her face was schooled into a placid, uncaring expression, though there was still a hint of a frown on her brows. She waved at the other barmaid dismissively, as if the girl was something insignificant. "Oh, you must ignore her incompetence, m'lord," she said, her tone condescending as she referred to her coworker. "She's always been the clumsy one among us her, a klutz. Honestly, I don't know why Papa keeps her around! Perhaps it's because she works as hard as a horse. Or maybe an ass. I'm sure a day of scrubbing the public middens would teach her a little bit more discipline. Don't you think so, dearie?" She said the last part directly to the serving girl, her hazel eyes purposely cold and hard to keep her little act believable though it was not that difficult to maintain given the lingering malice in her heart. From the look on the other woman's eyes, Cassandra knew she would get it from her and the other serving girls, possibly giving her the most dreary and demeaning tasks once Trevinus had left, just for the openly critical words she had just uttered. Most certainly she would be ostracized among them... for the simple fact that the Acolyte had shown special favor to her. There was no avoiding it; even if Trevinus had not taken exception of the inferior meal served to her, the other girls would still hate her for garnering the favor of the Black Sun. Still, Cassandra knew she was saving the other barmaid from a harsh punishment. She herself had experienced the cruelty of the members of the Black Sun firsthand to know that she would not wish such a fate on anyone else - even if they hated her for it.

[Verilian]

Reaver Trevinus raised an eyebrow at Reaver's question, a half smile appearing on his lips. "When indeed?" As Reaver continued the acolyte remained silence, listening curiously as he explained what Trevinus surmised Reaver believed or wanted Trevinus to believe had happened to him. The only thing that seemed to bother the Acolyte was Reaver's obvious disrespect for him. Trevinus was proud, and disliked people who did not know their place, but he did his best to hide his irritation. A perceptive individual, however, might still spot the occasional twitch of his lip when Reaver made his quips about being important. When Reaver finished Trevinus leaned back in his chair contemplating for several chime before finally speaking. "I don't know anything about demons sharing your name. According to my records you have been known as Reaver since your arrival in Ravok ages ago, so unless this demon has been with you all along that part of your story is unlikely." Trevinus sat forward, staring at the mask on Reaver's face. After a moment he looked down, picking up the vial delicately in two fingers. "Interesting," he muttered and he flipped it about and rolled it in his fingers, the red liquid always staying centered in the vial. "..what have you been up to, Silvas?" Again it was something Reaver would recognize. The name Silvas sparked a memory from his past, of a much younger Ravok, and of a very powerful creature known as Silvas, one of Rhysol's Druvin. Druvin were the champions of Rhysol, second only to the Voice herself, but that was all Reaver could remember. "You intrigue me, Reaver. You have been here for a long time, yet you have stayed under the radar for so long we nearly forgot you. And now here you are burning portions of the city and getting mixed up with Rhysol's enemies. And you have the nerve to demand literature from your superior." Trevinus stood, handing the vial back to Reaver, "I suggest you take it. Trying to avoid it will only make things worse." The acolyte walked to the door and pushed it open, looking over his shoulder. "If your legs are quite rested, I recommend you come with me. We will need to work fast if we are to free you of this curse." Trevinus exited the building and when Reaver caught up he would find the Acolyte already halfway down the dock, heading for a ravosala docked nearby. Trevinus waited for Reaver to catch up before signaling the driver, who pushed them out into the water heading for the center of the city. They floated in silence, Trevinus occupying himself with a wrinkled piece of parchment covered in writing, and when they arrived at the Temple of the Black Sun Trevinus climbed out first. Once Reaver exited Trevinus handed him a black hood. "I am going to have to insist that you put this on. No one but the Chaon may see the path we are about to take." When and if Reaver put the hood on, obscuring his vision, Trevinus would grab his arm and guide him into the temple. They went up and down flights of stairs, made left turns, right turns, more stairs, more turns, and if Reaver had been trying at all to keep track of where they were he would have lost all sense of direction by the time the hood was finally pulled off. Reaver found himself in a dimly lit room. Trevinus was standing next to him, before him were four prisoners hanging naked from the wall by chains on their wrists. One of then was a young man, perhaps in his mid twenties. His body had the look of a laborer, muscular but not especially toned. The second was a tall man who appeared to be in his thirties. He was thin, but not sickly so, and had long black hair. The third was a beautiful woman in the prime of her youth, her voluptuous body the quality one might find at the House of Immortal Pleasures. Finally the fourth was a handsome well built man with short blonde hair, toned muscles of a warrior, and Windmark tattoos on his arms. "I give you four enemies of Rhysol, all healthy and ripe for the plucking. Pick your body, and we will begin the process of freeing you from your curse." OOCIf you just absolutely hate all these bodies, PM mena description of one that would be suitable and I will edit the post. Cassandra Coven Trevinus laughed out loud and leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingers together. "So soft you are, Cassandra." His eyes shifted to the waitress, "Very well, go and bring us another meal, and when you are done you may clean as she suggested. Consider yourself lucky, girl, I would have had you publicly beaten and donated your wages this season to the temple as penance for your offense. Run along now, and do try not to offend us again." After the girl left Trevinus turned his gaze back to Cassandra, "I apologize for that, but I simply cannot allow such things to stand. Imagine what kind of place this would be if the people did not show us proper respect? This city is full of criminals, and if people begin to think they can get away with insulting Rhysol's followers and doing whatever they please I can only imagine the horror that would befall those few innocent folk who depend on the Black Sun's protection." "Now, to further address my proposal to you. Each day before you come to work, or after if it would fit your schedule better, you will report to the Vitrax. I will be there to begin with, but once you get comfortable you will be able to do it on your own. We will have selected a prisoner for you. You may do whatever you need to relieve your mark for the day. If you wish, we can tell you the prisoner's crimes so that you know you are not hurting someone who is undeserving. It will be anonymous, the prisoner will be hooded so neither of you may see the other's face." Trevinus paused, taking a sip from his glass before continuing. "If and when we require further service from you, be it further use of your mark or something else, you will be expected to comply. We will compensate you for such services, as well, and again you will only be asked to do things for the safety of Ravok. So," he said, pausing to take another sip, "How does this sound to you? You keep your job, you get an outlet for your mark, and have the opportunity to earn more Mizas when we need you. And, you will be making Ravok a safer place. Is there anything else you would like, Cassandra? You have but to ask, and I will make it happen." OOCSo, just to clear up a couple things on the OOC end. You won't get additional wages for this "job" but you can roleplay it any time you want. You don't need a mod to do your daily.. mark usings? The special jobs do require a mod though, and your reward will depend on the job, but basically you get a free quest hook. Also I'll be coming to you with thread offers from time to time as the story of the Rising Dawn progresses. Any other questions feel free to PM Cristmento Miren Phillip listened to Crismento's story intently. When Cris was done and accused one of them Phillip responded with a grunt. "Wouldn't surprise me one bit if it was Ervis. Never trusted that man. Don't get me wrong, he's been a big help. But somethin about drawin magic from bones and such just doesn't sit well with me. Fiona says he wants the same thing we do, Rhysol dead, but I think he would be just as happy gettin his hands on Priskil's body or any other god for that matter. He wants the power.. Makes me worry if we succeed, will we have a new god to take down?" Phillip leaned back, mulling over the thought as Meph expressed a desire to get a message to the conspirators. The comment brought an unexpected smile to Phillip's face and a chuckle escaped his lips. "Maybe we could request a conjugal visit as our last wish. Might even be that Fiona herself comes.. I always wondered if there really was a Fiona Special." Phillip reached for the bread Crismento was holding, asking for a bite. The slave turned rebel leaned back, chewing thoughtfully and suppressing another chuckle. After a few chimes of silence the sound of moving bars filled the cell and two guards entered the room. One of them stood before Phillip, making sure he did not interfere, while the other grabbed Crismento's arm and yanked him to his feet. "Time to play," the guard said, a cruel smile on his lips. As Cris was dragged from the room Phillip shouted, "Be vigilant, my friend! Priskil is with you!" Crismento was dragged from the cell and blindfolded again, led through a series of corridors until he was shoved down into a chair and the blindfold was pulled off. He was back in the first room, Korin was leaning casually against the wall across from him picking at his nails with a dagger. "So, tell me, have you learned anything. We would have given you more time, but Phillip might begin to wonder why you aren't getting the same treatment he did. I hope for your sake you found out enough that you don't have to go back in." Roman Still gone Aello The Stryfe did take Aello's possessions, apparently not trusting her to behave, before leading her from the tavern. He was not rough with her, but neither was he friendly. His grip on her arm was just enough that he could guide her, but he put no unnecessary pressure into it either. The walk was silent, the Stryfe not saying one word to Aello, until they neared the Vitrax. "Make eye contact with no one," he whispered, just loud enough for Aello to hear. That was the only advice he gave her before they entered. There were Ebonstryfe everywhere, some standing guard, some in training, and others just watching as Aello was led to a door. Behind the door was a stairwell, and down they went, until they reached a dark, damp corridor. They were beneath the surface of the lake, it was much cooler than it was outside. The only light was from a few flickering torches. They passed several cells, some with prisoners and others empty, until they finally reached another door which led to an office. A man was sitting behind a desk, "This woman murdered a city guard." The man nodded and stood, walking over to Aello and circling her slowly. His eyes glazed over in a manner quite familiar to Aello, and shortly after he nodded. "Thank you, I will take it from here." Her escort nodded and exited the room while the other man continued to stare at Aello, licking his lips. Aello's weapons and gear were locked into a vault behind the man's desk. She was forced to strip completely, and then given a simple one piece linen skirt like thing which smelled of mold. After all processing Aello was taken to one of the empty cells and shoved inside. The place was damp, reeked of excrement, and there was a thin layer of grime covering the floor. There were no beds, no waste bin, nothing in the manner of comfort to be had. After he shoved her into the cell the man tossed her a loaf of stale bread, which would land in the filth if she failed to catch it, and muttered, "That will last you five days, you get water once a day. If you want more," the man paused, licking his lips again, "We might be able to work something out... Your execution will be ten days from now, so my recommendation is pray to Rhysol for some mercy." The man left, leaving Aello alone in the dark, the light of his torch vanishing as he shut the door to his office. Some time later Aello felt the familiar weight of her dagger as it returned to her hand. Alenias Aello was gone, just as Treanus was gone. Only Yune remained. "Don't worry, Alenias, I'm sure Aello will be alright," Yune chirped. Alenias could only hope Yune was right. In her search for Siriana she had two options. She could go to the House of Immortal Pleasures, which was closer. Or she could try to find the shack in the woods again, something that might take longer and had no guarantee that she would be able to locate the place. Alenias went to the House of Immortal Pleasures. The place hadn't changed a bit since she was last there, although asking for Siriana did not seem to be working. Most of the time she was ignored or given a confused look. Other times she was told things like, "No Sirianas here. Never has been," or, "Siriana doesn't work here anymore." One woman offered to help her instead of Siriana, but Alenias got the feeling she meant something else. When it seemed she was out of luck and was going to have to try to find the shack, her hope was restored when a man approached and whispered, "Somebody told me you were asking for Siriana. Come with me." The man was big and scary looking, but he didn't have any of the strange marks that made him out to be one of the bad guys, and he hadn't denied Siriana's existence either. The man led her to a room and shut the door, locking it from the inside before turning around to face her. "You must be one of the old recruits," he stated, "Siriana changed her name.. but you are in luck. She should be arriving tonight. You look tired.. rest here, I will make sire nobody disturbs you until Siriana arrives." Alenias was left alone for some time, perhaps three or four bells, before she finally was able to hear voices outside her door. One of them was the man from earlier, and the other a woman's voice. Finally the door opened, and Alenias was met with a familiar face. Though she had cut and dyed her hair, it was definitely Siriana. "Alenias," she exclaimed in surprise and shut the door behind her. "What are you doing here, has something happened?" Siriana rushed forward, wrapping Alenias in a comforting embrace before pulling back and looking Alenias in the eyes. "Are you in trouble?"