[Syliras Quest] Roll The Dice And Watch Them Burn (Leo/Doc)

[Gossamer]

Timestamp: 40th of Spring, 510 AV Time of Day: Midnight Location: Next Door To The Triad Facility - Costiva Hivan House Plot Notes: * For a few weeks now the building that had been formally empty next to the Triad's own quiet two story brick fortress had been showing what equated to signs of life. It wasn't anything special during the day. A few workers came in. A few departed. They were obviously remodeling, and it didn't strike anyone as extra special. The Triad's headquarters were located in an old courtyard that had turned into its own street with sedate buildings that were almost as old as the expansion of the walls around it. The Costiva Hivan House used to be something mundane - a factory for clothing manufacturing - namely uniforms. But in recent times, it had sat empty until Loren Dyres had been talked into leasing its space to an organization that wanted to use it as a storehouse. It did, after all, have an extensive basement. Normally this wouldn't be a problem. But when the lights went down the crowd started showing up. At first it was small, with people trickling in to avoid the City Watch patrols that managed to make it past the building two or three times a night. Then, as things grew, children started to be spotted loitering on distant corners - no doubt lookouts for the facility - causing distractions that neatly cause the Knights to avoid passing by Leo Varniak's building at all during the night. The Rolling Dice House had started operating at full speed in the mean time. Full speed meant gambling. And it was gambling that the Dyres weren't getting a cut of. At first, there was very little noise issues. But as time wore on, it got louder and louder as the booze flowed freely, whores joined the crowd, and the dice games expanded into pit fighting. Cards abounded but so did bets of all kinds. The pits too weren't all that sophisticated. Anyone was let through the door that flashed a few coppers to the doorman. The stakes were high. Some dice games were played for coin, others for horses, and even others for slaves. Later in the night, they were also played life for life. There was a strange aura about the place. In the early days it drew all sorts of nefarious sorts that reveled in the debauchery that took place there. But as its operations lengthened and grew more sophisticated, there was subtle signs of something being off. At first, it was little things... arguments that ended in bodies. That wasn't uncommon in itself, but the fact that the bodies were quickly taken away and never seen again. Games grew in stakes and new events were added. Not only were chickens and dogs fought in the pits, but soon well-armed men. Next game women and as the crowd grew more frenzied and bored even of that,then something even worse was given weapons and thrown in the pits to fight their way out. All bets were final and if people couldn't pay up, they too ended up in the pits. It was all very entertaining. And it was very dangerous. Murdoch would have no problems catching wind of it and dropping by for a card game or a hand at the dice. Leo Varniak, on the other hand, would be irritated to no end by the constant noise all night long. Most of the rest of the buildings around him were empty - which made the location for the Rolling Dice perfect - except for him. He too could get in for a few coppers. Murdoch, most likely, was already well involved in playing the games of his choice.

[Leo Varniak]

Leo Varniak rolled around in his bed on the upper floor of the Triad's headquarters, and ended up staring at the ceiling for a long chime, lost in contemplation. Getting a good night's sleep was practically a miracle for the young Azenth, whose insomniatic nature rarely granted him a reprieve of more than a couple bells at most. On top of that, there had been disturbances lately; the traffic patterns around the building had been changing little by little, transforming the district in less than desirable ways. Prior to finding the Zaital Consulting building, Leo would never have considered moving back into the quarter that had given him birth, so filled with unpleasant memories of things that had been and could have been. He had changed his mind, though, upon finding that the district was relatively peaceful and populated by hard-working people, which was something he could respect. Of course, it had not lasted long. Something was brewing in the district, and like all things that turned from the prying eye, it was most likely dark and sinister. That night, Leo found that he could no longer allow this state of things to continue. Knowing that the Knights were only good for questing far away from Syliras and totally incompetent when it came to protecting their own city, he knew he had to take matters into his own hands. He would do so alone; Terminus and Sondra would likely speak against it. Terminus was not a man of conflict, and he had problems with Leo's methods to begin with. Sondra had agreed to be Leo's Konti advisor, and he was afraid that she might try to stop him. And so, he put on a shirt and slipped out of the Triad's building. It was not hard to locate the source of the commotion - the patron's passions building up and being released were like a beacon reverberating within the flame-marks on his back. "Shady entertainment facility. Unregulated by the looks of it. Alcoholic abuse running rampant." He shoved a drunk aside unceremoniously. Alcohol came in many forms, but to Leo they all smelled like Allistir Varniak's foul breath when he came back from the tavern and his hands were so big and meaty and strong. "Unrestricted prostitution." He turned down a whore's offers just as unceremoniously - some of them may look attractive enough at a first glance, but all Leo could see was the released passions of a multitude of men sticking to them, and the displays of willingness that rang hollow and fake. Disgusting. He slipped a few coppers into the doorman's hand, his arm about as rigid as a broomstick, and was let in. What greeted his senses as he entered was enough to make him freeze for a second or two. "Mankind at its finest. Looks like I can't afford enough ink to list all the sins here." Leo moved slowly through the crowd, watching as animals were pitted against each other while men shouted and threw money around. Cards, dice, spinning wheels, you named it they had it. Leo suspected men killed each other for money in these pits. Men were dark creatures who reshaped the world to their likeness. It was up to the few just people to stop them. By any means necessary. "Fools. Gambling is just another term for a donation to the House." And definitely Leo Varniak wasn't enough of a philantropist for that. Not that he had time to even consider such things. He had much to consider. Obviously, this orgy of misery and evil had to end tonight. The only unknowns were how, when, and the final body count.

[Murdoch]

Murdoch had gotten wind of the newest gambling establishment a few weeks after it opened, his contacts at the more legitimate Spinning Coin whispering words into his ears. He needed no convincing - he could make much more money in a place where he could cheat without mercy, and he'd managed to build his purse back up despite the money he'd lost keeping Nel in his house.

Nel.

She was gone now, and Doc was in one of the more foul moods he'd ever been in. He planned on drinking until he couldn't feel anything ever again. Had even gone so far as to get into the pit earlier that night, and his anger and frustration was given warm blood as comfort. He'd shoved his knife so deep in his opponent that he'd had to peel his flesh out of the grooves in the handle. He had a drying cut beneath his eye as a reward, and possibly a bruised rib, but he could deal with that.

He was more sober now than he'd like, settled more now that he'd gotten some of that out, and as he sat at the card table and slid a Tree from his sleeve to take the hand and claim his pot, he slumped down into his chair and peered around.

He hated this place, suddenly. It was too familiar, too comfortable, too much like the hell he'd grown up in. There was something dark here, something only a man with scars on his soul could recognize, and he wasn't quite sure why he was even here. Money, sure, but how much was he willing to sacrifice for coin? He had a life here, and the last thing he wanted was to lose it - or worse, to have it twisted into the life he'd left.

But he didn't know anything else.

He gave a grunt and threw down his ante for the next hand, muddy eyes glancing around as something prickled his finely honed sense of forthcoming danger.

[Gossamer]

The warehouse turned gambling hall had an aura about it that was partially charged with luck and equally weighted with desperation. There was a sense that people were looking for 'something' to somehow change their fortunes or influence their lives. Murdoch was doing well at the tables, already holding fifteen gold mizas he didn't have when he started the night. Of course, they guy he was playing with... two of them actually... were starting to wonder at his luck. He lost more than he made at first, as was the usual ploy, but in the end he seemed to come back stronger winning more and more easily. One man, a large guy that reminded him somehow of a butcher by the size of his arms and gut (after all, blacksmiths had arms like that but usually very little midsection), seemed to grow more and more aggressive as the night passed. Several times, a pretty little scantly clad attendant had passed him a small packet for a significant amount of silver and he'd poured the substance into his beer before swirling it around and drinking. The attendants were weird too - there was something quite off about them. They wore see-through black shirts that showed off perfect bodies and breasts, full length black skirts that belted with a wide linked belt that ended in a black piece of obsidian on the end links, and though they were obviously beautiful, one couldn't see their faces because they wore black opaque black cloths covering their features. It gave them an exotic appeal that some men felt comfortable enough to touch, though it was clear they were not prostitutes. One even offered a packet to Murdoch early on. Whether the took it or not, for the hefty sum of 8 silver, was up to him. Leo, on the other hand, was finding very little interesting to him. He didn't gamble. He didn't like the whores. And of course, he didn't drink... so the vices available were indeed limited. But wandering through plotting everyone's demise, he'd found himself beside the fighting pit where they were obviously about to announce a new game. One of the men dressed as the female attendants were walked out with two children, barely seven, holding his hands. He wore long opaque black pants, kidskin boots, and was bare chested though his veil was identical to the ones the women wore. He lifted first one child's hand and then the others as an announcer stepped out onto a platform above and behind the pit. "Ladies and Gentleman... today we introduce a new game for you. Child fights! These street rats have been harvested to test their meddle on the blood soaked pit grounds and to prove just how effective our new pick-me-up Enliven is! Each of these children are mild mannered, well behaved, and utterly untrained for combat. But... with a quadruple dose of Enliven you'll see the change immediately. Mind you... these worthless fleas are taking too high of a dose for it to be safe, but imagine what even a normal quarter dose would do.... Enliven! For sale today by any one of the attendants!" He said, then stepped back and made a gesture. Two female attendants walked forth, and while the male still held the two children by the arms, one woman forced the little boys' mouth open and poured powder down his throat while the other did the same to the little girl. Waterskins were opened, and both children were made to drink as well, then were dosed over the head with the remainder of the skins. This seemed to anger them... though they'd obviously been crying prior to it. The big male attendant released the two kids, and stepped back, exiting the ring. Both children looked at each other in confusion, still coughing and sputtering from the force feeding, until slowly the girls expression began to change first. She grew even angrier, turned red, and then glanced around. It was then that the crowd would notice a rather large table of weapons. She raced for the table, snatched up a dagger, and advanced on the boy who howled in pain as she stabbed at him, cutting into his upper arm. There was no coherent thinking in the girls expression at all. The boy, as soon as she drew first blood, ran for the table as well and plucked a thick spiked mace off its surface. He turned, and advanced on the girl, shouting in what appeared to be Pavi as he swung the mace hard, trying to make contact with her head. As the children began the fight and blood began to flow, the crowd went absolutely wild. They loved it. Every minute of it. And even as the boy slammed the mace into the girls side and caused her to stagger painfully, the girl reached out and cut off one of his fingers in a wildly desperate move to try and remove the mace from his hand. More blood... more screams of pleasure from the crowd. And all in an instant, the betting ran wild.

[Murdoch]

Murdoch refused the drugs that were offered, as he always did. Drugs dulled the mind even if they sharpened the body, and that was something he couldn't afford. The big angry bastard at the table barely got a glance. If he wanted to start a fight, he was more than welcome to it. Doc knew where everyone within arm's reach was hiding their weapons, and he was pretty sure that if he shoved enough in the Butcher he'd go down eventually.

When the announcements started, his eyes remained on the cards, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles of his face jumped and spasmed. Child fights. How many of those petching things had he seen? How many nights had he stood on the edge of the cage, calling out odds as his brother prepared to kill another boy?

The sickness remained, slicked his tongue until he couldn't breathe, and with a growl he threw his cards down and scooped up his money, shoving it into a pocket inside his tunic. He turned his back on the table without another word and started shoving his way through the crowd, trying to get back to the bar, to a place where he could get enough booze in his face to forget all this madness.

And then he heard what the announcer was saying. They're drugging the children, he thought, looking up in time to watch them shoving the powder into their mouths. His own hung open in horror as he watched them cough and sputter - and then he saw all humanity leave their eyes as they began to draw blood.

He glanced around the warehouse, taking it in as a whole, all of it at once. Faceless attendants, violence-inducing drugs, a devolving air of madness and vice that he hadn't even realized was building to such a frenzied pitch. Perhaps it was the shock of Nel's dream and his own madness as he tossed her out on the street that buffered him from it tonight, kept him from being swept away. They look like a cult, he thought, swallowing harshly as his eyes darted from each of the girls and over to the announcer.

He looked around, and saw a man as non-descript as himself standing beside him - and he, too, didn't look at all happy with what was going on around them. Doc realized that his own disgust and horror must be easily read on his face, and quickly did what he could to wipe it away. Though there was like no hiding it in those muddy, hazel eyes.

[Leo Varniak]

Within minutes of entering the warehouse, Leo Varniak knew this was no common alehouse. Much as he despised the things, they ruined lives on an individual basis only; this immediately struck the man as something very different. "Elaborate uniforms. Hidden faces. Veneer of refinement catering to base instincts. Highly organized. Probably more security mixed in the crowd than meets the eye. Many people on payroll. Enough to divert Knight patrols." Each discovery was more worrisome than the last. Leo believed that taverns were bad, but this place reeked of evil. Of course it shouldn't have mattered where this was taking place, but he couldn't help but be annoyed at these evil-doers choosing the warehouse next door for their damnable business. It was like adding insult to injury. Leo would not be able to get any rest knowing the source of the sounds and commotion reaching the walls of the Triad's headquarters. He spotted strange packets changing hands, people pouring them into their drinks, and their aggressiveness rising steadily in response. Leo was no drug expert, but this was a new one to him. Moreover, it always seemed to be the same substance, which struck him as strange - if they dealt in drugs then why not offer more variety? The obvious answer was that this… group brewed the drug themselves. The very idea of this being a mere front-end for something bigger made Leo uneasy. He'd gotten himself quite a troublesome neighbor. He sighed and did something perhaps unexpected - early on, he accepted a packet of the drug and paid the 8 silver mizas, pocketing the thing for later. He needed to have it examined by a Philterer or something, maybe Terminus himself. Or an aura mage, or someone with gnosis. Maybe they'd be able to find out its ingredients and give him a clue as to how and where the drug was manifactured. His wanderings led him to the edges of the fighting pit almost by a random chance, just as an attendant announced a new game. For an instant, Leo thought his ears had been playing tricks on him - he couldn't possibly have said child fights? He blinked and saw that it was the naked truth. Children far too young to have sinned were brought into the pit; harmless creatures to be drugged into a killer fury. Leo felt something hot and scorching building at the pit of his stomach, and had to force himself to breathe slowly and calm down. He did not turn his eyes away from the sight of children being force-fed huge amounts of this Enliven monstruosity - his eyes could not be closed to any evidence. He watched the concoction quickly take effect and turn the two children into bloodthirsty savages. But that was not the most shocking thing. Turning around and seeing a vast crowd of screaming brutes betting filthy Mizas on the blood of the innocent took Leo's breath away for an instant. It was ironic, really. All the people in the past… calling him harsh, cruel, insensitive, crazy, alienated. And here he was, alone in a full room, observing the droplets of saliva erupting from the mouths of enraged betters. Children sent to their deaths for entertainment, and he was the only one who cared? At the end of the day, who was cruel? Who was insensitive? Who was alienated? Burn them all, a part of him said. Leo silenced it, taking back control. At that very moment, his eyes crossed the face of a man standing nearby who appeared to be just as disgusted as he was. Maybe he wasn't the only one after all. That realization gave him the final modicum of drive he needed to take action. "A real Azenth would know what to do. My father would know what to do." But Alvias wasn't here - wasn't on this side of Mizahar most likely, if he was even alive. Words about the purpose of the Azenth came back to him; the Releasers, those who kept emotions from going sour and rotting away into chaos. He was a Zaital, he had the blood and gnosis of an Azenth, and perhaps for the first time he was glad for it. "Let me do your job on your behalf here, Ivak. I'm sure you won't mind." "If you care for them, stay close," Leo spoke to Murdoch. Nobody would be paying attention anyways. "I may need some help soon." He joined his hands in deep concentration and closed his eyes as if praying. Had to make this gnosis thing work. Emotional control was the key to understanding the more abstract part of Ivak's domain. Leo knew the theory, but to apply it was another matter entirely. Multiplying emotion like wildfire to channel one's spirit in the direction of choice. The only rule was that it could only augment, never suppress… admittedly, a tough constraint in this case but hopefully one he could work his way around. Leo was certain that the boy and the girl still had fear in them, but it had been overwhelmed by drug-induced anger. He tried to focus Ivak's gnosis on multiplying the fear to incredible levels, driving the rage out of their systems. Animals had two ways of responding to a threat, and he needed enough fear to make the switch from fight to flight. Besides, if he could make a quadruple dose on a kid seem short-lived, sales would be impacted for certain and the House may have disgruntled customers to deal with on top of that.

[Gossamer]

The gifts Azenth bore were special because they just didn't simply do one thing, but provided a whole host of tools that allowed the Azenth to do their duties. Leo Varniak, however, took that to a whole new level. His true name was Zaital, and he came from a long line of Zaitals that could trace their linage back to a very special place. Alvias would have told him that, had he been there, and warned him too of the potency at which the Zaital's were capable of operating. Finesse, as of yet, was not Leo's forte. Instead, he tended to dump proverbial mountains on problems when only a few grains of sand were needed. And so as he tapped his Azenth, the power swelled in him and broadcast outward focused on the children, but too on augmenting their fear. Leo could almost physically see the wave of energy he sent them as he bowed his head, closed his eyes, and joined his hands together. In an instant, he felt all the fears in the room. It stank of fear: fear of poverty, fear of predation, fear of someone across the table from someone else growing violent, a very acute fear of the loss of love beside him, and then finally the children's fears. The emotion itself was like a tiny flame restrained by the cold breath of the drug. Leo could see easily how he could pour energy into that flame and fan it outwards, enough to consume the drug induced rage and overwhelm it. The power of his Azenth was like an accelerant - like pouring oil onto a fire - and all he had to do was shove his power deep. It wasn't unlimited, of course, but Leo could feel how easily this was as he did so... the fear in them was great - sheer terror of captivity and virtual slavery. It cost him almost nothing to fan it. A shove, a finger of energy well placed whispering 'be afraid... be very very afraid'.... It worked. Both children dropped their weapons and screamed in terror. The boy leaped up over the pit wall in a vault he shouldn't have been able to do and scrambled off into the crowd still screaming. The little girl dove into the wall herself, meaning to climb it, but in her terror ran straight into it. There was an ugly crack and she fell back, lifeless as the force of her slamming her own body into the pit wall snapped her neck. He felt her death like a huge release of emotion - her life was short, comprised of nothing, all potential lost. They were in the business of this - loosing this potential - eliminating it from the world. He felt her power too as she died - her capacity to reason logically and negotiate. Even as a child it was prominent. She would have made a great liason or diplomat or even a merchant had someone groomed her and took her off the streets... if that was where she was even from. The boy, however, was a fighter and he was already fighting his way to the door and beyond, fleeing in terror into the night. But like all Azenth, they had a hard time with control. In learning control was the true path to priesthood. Ivak, before he'd lost everything, had prided himself on his ability to control the might he possessed. Volcanoes, magma, and emotions... he knew when to vent, when to repress, and when the time was right for more changes on the land. His Azenth were no different. The more they grew in strength, naturally, the more they prided themselves on control. But this was Leo's first attempt, first trial by fire, and what he unleashed was hard for even him to control. The power welled up effortlessly and broadcast outwards - alighting everyone in the gambling den's fears. They weren't powered up quite like the children's were, but the results were roughly the same. The prostitutes feared their looks failing, their pimp being displeased at their earnings, and abusive clients. Gamblers feared cheating - the house, the opposing players, themselves. Those tending bar feared bad alcohol, angry drunken clients, and ill mixed drinks. The brutes feared losses of the physical kind. The rest of the customers feared the whole place loosing control. Beside him, with the stranger, he felt the overwhelming fear of love lost. But strangely, as Leo's power augmented the facility, and his awareness reached out he found something else. He found the masked waiters and waitresses... the ringmasters and attendants... feared two things keenly. They feared angering the Black Hand with a poor performance. And they feared failing Vayt. The Black Hand.. it was a name he'd heard before. And Vayt... Vayt was one rarely whispered. That was shocking... for as he read their emotions he could feel the disease about them. They reeked of it, burning his nose as if his Azenth abilities were not unlike that of a bloodhounds scent gifts. But even more frightening... Leo couldn't stop it. Once he started Releasing and reading the emotions of the crowd, he couldn't pull it back... not at first, not in the very beginning. His ability rolled off him in waves of energy, redoubling the magnitude of what he was trying to do.... augment fear. And it got to the point, so quickly, so devastatingly, that he trembled with the effort and almost felt compelled to read everyone and release them all. The city had been devoid of a triad for years... and as a result, in some ways they were pent up and needed the pressure released. But Leo was inexperienced, and trapped, focused on what was beyond him and around him... not exactly on himself. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* And in the midst of the children screaming and fleeing - one to her death - Murdoch felt something else. He felt the acute fear of loss, of Nel's departure, and of his overwhelming feelings for her. Leo unleashed his power and it hit Doc full force, bringing up all the fears he'd ever had within himself and about himself. It was as if all his weakness was exposed in one instant - any self doubts, any concerns, any flaws in his character were brought forth and exposed. His fear fed the process and it was truly like a release. Everything he'd pent up since Nel's departure was suddenly and incredibly thrust into the forefront. He knew what he was in that instant. And it wasn't easy... seeing all the character weaknesses laid bare. But there was something else Leo's power fanned upwards. And it gave him very very little time to digest what he was seeing. It was a voice, a soft voice, in the inside of his mind. It whispered like a soothing balm across his conciousness. "Do you like what you see within yourself, Murdoch? It doesn't have to be this way. You are stronger than this... you are better than that which you have become. The man beside you is a powerful creature, but he is as alone as you are in this battle. And make no mistake, it is a battle. The people here are just a fragment of what will come and what will be. The whole of this city is threatened by their very presence. You are threatened, whether they know it or not. Do not touch the masked ones. Their very essence leads to death. But aid the Ivak follower. He will need a voice of reason in the coming war. Stop him now... gently pull him back to himself. If he doesn't return, what he Releases within this crowd will be devastating. Children should crawl before they walk, but Leo just got up and started running from the very beginning. Catch him, Murdoch... and let him be your guide to a greater truth."

[Murdoch]

For a moment, Murdoch thought he'd gone mad.

There was a split second, a moment in time between when the man beside him Released and when his own soul opened up and swallowed him - perhaps because of the warning he'd been given, or because Leo had tried to mark him as an exception. But there was a momentary flash where he saw the boy escape and the girl die, and then he saw the wave pulse out to infect everyone else.

Nel.

He was on his knees, fists clenched and shoved against his eyes as every terror of his life was revealed. It began with pale skin and white hair, blue eyes burning with fury as he shoved her out of his apartment. I would have given my life for her. As I would have for Ydratha. Gods, I love her, and she'll never forgive me. She'd crawled inside him with warm smiles and cool hands and he had betrayed her, broken what trust had lain between them. It didn't matter that he did it to try and save her - he could have told her, explained it to her, let her see into the twisted labyrinth of his heart and choose her own path. He was a coward, a murderer and a thief, and he didn't deserve her love.

Hadn't deserved Ydratha's love either. On the heels of his terror for Nel came the horror of his first love's brutal murder, the wound ripped open by the Konti girl's prophetic dream of violence and rape and burning alive only two nights ago. His brother's betrayal and the slick of Rakess' blood against his skin.

Coward, betrayer, kinslayer. Unloved and unsung, remembered only with hatred and vengeance.

And then... a voice, soothing and careful. It washed over him, calmed the fear and heartache that lay within him as it promised him hope. Hope. How long had it been since he'd known such a thing? Nel had brought some inkling of it, but she'd been too afraid of what lay within him; but that was gone now, burned out by the Azenth, and as he panted and wiped at the tears on his cheeks he heard the whispers and nodded as if in answer.

He could be more than what he'd become.

He opened his eyes to discover that only a few seconds had passed, though it felt like an eternity to him. He felt wrung out and hollow, but instead of feeling deflated it was almost as if he were lighter, had more room within his skull and his heart. He looked up to Leo, and remembered what he'd been told. He shoved up to his feet and stood in front of him, though he could still sense the waves of energy roiling off the magician's body. Strong hands caught him by the shoulders, an anchor in the physical world.

"Easy," he said, trying to recall what he'd been told by... whoever. "Leo! Come back to yourself. Slowly, slowly," he said, lifting one hand to press it palm-down on the man's collarbone, thumb tapping gently against the hollow of his throat in time with his heartbeat. "You've done too much too fast. You have to... you have to crawl before you can walk," he said, feeling like a complete nutter for talking to the man like he knew him. But something in him did, and he would think about that part when they were out of this.

[Leo Varniak]

There was no man more ignorant than the one who thought he knew. Leo Varniak had tried to understand Ivak, profile the god from the evidence of his past interactions. He had approached him from every angle, making educated guesses and casting a feeble light on the conundrum of the World Destroyer. Leo Varniak thought he'd been very thorough at that, as he believed himself a deeply intelligent man. He thought he'd piece together a god's true face from the echoes of distant words when it was actually no farther away than Leo's own back with the intricate flame tattoos. He'd never really tried to understand. He was alone and disconnected, and maybe that was why he felt the shock as acutely as he did. Ivak's power had suddenly linked him to every single man and woman in the warehouse, establishing a powerful network of feelings. He could see everyone… know their weaknesses into excruciating detail, and despite that he didn't even feel like judging them for it. He could see them for what they were, victims of something far bigger than them. Even the masked servants were but misshapen tools in hands not theirs. And the children, innocent blood that was now on his hands, too. He watched helplessly as the little girl slammed into the pit wall, and knew he had failed. He tried to cancel the power then, having lost the original reason for drawing it out in the first place. It was never his intention to drench the entire building in thick, overwhelming fear. He called it back to him, to no avail. He, who considered himself a savant of fire, found himself powerless before the flames of Released emotion. Around him, the crowd exploded into panic and Leo did nothing about it; couldn't do anything about it, and he was caring less and less about it. The screams and commotion no longer disturbed him, and he was losing his sense of self. He was the room now, locking onto everyone's fears and reading them like picture books. Pushing a button here and there and Releasing what they had within. Everything he knew and every skill he was blessed with seemed to serve the purpose of this moment. The judgmental attitude, the observation powers, all the lists and analysis and everything else; in his limited awareness Leo felt he had the potential to be a superb Azenth if only he wanted to. He realized that what Rhysol and his lackeys feared was not the droplet of Ivak or Kova's blood that may run in his veins. They feared someone who could shatter their stranglehold on the hearts of mortals as well as Leo could: without that control, without that dominion Rhysol was just another monster. Leo absorbed and Released fears as he chanced upon them, without actually reasoning on it. It was pure instinct and no control, but still conducted his way, filing away the fears of each target in mental lists for later perusal. Barely remembering his own existence, he couldn't have known there were limits to the power, and exceeding them may prove dangerous to him and devastating to those around. His feverish body trembled and shook as if in the early stages of epilepsy. Strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and he heard words spoken to him. Come back? Crawl before you walk? His eyes opened slowly, slits at first and then black, bloodshot furnaces. "Huh?" He stared at Murdoch with a look halfway between tired and incredulous. "How do you even know my… bah, doesn't matter, not like it's the first time anyways." Leo Zaital was feeling weak and nauseous, hungover from all the feelings he'd shared and experienced, though he'd lost none of the burning purpose in his eyes. He glanced over at the lifeless body of the girl in the pit. Leo burned her face into his memory, next to Kasav'i the Konti. The second innocent killed in the war. "All useless. The outcome didn't change. Justice… must be served. Let go of me. I'm fine." He wasn't fine at all if the truth be told. The sight of the girl's body made him want to burn everything down with the servants of Vayt, but he doubted he had it in him at the moment. He had been shaken down to the very core, to his very definition; even the significance of Murdoch's words had slipped into the cracks between three simple words. Avenge the girl.

[Gossamer]

No one in the building understood what happened though they realized something significant had changed. As far as they were concerned, the drug sent the children to fleeing and in the fragile moment between her life and death, the entire whole of the building Released. The crowd as a whole had released their fears, like a giant upwelling of pressure that had been building, one in which the whole of the populace of the warehouse was totally unaware of. It was like a breath of relief, a sigh of a burden given up when Murdoch gently guided Leo back to himself - back to the present. It changed everything. As for Murdoch, having been a first hand witness and recipient, he felt somehow stronger emotionally. His initial assessment of himself was clear cut and very accurate. It was like he had shed at least his own body weight in burdens and saw things just a little bit clearer. It was like he could touch the fears he had with Nel, with her being in his life, and do so without pain because they where things the Azenth had already forced him to face. They didn't hold the weight they once had. And because it was such a raw emotional untried Release, the side effect was that Murdoch wouldn't feel fear like he had - not the acute crippling kind that shut him completely down and sent him straight for the nearest bottle - for a long long time. He could still fear such things as fire hot kettle burning him if he didn't move it with a towel to insulate his flesh. But real fear, the kind that didn't preserve his body, but instead kept his mind trapped - was gone for a time. Throughout the building, everyone felt similar. Card games were wrapping up with people quietly laying aside their cards and sorting through the pots - no one seemed in a hurry, no one seemed angry. It was as if they suddenly had someplace far more important to be. Guards were looking around confused, as if wondering what exactly they were guarding. Patrons were stumbling around, looking dazed, and suddenly making for the exits. Those that were handing out the money won on the betting weren't jealously guarding the winnings, but rather dolling them out carefully and rapidly, giving no one any trouble. Two guards were collecting the body of the little girl. Where they had been hardened and reserved before, they now seemed moved by her death... one even tearing up a little. And strangely, people suddenly seemed to equate how much better they all suddenly felt with the drug they were being sold. There were whispers of the Enliven and the masked servers walking around were getting politely and quietly filling orders for it. The servants of Vayt were smiling. It was something they hardly ever did. So it wasn't that Leo hadn't effected them either. He had. But when one dwelled in a life such as theirs, a little release was unexpected and welcome. People from within the warehouse were wandering outside. This seemed to catch the notice of at least one individual in the room. He sat across at the bar, in the very last place next to the wall. It was a strategic location where one overlooked the whole set up and had a good view of the pits. He turned his head and whispered to a passing servant shrouded like the last. She laughed, much to his startlment, and then nodded an agreement to what he said. The man was older, perhaps in his early forties. He had silvered hair and sharp green eyes. His face was narrow, calculating, but there was something about his presence that seemed somehow different. As if it elevated his 5'7" frame to more like 6'7". Glancing up, he caught Leo Varniak's eyes a moment, then glanced at Murdoch. He caught the hand of another server and said something sharply to him. He nodded and changed directions immediately disappearing through a doorway that lead to the basement. The veiled servers all seemed to grow nervous immediately. And they kept watching the man, as if they suddenly simply noticed him there. Both Murdoch and Leo noticed him immediately too. And they would notice right away that at his orders the first servant called out for Open Ring, trying to entice patrons to jump in the ring like Murdoch had earlier.... but there were no takers. So instead, something else started... something that had an edge of being a last ditch effort to keep people occupied as they filed out the door. Items were being brought out to auction. Most of it looked like stolen goods; paintings, statues, jewelry. Murdoch had seen these things hundreds of times. They were worth multiple mizas but would be sold for coppers and silvers. The auction was distracting. While the auction items were being taken out, the pair were slowly being surrounded by the veiled servants. It wasn't a blatant swarming, but rather a subtle dance for them to get into position. The voice Murdoch heard before spoke again. "Do not let them touch your bare skin. Do not let them give you food or drink, and above all do not share their breath. They will try and take you... as they've taken others of Leo's kind and those that seek to aid him. Strike hard, strike fast, but make sure the timing is right and that you fight on their terms. They are the path to destruction and to that which will illuminate salvation if this city is to get out of this situation alive. If you fail to free what they hold. If you fail to overcome them partnered with this Azenth, then know that their partners pose an even greater threat. It is a threat you will have to face sooner or later. But I will not forego giving you a weapon. And you may keep it until you no longer need it. Use it well... and make sure you make your own luck. Do not leave your fortune to fate's decision." And then Murdoch's neck burned. It felt like a branding iron seared the back of his neck, marking him deeply. It flooded him with an awareness he'd never had before within himself. It infused him with a power that had no name - yet one that he'd understand much sooner than he'd like. The voice retreated then, but left its awareness behind. Murdoch felt linked. He felt connected to something greater, something righteous. Leo was standing close enough to see the gnosis mark of a sword appear on the back of Murdochs neck. It's blade was lifted to the heavens and entwined with a single vine of roses. Tyveth's symbol manifested - in a split instant - and granted the stranger beside him the power of truth. Fire and truth. Allied. Something, no indeed someone, didn't want whatever was here within Syliras' boundaries.