• Open • Return to Etzos (Graded)

[Vluharqih]

CREDIT

Arc 719, 10th trial of Vhalar

Corin strode up the road, Amber at her side. The Hyx was happy, finally, Corin having found a trader willing to part with a half a side of venison for a few coins. The Hyx had eaten well for once, not needing to resort to the dried and tasteless meat that was all Corin had managed to scrounge from Bolstrum before their quick escape.

The first light of dawn was just cracking over the horizon and Corin increased her pace. She had caught sight of the fire last night, winking on the horizon. It was large enough that it was likely a caravan or a farmer come to town to sell his crop, but either way it would help provide a bit of extra cover for entering Etzos undetected. Her kidnapping and torture of a Military Intelligence officer in Bolstrum hadn't gone over well as it was and she had a bad encounter on the road with a half dozen Etzori soldiers, leaving them all dead. She doubted anyone could tie the two acts together, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Paranoia was all that had kept her alive up till now and it seemed senseless to lose it now.

Corin shifted her bag, wincing as the tight skin on her heavily burned left arm tore slightly. The woman whose face she now wore was the cause of that injury- a violent attack that had nearly killed them both.

She was brought out of her reverie by Amber's nose nudging at her good side, the caravan just ahead of her now. The people moving about were loading up, and Corin strode up, nodding to the group as she drew near.

"Don't suppose you lot are headed into the city now, are yeh?" She said in Corin's accented common. "Wouldn't mind a bit of company on the last leg of the trip, if you don't mind."

Corin wasn't used to people staring so openly- even when she wore an Avriel's face, the stares were either hostile or much subtler in their curiosity, as if scared of her. The stare the wagonmaster gave her was openly curious, however, and more than a little rude. Corin set her jaw out stubbornly, worried suddenly they wouldn't take her. But it appeared the caravan master was only interested in her scars, grunting his acceptance after he had stared his fill at both her and her companion, a rarely seen Hyx.

"Fair enough. Give us a hand loading up at least then."

Corin knew that he was likely suspicious. It was hardly a new sort of trick for someone smuggling something or otherwise looking to escape the notice of the guards to join up with a larger party just before entering the city, but as Corin passed by the man, she slid several gold nel into his waiting palm, ensuring his silence. If they were stopped and she was found out, he'd sell her down the river as fast as he could, but that was fine. She'd have bigger problems to deal with in that case.

Corin set her pack ontop of one of the wagons and moved to help one of the workmen lift a large crate of wool into the back. Her muscles rippled in this form, putting the worker's own arms to shame, Corin noted with satisfaction. She still only had the use of one arm, the other being bandaged from elbow to fingertip, but she was some help at least. Her muscled appearance didn't translate to actual strength, of course, but it was satisfying none the less. She noticed several men's eyes lingering, though in a way she had never experienced before- wariness and a tinge of respect. Interesting.

Several children were racing around the camp and they soon began daring one another to creep up on Amber, who was lying next to Corin's bag, one going so far as to touch her furry side. Corin shook her head as she noticed, smiling slightly. Amber would be gentle with them, she was sure. If it got too much the Hyx could always move a way off and wait for them down the road.

As the sun crept above the treetops, the caravan set off. As they walked, Corin found herself beside an older man and struck up a conversation, doing her best to lead it towards the subject of Sintra. It was easier than expected, the trader more than happy to discuss the woes of his trade that were sure to come- cutting off supplies from Rhakros or the Eternal Empire, he was sure, and stifling trade left the average man worse off, he was quick to assure Corin.

"Would ye believe that Sintra actually planned this all?" She ventured, gesturing with her good hand towards the city, still far off in the distance. "She's known for her plots, but I'mma headed back to ensure the city doesn't make a mistake it ain't about to regret. Got proof here that the sly 'morty sicced Lisirra onto us before that magic storm actually hit, like she knew summit the rest of us didn't."

Here she patted her pocket, not actually where the proof was kept, and tried to mimic a stage whisper. It worked passably well, and she was sure that most of those around her could listen in if they so desired. "In fact, I know that Sintra's got people on the inside of our own city, if ye'd credit it. Etzos, supposed to be the crowning achievement of us normal folk, bowing and scraping to some sneaky 'morty like all the rest. I tell ye, it ain't something a red-blooded man nor woman should bear."

She gazed around here, wondering if her speech had reached any other interested ears.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

10 Vhalar, Arc 719

Dawn rose, like any other trial outside of Cylus, and like most mornings, Llyr was already out and about. He’d woken in the dark, practiced his various forms of physicality, went for a run, made a quick count of his current treasury, admired a couple new trinkets he’d picked up the trial before, forced himself to eat a bowl of oats, gave Oceta her chores for the trial and to watch over things as he would be out… maybe until evening, maybe into the next trial. He met with his contact a bit earlier than usual, as he’d planned to go out this trial, and he gave the various notes and letters that were to be delivered to his growing network in the city, then informed the messenger of certain more sensitive matters that couldn’t be written down.

Overall, Llyr was in a wonderful mood. Life in Etzos proved good in Vhalar so far. Hope rose with each trial and this morning proved no different. Yes, things in Etzos were on the up and up. He settled his papers at the gates and explained his excursion to check for any dangers near the edges of the Outer Perimeter – and collect any wells left from the battles, for the sake of the Tower. He’d turn them over when he returned. There weren’t too many to be found, and though it was such a low priority with the aftermath of the war, it was still an important one. Certain wells in the wrong hands could lead to trouble down the road. Besides, Llyr took it as a chance to learn more about the mystical items. He’d been reading on them and they had a great many applications… plus they looked so pretty, he wanted to collect one of each simply to put them side by side! He'd already started to think about what kind of glass case or cabinet he'd want to set them inside.

So, as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, Llyr waved farewell to the gate guards that he’d chatted with. He was getting better at that too. Small talk and conversations had gotten easier for him. Less stammering, more connections made that didn’t rely on the brute force of coin or favor exchanged, and no worries about what his father might think… his father was dead. He didn’t have to worry about that oversight toward the people he got to know, didn’t have to concern himself that by talking too long or too much to another person that it might put the person in danger. Certainly, he felt a lot freer when practicing his conversational skills in the new city. Etzos would make for a fine home.

He waited until he got farther away. Until when he looked over his shoulder, he couldn’t see the guards anymore. Llyr ducked to a side street, then found the abandoned building one of his contacts had scouted for him. There, he took off his clothes. Perhaps if anyone had been around, it would have seemed incredibly odd behavior. With only a thin pair of undershorts left, he packed away the basic dark-hued clothes into a canvas bag. He set it behind a space in the house’s interior wall that’d been torn apart.

Ether flooded through his spark and channeled into one of his totems. Through cracks of bone and melding of flesh, skin gave way to fur, and the lanky biqaj became a lanky cat instead. As the youthful feline, older than a kitten but not quite yet a cat, he stretched and adjusted the smaller spine of his new form. It still was odd to get accustomed to, shrinking down so small. There was so much difference from transforming into another biqaj’s form versus an animal.

Within bits, he got distracted by his new form. The world appeared so different around him, everything so much paler than he was familiar with. He took to cleaning his fur before he remembered why he had transformed at all.

He padded out of the house, through the streets, and he didn’t try to be stealthy about it. After all, he still had the perpetual halo that hovered over his head and the gossamer insectile wings at his back. Along his white fur, the inky tattoo created a splotched pattern that actively moved around in whorled designs. On the underside of his back paws, instead of the pink pads, there were crystalline bone-white pads that sparkled in light. Anyone who knew Llyr by his mutations would easily recognize him in the animal’s form.

Those who didn’t though… he just looked like one odd cat. His wings flitted, but he didn’t fly, and he bounded in a sprint through the outer perimeter along the road leading to the travel paths outside the city. He searched the ground, being much closer to it, for any glint of wells in the fresh morning light.

As he got along, he saw people along the paths that were headed for the gates. He moved off to the side, no longer sprinting, but walking with his head up and his gaze surveying the nearby grounds. The Becomer spied a few glints and went off the path to explore. He found them to be mere pieces of armor stuck in spots of plague-infested mud. In his avoidance of the green-tinted ground, he came across one well and he kicked it toward the main road. He looked one way, then the other. One party had already reached the outer perimeter and the next was still far away on the road. Llyr dug into the soil, buried the well, then lightly clawed an X into the spot so he could find it on his way back.

He continued down the path, until he got closer to a caravan. The winged cat moved off to the side to get out of the way of the wagons. A shout and he looked over and saw a child pointing at him. Then another child looking, and then children who seemed eager to catch the interesting looking kitty. That wouldn’t do.

Llyr sprinted away, crossing under one of the wagons to lose the children. The cat bounded back and forth, as his attempt to escape only seemed to encourage the kids to try harder for a capture. Maybe he should have ran away from the path, but he didn’t want to be responsible for accidentally leading an ambitious youngster into plagued mud or across a husked corpse. He didn’t quite know what all had been cleaned up since Ymiden or not in the surrounding area.

The white cat ran past a large fox-like animal that Llyr was unfamiliar with, though he slowed when the creature seemed to look at him with a certain intelligence. Another Becomer? No… just another feline, albeit a larger one. His eyes changed color, blue to red and then blue again. With a flutter of his dragonfly-like wings, he jumped onto the back of a wagon and lowered onto his belly to hide from the children who shouted about in search for the scrawny winged cat.

He glanced at an old man and muscular woman who walked behind the wagon and hoped they wouldn’t give his position away. Maybe they hadn’t even noticed… well, that seemed like a bit much to hope for, but maybe. Besides the pair were in conversation, and his ears twitched when he heard Lisirra and Sintra both mentioned by name. He shuffled closer to the wagon edge, lowered his chin onto his front paws, and stared at the muscular woman with slight curiosity. His eyes warmed to amber color.

Fates, but did his paws stink from digging in the soil earlier. He licked at the dirt. It tasted awful but he'd rather clean than avoid the earthy flavor. The Becomer eavesdropped. His pointed ears twitched and swiveled while he focused on whatever else the woman had to say.

[Woe]

Woe had wandered the fields south of Etzos for much of the aftermath of the conflict that occurred in the South. Having been part of the forces that laid siege to Rhakros and subsequently disengaged from the main force, at least he wasn't branded a deserter. Not particularly distinguished, but at least he wouldn't be run out of town.

He'd met up with the caravan somewhere along the way, as he wandered on foot, aimless and alone. Once the driver offered him the protection of the caravan, he decided he might as well. Throwing him a pittance of nel, he boarded the wagon, and was off, sitting and moping in the corner of the covered vehicle.

It wasn't long before they stopped again, and picked up yet another straggler. This time a woman, bulky in build and well equipped, as if a warrior. Woe gave her a once over, and then turned away.

He could feel his familiar crawling between his shoulder blades, around his shoulder toward the back of his neck. It didn't appear just out of his collar yet, but laid there a moment.

The ex-slave sat there for a few moments, until he heard a name that jolted him out of his misery. Sintra. That was a name he didn't expect to hear. Did... did Sintra have something to do with the conflict? On one side or another? Wait, she was actually IN Etzos.

Woe couldn't believe he'd been so ignorant of his patron's presence. Yet here was a first hand account, very matter of factly relating the position of Sintra in the city. And, apparently this woman had some proof that Sintra was responsible for the plague somehow.

"You have proof?" Woe looked up again, and faced the woman, his expression unamused. "Oh oh, and how much are we expected to pay to get a gander? Move along fool woman. Nobody wants to hear your fairy tales."

Woe scoffed. Although he was intrigued, he knew Sintra's animus for Lisirra was far too deep for them to have any direct involvement. No, whatever Lisirra foisted upon Etzos was her own doing. Even if Sintra somehow manipulated her into it... It was still her doing. Whatever happened to people taking responsibility for their own actions? The gall.

He bit his tongue, and tried to remain silent, but he couldn't for long before his discipline gave way to anger. "Lisirra destroyed this land by her own hands. Sintra gave us the means to defend it." He left it at that, not quite gulled into submitting more opinions before shutting his mouth.

He crossed his arms defensively, and cast his head toward the distance, toward Etzos. It wouldn't be long, before he could visit Werthom again.

[Vluharqih]

CREDIT

Surprisingly, there were several whose ears seemed to be turned in her direction, even if they didn't partake in the conversation directly. More interesting than those, however, was the cat that had lept up onto the wagon just ahead of her. "Cat" might have been stretching the truth, for it looked nothing like any cat Corin had ever seen. Inky whorls danced on its white fur, and it appeared to have a halo around its head. She peered closer, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Could this be a spy for Sintra?

As soon as she had the thought she discarded it. A cat? Even a magically enhanced or altered cat, a spy for Sintra? She eyed the cat, its amber eyes seemingly locked on hers with suspicion nonetheless. It still held her interest and she was on the point of walking a little faster to get a better look at the odd creature when a man spoke from the back of a covered wagon just to her right, his face obscured by the shadow cast by the morning sun.

She felt a surge of anger rise up at his scornful words. Fairy tales, she thought with incredulity. After all that she had sacrificed and wagered, all for the improvement of Etzos? But no, anger wouldn't help her here, nor inside the walls. She needed to be calm, collected, and above all, self-assured.

She turned to face the man in the cart, something about the voice tickling at the back of her mind. "If I were wanting a few nel for the sight, you can bet I'd find better audiences than this lot," Corin said, her eyes hard. "No. Any o' ye who want to see can take a look. Fairy tale," she scoffed the words, "aye, but if ye were to tell me two arcs ago that all of Etzos'd be rushing to get in line, just to scrape their noses in the dirt for a bloody 'morty, let alone one of the wost connivers of that lot, I'd a called ye a fool and kick yer arse from here to the great gate."

Corin spit on the ground, off to the side, letting silence stretch for several moments. When the man in the wagon spoke again, she knew she had him engaged, at least. There was a chance she could convince him, or at least use his argument to sway others around to her side. "I ent saying we should forgive that bitch neither. But if ye mean to tell me that we can only hate one of the lot, I'll be happy to tell you to go bugger yerself. Lissira's bad, no doubt about it, but she ent about to convince Etzos to open their gates and let her waltz through."

She paused though, confused by something. "And what do ye mean, Sintra gave us the way to beat Lisirra. Last I heard, it was the mages and those ghosts, good Etzori people who weren't about to sit around and let Lisirra take over, even if they were a bit dead. The kind of folks that built Etzos and kept us independent."

Corin sighed and shook her hands placatingly. "It's allright, I'm sure. Suppose you ent had a chance to know better than to trust her. She came in at a right good time for us, I'll give her that. But you really think that was an accident? The 'morty of mannipulation herrself?"

Here Corin tugged out the letters that she had stolen. She pulled them out one at a time, the first being the most damning.

"Since I'm sure yer a man that needs to see some proof before lighting your torch and getting a pitchfork and noose, I'll show ye. This here is a letter I stole mesself from one of Sintra's spies in Bolstrum. Talks about a couple of her spies, Webspinners they call themselves ye see. Says they started getting ready for that nasty storm that took away the magic a full fifteen trials before it came here. Ye wanna to tell me why Sintra decided not to share that bit of help with us before Lisrra attacked?"

"Or how about this," she continued, still holding the same letter aloft and giving him no time to refute it. Her voice was growing louder, trying to draw more people in, but she couldn't spare them a glance right now. Her attention was solely fixed on the letter, and her speech.

"It even tells of a woman here, Drivia Hornstone, to slow down the military dispatches heading back to Etzos through Bolstrum. That traitor works in our Military Intelligence office over there. Read it out for yerself and tell me that its all fairy tales now!" She said with triumph, tossing the letter into the back of the cart as she did so, right into his lap, if her aim was right.

As she drew nearer the cart, however, she caught sight of his face. The man whose daughter she had killed last season.

Guilt clenched her throat suddenly, but confusion swiftly followed. He was on Sintra's side?

As she drew back from the wagon, she remembered the odd cat and walked over to where she had seen it last, giving Woe time to read the letter. Perhaps it was better to make sure it wasn't a Sintra spy after all.

OOC: The letter is a legit letter from a Black Widow to Tarantula Drivia Hornstone and Recluse Frida. There are hints and such within the letter that would corroborate Vlu's story, hinting at Drivia's place in the Military, etc.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

Llyr recognized that voice. His first instinct was to join the other man on the wagon, but he hadn’t spoken to Woe since the conflict in the South. However, once the Rynmerian did see him, it was likely that he’d recognize Llyr by mutation alone. While the halo could be replicated, the halo combined with the wings was just specific enough to at least put the question forward. So, for the time being, the cat remained on the storage wagon nestled between a few burlap sacks and watched the loud woman while she went through her various opinions.

Only they weren’t just opinions. They were accusations. Of a high level. Did she know what she was walking into? The city had changed since Ymiden. Though he couldn't directly observe all of it, new to the city himself as he'd only arrived during the wartime. From the Etozri he knew though, those willing to talk about it so soon, there were small changes here and there. That Sintra had announced that she would be speaking in public in a few trials... Was this woman looking to stir up trouble enough to cause problems at such an appearance? Llyr bit at his claw, still cleaning his front paddy with his tongue, while his ears continued to swivel in the direction of Corin. When she tossed the letter at Woe, he stood up. He padded to the very edge of the cart and tried to approximate if he could simply jump over to the other.

Curiosity-wise, the cat wanted to read the letter.

Wings aflutter, he padded around in a circle and then walked back to get some stretch of wagon to pick up speed before his jump. It looked simple enough, similar to how he jumped between rooftops in his natural Biqaj body. Given the flexibility of his spine in the feline form, it would be even easier.

He crouched, hindlegs pressed through in readiness to sprint, and… he got about four steps in before that woman was in his path. Llyr slid to a stop at the edge of the wagon’s end. If he’d jumped, he would’ve landed right against her. He hopped in place, instead, vertically in a momentary shock of the other’s presence.

Was she looking at him? Yes, she seemed to be looking at him. The amber in the cat’s eyes warmed to a redder shade. He tilted his head, then retreated to the burlap sacks. Llyr had no intention to blatantly reveal himself as a mage. He’d let the common folk believe him to be one of the many fantastical creatures that roamed Idalos. Maybe an exotic animal who’d wandered far from its habitat or a run-away prize pet that’d escaped its master.

[Woe]

Woe's hands shook as he took up the letter. His rage and indignation was such that he almost couldn't contain himself. Having been initiated to Empathy in the past season had surely done a number on him, although he'd barely advanced in its use. In that time, he'd had no less than two emotional breakdowns. He was lucky that the breakdowns hadn't followed him south to Rhakros, or he surely would have died there.

He read the letter, but ignored much of the text. The woman seemed to be speaking the truth about its contents, that much he could tell from her mannerisms and tone. Yet what he did look for, were the telltale signs of a note crafted by a webspinner. There was of course the insignia and brand, but insignia could be faked, quite easily. No, what he was looking for was a certain pattern of weave of the parchment. Every webspinner, bar only a few such as Woe, were either born or raised by Labrae herself, in her house in Yaralon. There many of them learned, among other things, the finer points of needlecraft.

For this reason, there were no finer forgers than a webspinner. The fact that this woman still walked while handling a parchment note crafted by a webspinner, was a testament either to how dangerous she was, or how unprepared the webspinner had been for her treachery. And judging by the ranks of the webspinners involved, Woe presumed it was the former.

The letter was the genuine article, as he looked it over, as far as he could tell. It was similar to the one that had sent him along to Etzos.

He handed it back to the woman, his hand shaking even more than when he'd taken it from her. "I..." But he couldn't speak.

He thought Sintra was a being that supported structure and order. Had that notion been a lie? Was he every bit as brainwashed as any adult abducted and reprogrammed by Labrae?

He just hung his head, and waited for the wagon to take them wherever it would go.

[Vluharqih]

CREDIT

Corin's eyes widened as she neared the wagon and caught sight of the 'cat'. She seemed to startle the cat too, as it jumped in midair, eyes locked on her.


Did- yes, she was sure. Its eyes, an amber shade before deepening to a dark red shade. By the seven, what was it?

As she leaned forward, hands now resting on the edge of the wagon. Its fur looked smooth, silky even, though the halo and gossamer wings stood out starkly. Before she could get a closer view, the cat turned and darted back between the sacks.

She was about ready to hop into the wagon after the creature, intent on capturing it, but she heard a noise behind her.

Woe seemed.... broken? Crushed somehow? She wasn't sure, but he seemed bowed by the weight of the paper he held out towards her in trembling hands. She felt a stab or remorse, but she wasn't about to alter her purpose from some sense of guilt. Especially not to one who had revealed themselves to actively support Sintra.

"Ach, come on now. It ain't yet fault she pulled tha wool over her eyes. It's what shes good at. But wouldyalook at this?" She said cajolingly.

From her pack she pulled a small rune covered artefact from her pack. It was covered in an odd, web like substance, runes shifting over its surface in unsettling patterns. There was something... else seeming about it, as if the piece didn't belong in this world.

If a mage were to study the item they would feel a certain weak interference emanating from the item, almost as if it were a cloak swinging wide to settle over their spark, smothering it. The item itself seemed to shift suddenly, millimetres from side to side as if its place in the world were uncertain.

Corin brandished it like a sword and held it up for Woe's inspection.

"This here is some magical whatcha ma call it. Been told that it's broken now, but it can block her magical fire from workin. Dunno if its true or not, cuz it don't effect us normal folk, but I read over some papers from some big shot mage who studied the thing and swears it could be used to actually create the damn storms."

Here she drew back towards Woe and held out the cube for his examination, though she kept herself close at hand, ready to spring and save it from danger if he seemed intent on damaging it.

"Come on now, tell me ye ain't convinced. Lookit all she's done and what lies shes trying to tell us. How can any of us Etzori support her comin in here like this and taking over as easily as Lissira would've?"

These last remarks were for the company all around, many small grumbles of agreement were heard. All expectant eyes turned to Woe, waiting for his response, no one paying any attention to the small wagon with the odd cat.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

Llyr kept in the wagon, hidden behind the burlap sacks. He hadn't missed how that woman had looked at him. Could she tell he wasn't an animal? He climbed one of the sacks, by use of his claws and unlike a cat, to peek over the edge of the wagon and watch while she spoke with Woe. His eyes returned to their amber shade when she took out a rune-inscribed cube of all things. Of course, he immediately thought of Oberan upon the sight of the geometric shape. What that man wouldn't give for a cube like that. The cat's pointed ears flattened back and his tail twitched in annoyance.

It felt obvious to the etherist there was something off about the item. Where had this woman gotten such a thing and why was she brandishing it like a fool for anyone to have a chance at? Did she want someone to take it from her? Or was she sincerely trying to stoke some sort of grassroots uprising by a caravan of what looked mostly like laborers and peasant families? Llyr almost snorted at the thought. That'd be a quick way to get the few lot of survivors in danger...

...which made him wonder about other things. Llyr didn't like this. His instincts grated against everything he heard and saw in the woman's exaggerated presentation. Something was off. Something was terribly, terribly off. He just didn't know exactly what.

He considered for a moment. Llyr knew Woe didn't like attention on him, and this woman had placed almost the entire Etzori caravan to stare at the Rynmerian in expectation. Putting him in the spotlight for barely speaking up in defense of Sintra, who had helped the army at Rhakros...

...Llyr didn't like it, but he did like Woe.

Even if Woe was a liar and a webspinner.

The cat nestled in a wider spot hidden in the shadows and he began to change. The faint sound of cracked bones and stretched sinew, he kept any noises of pain to himself while he endured the transition. The process went fast as he unleashed, fur giving way to skin and tail shrinking into a lengthened spine.

When nearly finished, only a few trills later, Llyr stood up in the wagon - in the totemic body of his sister, Kiara.

Long blond hair flipped over as she tilted her head back, the halo still bright above her head. Her wings outstretched, in wide dragonfly-shaped display that sent refracted sunlight around the caravan. Along her exposed backside, the inky black tattoo morphed in different abstract designs that kept anchored around her spine.

Over the space of her ribs were iridescent tattoos in lattice pattern like her wings, that followed the slender shape of her lean body. Her legs weren't of regular skin, instead a crystalline shimmer to bone-white stockings from mid-thigh to the tip of her toes. Her eyes shifted colors, prismatic, then glowed a brilliant blue.

For most average folk, what appeared in the wagon seemed like the sudden arrival of a human-sized fairy. For those of keener sense, they would assume this was a mage... and a mage on the road to Etzos only meant one or two things: neither of which brought ease to any Etzori. Some of the wiser sorts in the caravan swiftly looked away, and acted as if they hadn't heard or seen anything at all.

Biqaj with pointed ears, a faint tan to her smooth skin, and long golden-blond hair that shone silken against the female's nude body; without shame, she stood exposed to the entire caravan. Llyr raised her arms above her head and lengthened in a firm stretch upward for her newly formed spine. It felt nice against her muscles and newly formed bones. No one really noticed Woe anymore, and that had been the young mage's intention.

She cleared her throat. The hint of a silvery-blue blush dusted over her high cheekbones. Llyr walked to the edge of the wagon and peered down at Corin with eyes of icy blue. She spoke in a melodic, mellow, and pleasant soprano voice with the lilt of a posh accent similar to how the Etzori Ambassador Jorsie of the Citadel had spoken. "Ma'am, you believe yourself knowledgeable of an arcane object to claim such brash conspiracies to these good folk who are merely looking to get home safe after the hardships of war? Where did you take this artifact from?"

It seemed to make no difference to Llyr that she inquired so forcefully while standing entirely vulnerable in the nude, on the wagon, without introduction nor prelude as to why she could inquire in such a manner.

[Woe]

As the stout, loose-lipped woman continued to harangue him about his minor words of support for Sintra, and then went on to brandish some sort of ethereal trinket, he suddenly wanted to be elsewhere. Why was this woman singling him out? It wasn’t as if he was the only one convinced by Sintra’s aid to the city. Surely some of the Etzori around them were also convinced. Or they would’ve driven her out by now.

” I - I’m from…” Woe began but was interrupted by the sounds of squishing flesh and cracking bone from behind the cart. Woe dismissed it at first, thinking the cat had found its prey and was now at lunch. ” I’m not…” He was about to confess that he was not, in fact, Etzori, but was once again interrupted by the sudden appearance of a very tall, and very nude blonde biqaj female.

Woe was stunned momentarily, seeing her mutations and strange features on full view. Normally Woe wasn’t one to be beguiled by the physical appearances of men or women, yet this mage was certainly an impressive specimen of their kind. And to be frank, a distraction to guide willing eyes from Woe to anything else was welcome. He took the opportunity to frown pointedly at Corin and then shuffled on his way up to the front of the wagon, where she might not follow without passing by the strange mage as she stood, gathering all eyes to her.

Once he was seated, situated in his spot at the front, he lowered his head and concentrated. Doing this, he focused on this woman, this Corin’s tangle. He tried to identify the nature of her emotions, looking for any source of agitation. Once identified, from there he moved toward those threads of disbelief that were present in her tangle. Any of these, he sought to identify. Specifically viewing the strands that were closer to the spectrum of self-doubt, westward toward the more somber hued threads. He didn't seek to manipulate her, not wishing to alert her. Afterward, he just sat, and waited, maintaining awareness via empathy. While maintaining that state of concentration, he reached out to attenuate to her frequency. The frequency returned no familiarity, so she wasn’t anyone he had previously attuned to. Granted, however, he hadn’t attuned to many beyond his dead daughter and his mentor who lived in Westguard.

He didn’t know many tricks of attunement beyond just identifying the frequency, and so was left with little else to do but establish it. He could hold only so many frequencies at a time. But since his daughter died, he only had to keep tabs on his mentor. He relinquished Brigantia’s frequency then and went on to attune to this strange mage’s frequency. At the end of their wagon trip, it might be useful to maintain knowledge of the movements of both of them.

As a final act, he thought a silent prayer to Sintra, in case she could see through his eyes. He didn’t know if she’d know what he was thinking, much less care. Even so, he wished to make the prayer, if only to assuage his sense of anxiety, Divine One, I don’t know if you can hear me, but there’s the one I’ve attuned to, who holds an artifact she claims may be your undoing. I know I haven’t been an ideal servant, but I still owe you and Mother for saving me from myself, two arcs ago. I will forever be your servant.

[Vluharqih]

CREDIT

Her discussion was cut short as a woman rose, naked as the day she was born, to upbraid her as if she were a fresh-faced apprentice. She felt herself flush up, bright heat rising to her face that wasn't solely due to the note of censure in the new arrivals voice.

She was naked[/] and apparently couldn't care less. But Corin's eyes were drawn to the thin wings sprouting from her back, thin and translucent, as well as the halo hovering around her head. They were the same as the cat's had been, and Corin put two and two together. The odds of it being some mage, much like Mal had been, able to shift between forms in some perversion of magic that made them like Yludih.

She felt a tickle of distrust at the mage's abilities, keeping her distance from the naked woman. All around her, those she had thought were being drawn in by her discussion were now turning away, shuffling faster or slower to put distance between themselves and the mage.

She set aside her unease and responded, tilting her face up to face the mage, drawing the artefact back towards her body. "Aye, though as I said, I ain't no mage meself. You seem to be one- take a look at this here and tell me it ain't what I said it is." She said, striving for composure and certainty. She purposely avoided the second half of the question, hoping she wouldnt have to explain Oberan's involvement in this business- as he'd asked for.

"Ye think I ain't had my own share of misfortune and death in this war? Think I want to be the one who has to do this? Fuck, ye think I'm so daft I dont realize Sintra would soon as kill me for saying this? But I ain't the kind of person who's gonna sit by and let a poisonous snake into our city just cuz it bit our enemies too! We used to stand for summit, and if ye all think our jobs done cuz we beat back Lissira, I got bad news for ye."

She looked around again, hoping her speech had encouraged more people to draw near, but she was sorely disappointed. The presence of the mage seemed to scare them off, however nearly all were still within eavesdropping distance, she noticed. Even if they didn't actively participate, they were listening and that would have to be enough for her.

"Honestly, I wish I could drop this at the foot of some lordling and let those pompous pricks deal with this. But if ye think they ain't all either dead or bribed and threatened, I got a bottle of magic beans te sell ye. I realize that ye aint all about to grab pitchforks, but that aint what I want. Just dont go running to the bloody 'Morty like shes a life saver. Keep up your fuckin' Etzori pride and independence, aye?"