Somewhere, In The Concordia

"Interlude - Remember Me?"

For if I do not do it now that I have the impulse, I never shall- for if I think too long about writing this, I never will. For this reason, and without a reason, Yuudias (yes, he still exists, he still lives, somewhere and somehow), is here. There is much he has learned, since you have last heard of him; though I suppose within this fiction, he knew it all along. It's rather confusing, don't you think? Regardless- he is not really part of the conflicts ongoing, at least not as of yet. He looks troubled, though; he has been here long. How long...? He would not be able to tell. It could be a couple of weeks. It could be a couple of months. It could be two years. Taking some odd jobs here and there, he has drifted day to day. He had spoken to that priest-looking person, and had helped him in exchange for help finding his friends; but he had not heard back from it. Valvelgear was able to operate autonomously for a long time, it was after all a ship built for interstellar travel and battle. But he feared his comrades may lose their morale without a leader.

He did not recognize this road, but then again, he might have been here already. He was not one to get lost in thought often, but he could not help but thinking. After solving the conflict in Velgear, he had suddenly ended up here... Why? Where had Zwijo gone to, at that? They had been, after all- At that moment his eyes meet a mark on a wall; and his hands trace over it as if not even aware of it himself: and he realizes what the mark resembles. An incision, after an impact. And in it, a dark fluid he is much too familiar with. Why is this here? It shouldn't be. But if it is here, then, he can be sure.

Something very alarming is going on.

Edited by DarknessAwaits on May 11th 2023 at 12:34:09 PM

Johnny smirked as he pushed the glasses back up and holstered. "Not familiar with the fine work of Malorian, this piece belonged to one of the most infamous Rockerboys of history."

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. "Johnny... can you try to be careful? I don't want anybody thinking we're crazy just yet... okay?"

"Don't worry V. I got this."

Johnny sat down and ate some of the spread, settling for drinking coffee instead of grumbling about a lack of hard alcohols. Sobriety had been... weirdly freeing for him, V insisted it was because he could think straight for once. That couldn't be right, he always had great ideas!

"Johnny we learned that your memories are inaccurate and you've been in digital storage for who knows how long? Do you think Saburo didn't have you tampered with?"

Still, wasn't the worst thing to consider.

Egress Eternal, Zone 6, Akira Kurusu

Akira sighs as he gets back to the Egress Eternal. Not exactly the best pay around, but he’d rather help whenever he can. Might make his guardians abhor the option of kicking him out, or if all fails, he could survive for a couple of weeks with the pay. They seem to be okay with it, at least. He might order some bagels or something, before leaving to his guardians’ house. No sense making them worry. He could always go Joker later. Right now, he’s content with just listening. No one would care too much about a single boy, anyway. He could feel Arsene grumble in protest inside of him, but pushed the feeling down. He’d rather not start thinking too much about it and accidentally out himself. That’d be embarrassing.

Zone Six, Egress Eternal

"And good riddance!" Ling Ya◊ the talking pipa jeered after Grey's retreating back. The instrument's master, Lang Wu Yao◊ (given name Wu Yao) glared out the door in the direction of the "good" doctor for a little while longer, then exhaled sharply and relaxed. After giving Officer Jakub a bit of silent side-eye, he gave Andy a couple pats on the shoulder and turned to observe the rest of the room, spotting Akira by the bar. At that, a small smile lit up his face, and he paced over to hop on a stool near the raven-haired youth.

The pair knew the bespectacled lad from his Egress-associated work, and with Lang's near-supernatural intuition for detecting bad guys, he'd instantly pegged Akira as a decent sort, or at least not evil. Lang didn't talk much - in fact, it was possible Akira had never heard him talk in anything other than chuckles or grunts - but Ling Ya could interpert for him well enough and talk for the both of them, anyway.

"Hey there, Akira!" Ling Ya chattered nasaly, making up for Lang's almost complete muteness. "Feels like it's been a while since we've seen ya 'round here! How ya been? Ya got any song requests?"

Akira lets out a small smile, but keeps his eyes a little downcast. "Nothing much, Ling Ya." he clasps his hands together. He sighs, before turning his eyes to the remaining patrons of the Egress. "Looks like things got a little rough here, huh?" he quips. "You all seem pretty tense." he chuckles.

"As for not seeing me for a while, heh, I've been around town doing odd jobs." Akira nods. "I gotta help somehow, right?" he shrugs, before looking wistful.
   Thou hath been working yourself ragged, boy. Stay a while. The city can be saved by others.   

The voice gives Akira a start, but he finds it hard to argue with his inner voice (   I wonder why?   ). His smile comes back a little brighter, and he leans forward. "Actually, I do have a request, before I go." he leans back. "Could you play that one song... Beneath the Mask?"

Edited by Jules-Firenze on May 17th 2023 at 4:31:17 PM

Zone Six, Egress Eternal

"Ah, ya wanna hear the ballad to Joker again, huh? Sure thing!" Ling Ya said as Lang nodded readily in agreement. "Actually, our good buddy Wu Yao here has been thinking up some proper lyrics for it! Whaddaya say, my man? How about a debut public performance of the vocal version?"

"Hmm..." Lang pondered for a couple seconds, then shrugged and nodded again in acquiescence. Folding one leg over the other, he held the instrument with one hand and balanced it on his knee as he strummed and tapped out a rhythm with his silver-picked fingers. Given Ling Ya was a magical instrument, Lang could use him to produce literally and kind of sound aside from vocals, from olden strings to the modern electric guitars he'd learned about after coming to Concordia. This particular rendition of the song started with the sound of rain, followed up by guitar, piano, a bit of a triangle or cowbell, and finally, vocals:

Joker stays at the bar, listening to every pluck of Ling Ya's strings, every note Lang emitted. It's not often he got to hear the duo play together, and it's a small, but substantial comfort.

Arsene rumbles in amusement.    We barely started, already getting nostalgic?    he laughs. Akira shakes his head. "No. It's a nice song, that's what." he replies.    Aye. It is.    Arsene nods. When the song ends, Akira laughs. "You know, I never get tired of your music. Keep playing, guys." he smiles, beginning to look at home. You could almost see tears forming at the corner, soon blinked away.

Edited by Jules-Firenze on May 18th 2023 at 3:47:57 AM

Zone 7, Nameless Chapel

"You do not strike me as one swayed by words, so I will allow my actions in battle to speak for me. I believe you will be quite surprised." Swain mused, giving Rebecca a small smirk before she turned back to converse with her... associate? They seemed to be from the same homeworld, at any rate.

Swain didn't bother to pry. His attention was focused on Kayne's chess pieces. She knew the game was a pastime of his, of course, but he could not tell whether the message it sent was intentional.

He took the proffered bread, allowing Beatrice to peck it out of his hand while he thoughtfully observed the proceedings. The steamed lamb gave him pause, but when he glanced over to Lamb in the corner she seemed unconcerned - and indeed, a leg of lamb was already in Wolf's mouth, presumably to keep him quiet.

For himself he took only a cup of black coffee, delectably bitter on his tongue, though the cup looked comical in his demon arm. He was not one for tradition or ceremony. Nor was he concerned with the obvious signs of independence, despite his position.

Kayne could call herself god-empress of the wilds for all he cared. In the end it meant nothing - a nation was defined by its people, and the strength they possessed. Even if it was not called 'Concordia', the nation that will rise by Swain's hand would remain.

"I have already sent a flock to survey the area." He said, once Kayne was done with her folksy rambling. "Ideally they should find our quarry in short order."

Kayné Ainsel & Moloch "Moko" Kothys—Zone 7, Nameless Chapel —> Make Way —> Hunting Grounds

"Alright, well, all the other folks already know where they're goin'," Kayne concluded, though she pointed to a certain unassuming red pawn on the outskirts of the Zone 7 map. It had a gash on one side, as if someone made a blunder while carving it and couldn't bear to discard it, where the paint didn't quite cover the small wooden scar. "So that's where we're headed. Usually, it'd take an hour or two of pickin' through the underbrush to get there, but, uh, we're gonna be takin' Make Way there, so y'all don't have to worry about the travelin' time."

She gathered up the map, which had various pull tabs and pop-up sections folded into it, like a whimsical children's book. Zone 7 had been divided into counties with whimsical names like Noplace and Nowhere and Not Found and The Current Road. Rough names and addresses of individual households or shanty towns were placed before the name of the county, usually signified by another unique phrase or number, though numbers were rarer. This led to some amusing combinations such as Ass-End, Nowhere, or the extremely confusing Noplace, Nowhere, and Nowhere, Noplace (which were sister towns right next to each other on a border). 404, Not Found, Hope, Not Found, and Exit, Not Found were slightly more distinct from one another, though that was not helped by the concurrent existence of Turn Left On, The Current Road, Remain On, The Current Road, Turn Right On, The Current Road, and You Are On, The Current Road. The directions indicated by the names of these addresses were in no way indicative of the actual directions required to travel to their respective locations, and in any case, they were all situated around the same large lake to almost malicious effect.

Extreme effort had been made, obviously, in order for the navigation of Zone 7 to be as infuriating as possible to outsiders. People out here had to make whatever fun they could.

Outside, a selection of steeds had been prepared for the party. "If you know how to ride, pick a horse or what have you and hop on," she told the rest of the group. "If you don't, double up with someone who does and hang on tight. Might be safer with one person steering and one person handling weaponry anyhow." And as for Kayne, she mounted up onto an oversized bio-mechanical stag, courtesy of Aloy's efforts, looking much more regal now that she was off her mismatched feet. It snorted steam and shook its neck, pawing at the earth, much like its real counterparts that were departing with the other hunters.

As the party streamed into the forest, with Kayne at the front, she blew her hunting horn, prompting a chorus of horn calls to go up in the distance. Wind streamed past them on their swift steeds, and Kayne spurred her stag onwards ("Yah!") into what appeared to be a large thorny thicket. But just as it looked like a crash was imminent, Kayne waved a mechanical hand in front of herself and shouted "MAKE WAY!"

The horses (dubious in form, though similar in function) and (wo)men almost seemed to thin and stretch out like taffy, shrinking and slipping in-between the space between the branches, entering a forested path that had not been visible before, as if contained in that singular thicket and no more. Phantasmal trees lined the length and breadth of the path, with sound echoing strangely within the space. Kayne herself seemed to be navigating by sound and scent alone, closing her eyes and abandoning all superfluous sight. It seemed that this was what the pull-tabs had indicated on Kayne's map, so numerous and so tangled were they that they almost prevented the normal functioning of the map itself.

Smoke rising beside the road marked the location of Make Camp, which had been hurriedly pitched as a halfway point should anyone fall sick or be injured unexpectedly during the hunt. But no matter how far and fast the party seemed to ride, the smoke appeared to get no further or closer. It had to be accessed in a different way.

At any rate, there was no more room to think on this, as the miles were being eaten up under the thundering hoofbeats of the train.

Edited by JumpingFruit on May 17th 2023 at 1:58:07 AM

Zone Five, Smith, Smith, and Smith - J.J. Macfield

There's a lot to think about, and that's doubly true for you, an outsider to events. Every advantage from objectivity is countered by lack of sureness, a constant risk of putting forth ideas only to have them shot down because you fool, you craven, you weren't there to witness the counter evidence. Everyone is praising you because you're just so clever, and you're pretending that your cheeks haven't warmed underneath your foundation; what a travesty it would be if you tripped up and made an ass of yourself now.

(This is more important to you than actually solving the case. This is reason number #76 why you are going directly to he-)

Since there's a lot to think about, let's take it from the top, with the one thought you keep as hidden as your blush: Jim's comment about the United Front getting bolder does not escape your notice, but rather wriggles under your skin until you can escape the warm haze of Vivy's compliments and remember instead your meeting with Lorem Ipsum. Three months, he had said, and about a month and a half had passed since. It was a hypothetical number that could very well mean nothing, but if the Front were in bed with Lorem and its kin, then...

Your second thought is of Abby, of the time she sat in her open garage and strummed out a few chords that weren't good in the sense of being palatable, but rather in their encapsulation of earnest creativity. These chords reverberate around your skull like an ever-loudening klaxon as Petunia gets close to you. You don't know if this method works, but better to try than to assume failure, right? Besides, if he poked past that initial layer then he'd find that you are a very dainty girl with a very big gun in your bag, and there couldn't possibly be a better reason for him to abstain from rooting through your unmentionables.

Once you've wrestled down the latent panic of being within Petunia Smith's vicinity, you can actually process his words and move onto thought number three. "With Brand being the Front's supplier, is it possible that he was also the one who told them about Addward? I'm getting the impression that he's the possessive sort, but if he hasn't made his own move to reclaim his "property", then maybe he used Addward instead to sweeten the deal? If Officer Idunn's theory is correct, then handing the marten over to the Front might be servicing his own agenda."

You glance at the woman as you bring her up. There's an awkward pubescent within you that thinks she's soooo cool, with her cloak and her mismatched eyes and her hair of a delicate purple that you want to spin into a dress and make into waves as you twirl on the spot. Alas, your hashtag gender envy is not relevant to the discussion, so you move instead to your next point.

"It does strike me as a little strange if Mikudayo was in league with the Front, given that she and her manager were the ones working hardest to get Areum's concert cancelled. If they had succeeded, they would've saved her life from the Front's attack. I guess that could've been the point, making it seem like they'd reasonably have nothing to do with the assassination attempt..."

You politely withhold the second part, which is that you've stared into Mikudayo's eyes, watching you from a half-empty toothpaste tube, and found nothing but placid, existential horror. She strikes you as a force of chaos rather than a scheming mastermind; then again, maybe her manager's the one picking up the slack. You go back to chewing your gum so the Smith siblings can lay out their reasoning.

Areum, Zone Four, Pedea Island Room

Frankly, I don’t know what Mercer’s monologue just a moment ago was really about. Was he cynically using his own past misfortune to justify his behavior? Or was he seriously offended by my assertion that he seemed to not understand other people’s feelings in a way that cut beneath his constant ironic detachment from everything? It bothered me that I had no way of knowing the answer to this, that I’d never know who the real Mercer was. Nonetheless, the situation had resolved itself, and there was no point in pressing the issue further.

“Thank you," I said as I accepted the drink from Mercer. “Yeah, you have a point there. Moments like these are few and far between, and we have to be able to enjoy them when we can."

I notice Zilla comes up to nuzzle me, and I pat his head in return. The passage of time has caused me, my colleagues, and many people in Concordia to change - often, not for the better. But, silly as it may sound, I take comfort in the fact that he, unlike the rest of us, remains incorruptible.

Reimu gives her take on the United Front, which I find rather lacking. That’ll solve it, sure… for about a month or two until the next United Front rises up. One that might very well be more organized and intelligent than the last one. One that is less bumbling and might actually have a real chance at killing me.

"We’re going to have to do a lot more than beat the shit out of them if we want to stop rebel groups like this from appearing again once this one is toppled," I said to Fumo-Reimu. “Certainly, the United Front’s assassination attempts on me have not endeared me to them as an organization, and I plan on wiping them out without mercy. They have declared war upon me, and thus I have no choice but to strike back with all the power and fury I can muster. But the rage that motivates people to join the Front is real, and dare I say, it’s pretty easy to understand if you don’t stand at the top of the hierarchy as we do."

That last part will probably win me no friends in the Diet. But at this point, I’m no longer sure how long the Diet is even going to last anymore, nor if any of my friendships within it were ever real to begin with.

“You see, my fans are not typically that wealthy or privileged. A lot of them come from zones 5 and 6, where living conditions are… hellish compared to what we enjoy, frankly. I try to talk to them when I can, of course, and oftentimes they’re more interested in asking about whether I can do anything as a Diet member to alleviate the horrible poverty they live under rather than anything about my music. I have heard many stories of the pain they’ve gone through - people whose bodies and minds have been scarred by the brutal working conditions of Eggman’s factories. And now because of his act of complete barbarism and terrorism, people are dying because medical technology is failing and the transport of food has been interrupted. At the same time, Zone 5 is subject to horrendous gang violence, as most recently evidenced by the bloodbath that occurred recently. I would barely even call it safe to live in if you are not blessed with great powers, as we in this room are."

Is it even possible for most of the Diet to empathize with the less fortunate, given the great distance between us and them? I honestly don’t know. Without having been on the other side of things as a victim of Japanese and American oppression, would I be able to empathize with them? I don’t really know.

“There are many things we could’ve done to alleviate the crises facing this city. We could’ve heavily regulated industry and allowed for labor unions to ensure a figure like Eggman never had the power to ruin lives in the way that he did. We could’ve invested more effort into Zone 5 to ensure that people could find gainful employment instead of resorting to joining gangs. Could’ve made affordable public housing to ensure that people weren’t sending most of their income to Eggman’s goons in rent. But we didn’t. We can give excuses for why things like this didn’t happen, but all that matters to those looking from the outside is that we didn’t. I suppose we could also try to shift the responsibility back on the masses and say that they should pull themselves out of poverty by their own bootstraps, but this seems like a terrible idea unless we want our approval to sink lower and rebel groups to gain more members."

Unfortunately, most Diet members will be more than happy to create excuses. I'm hardly blind to that.

“Now the fact that people are deprived and understandably pissed off doesn’t mean I think it’s justified to inject children with magic drugs and send them to kill people. Of course it isn’t, that’s a horrible thing to do. But were I in the shoes of so many of the people I’ve seen coming to my concerts from the slums - if I knew I would die not only without ever seeing my friends and family from my old world, but also without being afforded material dignity - I would likely find the Front’s cause significantly more convincing than anything our supporters have to offer."

…This may have been an entirely too long response to such a simple statement. There’s a reason I always had to have my speeches edited down in the past.

“I do apologize, I know this is not really the appropriate time to discuss this. I am just worried about the long-term survival of the Concordian political project if things continue as they are. It's hard not to think about it, given what is happening right now."

Hiroki and Viktoria, Zone 6, Egress Eternal

Ling Ya brings up Dr. Grey’s transgressions, but Jakub quickly retorts that the Doc was let out for cooperating with the police. Hiroki’s general impression of the situation is that Grey seems like he probably has a twitchy trigger finger and, regardless of what he did or whether the peacekeepers were ok with him roaming free, confronting him in the middle of a crowded bar seems like a good way to get an innocent bystander shot in an ensuing skirmish. Hiroki was prepared to tackle Grey to the ground before it got that far, but thankfully that proved unnecessary.

Grey went off on a tear, disputing Ling’s version of the story with his own account of the events, but Hiroki quickly lost interest. It was around the point that the doctor started using terminology that Hiroki didn’t even understand that he kind of stopped paying attention entirely and started thinking about the things he could be doing with his girlfriend instead of this. Hitting the slopes - in the sporting sense, hopefully. Or going to see… whatever culture that even existed here that wasn't Areum or Mikudayo. Although really, his mind kept wandering back to just one thing - shockingly, yes, sometimes people think about or even actually have sex. The Diet hadn't managed to make that illegal yet, due to an ancient Japanese legend that claims that doing so would cause Kaguya-hime to scream and vanish in a puff of smoke.

Huh? Oh right. Finally, the doctor is gone. Hiroki continues on as though none of that just happened.

"Yeah. I know I can be pretty distant, brooding, and like I'm not mentally in the same room sometimes…"

A bit of self-awareness for once.

"...But you, Susie, Sam, and all the rest of the militia mean a lot to me. You see, Japan, well… it was hell, and I don't say that lightly. People I once called friends committed utterly horrific actions that made me question if I had ever really understood them as people at all, not to mention the society that would instill upon them that they were doing some service to their country by doing so. But if nothing else, I think I've at least found some sense of normalcy here. Well, Concordia is still far from normal in many ways, but… comparatively, I guess. It'd be difficult for anywhere to be worse."

That little bit of information was still a mountain more than he had been willing to discuss previously. It was the only time he had directly acknowledged Japan was a terrible place, bad enough to make Concordia seem tolerable by comparison at the very least.

"And uh, I guess we can split the check. Don't worry too much - Vikki and I don't really have any plans for the day, so I'm not really sure what we're doing. Might have some Mantle business to deal with later, for all I know. Speaking of which, what kind of stuff have you been up to with them lately?"

"The usual sort of stuff," Viktoria answered. "Sometimes things like settling a domestic dispute, in which rushing in guns blazing would be most inadvisable. Recently, we found a missing person. Though occasionally, things do require a little bit more action. Taking down a minor girlcube dealer, for example."

"Girlcubes," Hiroki sighed. "Those are practically too stupid to even exist."

Vikki nodded in affirmation.

"Too stupid to reasonably exist, yet far too dangerous to ignore. Actually, if Concordia had a national motto, that'd be quite a fitting one."

Edited by HilarityEnsues on Jun 4th 2023 at 10:34:41 AM

Zone 6, The Egress Eternal - Ichiban Kasuga

The scene that's performed for Ichiban is very different from the one that plays for everyone else.

It's probably the music's fault. There seems to be no source for it, so Ichiban can only presume that it's of his own creation. He doesn't know, at first, why he settles on foreign guitar, especially in a genre that he's only heard once or twice in his life, but he eventually comes to figure that it's a subconscious choice, picking up on the star of the show before he even cranks his head around to spot them.

The oni is nearly nine foot tall, cresting the diner's roof with its curled horns. Beady, golden eyes rest below a crown of diamonds that reflects small rainbows across the room, the juxtaposition of beauty and fear not entirely lost on him. Tusks the size of his forearm crest upwards from the oni's maw, framing its grotesque caricature of a face; as do the wreathes of flame that coil around the oni's throat, slipping through the air like lazy vipers. The creature wears an orange and black flamenco dress, which Ichiban suspects is what prompted the frenetic strings. Quite frankly, it's amazing that the demon manages to lumber forward so well when the fabric clings ardently to its enviable musculature.

The oni stops in front of a booth where the deuteragonist awaits. There's no food on the table - rather, dozens of tubes and flasks and other apparatus that bubble and spark with delectably forbidden energies. Presiding over them is a too-skinny man with tufty white hair, coke bottle lenses, and a maniacal laugh that almost seems like a tic. He ignores his visitor as he pours one neon liquid into another and hollers as the resulting concoction trembles with destructive power.

Ichiban has been able to follow along up to this point - what is the scene before him if not another Tuesday in Zone 6 - but here is where he becomes lost, as the oni screams at the scientist in Spanish and is responded in kind with a lengthy diatribe containing not a single word with less than six syllables.

"Vengo corriendo que quiero ser la primera persona en desearte un Feliz Jueves!" the oni roars.

"Absolutistically exocommunicated biotechnological hexafluoroplatinate!" retorts the scientist.

Ichiban turns his attention back to his own half-finished meal and slowly closes his eyes, bringing his thumb and index against his lids until he sees fireworks against his black vision. He gives them a thorough rubbing and then blinks until the diner is no longer plagued with black spots. Just as he figured, the booth from before is now empty. No hulking monsters in pretty dresses, nor any men with too much grey matter and not enough sense.

"Fuck me, I need to sleep more," he says. He knows that won't actually help, but it's easier to imagine that the issue is something he can exert even a little control over.

Anyway, back to the conversation that he knows actually happened. Rodriguez isn't wrong, it does feel better to put actual work into the city, but... "I dunno, I feel like all I'm doin' is slapping band-aids on a sinking ship. Witch and Kim have the brain and brawns between them to actually be out there making a difference, and meanwhile all I've managed in the past few years is to not trample on their feet too much."

He takes fork in hand and jams it down into a sausage. He needs something bigger, he realises. A visit to the gym or a tussle on the street, whichever one happens first.

(It's the tussle. It's always the tussle.)

Along the road, distant at first but cresting through the underbrush to become visible, was the soft lapping of waves at the edge of the path. At least, that is what it appeared as on first glance - the strangeness of the area became apparent on a second glance, and a more serious glare. If one gave themselves time to think about it, shined a light into the morass surrounding them, they'd find that it wasn't waves at all. Aside from the constant disturbance of rain above, and the faint push of wind that blew through the trees, the water was perfectly still.

Instead, it rose, and subsided. A constant beat could be deciphered, as it seemed to go from its peak, lowered itself from knee to ankle level over the course of a few seconds, and then reversed to repeat. No source of where the water could be headed to was evident, for it appeared to simply diminish and then silently refill and renew itself without end.

One could draw a comparison and call it a breathing body of water, ebbing and flowing as the chest rises.

The path continued and the group sped along its length, guided by the marks of past hunters through the way. Along the dry ground were small, but brilliantly glowing, stones of many colors that kept a good mark of where all was and was meant to be. The path forked regularly, veering off into who knows where, dark and unlit grooves in the wall of trees that they knew best to keep out of. There could be many things out there, for as was once penned by a younger hunter,

but they would be roads best left to another hunting trip.

This one would bring them to the end of the road, the last colored stone shining white at the last bit of dry ground. The canyon of half-there trees gave way to a wide swamp - one could already imagine the groaning of the crew as they realized that things were going to get even wetter than they are with the rain. Just the same, the breathing water, a cloudy gray, only ever went knee deep at its worst. Too shallow for a boat, but not shallow enough to be anything but a pain to cross.

As they stepped off, unmounted and readied themselves, the swamp was quiet and lonely. The water was murky enough to make guessing what might be beneath it a gamble, and thin, long strands of black matter swirled through it. The only denizen of this swamp out to greet them was a fish, something like a treeborn catfish a few feet long, clutching to the side of a nearby tree and flaring its spiny fin as it looked at the party with an omega-shaped iris. The experienced ones in this group would recognize it as a minor annoyance at best for its tendency to loudly flap around through the air when spooked, but not a threat.

Ahead, the vegetation thickened with a similarly dismal-colored wall of reeds, but there was a good deal of space in-between you and there. At least a football field, which is slightly less than 1/182nd of a Hiroshima.

It is the Incoherence. These measurements actually work out here.

CT.103, days long past

It had rained that day, too, the day Sulyvahn came to the Houraisan court. While he would not assume his eventual advisory position for several years yet, already did he seek to ingratiate himself to the matriarch and those closest to her. The man was a giant, spindly with great knots of muscle holding him together. Always was his face covered, but this never concerned those around him, for how could he conceal himself? He spoke at length of his reverence for the celestial, of the benefits a partnership with his clergy might bring, and the coming age of deep seas. The court had found him charming, and Kaguya had found him amusingly sycophantic, but it would be years before any of them would see just how much political advantage his aid could bring.

And thus was Sulyvahn showered with patronage from the house of Houraisan, his honeyed words more valuable to them than marks or materiel, though he had just as many of both as well. When he'd asked them for assistance procuring the means to forge and engrave rings, he'd already been a friend to the Horaisan's for some time. It was a trifle. Of course they had obliged.

Myn had played witness to the transaction himself; kept everything above-board. He even shook Sulyvahn's great gnarled hand at the deal's closure. He'd recognized some of the danger the self-styled pontiff could pose early, and of course Kaguya had as well.

"No more dangerous than you or I," Myn remembered telling Kaguya over expensive drinks; a formality, so that the coitus that followed might feel more spontaneous, as if this were not already a comfortable routine for them. And he had been right: Sulyvahn had been no more dangerous than the Houraisan matriarch or her present lover, but the two of them were dangerous indeed.

__________________________________

Zone 7 - Hunting Grounds

Atop his horse, the man calling himself Jeremiah Finch watches the water with a skeptical eye. Without an obvious source or destination, the swamp's rhythmic undulations are clearly unnatural. Being unable to see beneath the surface only makes this place even more dangerous.

"Any of you good folks got a way to see the bottom? If not, we'd best find a way around." he suggests in a soft, liquid drawl.

Irvine; Zone 6, Egress Eternal

"I'm glad you feel better here, Hiroki," Irvine says when the two are done talking, "and that you've found people that mean a lot to you." He means it, and lets it show in his voice, but of course he leaves the guilt and ashamed pride out.

"Sure, we can split the check - if we ever get to pay. Everything exciting seems to happen on days off, right?"

He shrugs, as if maybe having to go to Wendy's or something for breakfast instead is his biggest problem, and says, "If we're talking plans, then I'm not exactly swamped with options either. Might end up just wandering - you can find a lot of neat places that way, y'know. Nice break if you let yourself have it."

Kayné Ainsel & Moloch "Moko" Kothys—Zone 7, Mirrorcatch Marshes

"Of course this place shows up now. I do declare, this is a bad place for both beasts and men to be finding themselves in, stuck in the Mirrorcatch Marshes, as folks like to call it," Kayne says, dismounting her stag in one easy movement. "Now ya'll, just stay behind me, and don't get so close that your reflection can be seen in the water right this moment. If you got any secrets or shames, as most everybody does, then it's best not to look down. The water is hungry, and you don't want to know if your subconscious or whoever else is sharing headspace with you is jealous of your life. You tell me whether swappin' places with 'em in the water sounds appealing to you. And there's leeches and bitin' fishes and whatnot. Don't trip and fall in, is what I'm sayin'."

"The Stranded Ship is flyin'...a skull and crossbones today. Good colors, means the Pitch Dark Path is jus' up ahead, which means we can retreat to Pitch Camp in front of us, with Make Camp behind us if we go backwards down Make Way without looking and hurl ourselves violently to one side, again, without looking. Any side of the Way will do, but pay attention, naw," she continued sternly, shading her eyes and looking at what appeared to be a wooden pirate ship broken in half and beached in the distance. A pirate flag flew from the mast, which did its level best to stand up proudly. "First person to touch the water sets that ship to sinkin'. When all this mud and water overtakes the prow, it'll also close in over our heads, understand?"

"We got to get to the end and not get soaked. The least-soaked person among us can take off their jacket, lay it over a specific branch. You'll know it when you see it. If it doesn't snap, the next Way will open, and we get to continue onwards. If it does, I'll just take y'all the long way around," she concluded grimly. "Now watch closely, because we'll get mazed if we try to get around. The only way out is through unless you want to go back the Way we came."

Kayne started breathing in sync with the ebbing and flowing water, tapping into her natural ability to Cohere what was chaotic to create a sympathetic relationship between her own breath and the waters of the Marsh. As she breathed in, she held her breath, and the water all but disappeared. She scrambled to a raised island in the middle of the water and back to show the others how it was done. Her exhale brought the water back, and the ship in the distance lurched, but did not start to sink just yet. "Now, am I going to have to repeat myself? Am I perfectly clear?" she asked with a schoolmarm's sternness. "I want no accidents, y'hear me?"

Edited by JumpingFruit on May 20th 2023 at 11:31:23 AM

Of the mirrored surface of the water itself, occasionally faint images, corner-of-your-eye illusions and the specters that are made when you pass over something too quickly in the dark, would appear when gazing into it. There would be nothing clear here at all without further staring, the kind that you were immediately warned to avoid, but the faintest hints - long forlorn love, brothers in arms long past - just escape detection.

However, time to consider this muddied looking glass would be brief.

The very second after "I want no accidents, y'hear me?" was called out, the first move was made. No more preparations or warding to be made of these ways, for the enemy was upon them!

The only warning they had was the faint ripple of something moving in the water beyond the rain, drawing lines in its surface, before a bolt was cast from the thicket far at the other end of the swamp. A huge arrow, cast entirely of light and the length of a man, was shot out with frightening velocity. The water retreating from Kayne's words coiled around it like gravity was impertinent in its wake, and the air sizzled as it sailed forward.

It appeared to be aimed at Mr. Finch, most likely due to his approaching the edge of the water. This would impale him, and stake his body to the ground deep enough to make retrieval a dangerous proposition, but as he was inspecting the water at the last moment he might have just enough of a chance to look up from the ripples and see the one hint toward their attacker. There was a twinkle of light just before the arrow flew, and it appeared that not all of the trees in that thicket were trees at all...but instead, gnarled limbs of some variety. The limbs, many of them, drew back into the darkness right after firing and escaped further viewing.

If Mr. Finch didn't end his life at that particular moment, sidestepping or throwing himself into the water, the arrow would instead directly impact the coach that brought them into these waters. It was a forceful enough blow to break it apart at the thoroughbrace, sending wheels clattering to the sides and ruining its use!

Edited by wikkit on May 22nd 2023 at 2:02:54 AM

CT.109, days long past

To every man and woman, a pair of rings to signify their prodigious standing, forged by the Pontiff himself. Their swords would crackle with powerful magics, and upon the beasts of the Incoherence they would rain arrows of light from conjured bowstrings. Their armor - standard Draughtsman Kevlar and hooded cloaks specially enchanted by Sulyvahn - would be both practical and immediately recognizable to the citizens of Concordia. These were the new generation of Concordia's protectors: House Houraisan's very own Outrider Knights.

It had sounded so convincing. Myn really had had to give Sulyvahn credit.

A practical solution to what had been a temporary dip in Draughtsman recruits, a public relations boost for House Houraisan (not that it had needed one), all wrapped up alongside a convenient corner in which to place any inconvenient children Kaguya or her descendants might have lying around? How could they say no? And it was for those very reasons that they had not said no. Some of the very children they'd intended to enlist had volunteered all on their own, viewing this station as a way to bring honor to their house and show themselves to be sufficiently-deserving of praise.

A "freebie", Myn believed he'd heard such a thing called. Who was he to argue? Besides, if Sulyvahn's small army of immortals could actually make real headway into the Incoherence, all the better. Kaguya had expressed similar sentiments at the time, and though the pontiff had, in the past several years, positioned himself as a well-tested ally to her house, she still kept him at arm's length.

Myn, for his part, found Sulyvahn's growing presence at the Houraisan court worrying. He was not concerned for his own standing, for there was little anyone but he himself might do to threaten it, but Kaguya and her inner circle were becoming increasingly-receptive to Sulyvahn's close proximity. Whether any liked to admit it, the pontiff had Kaguya's ear; she may not always listen, but the times she did were becoming more frequent, and she could always hear him. Kaguya, for her part, was no fool, and Myn knew this. She would not allow herself to be taken in completely by anyone, nor was she a stranger to associating with dangerous men. No, what concerned Myn was how little he still knew about Sulyvahn after knowing him for six entire years; that, and how many times he'd had to discourage a certain someone from joining some of her less-talented half-siblings in becoming an Outrider Knight.

"Tsuyahime," Myn had murmured, far gentler than he ever spoke to anyone, save the girl's mother, "Your place is not with the Knights. They are a penal squadron in all but name. You are better than that. If you would like, I can teach you to fight. By the time you are of age, you will be greater than any of them."

She'd liked that idea. He had as well. And Sulyvahn took note.

_____________

Zone 7, Mirrorcatch Marshes

A split second was all he'd had in which to act, but act the man calling himself Jeremiah Finch does. Within a blink, his feet are free from his horse's stirrups and he kicks off the beast's back into a roll. He does not throw himself into the marsh, but propels himself to the ground all the same. In midair, he would have been unable to dodge a second arrow, but with the ground as leverage, he is free to maneuver as he wishes. The light twinkling off the water had caught the corner of his eye, and that's what saved him.

His horse is struck by the enormous arrow of light, and whinnies in horrific pain as its body is torn away from three of its legs, and the poor animal is shunted directly into the coach, pinned to what remains of the wall as the entire vehicle splinters apart. Blood cascades from what little is left of the horse's torso, and it gasps out one last bray of agony before Finch, having retrieved a pistol from inside his heavy duster mid-roll, places a single bullet between its eyes. No longer in misery, the horse falls silent.

"Well shoot dang a sonic..." Jeremiah Finch mutters, uttering words well known to those from his parts; he's sure of it. "Look alive, y'all! We're under fire!"

With that, and with a calm, centering breath, he turns and begins to sprint to the islet Kayne had reached before. Surprisingly, despite his horse no longer being an option, he seems to be at least as fast on foot. In fact, the bottoms of his boots do not even sink beneath the surface of what little water remains in the swamp. Despite having turned away from his attacker, however, he is now on high alert, and is unlikely to be caught off-guard by an attack from the sky a second time; especially not one with which he is so familiar.

Zone 7, Mirrorcatch Marshes

The old general knew his way around horses, of course. His own steed had several ravens already perched atop it. More were scattered through the trees, and as the group set off, the birds followed, keeping in a rough circle around Swain, demonic eyes glimmering in the darkness.

Lamb took no horse, keeping pace on her own hooves instead, and Wolf of course followed her. The two were silent, but stayed close to Kayne.

He observed the eldritch nature of the surroundings with moderate annoyance. Such chaotic places would only serve to benefit an invading force used to Incoherence. He would need to ensure that the rest of the city remained stable even if this place fell back into nightmare.

As Kayne dismounted, Swain followed suit, watching her explanation with interest. Rather than follow her example, however, he merely sprouted two wings from his back and casually hovered above the waters.

He glanced down, out of morbid curiosity, and a bird's skull stared up at him, tilting its head. Raum and Swain stared at each other for a half-moment, before Swain blinked and lifted his gaze.

This was precisely arrow of light whizzed past. Myn would not be foolish enough to let such an attack kill him, so Swain remained unconcerned as he gestured towards the thicket from which it had originated.

The ravens descended. The Ravenous Flock swarmed the thicket, cawing and pecking. Normally, the pecking of birds would not be particularly dangerous, but Swain's ravens were not normal birds; each peck held the demonic power to drain life. Individually, a nuisance, but together it was quite enough to kill a man.

Wolf followed them. Lamb had nocked an arrow, but evidently had not gotten a clear line of sight to the enemy. So she allowed Wolf to move first, following after the ravens, a shadow flying over the water with teeth bared at his prey.

Rebecca - Zone Seven - The Mirrorcatch Marshes

She'd hopped onto the carriage before the group left, unfamiliar with horses and unwilling to trust another rider not to drop her. It meant she didn't have to worry about where they were going, and had the added benefit of letting her set down her spare gun without risk of losing it. All these bodies told her she was probably gonna need it.

The journey was less eventful than she was used to travel being. Not that that said much, given it was hard to go more than a couple blocks without hearing gunshots in Night City. One could never rest easy back home, and as such her eyes darted around as they moved, and were quickly overwhelmed when the caravan began taking various shortcuts through the brush. She knew better than to question it, though. She'd seen stranger things in her first two weeks in Concordia than a lifetime in Night City had ever shown her, and Kayne seemed to steep herself in strange things. Rebecca knew by now she didn't have to understand any of it to accept that it worked.

That's why, upon arriving at a new location at less than a breakneck pace, she immediately got back to surveying her surroundings. Kayne knew where to lead them, and she knew how to keep up, but she didn't know what they were looking for. Their guide dismounted, and so did she. Hopping down from the coach, she scooped up her shotgun, hooked it into the harness on her back and readied her oversized machine gun. She knew the extra weight was going to slow her down, but without knowing what they were up against she opted to take her chances and bring greater versatility. She watched Kayne carefully as she explained their path and moved forward.

She almost missed the glint before the shot because of it, but caught it right before it went off. Five feet of compartmentalized trauma kicked in, and her eyes rapidly scanned the distance for a target. The rider, the cowboy, quickly darted out of the way, his horse taking the blow instead. His movements were precise, practised. She didn't miss the mercy kill, either. The beast would've died soon anyway, but he put it out of its misery sooner. By the time she'd swiveled around to face where the shot came from he was already back on his feet and ready for action. "Smooth moves, slick," she said, doing her best to move quickly down the path Kayne had cleared, evenly splitting her attention between the water and whatever waited out in the trees. It would be trouble to shoot and move at the same time, especially out in the open like this. Better to get into position as soon as possible so she could plant her feet and let loose when the opportunity presented itself.

"C'mon, motherfucker!" she shouted once she was in position, machine gun trained in the direction she thought the threat was most likely to approach from. "Come on out and play, wontcha!"

Guys' Brunch - Zone Six - Egress Eternal

"Yeah, I'll bet," Rodriguez chipped in as his friend seemed to snap back to reality, a slight concerned frown crossing his face. "Sounds like you could use another cup of coffee. You know you can ask for help, right? Don't hafta rush off and try to tackle all the city's problems by yourself, yeah? Not that I can blame you for trying." He took another sip from his own cup and waved with his free hand to get Gressy's attention.

He looked taken aback as Ichiban expressed doubt about his effectiveness. "You're kidding, right? Don't sell yourself short, man. I mean, yeah, bein' a cop probably wasn't the best career choice for you, but you know they kept you around as long as they did because you know how to help. Just 'cause you can't bust through walls like Witch or breeze through paperwork like Kim doesn't mean you're not making a difference." Not that he couldn't see where his buddy was coming from. Kim was a professional, and Witch was... something else entirely. And, sure, to an outside observer- especially some of the higher-ups- Ichiban frequently caused more harm than good. But the few short months he'd spent working alongside the ex-yakuza had been enough for him to see he had a good head on his shoulders, even if he had a tendency to jump to the strangest possible solution to a particular problem.

"So don't beat yourself up, man," he said, slapping Ichiban on the shoulder and shooting him a friendly grin. "And if you still don't believe me, maybe you just need a little help figuring out where you can do the most good, ya know? You should talk to Hellagur sometime. Dude's got tons of experience, and the Mantle's got decent connections. If you can't work somethin' out on your own, he can probably get you pointed in the right direction."

Rodriguez broke eye contact with Ichiban and glanced over to the sound of Jakub approaching the table again, and said "Justice never sleeps, eh? Can't help yourself even on your day off, huh?"

"Eh, fuck off," Jakub answered, dropping himself into his seat with exasperation. "I don't get paid enough for this shit. This is why I prefer drinking at home, but you fucks just had to drag me out here."

"And if we didn't drag you out you'd never leave except to show up to work! Boss- er, Witch still keeping you sober on the job?"

Jakub scoffed. "Aye. Says I'm sharper when I'm cranky."

Rodriguez leaned back in his chair, raising a hand to his chin. "But you're cranky when you're drunk, too!"

"That's what I said!"

He stifled a laugh, and fished a handful of bills out of his pocket then passed them across the table. "Well, I think I still owe you from last time, so here. Just make sure there's something left of the bottle when I get out later tonight."

Jakub swiped the bills off the table and stuffed them in his pocket without bothering to check or fold them. "No promises." His scowl melted into a grin, but still managed to look displeased. Rodriguez didn't know how he managed it.

Ayla, Marshes

-Her club in hand, Ayla's head snaps left and right, looking for the source of the attack. Seeing nothing, she tries to do as Kay-ne did in order to cross, knowing the unpredictable nature of the Zone. She alternates between watching the trees and the water, ready to bring down her club on anything that emerges too close.-

Kayné Ainsel & Moloch "Moko" Kothys—Zone 7, Mirrorcatch Marshes

Kayne raises a plasma pistol, sunlit eyes a-gleaming, and shoots back into the thicket. Whatever she saw, she grits her teeth and lets out a hissing breath, lowering her gun as the crows and the Kindred moved in. More shots would do more harm than help here. "Get ready to move as soon as the next path is clear!" she shouted as she hopped across fallen logs to the next island, the wood letting out mute thuds under her deceptively light step and settling into a more-or-less makeshift bridge after she passed. "Don't you let that water weigh you down! Clear! Move, now!"

But she wasn't alone. Her reflection ran alongside her, seemingly aiding the wayshaping by giving subtle nudges to the flotsam, sidling up alongside packed-in mud causeways and solidifying them with the brush of a hand. Two hands and two feet, whole, hale, and hearty. Perhaps this was how Kayne saw herself, perhaps it was simply a good day where her regrets and shames didn't weigh too heavily. Sometimes she almost looked like she was willingly swapping place with her reflection, blurring her movements so that she clambered over fallen branches on all fours instead of what should rightfully be two. A path quickly took shape in this manner.

At one point, Kayne (or was it her reflection?) closed her eyes and raised her right hand to shoot. But her reflection did the opposite, and the shot ended up coming from her left instead of her right, intercepting another arrow headed for her. "Come on, regroup here," she said, tapping the ground with her prosthetic foot. (This was the "correct" Kayne, then.) "We all right? Accounted for? Nearly to dry land, now."

Edited by JumpingFruit on May 28th 2023 at 7:46:52 AM

Johnny had been uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps it was the knowledge that V was a bit more known than Johnny was, so he had to act like V. Whatever the case, when Kayne said to run, Johnny ran.

The reflection in the waters showed not V's face, but Johnny... followed by what appeared to be a glitching specter of Vincent, the two souls sharing the same body, united in one common goal. Save Vincent's life.

Johnny gave a thumbs up. "We're good, we're good for now."

"Thinking I should take back over?" Vincent asked. Johnny offered no protest, the body experienced a skip as suddenly V was back in the driver's seat.

The reflection in the water, though now distant still showing Johnny, performing his own actions instead of V. V took the sunglasses off and pocketed them.

Zone 6, Outside of the Egress Eternal; Alexi Vult

Oh, Grey's still here. Kinda thought he'd be off and about after that outburst of his.

...maybe I can get a bit more fun outta tonight.

"Heya Grey" I mirthfully spoke.

Grey gave a sigh. "Lovely, here to berate me as well?"

"Nah, I think the guys in there are probably doing enough of that. Maybe you oughta go and give them a piece of your mind."

"Ah. I was wondering where that joy for making some drama went."

"Well you know how the Peacekeepers are. They don't really like it when you stir the shit, you know?" I spoke and shrugged.

"I suppose that's true. But I don't really feel like going back in there right now, even if it might be satisfying to put that bard bastard down in the dirt, er... floor." Grey smirked for a moment there at the end before he corrected himself.

"Why's that?" I curiously inquired.

"If he has a persona weapon, especially such a... atypical one, he is probably quite powerful," Grey explained as he leaned against the wall. "and despite what you may think from seeing me point a gun at my head, I do not wish to die, Vult."

"I'll take your word for it. Though I pretty sure I walked in on you having thrown the gun down and having it go off on ya, not seeing you trying to give yourself a lead headache." I corrected. "Having recall failure, Grey?" I taunted.

"Oh please Vult, like a gun of that quality would just go off like that just because I happened to toss it on the floor." Grey said, delusional as always.

“I don’t think you had quality guns, Grey.” Seriously, the guy seems to have gone out of his way to purchase some of the oddest guns you could find. Most of which wouldn’t be effective in an actual fight.

“Look, I will admit I do possess a number of.. . less than useful firearms, but I do have a few high quality ones for... special occasions." Grey replied in a cryptic manner.

"I know you mean doing Crow work Grey, you don't have to be a cryptic motherfucker. But even if they're decent shooters, that doesn't mean they won't go off if ya throw 'em about." I pointed out.

Grey seemed to get somewhat frustrated by his wrongness, before he spoke back up. "Really? Well, let's test that, shall we?"

He pulled out a pistol, decent quality, with a silencer on it for some reason.

Then he tossed it.

Nothing happened.

"See, nothing happened. I was right, it doesn't go off just by throwing it around." Grey replied with the smugness of someone was confidently incorrect.

"That's because you tossed it Grey. Let me do it." I objected, as I walking up to where the pistol lay on the ground.

I picked it up, raised my hand, and threw it back to the ground.

Senior Officer Redd, About 30 Seconds Earlier

Redd was on patrol, near the Egress Eternal when he heard the sound of metal clattering on the pavement.

The local kids again?

Redd starting walking over to tell them to knock off what they were doing.

He saw those Grey and Vult, and had his mood worsen at the sight out of loathing for the two disrespectful bastards.

He did not, however, noticed what Vult was throwing to the ground before...

He heard a noise.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest.

He looked at the gun, thrown upon the pavement, freshly fired.

He glanced at his chest, seeing the wound right over his heart.

He knew no more.

Nathan Grey

Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no!

A man? Dead! Fuck!

A peacekeeper! No!

I can't go to prison! I got lucky last time with whatever nonsense was happening there but there's no way it will work again!

They are going to kill me or torture me or-

"Grey! Help me out here." Vult spoke, rousing me out of my panic.

She was near the body, grabbing it by the shoulders.

"Wha-" I began to ask before she interrupted.

"Grab the legs, help me get him into the alleyway before anyone comes over here."

Oh. Right, that makes sense.

I ran up and grabbed the legs of the cadaver, lifting them up as Vult did by the shoulders.

Bit of a height imbalance, but that didn't matter.

I followed her lead, running right into the alley with the cadaver.

The initial burst of confusion and shock was enough to give the hunters' prey an opportunity to retreat, and so it seemed that it would. The commotion in the trees was enough to hint towards where it was going, further away from them, and it was soon clear that they weren't going to be given a clear and open fight without some serious work on their end. The calls of the team went unanswered for now, whether their enemy was deaf or simply unwilling.

Swain's flock, or murder if you want to be cheeky, didn't have the restriction of being forced to wade and duck between trees. They flew in and were quick to find their mark, but not to find an easy one. From their view, amidst the flurry of motion and intervening trees that made the whole form of the beast hard to gauge, what they saw were arms. Dozens, if not hundreds of bone-thin limbs that extended outward from some unseen central mass, pushing along the ground and pulling along with trees and writhing in a hideous mirror-hall montage of limbs.

They could fly in and peck, and so they did, taking some of the beast's sickly grey flesh in their beaks, but it wouldn't be an easy task. Quickly, the hands reached up to set upon the birds. Some were swatted away. Some were grabbed, and quickly they'd have their delicate bones crushed with inhuman force. Others still were taken in two hands, and then pulled apart in terrible fury.

These ravens wouldn't be able to harass the beast forever, but for the moment they could inflict their thousand cuts and give the group a good estimate of where it was heading - away from the group, it seemed.

With that in mind, Lamb would get a shot - following the cacophony of splashing water and cawwing, there was a split second window, a thin gap between the trees just a couple feet across, where she could see the bulk of the thing run past. Grey and a slick black, huge, and the whole thing's surface animated and contorted.

Lamb's shot taken, it flew into the woods and landed. This was clear because there was a violent howl, the cry of a woman in terror crossed with animal whimpering, and it was clear that the arrow had managed to hit something worth the shot. It wasn't very long after that that one could see another burst of light from the beast's direction, and another arrow cracked through the woods with it - but in this case, it was Lamb's own arrow, pulled fresh from the flesh and shot back at her, still wet with gangrenous blood!

At the same time that was going on, with Ayla's attention turned toward the waters, she'd be first to see an otherwise hard-to-notice threat. The black strands from earlier were seen in the water once again, barely perceptible in the rain-impacted surface, and they floated along with intelligent guidance toward the group. Once close enough, many of these strands would come up from the water, trying to grab and constrict and drag down anything they could. Up close one could see that the strands were hair, many feet long and black, and each one was as strong as metal. Individually they were weak, but they had numbers and surprise on their side, and they attacked the group at once!