Howlykin

Xaprychor’s rise from the water was graceful and eerie. His figure simply elevated above it with no motion, or indeed any effort from the Nymerian King in the Deep. A careful onlooker would be able to spot something moving in the water just beneath their feet. A tendril perhaps, or a serpentine body. The King balanced on it as it delivered him to the shore, never betraying its full form by surfacing out of the water. Once Xaprychor took his own step on the beach, the figure retreated like a shadow, slithering through it and vanishing to some unknown point of origin. While he moved elegantly, there was a sense of leisure to his gait. He paused, he let his eyelids cover his silver eyes, he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with air that hung free from the sea in their surroundings. By the time Rahab introduced him and his son, he had opened his eyes again and dignified their audience with a solemn nod. That all three of them were humanoid was perhaps the only solid resemblance they had. It was almost a wonder if all three truly came from the same species. From the waist down, Xaprychor’s body was draped in fabrics that mysteriously retained their texture even out of the water, rather than cling to his frame from the moisture. Upon his chest, shoulders and exposed arms, patterns flowed slowly, like clouds of ink embedded just beneath the skin. With the glow of luminescent bacteria accompanying this strange movement, it was not unlike seeing some strange pelagic replica of the night sky splashed upon the King’s lean, swimmer-like physique. Here and there, though hard to discern, skin seemed more like scale. A complex ceremonial crown of coral sat on his brow, denoting his status. At least his face seemed human, if not for the unusual hue of his eyes. He looked upon the delegates with practiced disinterest, seemingly awaiting their next move and content to let Rahab initiate the talks. He did authorize her unorthodox intention to engage into this act of diplomacy in the first place. His company was a last minute whim, a change of plans to go in line with curious reports received from the Festival of Lights and his prying into the body and mind of a certain recent acquisition. It was, as well, an opportunity to see if Shcxay was quite as prepared to venture into a hostile environment as his son’s research and determination would suggest. There was little need for an escort. He would keep their hand hidden where people of the surface had no chance of looking. Admittedly, he was also looking forward to seeing whether their trio would be perceived as a lack of resources to arrive with more precautions or a show of force, where just the three of them could sweep away any attempt at their lives like a tidal wave. He made no effort to undermine the meeting in any way, moving together with the entire group as though it had been rehearsed and expertly choreographed beforehand. The road from the shore did not seem to vex him. No smile on his face, but the movement of his eyes indicated he was examining what they could see of the city and its people along the way. They soon reached the meeting place and, in a surprising show of courtesy, Xaprychor took his seat together with Rahab. He did seem to do so with no regard for what complications the suit-clad Shcxay would have to face. Yet it would, perhaps, be reassuring to the princess that the King in the Deep, for all his critique of a diplomatic approach towards the surface, seemed to so deliberately play along. Eerily unflinching, though unmistakably calm, Xaprychor watched the diplomats from his seat, expecting their next move or a voicing of the meeting’s precise agenda.

Kelmer-6. An unimaginative name for an undesirable world. An unpleasant planet with an unlivable climate. Just look at the ice-storms, one of which he was now walking through. His heavy winterized suit's visor struggled to filter out the violent rush of snow ahead of him and make out anything at all. Servos strained to help his limbs move along. Under different circumstances, he would have perhaps felt the pleasant crunching of snow. Under different circumstances, he wouldn't go to enjoy the snow to a planet with only one climate zone most adequately characterized as "Frozen to death". He was pretty sure he couldn't even hear the ping from his partner's suit at this point. Barely any visibility, barely any sound aside from the whirring of technological marvels letting him survive here in the first place, barely any thought but 'I can't wait to get back to my ship, drink something hot, then strangle whoever thought it was a good idea to take this contract'. Sometimes the strangulation would advance in rank and become prioritized over drinking something hot. Occasionally it even felt like, so long as they'd drop the culprit right down here into the snow, he would find them and get strangulation out of the way first. It was with this mental to-do list that he moved forward, until the snow being thrust about him by the wind eased up slightly. That was still not saying much, but at least he could make out outlines ahead now. Huge. Angular. A building of some sort. Somebody, somewhere in this galaxy, possibly even somebody who speaks the same language as him, thought this snow-orb of a planet was a good place to build on. At least it made sense if the place was to be a tomb. Or if the climate went to lethal freezer only after the facility was built. Now given a clear landmark, the man in the suit lumbered forward until he reached a wall. Both his eyes and the surveillance equipment in his helmet traced the surface for what alcove could signify an entrance. It took some punching and kicking to crack the ice and try to force the door apart, ushering him into a pitch black room. Could it have been a lobby once? At least the snowstorm was finally left behind his back and his flashlight became more useful. If nothing else - then to figure out if the place could actually be named a tomb. Like everywhere else on Kelmer-6, there were lumps of snow and ice. Some may have seemed vaguely humanoid. He didn't want to take a closer look at those. Hearing someone else behind him use the entrance, he finally spoke up, the suit's speakers giving an imposing twang to the sound of his speech. "Remind me again why anybody thought this was a good idea?" He didn't turn his head, but unless he was feeling awful chatty towards what may or may not have been frozen cadavers, then it could only be his partner who came down here with him. He could remember the conversation happening earlier - he just didn't really see the connection between this conversation and the mission actually happening. *** "Let me see if I got this right... There is, or rather was a facility down on that ice-cube of a planet... There are, or rather should be leftover DNA samples of exotic fauna in said facility... That our client says are, or rather might be valuable, if intact." He needed no heavy suit up here on their cargo ship. A modest "snub-barge" of sorts, with a lot of space converted into extra cargo holds with the subsystems to handle their particular type of cargo. No, here it was just fine to wear his flight suit, frivolously unzipped and revealing the collar of a bright-patterned shirt underneath. He had a strange liking towards those patterned shirts displaying various colorful flora from some planets with beaches he'd always said he'd rather have them visit. He needed no helmet either, leaving his head topped with a mess of dark hair exposed, and his almond eyes staring at his crew-mates with a sort of quizzical 'Are you being serious?' Their pause appeared to be a "Yes", which elicited from him a groan. "Look, there are so many gaps in there. Are you completely sure there are no better leads? Somewhere less spotty? Somewhere less... below freezing-point?" The conversation went for a bit, as it tended to. He had concerns about many jobs, infrequently finding all of the conditions agreeable. It did make him a strong negotiator whenever they tried to push for more reimbursement, but also lead to these confrontations aboard the ship. With lots of glances shared loaded with a variety of emotions. With lots of questions from everyone. With arguments and counter-arguments and "oh come on, what could go wrong"s. He normally followed the latter up with a list of things ranging from just three points to more than he had fingers for on both hands. "What I'm saying is, it's a hostile environment, it's a spotty job. I mean spottier than usual. And there's a high risk of us just not bringing anything back... So let's vote! I vote "Nay" on this job. What about you guys?" *** To be fair, back then he thought the vote coming from the ship's half-owner would count for more. Now however, he simply had to face the facts. When you and your crew are very close to broke, and your most enthusiastic backer is a Yinglet who happily votes "Nay" together with you, then promptly forgets he did that and also votes "Yay" with your opponents, your chances of success in a democratic vote to not take a dangerous job are close to zero. With heavy steps, the suited half-owner of the cargo ship Sweet Oyster hanging in orbit of Kelmer-6 made his way through the corridor. He'd have to wait to bicker later. When everybody has a full stomach and there's no risk of needing to sell off some essential part of the ship. "Think the place even has power?" A more important, more productive question. As his suit's systems pinged their surroundings for dormant signals or devices slumbering in the cold. @Lacernella Rubra

They made their way through collapsed corridors and narrow passageways. Their small stature did much to help them advance, making nooks and crannies more helpful. Both were convinced that forward was the only way left. With no way to discern which of the rumbling sounds behind and above them were good and which were bad, they treated each as a potential danger and crawled towards quiet and lesser amounts of rolling pebbles indicating another ensuing cave-in. For a time they did not speak, but silence was nerve-wracking. - How is that fire? – Mila asked as a means of conversation-starter. - It’s okay… But hungry… - Hungry? - Yes… – The tiny flame shivered behind her. Surely it must just be Lumi shivering. - Look, we’ll get food once we’re out! Think with your head for now! - I didn’t mean me! - Then what did y-… Her hand touched something different from collapsed rock or riveted floor. They were on top of what must have been a fallen walkway, her fingers tangling with cold metal mesh. Both kids paused not only because of this change, but also because from the front they could hear a rising hiss. Mila took a step forward; the boy behind her hurriedly closed the gap between them, almost bumping into her back. He would insistently hold the tiny flame too close to himself, even though the girl had told him time and time again to keep it ahead. Then again, the fire dying would be even worse. - What’s that sound? – Lumi whispered faintly. Mila would risk not hearing him had he not drawn closer earlier. - I don’t know… Maybe it’s… - A tunnel snake!? – The alarm made him louder and caused the girl to jump a little. - Not a snake! Something like… Steam maybe? That, Lumi admitted, was much better than a snake. Yet was still careful and slow with his steps along the once-horizontal walkway now stretching at an angle downwards. Mila too was not in much hurry, though her reason was more to avoid tumbling or forcing the structure to collapse any further. Soon they saw the source of the alarming noise. There must have been a pipeline here, or a boiler. But what there was now was a smoky jet of steam shooting right across their path. Every now and again it would sputter and stop, but then resume. - Just great… And she began thinking if there’d been any forks in the road they might have missed. Any other turns they might have taken. “Going back” seemed like such an improbable and stupid thing to do now – was there anything there but collapsing rocks? Whether they were being dug for or not, this cave wouldn’t need much at this point to just fall on top of their heads. This place was far from safe anywhere. Taking a deep breath, Mila turned to Lumi. - Okay… You see how this steam stops every now and again? We probably… Probably need to run past it as it stops. - W… What if it touches us…? – Could Lumi’s eyes be any more like a scared critter’s? - … It better not… Come on, I’ll go first. Stupid, such a stupid idea and she knew it. This was a horrible plan - the steam could probably scald them to death in seconds. But she couldn’t think of anything else and she thought she heard something approaching from behind. Something she felt they’d rather put more distance from. She did say she’d go first. A hiss of steam. Silence. A hiss of steam. Silence again. Another hiss. There seemed a pattern to it. Uneven, but somewhat reliable. Give or take a couple seconds. The light seemed almost useless here – the jets ahead were better heard and felt by the heat they were radiating rather than seen. The rest – just faint outlines and smoky silhouettes. She darted off her spot and rolled. She felt the heat on the metal mesh beneath her – the steam had been keeping it unpleasantly hot for a time. Gasping from the burn, she made sure she’d gotten out of the way before the next jet. Another hiss. This one – behind her back. - It’s okay! I am okay! – She called out, the triumph making her lose caution for a time. – Look, I’ll shout “Go” and you will go right when I shout, okay? Get as close as possible! She couldn’t see past the steam, but she thought she heard tiny footsteps draw closer to where the heated trap had formed. She listened. A hiss of steam. Silence. Another hiss. More silence. Once more a hiss. - Go! She shouted and heard the steps speed up. The hiss died down. Sooner than she expected. Why was this spurt so short? - LUMI, WAIT, STOP! A jet of steam in front of her washed over something like it hit an obstacle. She could hear a cry and see a small human figure enveloped in the jet! - Lumi? LUMI?! Was he hit? He was! She could see it. What to do? Rush in there and try to pull him out? She felt a rising rush of panic force what remained of the momentary triumph out of her. Replace it all with dread. Did she just kill Lumi? Did she just-… The hiss stopped and someone tumbled forward. She fell to his side just about immediately. Lumi lit a flame again, his hands were shaking. Mila looked him over, unable to talk for a time. Was he okay, she asked frantically? Was he alright? Lumi nodded nervously as though her questions were making him more worried than what had just happened. She could see hints of moisture on his hair, but none of his skin so much as pinked with a slight burn. Was he really okay? How? - I’m fine, Mila, I think. Sorry I… I don’t think I stopped on time… She interrupted him, throwing her arms around the boy. Yet almost immediately she was forced to recoil. Lumi was heated like a rock that’s been baking in the sun all day. His clothes in particular seemed soaked in scalding water. She looked at him, incredulous. - It did hit you!... So how? - I… I just… I can handle heat… - Handle heat!? You could have been boiled alive! - No, it’s okay… I… I think it’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t stop soon enough… - Don’t… Don’t ever scare me like that again! Now come on… Let’s just go ahead… She reached out for him again, wrapping her hand in her sleeve just in case the heat wasn’t entirely gone. The two got to their feet and left the hissing steam jets behind. Further along, the fallen walkway was twisted to the side, and its decline became steeper. The light reflected off the wall vanished in the darkness of yet another hole. But on the floor, Mila finally found something that could be seen as “good news”. It was a gas lamp that had miraculously survived the fate of several of its more broken brethren. Triumphant, Mila handed it to Lumi. Although a good find, even the girl was surprised just how relieved the boy was, hurriedly opening it and putting his tiny flame inside. The light grew stronger. The two of them could finally see each other fully for the first time since they’d ended up in this collapsed forge. With newfound light, they hopped off the walkway and made a turn into the new dark hole. - Where are we…? – Lumi asked, moving the lamp around, yet still unable to answer his own question. - I don’t know… – Mila responded. They had a light now – that much held true. But aside from the opening behind them, they couldn’t see any other walls – just darkness. Was the place they were in truly too large to illuminate? – Lumi? I don’t think it was Raveena’s people that dug this up… @Deus Ex Aizen @Chappu @danzilla3 @Grim Wolf

I have a lot more memories regarding RPing (10+ years in a hobby do that to you). So let me know if I've got free reign on posting more XD

Let me step in and bring up a memory of my own. So this one goes far, far, far into the past. The absolute first RPing I have ever done. Which was... Neopets. Yeah-yeah, whatever. I had a soft spot for cutesy animals. And surprisingly there was a bustling RP community there. So in all the flurry of Naruto RPs and whatever else, I started a super edgy vampire/supernatural being roleplay. And in those days I was a very primitive roleplayer. One-liners and ** for actions and dialogues along the lines of "Hello." and "No way." and "Sugoi!" But then all of a sudden, Summer break happens, I take a pause from the vampire/supernatural being RP. And during the Summer break little me just goes "Wait a minute. Can't I just kinda fill in more gaps? Describe what's happening around the character? Or in his head?" Cue me coming back to my very patient partner (whose name and/or username I can no longer recall, and whose willingness to stick with me through my horrific one-liners baffles me in hindsight) and rolling out my first long post. Two whole paragraphs elaborately describing the dance of my character with hers at the ball we set up just before I left for my Summer break. My co-player was suitably impressed and in OOC told me how "All of a sudden in just a month you have improved by miles!" And that's kind of how my "voyage" towards Adv-Lit RP began.

Caps was difficult to read. With his constant switches from a regular drunkard and a man of such acute lucidity it was as though his words could rend the very air asunder. This time too he was urgent in his warning, which came in stark contrast with the slight sway in his step, his grimy clothes and the scent of liquor. He had practically slammed the bottle cap with the image of a broken tower on the desk. And before he could even speak, a young man from behind his back had announced the actual collapse of the Forge. The man stared at Raveena, and further realizations stemming from his premonition seemed to shape up just as this all unfolded. Cass finally made it, having clearly heard of the collapse as well. Her head whipped between Caps and the young man who'd come with the dire news. - Is... Is that what you saw? - She asked the soothsayer, who turned his gaze to the bottle cap with a look of scorn. - Not only... The kids are in there. *** - This is your fault, you know! Lumi was too out of breath to answer her. Even after they'd apparently been spotted entering the building, even before it started to collapse around them, they'd started running. And the crashing sound of debris only caused the two kids to speed up, tumble, across shaky walkways, into crumbling tunnels. It was, perhaps, by sheer luck that they hadn't been crushed before making it deep enough past the collapsed segments. And yet, soon they came to a stop. Mila paused with her hand against a collapsed section of a wall barring their way, or at least making the passage too narrow for them to keep running. She looked around her, and past Lumi, panting, bent with his palms against his knees, saw the entire passageway had caved in. - Wh... What do we... - Quiet! I'm... I'm thinking... - M... maybe we should go back? - Back? There's no back! Look! It's all just... rocks... A smarter, more considerate person than Mila, would have probably not turned Lumi's attention so soon to the two of them being trapped. Mila was no such person and the boy with her was now staring wide-eyed at the hopelessly collapsed tunnel. - What do we do!? - I. Am. Thinking! - Will we even get out!? - We will if you let me think! - What if we... What if we... He was on the verge of tears as Mila stepped up to him and grabbed him by both shoulders, shaking him a bit. This did little to prevent him from sobbing, biting his lip as he looked at her and she spoke. - Lumi, we can't go back. The only way through - is here. There... might be somebody in here. Or like, another exit further ahead. But since we can't go back - we go forward. Think you can do that with me? And make yourself useful maybe? A sob and a nod. The two kids stepped back from one another, then turned to the wreckage that seemed to have at least some gap there. As Mila gestured, Lumi put his hands briefly to his chest. As he removed them, there was a tiny flame, only slightly bigger than that of a candle, hanging over his palms. He brought the flame closer, just barely illuminating what seemed to be their only exit. The girl took off her imp-shaped backpack and got down on her hands and knees. This was going to be a crawl and she would be the first to try and move in. Firstly - because she was better off leading Lumi than letting the panic-stricken boy lead the way. Secondly - because that way he probably wouldn't see how much fear she hid in her eyes. *** The two of them looked at the collapsed Forge from the outside, together with Raveena and the others. Cass gasped, whereas Caps said nothing, but visibly tensed at the sight. Treacherously, he could see nothing beyond a regular mortal at this point. Even the typical haze obscurring his mind from any psionic in the area turned rigid, as though fog could grow thorns. When Raveena reassured him, he turned his head to look at her, then shrugged dismissively. - Didn' do nothing but run to you... Got all th' second wind I could need... Cass was already closer to the building, surveying it from the outside, looking for signs of the kids. The soothsayer seemed to be fairly eager to follow suit. @Deus Ex Aizen

They came together with the refugees. Blending in was at once trivial, for what were they if not four more people in need of a new home, and difficult, for their background was quite different from that of Raveena’s Matreyan subjects. When it came to their ability to contribute, they varied. Caps, the soothsayer, of course, being the oldest, could be expected to become a laborer. He also demonstrated surprising confidence while aboard the Bedlam Ridge. There was something to the way he held himself while aboard, much like a sailor knew how to make his way around a sea-bound vessel, the drunkard walked more surely than many sober men when it came to the airship. Cass, eldest of the urchins picked up at Predator’s Keep proved intelligent, and her knowledge of Matreyan, however limited, made her viable for various errands. It was the other two that were the bigger problem – a small teenage boy and a girl no more than a year older than him. Lumi and Mila - the former meek and shy, the other bratty and prone to mischief. There didn’t seem to be much they’d be suited for. Perhaps they’d have been better off left in somebody else’s care. Perhaps. Had they not snuck aboard the Bedlam Ridge and thus made it to Messenia. With little time to babysit, and little expectations towards their capabilities, the two kids seemed left to their own devices for the most part. Either Cass or Caps may have had the means to find them when necessary. But said means were not frequently invoked outside of Cass bringing the two younglings with her as often as possible, to keep them in check, or perhaps to keep being their big sister. Either way she seemed determined not to let her temporary occupation separate them. She had less control over the drunken soothsayer, who would routinely disappear somewhere among the busy construction workers, only to be found nursing a bottle he had found heavens-know-where. Perhaps his services were once again being repaid with donations of spirits. He was never rowdy or even particularly rude, but rather aloof and gloomy, with the occasional moment of prophetic clarity thrown in for good measure, and for some protection against simply being tossed off the mountain by Senior Lieutenant Vera Dafina. *** - I… I don’t know, Mila… Is this… really a good idea? - Well of course it’s a good idea! You came up with it right? - What? I… I… No, I just… said I was wondering if we could find some coal… - Right? And I just happen to know where we’ve got the best chances of getting some! But you are absolutely the mastermind. I’m just friendly enough to give you directions. They spoke in hushed tones in the shadow of the unfinished building. Small voices rendered even smaller by their deliberate secrecy. Lumi rubbed his arm nervously and looked at Mila through straw-colored unruly bangs. ‘I don’t know about this’ was painted on his every feature at this moment, save perhaps for the warmer outfit the Matreyan refugees had shared with him. A vast improvement over what he had on since Palgard. Mila sported similar improvements to her wardrobe – no more torn jeans and only what dust she’d gotten herself covered in while prowling Messenia. Her backpack hadn’t gone anywhere though. The same imp-shaped backpack strapped to her back, grinning mouth zipped up into a metal-toothed smile. - But… But what if we get caught…? - Get caught doing what? Taking a couple lumps of coal? We are on a mountain! Can you imagine how much coal they must have anyway? - R… really? How much...? - Sure! Don’t you know how mountains work? They’ve got spares in spades I’ll bet! Lots of coal! As she continued her explanation, she moved forward, forcing the boy to scamper after her. They’d chosen an hour just after sunset and the large building was painted in orange hues where it wasn’t veiled by the ever-deepening evening shade. Mila didn’t even touch the rope as she ducked under it, whereas Lumi mustered more of a coincidental trip underneath one. The girl rolled her eyes, pulling him to his feet and gesturing for him to follow her inside. The two kids disappeared into the near-empty Imperial Forge. *** - I don’t believe this… He didn’t immediately look at her from the dark bottle in his gloved hand, although perhaps he just happened to be staring in the same direction as the object he held. You couldn’t always tell with Caps. He did lift his eyes at her when Cass squatted in front of him. They were in an alley between residential buildings. The man hadn’t accepted quite as much kindness as the rest. He kept his jacket, even though it got patched up arguably better by the hands of generous Matreyans than his own. Still, for whatever reason he remained fairly unkempt, with his mess of brown, gradually graying hair, with his beard. Wasn’t a priority, he claimed. But Cass hadn’t stopped bothering him about it. She had something of her old life too – the newsboy cap at her belt. One she wouldn’t even wear herself. The young adult kept staring at the older inebriated adult, but, as ever, she did so without scorn. Concern, however, was blatantly present in her eyes. - Caps, come on… Why do you keep… This? Why keep to the streets? - ‘Unno… That a pro’lem? He began to bring the bottle to his lips, but Cass stopped it with her hand. He did not force the bottle further, sighing and looking at her. - Caps, what is really going on? What’s eating you? It’s not that you don’t accept kindness. You don’t allow yourself to accept it. We were welcomed here! - ‘Ah still am. Still ‘ere, see? Ne’ one’s kickin’ me out or nuthin’. - But you don’t have to keep living like this! You can get off the street! You can have a home! Just why are you using this to constantly keep your mind in a haze?! Her hand must have slipped. The bottle spun out of their collective grasp and fell to the ground. A puddle of spilled beer with a glimmer of glass shards blended in among the tiny hissing bubbles. Caps eyed it with a disinterested stare, then, once again, looked at the girl. She didn’t seem particularly apologetic about the bottle, despite a slight gasp when it shattered. Then again, Caps didn’t seem angry about losing his latest drink either. He frankly looked like he’d had at least a few prior to it. Something was shaping up on his face. A response? A thought? Something. Instead, he furrowed his brows and reached for the ground with the shards. It appears he’d dropped a bottle cap together with the bottle itself. He fished it out of the puddle and stared at the moist coin-like object. Yellow beer and a tiny droplet of blood stained it – had he cut a finger while retrieving it from among the shards? - Caps…? Caps, what is it? He thumbed the image on the bottle cap, his lips moving as if muttering something completely unheard. Suddenly he spoke again. And not a single word of his speech was slurred. - I need to see Her Highness. Right now! And she barely had the time to take off after him as he suddenly sprung to his feet and took off through the streets, leaving behind the remains of a broken bottle, and an unfinished conversation about his inner demons. @Deus Ex Aizen @Chappu @Grim Wolf @danzilla3

The man contemplated the empty bowl held in the palms of his hands, letting out something like a prolonged thoughtful grunt. For a moment, one might have thought him to have lost his focus and gotten side-tracked if not close to dozing off. But he raised his head, eyes open, shifting his gaze between Raveena and Aventus. Then he paused. First at Aventus. “Sure… when we’ve some privacy. Would help if you could pay in somethin’.” Was he suddenly slurring his words less? Did he look… different? Did the way he looked at people feel different? Subtle as it was, some kind of transformation was taking place. After Aventus, he turned to look at the Queen, the duration of his silence just about creeping into “awkward”. Yet Caps didn’t seem to drift. He wasn’t groggy or unfocused. On the contrary, since imbibing the drink, since the facts of this city started turning up here, since his soothsaying came into light, he became alert. There was something to his intense stare that made one feel not simply watched, but examined, unraveled, scrutinized on a level beneath the skin and beyond. He was no mind-reader - there was no sense of one’s thoughts being muddled or reined in and directed. From Caps’ perspective, several Raveenas sat in front of him, rippling ever so slightly away from one another. Deviating probabilities. Here she chooses to break the silence and ask him what was the matter. Here her lips are moving again - she is trying to convince him of something. Here she looks towards Aventus again. Here several overlapping Raveenas sit converged on one another and weather his gaze. “I am… thankful for your invitation to the new home. The children need refuge. And I see now that I have taken them from a war zone to a place stricken by a sickness…” The slurring was gone completely. Though his face was still flush with alcohol. He spoke slower, in a measured tone. “You bring many refugees with you… On the Matreyan Exodus… And yet you are willing to take more with you… No. You will need more with you.” He mused, setting aside the bowl he’d emptied, closing his eyes for a moment. “For the time being, my concern are those children. If you can take them somewhere they’d be safer than here, then that is fine by me… As fo-...” He was interrupted. There was a flapping noise from the tent’s entrance and somebody else entered. Caps raised his eyes to see Cass, staring down at the sitting man defiantly. “You are coming too.” She said firmly, then, turning to look at Raveena and Aventus alternatively, as though uncertain which one held more sway here. “Please. If he may.” She repeated while mustering more tact, perhaps a belated effort considering how she’d barged in on them. - Cass… - Caps began, leaning back slightly to look at her. - No! I know what you’ll say! That you just needed to bring us somewhere safe. But you are not just walking out of here and leaving us! - Why not? Is an old bum really that much help? - He afforded her a lopsided smirk. - Come on, Cass. I don’t even know that much beyond here… Don’t know enough guides either... You three’ll be in better hands this way. - But you need this too! - Her tone peaked. She paused then repeated, gentler. - A home… You need one too… Please, Caps. He watched her for a while. He hadn’t known the girl that long, her or the other two for that matter. He wasn’t sure how much they had heard of him back in Palgard just from all the rumors. Now though, she was staring him down. And neither one of her images rippled so much as an inch away from the one asking him to come along. “... Your Highness, let me know what preparations are required… We don’t have much but, well… So long as I’m coming along, I’ll find a way to pull my weight...” @Deus Ex Aizen @Avvercus

The man scoffed slightly at the mention of the drink’s effects. He had the decency of wiping his hands on a piece of cloth provided to him along with the food before reaching for the cup. He took it with a slight nod in place of a more expressive show of gratitude. Then with but a brief exhalation he dumped the entire cup into his mouth. He’d only slightly stained his beard with a few droplets, the rest of the drink searing his throat with spirit. He squinted his eyes and shook his head briefly. Somewhere within and beyond, the clouded mind’s veil sharpened to an ice-cold sheet, then flowed, slowly like slurry, in strangely precise patterns. And still, behind the kaleidoscope, most of what he could have revealed stayed. “Good ‘un…” He nodded appreciatively, setting down the empty cup and reaching for a piece of bread. He breathed in the smell of the crust, then tore into it with his teeth. “Good ‘un, tha’...” He repeated, having chewed on the food thoroughly. Piece of bread still in hand, wiping crumbs out of his beard sluggishly, he spoke up again. “Names? Ah… well if’n you’re good with wha’ we get called in th’ streets… Kids know the’r names more. Haven’t needed t’ forget yet…” Another pause as the food came under another attack by him. The warmth of alcohol flushed his face, but he didn’t seem to act that much different than before. “Older ‘un’s Cass… Jus’ Cass… Smart girl, yeah... Kept the others safe n’ sound like… Jus’ didn’t know ‘nough people to help out. There’s Mila… bit of a brat tha’ one… Thinks she knows ‘tall better a’ready… Lumi… Good lad… Young, good lad… Not strong much… ‘least in good hands that one. They all’re… Long as they’re in each oth’r’s. But weren’t in no good place none...” He took to the stew at this point. Seemingly regarding the conversation as near-over as he’s already said all the kids’ names. --- - So that dot up there… Is it… is it really a city in the sky? - Yeah right. Just a bird or… something. - But… what if it’s true? - Well, it might not even be hers! - But… But she said she had three crowns! The two children were still busy discussing the things that queen had told them. In fact they were both pointing at different spots in the sky, trying to spot the distant city suspended in the air by magic and science. It was not as easy to find now, with the one person who knew for sure where it was preoccupied by “grownup talks”. They were all in one spot, seated in the camp, a good distance away from the tent where Raveena had gone with Caps and the other man. While Mila still adamantly refused to believe Raveena was true to her words, Lumi was near-desperately trying to find all the things to believe from the queen’s earlier speech. - It might as well be true. - Cass, the oldest suddenly spoke up, just as she passed them both a bowl of stew that some of the refugees had shared. She murmured a respectful “Thaan'wie” each time with a polite bow, her voice just slightly above the crackling of embers in the campfires. Both of the younger looked to her, both in amazement - though one at the seeming audacity of believing this strange woman who’d brought them here, the other at the unquestionable authority confirming that yes, there was a city in the sky. Soon, however, both were brought to a more even ground, as both became quite entirely absorbed in the food they’d been given. Lumi did find a moment to ask, with his mouth full: “Waif… You mow whaf fey fay?” - A little… I understand enough, but I don’t speak a lot of it… - Don’t speak a lot of “Lumi-with-his-mouth-full”? - Don’t speak a lot of their language… - Cass indicated those around them with a roll of her head. - Matreyan. - Where did you learn it…? - I picked up a little back in the day… - The older girl stood up, two pairs of eyes looking up from their bowls of stew clearly asking “Where are you going?” without words. - Just want to look around. You two stay put. No mischief… I mean it, Mila. --- Back in the tent, Caps suddenly resumed talking: “Caps… Caps is wha’ they call me ‘n the street… ‘S a thing I do… Soothsay a notch.” He explained fairly briefly, and that seemed fine, only he did so preceding the opening of a mouth to ask him to add information about himself by about two seconds. “They come t’ me… Ask’ng what to do… Where t’ go… So’s I tell ‘em, right. Honest thin’ that… Hassle but… honest.” He seemingly didn’t quite realize that he’d started speaking while partially predicting the questions he’ll be asked. “No, don’ know… Didn’ have no plans… The kids? Jus’ needed to take ‘em outta war zone. Outta Palgard… Me? ‘Ell, might jus’ return… Or set up ‘ere for a spell…” He held the bowl with two hands and slowly tilted it, drinking the stew in large gulps. This time he managed not to stain his face, having wiped his beard and lips clean with the same cloth.

The time had come for patience and ceremony, and Xaprychor the younger King, the King in the Deep, had both. Even as his brother, true to his habit, made his sibling wait - the delay of his arrival only let the anticipation build. Both that of Xaprychor and of the crowd before the castle, drawn here by their expectations - the Kings had to meet here. It was only right. In time, Xaprychor was joined by others who would await their traveling King’s arrival as well. He was, perhaps, somewhat distant for a Nymerian, or perhaps discerning, but he dignified his peers with graceful, ceremonious nods, some with a brief epithet. “Charming as ever…”, “How good of you to join…”, “Yes. Take your place here, the King on the Waves is bound to arrive soon...” And so on and so forth, greetings trailing off into pauses. His eyes scanned the crowd. Rxychra wouldn’t dare make them wait, would he? When the moment came, the crowd stirred of its own accord, much like a wave, some flowed to the front, then drifted back slowly, like saltwater cascades drawn back into the mother sea. Some yearned to touch him, then, some satisfied, others, perhaps, overwhelmed, retreated to let their other peers do the same. Xaprychor watched them shower Rxychra with adoration, yet he himself was calm, or so it seemed. His brother ascended the steps and he simply waited. He came closer, his familiar face, his strength - all apparent. There must have been a speech to say here, words of grand, ceremonious welcome to offer his brother. Yet as Rxychra came closer and paused before Xaprychor, the younger King spoke and but one word drifted out of his mouth. “Brother…” A moment that felt as long as his brother’s absence, yet at its conclusion, Xaprychor had not even realized when he ended up in Rxychra’s embrace. The impassive mask of his well-regulated emotions waned for but a short while. Long enough for his eyes to close as his lips to ease into a peaceful smile. He repeated with certainty. “Brother, you have returned…” Someone else in the crowd repeated similar words. Then they echoed once more, more and more voices picking up the chant. He has returned. He has returned! And the triumph of Nymeria rippled the water, a thousand bodies glistening and thrashing in joyous prelude to festive revelries. Music came after, drowning the throes of triumph. The two brothers finally separated, though for a time their arms held. Rxychra had his chance to greet the others, though only briefly - for as much a celebration as it was, much work remained to be done. “Come, brother mine. The throne room awaits.” Xaprychor invited and he gestured gracefully towards the main castle gates. Not all Nymerians would get to follow them there, but even with their celebration taking place outside, the castle was far from vacant. Dancers melded into a graceful flurry of fin, skin and veil. Honor guard stood watch, polearms clanging sonorously against the floor as the procession headed by the two Kings entered. They were the spark this day needed for the true magnitude of a festival to unfold and one could tell that nobody was holding back anymore. “You no doubt have much to tell of your travels, Rxychra?” With his more typical demeanor reclaimed, though still eased by their reunion, Xaprychor’s tone regained some of its solemnity. “The surface world… I must say I have not shied away from my own… forays… On my own? Don’t be ridiculous. There was work in the capital. It was done by willing volunteers of the Land Invasion Unit… Their armor proved strong enough for brief excursions. I have only bettered the efficiency of their water reserves with the tests they provided… Oh nothing. Not a great lot of news to share… They have fascinating capabilities, some of them, but ultimately, I see not how they would resist us.” His passion for his work invaded his speech, he seemed to display a subtle satisfaction whenever he saw approval in his brother’s eyes. They sampled the food. They sampled the guests. There was much to experience here - anyone unaccustomed to Nymeria would be overwhelmed by the excesses of this day, but not they. Knowing the time he had spent apart from home, Xaprychor did give his brother time for others. Whether to speak, to embrace, to kiss or to merely acknowledge in some way. His patience had been rewarded by this day. A boon he would be willing to share with the deserving, of which many were now here. Members of the royal family, the sons, the daughters and siblings. “The Deepwatch, of course, has been productive as well. In part, your return is celebrated with this wild abandon due to their efforts. Our people are assured no more knives remain at our backs.” Rxychra was not without the attention of women as they drifted across the throne room, though Xaprychor remained relatively indifferent. For a moment he seemed to take note of his throne between the flashing scales of his Nymerian brethren in the room. “All is well, brother mine, you are home, after all… Yet there is something else I have waited for. With your return, we can finally plot our next move… I saved you the liberty of announcing it, brother mine. I know you are eager to step away from excursions and to a more… decisive approach. Your men have not been idle, and neither have our labs. We have nursed to life numerous means of combat and conquest.” He should have been there for a longer time, and should have wanted so much more to be heard by his brother. Yet in the midst of their conversation, muted somewhat by the sound of music from every which corner, Xaprychor was approached. A cloaked figure clad in the more subtle variant of the Deepwatch regalia. The hooded creature leaned over to the young king and whispered. He reacted with a mere nod, despite the magnitude of the news. He should have been by his brother’s side the whole day. He should have listened to every speech at the festivities, seen every competition and sampled the joys of this day to the fullest. Instead, he excused himself at some point and withdrew. A quarry awaited. Rare and still drawing breath, in an enclosure in his lab where water pressure was less punishing, so that the lessers of Nymeria’s dominant species from dry land could survive. If his estimates were correct, his men would have released the new subject into it only recently. Was it still disoriented? Was it already used to the appliances used to keep it alive for Xaprychor’s ends? He pondered and even on his way to the lab to meet his involuntary “guest”, Xaprychor would hear the songs of celebration turn to songs of long-awaited war. Rxychra’s time to announce the Land Invasion has come and hidden beneath Xaprychor’s collected demeanor something pulsed with the sense of a long term plan’s pieces falling into place.

The admission of her title caught Caps somewhat off-guard. The slurry of tired, alcohol-tinged thoughts sparked with brief concern. Royalty? Out here? Improbable, but, what if it were true? What would this mean to them? A guard captain, and just an average one, was the highest title they were counting on meeting. And even then - only by proxy, via Deckerd’s smile and the safety of his wagon. This plan wasn’t working out. “It can’t be as bad here as back home… right?” Lumi’s question prevented Caps from going too deep into contemplation, but the soothsayer had no answer to give him. For the time being, following this woman was the only choice they had. As far as choices went, this was one fine gift horse. So they followed along. Throughout the journey, there were questions. Most came from Lumi - those were colored with the amazement one would expect of him at this point. Mila was more stinging - every question was a challenge. As though she was ready to catch Raveena lying. Like if she was really a queen? Where was her crown anyway? Was the city really in the sky? Who put it there and how come it wasn’t falling? What was she doing down here if she had a whole city in the sky? Did she have wings? Has she met other queens? Do other queens even know her? What about princes? Or knights? Died, really? How? Was she dead right now? It seemed these two could have kept her occupied with storytelling for the entire evening. But when Cass finally spoke up, this almost seemed a sign to the two younger urchins to let their big sister have her turn. “We need someplace to stay. If you could point us at one, we could probably manage from there. We are not looking to become a burden, especially if you have a migration to get ready for.” Out of all of them, her mind was perhaps the clearest. Lumi’s was innocent, young and, for some reason, warm, as though an unknown hearth nestling within him. Mila was mischievous, she warranted eyes on her, although she’d probably still find some means of getting her way. Caps appeared fatigued. No, not just that, deliberately fatigued. Like someone constantly forcing himself to remain in a certain state, or instead, perhaps, constantly preventing transition to what could be considered a state of greater clarity. When Raveena asked for the details on Palgard, the whole group exchanged glances. Caps spoke up, with hand raised “Yeah-yeah… I’ll tell you… Not a whole lot t’ tell, but ah… it’s prolly what you’d expect eitherhow...” He took a breath and exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. “If you could let ‘em stay somewhere for a bit. Ain’t no story they need t’ hear twice.” “We don’t need to just be shooed away you know!” “Don’ be fussy about it… It’s a camp, there’s torches not bein’ thrown atcha… Food too prolly… If y’ got any to spare?” Despite the slight protest from Mila, even she had to admit her hunger. What she didn’t admit, her stomach did for her, with the perfectly human reaction in the form of a growl. Lumi and Cass proved far easier to persuade and soon the three left, leaving Caps there to answer the questions on Palgard. “Can I get somethin’ to drink…? Beer’ll do...” He requested. His mind was cloudy, with many a vision in it. No lies - just never anything beyond what was asked. As if every word he said timidly drew itself from the haze, binding into a chain, forming a sentence, giving an answer. No more, no less. “Palgard’s… notta good place fer now… There’s the whole… torch n’ pitchfork. And tha’s the better way of it. Rifle n’ flares in the worst offit. Honessly, I ain’t no one ta tell y’ how’s it goin’ among ‘em. The sides I mean. Ne’er joined neither none of ‘em… Knew those kids though. Good kids, all… Lil, on the mischeivous side, but eh, who wasn’?” The first laugh he’d attempted since the start of the conversation. It did not come particularly happy. “I was as much on th’ streets as ‘em… Came a time e’en that got dang’rous… They needed out, I knew how...” He coughed, his voice coming out an obviously dry throat. He hit his chest with a fist a couple times, silencing the cough, although perhaps the fist pounding was more of a placebo.

A strange state it was. One of mixed preparedness and a distinct recognition of one’s own comparative inaction. He would have had himself in the deeper levels, the organic floodlights cast over his latest – victim? Subject? Labor? Riddle? Matter of perspective really, but now was no time for either of them. His hands looked like ones that could make music. There was a kind of dexterity to the very build of his long, slender fingers. And yet those hands were not at work. His mind raced with thoughts, ramifications and designs. He was almost uncomfortable not feeling a life pulse under his fingertips, so responsive to his touch, and to his sting, and to his blade. But today was different. Somewhere below, there were many-legged crustaceans scurrying across the walls of labs, in the spots of light from tanks in which beings, things, survived or gestated or simply stored. Somewhere down deep were rooms, flooded but ready to be drained again, to clear space for things that could not breathe submerged, and a slab waited, with restraints to keep them from squirming. But he was not there. Today was an exception. One of the few things that warranted an interruption of his labor, a pause in his designs. Urged by the long-awaited arrival, he had ascended here. Finally his brother was returning. Here in one of the hallways adjacent to the throne room and far from where his work awaited, the King in the Deep glided across the floor, followed by a small retinue. - Does my liege wish to meet his brother in the Throne Room? – One of them asked, leveling with the younger King. - No. We enter the Throne Room together. He deserves my welcome, not the sight of me reclining in my throne upon his arrival. – Water carried sounds differently. Nymerian language was suited for it. His speech was surprisingly soothing. There had been rumors that he could sound no less enticing than a Psyren. Also there had been rumors that he may have sired them. The first was conjecture and the latter was glaringly false. Even the younger of the two kings predated the oldest Psyrens, yet, to his remorse, he was not the originator of the Psyrens’ impressive skill. He was unmistakably his brother’s flesh and blood, yet distinct. Less muscle, more grace. Less scarring, more regal bearing. Less open smile, yet so much more scrutiny in those eyes of the same silver. And beyond that, there was more. Even his clothing seemed to blend into his body, making it hard to tell if he was indeed covered or not. Where his kind had evolved, he reaped the fruit of centuries, perfected it and made it part of himself. The changes were subtle. There was an art to seamlessly modifying himself without turning into a blatantly different looking creature. In a fashion those beyond the castle were starting to imitate, glowing bacteria underneath the upper layer of his skin covered him in tiny spots, glistening like stars. Where most would opt for tattoos, Xaprychor instead had his skin adapt a flowing pattern of dark pigmentation, accentuating muscles and joints and creating a dark backdrop for the glowing pigments. But he kept his face clear, as though for the sovereign’s familiar visage to remain immediately recognizable to the people. Although, who could tell what more had been changed about him? - And your escort, sire? - Shall be stationed here and await our return. – There was something chilling about the fact that even repetitive questions wouldn’t cause a hitch in Xaprychor Alrandwe di Firdana’s even tone. He was the one who could praise a warrior, condemn a criminal and make a stinging retort to an unruly courtier all in the exact same manner of tone. Yet those on the receiving end would end up elevated in the first case, doomed in the second and shamed into bitter silence in the third. There was also a hidden falsehood to his refusal of an escort. What some perceived as arrogant refusal to be accompanied, Xaprychor himself viewed as an acceptable test to the camouflage developed and implanted in his lab. Then again, perhaps even this time hidden escort would be unwarranted. He was, in a fashion he himself acknowledged as completely irrational, strangely eager to demonstrate to his brother his findings and creations. But to do so by flaunting a stealthy escort as though plotting an assassination would be far too vulgar an act for their reunion. And yet, he had to admit, to test the camouflage against one of the royal bloodline, would be a worthy test. - Another day. – He uttered, as though to put an audible full stop to this train of thought. - My liege? - Nothing… – He waved off the retinue and they each floated aside, leaving him to his thoughts. It seemed ridiculous, yet Xaprychor was realizing more and more that he was anxious. Would his brother admire his work? Would he see how the court dancers now shimmer with brighter colors? How some have veil-like fins, rivaling the mantles of surface kings? How his Land Invasion Unit was outfitted with armor that embraces them like a second skin and turns them to armored monsters to counter any army? Would the iridescent shimmer of the mother-of-pearl in the palace please him after having basked in the long lost sunlight above the waves? Would he know his brother toiled, and hunted down the dissenters, and held the kingdom in line for a decade alongside the rest of the royal family? And wouldn’t we tell him about the dreams of our Old Adversary and reminisce of the ink-black blood flooding our lungs and forcing us into a long rest? He paused and turned his head. By now he had floated into the throne room. Servants flitted about, preparing for the festivities within and without. And behind them all was the throne. The skull. A small fish floated into one of the many empty eye sockets. It never came out again. For some reason Xaprychor couldn’t place, the fish seemed distinctly ugly to him. He smirked. This throne was a symbol of their glory. A thing thought beyond death struck dead by him and his brother. And from its fall came Nymeria, a people born out of intended slavery and grown into a mighty Kingdom that soon all will see. With his mind filled with anticipation that almost threatened to spill into a smile, the young King floated through the main gates. It was time to see his brother.

It was clear from the moment the guards found them when inspecting the wagon that things were no longer going to go smoothly. Caps could see the irony, although his form of appreciation of said irony was more akin to cursing repeatedly in his mind. A soothsayer failing to see the peril of their road. A failure to predict that this would happen. Curses. Yet, something felt off. As if for all the imposing nature of the guards lining them up, they felt like minor, irrelevant figures to the situation at hand. As if these people barring entry to the city just would not decide a thing about the fates of both him and the kids. It was not clear enough to formulate any words of comfort for at least Lumi. The two girls seemed to be taking the situation far better by comparison. Mila due to having been caught in the midst of various mischief enough times not to find this case particularly jarring. Still, their ragtag bunch could stand the girl not aggravating the guards. Cass, perhaps, too had gone through experiences that had strengthened her character enough not to bend under the pressure. Looking at her with a sideways glance, Caps was not sure just why with a big sister like her there was even a point to dragging himself along for the ride. It was a shame there had not been time to toss more bottle caps for a prediction. Else, he would have perhaps foreseen some of what happened next. The two women that approached were clearly of a high station and it wasn’t just the harsh tone of one of them. This kind of unrestrained application of force and… encouraging speech must have been accompanied by a rank high enough to withstand potential repercussions. Feeling the guards were sufficiently distracted by the need to stand at attention to not mind some more movement from the refugees, Caps put a hand on Lumi’s shoulder. Between the initial shock and the tall woman screaming, the boy shuddered and wheeled around, almost as though he might have suspected a guard had stepped behind him for an ambush. Caps mustered a slight nod, to which Lumi sheepishly nodded back, even suddenly realizing he had been crying and promptly smothering tears across his face with the back of his palm. It was probably not a big improvement to his appearance, but, with some effort, he slowed down his sobs. Still, he stood just a bit closer to Caps throughout the rest of the scene. This brief exchange happened just in time for the other woman to approach them. She spoke, she examined them thoughtfully, and the scrutiny, though not entirely pleasant under the circumstances, was also more nuanced than whatever the guards could have thought of. “Some saint. It’s just a big stone oaf…” Predictably, Mila was the one to respond to the woman’s mostly rhetorical question, though only quietly and only speaking after her Grace had walked past her. Just then, the guards were questioned once again. Predator’s Keep was fully aware of Palgard’s strife, which was to be expected. Exactly how open they would be to refugees from said strife was the other, less obvious question. This was their opportunity to figure that out. Perhaps they wouldn’t be turned away after all. Perhaps these two or precisely this one was the decisive factor in them getting through this situation. Caps, being the clear eldest of the group, was about to respond to her questions, at least partially, since, truth be told, he had little idea just how long they’d been cooped up in the wagon, when the commotion continued with another stowaway. Caps never did wonder if they were the only ones with the bright idea of trying to get smuggled into Predator’s Keep. The stranger the guards led out of another one of the wagons provided a visual confirmation. He was stopped abruptly, even though he had apparently recognized the woman responsible for their… salvation? More reasonable treatment? Delay to them being deported? And the language she and the man who had stopped the other stowaway. Greevios? What language was that? With the situation once again taken out of their hands (but then, was it ever there to begin with?), Caps saw little choice but to wait things out. Regardless of the relation between this stowaway and the woman, they were being invited along. This, in a way, did count as getting into Predator’s Keep. They were also promised food. “Really…?” Lumi asked, a near perfect mixture of hope and disbelief. “Unless they poison i…-Ow!” This time Mila was cut off with a slight nudge with Cass’ elbow. The three orphans and the soothsayer with the aching head followed the more powerful people along. And hopefully it would end in time for Caps to get a drink. @Avvercus @Deus Ex Aizen

“Uncle Caps…? Uncle Caps?” A small voice called to him under the hum of the engine giving motion to the wheels somewhere under the floor. The room, or rather compartment they were in, rocked slightly as they passed uneven terrain. Here and there were roped boxes and bundles of goods. As he so often did, he felt an aftertaste of booze in his mouth and a slight chill, forcing him to huddle in his jacket. A futile attempt – the tattered fabric was rough and poorly insulated, and chances were the cold was not even due to the room’s actual temperature. “Uncle Caps?” The voice repeated with the same questioning tone. It sounded almost apologetic, though for what the man could not be certain. Hours ago, hours, which by now, he assumed, may have coiled together and fused into the stretch of time some would take for an entire day, give-or-take the extra duration that would be taken up by sleep, they had boarded this wagon. Magic-propelled as most on this continent were, it was owned by someone willing not to ask much, and more importantly not to ask for much. Considering his price-range being somewhere in the vicinity of the high-end of nothing the latter was imperative. They had boarded this wagon. They? Him and… “Uncle Caps!” A tug on the edge of his sleeve, the small voice trying to speak up louder, the merciless realization that there was no more slumber – he was waking. He was waking to find someone here in this wagon. Right. It really wasn’t just him. A small child retracted a skinny hand from the edge of Caps’ sleeve and looked at him with big bright eyes, holding his hand to his chest as though the now woken soothsayer could grab it as payment for the offense. “Wha…? We ‘ere yet?” The man mumbled, slowly unfurling from his huddled position. “We’re still on the road… Mister Deck Card said it’ll still be a little while…” “He’s Deckerd, lad…” Caps corrected in as amiable a tone as he could muster against the dryness of his mouth. The child still held his hand close to himself, so Caps figured he needed to make a better effort. Leaning to the side, he examined the dimly-lit room. The boy looking at him was not the only other passenger. Two more were in the corner, or three more, depending on your perspective - namely if a backpack resembling an imp-like creature with an exaggerated large head would deserve mention during a headcount. “Cass and Mila are still asleep…” The boy spoke, perhaps noticing where Caps was looking and choosing to comment. The old man nodded. Perhaps he should have given the boy a pat on the head or something of the sort. But with the youngster looking at him almost as though Caps were a dragon he just woke, perhaps such a gesture would be a poor choice. Careful conversation was a better course of action for this hungover dragon to take, so Caps patiently addressed the boy. “So what’s it y’want, Lumi?” Hearing his name, the boy perked up. “Could you… do that trick with the bottle cap again?” “… What?” “You know…” Lumi reached behind his own ear, brushing fingers against dry, straw-like hair before opening his palm like something was in it. His palm was empty, but the gesture was clearly-enough a reenactment of the “coin from behind the ear” trick. Or, bottle cap, in this particular case. “Really, kid?” Caps responded, to a slight sulk from the boy before him. A moment of silence later, the man shifted slightly, eliciting a grunt. His back was sore after sleeping against a hard box. Before Lumi could muster the courage to look up at Caps and ask for the trick again, the man waved an empty hand in front of the boy’s eyes. Almost immediately the child’s careful curiosity culminated in an intent stare. Caps took his time to make a few more motions, lacking the flair of a stage magician and resembling more of an attempt to wave off a pesky fly. Still, he ended up reaching forward as though to pluck something off the tip of Lumi’s nose, then opened his greasy palm to reveal a worn bottle-cap. To Lumi, the clumsy reenactment of the oldest trick in the book served as a source of astounded glee. Then again, neither he nor his peers napping in the corner had much experience that could make them connoisseurs. The boy let out his breath once he’d stilled his excitement enough not to wake his companions. “What’s on it?” He asked in a hushed tone that almost let the engine noises drown out his voice completely. “Hrm… Got a light?” The boy seemed hesitant, but curiosity made for powerful motivation. He cupped his hands to his chest and whispered something. This time the engine’s hum prevailed completely, though Caps knew better than to press either way. Sometimes more than adults, children had secrets they held dear and believed in. And these three were as far from an exception as could possibly be. Gingerly, carefully as though cradling a sparrow in his palms, Lumi opened them. In his hands was a tiny flame, like the smallest candle-light glowing with nary a wick. With just as much care, the boy held the tiny flame over the bottle cap. Both he and Caps looked at it and, as one, saw the image. The bottle cap was worn and weathered, but what could be made out was the image of a locked gate. Suddenly the wagon stopped, causing the boxes to rattle and jerking the bottle cap out of Caps’ hand. It bounced across the floor and rolled underneath one of the boxes. Lumi gasped and cradled his tiny flame close to his chest, even hunching his whole body over it, fearful for its life. The other two passengers too felt the sudden stop. The older girl was wide awake first, as though she could spring to action were it not for the constraints of their cramped accommodation. Held in her arms, the other girl looked around frantically as though the stored cargo in their wagon could suddenly leap at them now. A small window slid open above them and in looked the owner of the wagon. “You sit tight. Find some tarp to cover yourselves with. It’s an inspection. They’re not even that careful at it. Tarp. Cover. Sit tight. Quiet.” The last assortment of words was practically hissed disparately, but there was little room to misinterpret. Even so, Caps couldn’t help but feel Deckerd sounded more concerned by this inspection than he had when assuring him the journey to Predator’s Keep would go without a hitch. The tension in the cargo compartment as they covered themselves up with tarp and hid among the crates was almost tangible. Caps felt if he held his breath, he would hear not only his own heartbeat, but a trio of smaller ones somewhere close. And then all at once, all four heartbeats skipped their beats when the tarp was yanked off them and sharp light assaulted their eyes. The guards were fairly unceremonious. To be fair, the ragged man and three urchins seemed rather undeserving of ceremony. They were pulled out of the wagon, in the case of the children they were literally lifted and passed along. Soon all four were lined-up outside their wagon. The vehicle barred their way behind their backs and a trio of guards – their front. Behind them, two more questioned Deckerd, who flailed his arms and walked back and forth from one guardsman to the other with such intensity his long coat flared in the wind. “I have no idea who they are I tell you! Stowaways! You know how Palgard is!” The stowaways themselves were not being questioned, at least not for now. Lined up all together and out of the dark, they were finally exposed with all their distinctions. Caps of course remained the tallest and the obvious elder. Next to Caps Lumi sobbed quietly, a lanky boy no older than 13 with pants rolled up past his skinny knees, with soot-stains on his pale skin and a shirt with a row of disparate buttons and some stitching all over. Mila, the younger pony-tailed teen of the two girls, blew a raspberry at one of the guards. She wore torn jeans and a dusty cardigan over a simple white top. On her back was an imp-shaped backpack, facing the wagon with an ever-present grin. Cass, every bit the big sister the two younger urchins took her for, stood stoic with a quiet defiance in her eyes. She had something of a young adult in her, though her age was somewhat difficult to determine. With hair styled into a sort of lengthier pixie-cut, wearing a leather jacket and, somewhat strangely, a black newsboy cap hanging on the belt of her patched jeans, she almost seemed as either the more groomed, or just the better scavenger of the group. With Deckerd still trying to disassociate himself from his passengers and no interrogation coming just yet, Caps found himself struggling between an intense headache and the lingering image of the locked gate from the bottle cap left somewhere in the wagon.