Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) [CLOSED]

[Northwest Slobovia]

Amanda clumsily climbed down from Thaddeus' rig, her dismount made awkward by her travel mug in one hand. Her coffee had gone cold hours ago, but sipping at it was one of her few distractions from the long silence during the drive home.

Feet now safely planted, Amanda more heard than saw Romulus climb down over the rig's tailgate. As he started to collect his ammunition, she walked over to him and quietly asked, "Seventeen years, General? Seventeen years in the field? My grandfather fought for a bit over seventeen months, and that was enough war for him. Who... who were you fighting all that time?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

"I believe you'd be the second one in the guild hall, Sandy," Anais said sincerely, "I just wish it was under better circumstances."

Sandy marvelled at the huge space revealed behind door 8A. Distractedly, he said, "I knew there was little sense to the size of apartments in the Building, but I had no idea Demens allowed such expansive spaces. Amanda will certainly want to remodel now that we know."

Sandy allowed himself to be led into the Guild's library, still quietly taking in the sheer size of pocket dimension. After sitting down in the offered chair, Sandy scanned the shelves. He didn't mean to pry into their affairs, but sitting down before seeing what titles were easily visible was the most he could help himself. From the little he know of the Guild, they mixed magic and religion, and he couldn't resist wondering what sorts of things they'd have in their collection. He still seemed distracted, or perhaps entranced. "There are rumored to be storehouses of texts on the supernatural this large in my world, but I never expected to enter one."

At length, his eyes came back to the table and the ritualist sitting near him. He blinked several times as the significance of her statement sank in. "Just the second? I'm greatly honored. Given the abilities your Guild has, I expected people would be beating your door down asking for your assistance."

[Mincaldenteans]

Sandy marvelled at the huge space revealed behind door 8A. Distractedly, he said, "I knew there was little sense to the size of apartments in the Building, but I had no idea Demens allowed such expansive spaces. Amanda will certainly want to remodel now that we know."

Sandy allowed himself to be led into the Guild's library, still quietly taking in the sheer size of pocket dimension. After sitting down in the offered chair, Sandy scanned the shelves. He didn't mean to pry into their affairs, but sitting down before seeing what titles were easily visible was the most he could help himself. From the little he know of the Guild, they mixed magic and religion, and he couldn't resist wondering what sorts of things they'd have in their collection. He still seemed distracted, or perhaps entranced. "There are rumored to be storehouses of texts on the supernatural this large in my world, but I never expected to enter one."

At length, his eyes came back to the table and the ritualist sitting near him. He blinked several times as the significance of her statement sank in. "Just the second? I'm greatly honored. Given the abilities your Guild has, I expected people would be beating your door down asking for your assistance."

Guild Hall

The ritualist smiled at the attention the library commanded. While her worries for his well being hadn’t subsided, it was still a welcoming sight to see the fellow healer overtaken with curiosity and relief. Anais nodded, taking a cursory glance at the tomes, books, and volumes that dotted the shelves. More were strewn across a couple tables that were tucked against the wall on the other end, with chairs and small end tables arranged in even spaces throughout in various state of clutter. Two pots sat by the fireplace, small canisters of various tea leaves on different ends of the mantel, a collection of incense in a cup completed the collection, and clean cups in a small wooden box completed the library’s interior.

While the library was well lit with candles, it was far too chilly for her taste and so Anais got up from her chair and walked over to the fireplace to quickly start a small fire within its alcove. A black pot sat nearby on a small end table and she silently thanked whoever it was that had filled it earlier, hanging the heavy appliance on a metal road over the fire. Anais spoke up as she stoked the small flame, “The library was a combined effort with collections from members of the guild during our travels, together or independently. Most of the volumes here contain histories of the many kingdoms of Tyria; translations and interpretations regarding the Five Gods; studies in various spellwork ranging from the simple to the most complex and various scrolls and notations on dozens more. We even have a small collection of personal journals regarding a few spells.”

Satisfied with the intensity of the flame, she picked up two cups and Anais straightened herself from her crouching position, adding a small canister of tea from the mantel before turning to walk back to the table. “This hall was destroyed almost three years ago in a surprise charr attack: how Demens knew to recreate the building down to its last brick and leaf was poignant for Alexia, to say the least. I’m afraid she’s the last Ascalonian among us - the rest of us were… ‘adopted’, for lack of a better word. Still, it was nice to have a few of my mementos back. I hadn’t realize how much I missed them until I reopened its pages and read its contents.”

Anais set two cups down, putting a few loose leaves of tea into them, “Herbal tea,” she explained as she dropped its delicate dried leafs into her cup, “An Elonian variety, though we have a few others if you’d like a sweeter or spicier mix?

"As for guests, Captain Blackwater was our first guest. Dan has been here before, though briefly, the boy is if nothing, quite shy and left as quickly as he came. Most of the residents do not know about this library, nor have we said or offered its contents for openly. Given talk of a conclave, however, I’m sure that will change; I’ve already extended the invitation to Sterling and the baron. I’m not certain if the material would be compatible to them or the others, but perhaps its generic principles in magic can be measured the same way. You are free to come here at any time if you like, Sandy, we even have a field by the stream to practice a spell or two, though I can attest it's been used mostly as a place for quiet reflection.

“And speaking of spells,” Anais pressed on gently as she closed the lid to the herbal tea and looked at Sandy, “would you be comfortable sharing with me what exactly happened in the dining room?”

[Primordial Luxa]

Earthpony paradise
Aegis nodded to Smart Cookie as he explained the nuisance that was Sundae Surprise and the apologized for being held up. He didn’t like the little creature and as Smart Cookie described her more he felt justified in his dislike. Still he tried to suppress the emotion, something hard for someone so used to hiding behind a mask.

As he listened to the cryptic back and forth between the Chancellor and Cookie he shook ever so slightly trying to get the wetness out of his fur without looking like a dog.

He then trotted over next to Yuna and nodded along with her question. But when Smart Cookie explained the situation he stopped his nodding as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. It was a deadly and classic example of a political Mexican standoff, obviously someone needed to be blamed but everyone was most likely pointing fingers at each other. He bet that Primordial would have a snappy answer to this situation if he were here, but he doubted it would have worked due to obvious cultural barriers.

In any case he turned back to the Chancellor and explained why he and Yuna might not want to join a town meeting. “Indeed Chancellor, I would love to listen and participate but perhaps we should wait a little bit until people grow more accustomed to us. We thank you for declaring that we aren’t witches but there might be more like Sundae who aren’t as open minded.”

Dining Room
“Well thank you” Primordial said to Cherry as he moved to join her and the other guild at their table. He stopped momentarily to grab another one of the exotic wines he had brought in with him as well as some of the food which was being served. “Anais spoke very highly of all of you but she didn’t go into any real specifics. I would love to get to know you better however.”

[The BranRiech]

"And uh, yeah."

Yuna frowned. While the exposition on the various factions in this strange realm was appreciated, it still failed to answer Yuna's question. "But I meant like what he said, have the townspeople gotten over us being accused of witches? I mean, like you just said, they have horns? Oh wait, like Willow? No wait, he's got wings, like I used to?"

She stopped talking, immediately realizing the possible mistake that someone would overhear them.

"I mean, uh."

She stopped again, still keeping up, however. "Well, before we were stuck here, I mean. Sorry." The priestess shook her head, trotting along. What if they were never able to return? What fate was going to await them if they were stuck, forever in this strange land, never to be seen by their friends again? It was probably on Aegis' mind as well, she assumed, and hell, even their other friends who were sent here too. She thought of what it would feel like to be stuck in the depressing little town they were in, forever relegated to living a dreary existence in a state of famine.

She wasn't going to let it happen, at least while she had a say in it, which she was increasingly unsure about. "But what he said. I'd be fine with a town meeting, if we'll be alright being there."

[Mincaldenteans]

People and their agendas, full of bluster and worry. Why they didn't just relax and take in the simplest of things in life was beyond the furred creature as he stared with a curious tilted head; food, play time, sleep, more food, these were the important things life! Instead, much stomping and talking happened and in their bustle and rushing, they didn't notice him or the others. Lurking from a shelf, the lobby was relative clear with the exception of the few by the desk, though they looked preoccupied. He stretched his neck and looked down, his paws finding grip, ready to land with ease and tell the others of the all clear and that it was time for the best part of the evening: night watch! He loved those! The cool air, the distant chirping, the clarity of the moon as it bathed the landscape. He could run around in such a clear night, but tonight looked to be a lazy night instead.

The first he found was the tiny furred one, smaller than him if that was possible! With prominent ears and a button nose, it was curled upon itself but had its eyes open and patient. It popped its head up with his arrival, twitching its ears in anticipation. The other, more burly looking but no less furry barely made a squint and a yawn; hardly the surprise coming from him, but underneath the ambivalent attitude lied someone very much looking forward to tonight. The next had no hair, or did it? He couldn't figure it out, the black and white and soft pillow-like belly was all that mattered in the end. A hoot came from above, perched upon the door-sill and blinked in the same question. Was it time? He'd have to wake their last companion, always asleep but once you get him talking, man, he never quit!

There was no time to greet everyone in traditional pouncing, now was the time to slip by the lobby and head out! Instead he fussed with all them with a brush of his tiny muzzle against their sides, except the owl who rarely ever came down. The sloth took a little more, needing the biggest guy in the lot to rustle him out of his slumber. The badger huffed once the sloth awoke and moved off to the door to take note of everything outside.

Night watch! The civet gestured excitedly, hopping around the fennec that finally relented and gave a small chase out before being huffed at by the badger. It didn't shatter their enthusiasm as they trotted along with the rest of them; a hoot came from behind as the owl spread its wings and descended into a lazy glide to follow them.

They slipped by the lobby, its doors opening itself to usher them into the new world. The moon was large and bright and the air smelled different than it did from the city. In fact, there was more land here than before. And trees! How awesome! The badger found a spot, planting his stake upon the ground and didn't think twice about being challenged, but just the opposite, as everyone else huddled around him. There was a growl, but it hardly stirred them and the badger was forced to relent.

Now huddle together, and looking up in the night, the civet added one more thing to life's little pleasures: family.

[New Aksarben]

Dining Room
Anais' departure with that wizard whatshisface did not go unnoticed by her close friend; she had kept a furtive lookout upon the table from afar while their guild leader engaged herself with the pony and the baron. Cherry's attempt at being incognito had failed miserably, she was with her guild, of course they would catch the nuances to her shift in attention every so often. They hadn't said anything, merely nodding before getting back into conversation with Dan and Hunter. The fae seemed oblivious, but Hunter had raised an eyebrow, seemingly catching their wordless communication although not comprehending it entirely. The feast went on and Cherry went back to paying attention, this time with Hunter talking about using half an orange peel filled with oil and its stem as a wicker.

"So here's this Brennan, right? All proud of himself for making the makeshift candle, I totally thought he was full of it. Its a damn orange peel for crying out loud. I bet my cigs," Hunter goes on in animated fashion.

"What are cigs?" Erick asked with a sideways glance, his hood of his robes lowered to reveal short, thick and spiked hair and a square jaw that could cut bone.

"Oh, um, cigarettes. Tobacco? You smoke it really. Supposed to ease tension, maybe warm you up although that's debatable to me, keeps you busy rather than fussing about; it certainly helped with some.. things," Hunter trailed off on that. He hated smoking, actually, and after the 'war', the Nevidian had given it up completely.

"Like a pipe?" Erick asked.

"Sorta, but its rolled up for you, all you gotta do it light it," Hunter responded to which the dervish nodded slowly and gestured for Hunter to continue, "Anyway, I bet my pack of cigs if he could make that orange peel last and the jerk just smiles like he knows he gonna win this. Bastard was right to a point... dunno what he used but that peel lighted up like a freaking beacon! And Brennan's stomping away frantically to put it out and we're laughing at him for being an idiot with his organic approach..."

The mesmer had broke her attention once more, seeing the fleeing figure of the ritualist exit with Sandy. That left the only two at the table and she wondered what exactly had just transpired.

"Excuse me a moment," Cherry said lightly with a smile. Hunter stopped just enough to nod and get back into his story. She let him continue. It wasn't that funny.

Approaching the table, Cherry shrugged off strands of her chestnut hair, pulling and tucking them to the side behind her ear as she dazzled the two of them with a friendly smile. "Gentlemen, I couldn't help but noticed my friend had left with company. My name's Cherry and I'm with the guild over there," she gestured to the far side and turned back to look to them both, "Would you care to join us? I'm sure Anais wouldn't want you two left by yourselves if she had to leave so quickly."

Dining Room
“Well thank you” Primordial said to Cherry as he moved to join her and the other guild at their table. He stopped momentarily to grab another one of the exotic wines he had brought in with him as well as some of the food which was being served. “Anais spoke very highly of all of you but she didn’t go into any real specifics. I would love to get to know you better however.”

Dining Room

Sterling cheerfully waved and smiled back to the guild-mate of Anais. The pony slightly rolled slightly jumped off his seat, landing solidly on his hooves on the floor with a slight clack. The pony seemed to almost lose balance for a moment before regaining it, taking a step to even out his stance. The pony then resumed smiling brightly and nodded in affirmation, trotting over to join them.

"Thank you for the invitation! I think Sandy just needed some time to get through something or another, just froze up with worry. Understandable, sometimes that happens to me, anxieties you know?" The pony said, chuckling weakly as he made sure to use his magic to carry his plate along with him. Sterling sometimes wondered why so many people here seemed completely fine with the fact he was literally a talking horse to them, especially such a colorful one. Though he did suppose many of them had been living in proximity to Willow so it might not be so weird to them.

"I second what Primordial says, it would be wonderful to get to know you all!"

[Imperial--japan]

The Dark Elf that was resting comfortably in the lobby furrowed her brow as she began to open her eyes to the world around her. Where was she? How did she get here? Questions for later. First she needed to survey the area and figure out what sort of predicament she was in this time. There would be little time for that however as she realized soon enough that it was a building lobby that she was residing in currently, and that there quite a few folks around. Aside from the man who had been quite certainly trying to wake her up previously, Enali also noticed a teen staring at her intently not too far away.

"I..." Enali started but instead held her tongue. There would be no use in saying anything foolish right now. She had to choose her words carefully and diligently. There were too many thoughts floating around in Enali's head, and she needed to collect herself immediately.

"The lease...of course." Enali muttered. She believed she recalled something regarding that, but her mind was too hazy.

"May I ask....how is it that I appeared here so suddenly...and where am I?" Enali carefully asked.

[Cerillium]

LOBBY

Volker took his eyes off Opa Two in order to address the elf that had finally stirred. He supposed the machine would come around in due time. Everyone always did. "Ja, the lease," the cultist slid the clipboard across the desk for her inspection.

The documents clipped to it were in her native tongue, and very explicit. She would lease one (1) apartment in Demens Towers, and have use of the common areas such as the kitchen and dining rooms on the second floor. There were other areas (the library and gym) she could also utilize, but some areas were completely off limits (maintenance sections, Chaos quarters, bomb shelter); accessing Residents' apartments without their explicit permission was verboten and would result in death.

"We are-" the cultist began, but then the chandelier trembled again. He sighed and consulted the new arrival list -- It never rains but it pours! "Okay, to answer one of your questions: you arrived through that chandelier above us. Just like how this new person is arriving. Simple."

A light bulb unscrewed from the chandelier and vanished into its socket. Something colorful oozed from it in a gooey strand, and then the blob dropped to the floor and reformed into a female deep in slumber. She was, of course, unhurt from the fall.

"Thank you!" Volker shouted at the fixture, but the only response was the soft squeak of the reemerged light bulb returning to its former place.

"Nearly every new Resident arrives that way, now. Wasn't always the case, Miss Enali. But times have changed, and dimensions have shifted. You are now far from your former home. We are on Gallimaufry and, at the moment, we don't know much about the place. This dimension may have existed a million years, or only a day. Can't say. Nobody has ever heard of it before. The whole Building landed here day before last. Excuse me."

He hefted a new clipboard, bringing it to the counter with a sharp SMACK! to wake the newcomer from her enchantment. "Hey, you down there! Astra Foriano, ja? Wake up and sign your lease. I don't want to repeat myself over and over."

His fingers plucked a cheap pen from the cup beside his newspaper. "Miss Enali, you sign? Then maybe Mr. Drova over there -- he's the dark one with the feathery wings -- maybe he can give you the tour or show you to your apartment. You'll be on the eighth floor. There's a lift. Let's see -- apartment 8F. Miss Astra here is in 8E. That makes you across-the-hall neighbors."



RACHE AND WILLOW

"I wasn't aware he had friends either," Rache snorted without missing a beat. He noted the mare's expression before tossing a wink her way. "It's a figure of speech, Lieutenant, to poke fun at my dreadful memory. Everypony knows the Commander wouldn't really come all the way out here just to express his disdain."

Rache peered into the lands once more and found nothing. He flapped to bring himself closer to his companions. "It's good to hear he's alive. I- well, I'm a bit disappointed that I didn't see him in the city during the attack, to be honest. I presumed he had passed away because of that. But enough. There's work to do, and nopony wants to be stuck out here once the blizzard hits. I'd like to return to the cloud Willow and I landed on. Back track a little from there. Perhaps the others are still in that area?"

---

LOYALTY, PART II

The wall’s texture is familiar under my fingertips. The Dust Bunny gallops ahead of me but I, in my desire to cling to nostalgia, hesitate as I pass various rooms lining the hall. I remembered this place! The bomb shelter was a second home. How many hours had I wasted here, playing board games with Rachelle while the adults talked? I was such a silly young shit back then.

Rachelle’s door is the same vibrant color. I can almost imagine her flinging it open to haul me inside. She’d beg me to sit in her magical garden, of course. I always loved that place. It was warm, inviting. It reminds me of-

“Home, Marcus?” the Dust Bunny turns to regard me.

Yeah, home. Sorta. Well, no sense putting it off. Might as well see what Rachelle’s up to. My knuckles rap the wood, and I push it open, only to become swallowed by dazzling light.

“Marcus Alsius, silly child, that beetle doesn’t want to be lunch,” warm light dappled the woman's shoulders and face as she stood in the rain forest garden and wagged a finger at her offspring.

The boy, no older than two, clutched the insect in his fat hands and fixed his mother with a curious stare. Mama always knew what he was thinking, even before he’d properly thought it out! She’d used both his praenomen however, and that was usually a good indication that she wasn’t playing around. Little lungs forced out an impatient sigh as he carefully placed the beetle back on a leaf.

“Thank you,” she chimed.

A laugh broke from him the moment she squatted and flung her arms wide. Short legs propelled him across algae-stained bricks. He lobbed himself into her arms, and her warmth gobbled him up.

Omnissiah!

“Oh?” the Dust Bunny’s ugly ear twitched. “You fully remember her now?”

I mutely nod my head as more memories of my mother flood my brain.

“Good. That means you haven’t lost everything,” it replies. “Now I suppose you’ll want a moment to figure out the difference between your arse and a hole in the ground?”

What? I’m trying to wrap my head around this shit. The fuck is wrong with you?

But I remember it, all of it, with absolute clarity. The Dust Bunny flicked a switch in my head and shit keeps flooding in, and not in drips and drabs either.

The garden we called home was always so lovely, and my mother spent much of her time in it. I was born there, or perhaps in our little room off of it. She’d whispered so many stories to me while we rested under the trees. Tales of our history, and of my sire. Great battles and whimsical banquets, and always (“Never forget, sweet Hum”) of her pride in me, of how much she wanted me, of how much I meant to her, and about the joy surrounding my conception. We lived there a long while – and then, one day, we didn’t.

She was in tears that morning, pleading with the old cyborg. But her pleas weren’t to keep me. She only wanted me to remain safe, to remain apart from Them. He lifted me and I clung to him, and we ran through the corridors. The garden became far away, Never Go Back. I glimpsed red robes and saw everything burning, and then we went to the small ship. Just enough for two. He handed me to my mother, and I quaked on her lap as he frantically powered up the craft.

“Close your eyes, Marcus. Don’t look, trust Brother Usseio,” she pulled the child’s face to her breasts to ward off the horrible view outside the thick glass. “Thaddeus? How will we-”

“Hush, damn it. You just keep him quiet. Leave the rest to me.” He said nothing more, focusing instead on the tasks at hand, and no one dared breathe until they felt the sudden acceleration as the ship throttled from the bay.

Gravitational forces became nearly unbearable to the boy as the ship rocketed onward, upward, escaping the atmosphere. He mewled helplessly, not daring to voice any louder protest, and then he experienced his first taste of weightlessness. Bright, grey eyes peered from under his mother’s hand to see one of the screens - To behold the world burning behind them. The whole world, and the Gardens, and the funny tumbler Priests, and the clever lizards, and Sissy Wren - all going up in flames and terror, and then the bright marble seemed to tremble before imploding inward to crush everything into a tight ball.

The child began to wail, and his mother dropped kisses on his forehead to soothe him.

“Time for Plan C,” the old cyborg growled as he nosed the ship towards a Gate.

“But Thaddeus!” the woman clutched the child closer to her torso. Marcus lifted his face to reflect upon his mother’s expression. Fear and sorrow clouded her sweet features.

“We have no other option now,” he replied.

“But Thaddeus!”

“Enough, damn it!” His silvery orbs momentarily locked with her golden eyes. He shook his head. “Enough. I’m sorry.”

The beginning of the end. All these memories became locked away once we arrived at the Labs. I remember now. This is when the old cyborg became my father, and my mother was regulated to the backdrop. No, my mother died when the planet was destroyed. This is what I knew.

“What you were programmed to know,” the Dust Bunny reminds me. “What had to be in order to protect you from Them.”

Yes, to protect me. We came to Vaffelhelm. Just me and Thaddeus. And we met Naomi, and Charumati.

“Fool. No, you were brought to Vaffelhelm because Charumati lied to Thaddeus.”

I… don’t recall that, Bunny.

But that’s a lie. I do, really. I recall it as clearly as my mother’s eyes. I choose to remember those eyes rather than that stupid day. My mother is better. Unable to claim me, unable to outwardly love me, she chose to remain in my life simply by forcing her presence into our lives. I would awake one day having forgotten her, and having a lizard in her place.

That lizard – my sweet Mama Nes - became my salvation. “White Rabbit” blared, and the voices screamed, and all the while she held me and rocked me and told me stories about space and planets far away. How bitterly her heart must have burned. And when she couldn’t, I hid in the stables and listened to Blue Dog sing. She blocked it all out, always and forever, every night. As for him? We were on that Daemonworld because it was the only way, wasn’t it? He allowed himself to return to indentured servitude to protect me, didn’t he?

“Yes.”

I don’t want to remember the rest.

“You may not want to, but that doesn’t change the fact that things happened.”

No, Dust Bunny, it does not. But let’s not go there, alright? I’m sorta getting tired of this La La Land stuff. Alright, so this is a vision quest or something, right? You’re my subconscious. You remind me of all the shit that’s happened, and I’m supposed to make sense of all of it. And then I’ll wake up, and Giovenith will be there. My mother’s still dead. I’ve got to deal with that shit, don’t I? The rest of life goes on, eh? Unless, of course, you want me to have a little sympathy for the old cyborg? So, hey, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to see my beautiful godling, and maybe steal a kiss from her. Yeah, I’ve put her through hell. I've got more important things to worry about other than Mama Nes. Why are you scowling at me that way?

“I am bitter.”

Because I’m not interested in sobbing my eyes out over a selfish bitch that capped her own ass instead of working shit out like a rational being? Let’s not forget that part. I remember that part clearly. It’s like on replay in my he-

“You’re an asshole, just like your father.”

What? Now you wait one minute! We just established that the old cyborg isn’t my father. All these years, I thought he was. That’s the memory They implanted in my head. But now I remember the stuff that got stripped away. My father was a cyborg, just like my mother said. A noble man. Yeah, that’s right. All that shit came back to me. All her stories about him. About his love for her. About how she loved him beyond life. He had some dignity to him. But They, whoever They are, stole him away from me. No, better to say that I was stolen from him. That’s right. They pulled me into the future, to that place where he couldn’t go. So if anyone has a reason to be bitter, it’s me. They took my father from me, and-

“Fuck you, Marcus. Let’s go on another trip.”

Now wait a minute, Dust Bunny!...

[Tiltjuice]

(snip)

- quit?

"Do I know you? I don't believe we've met," Dora said to Drova's left calf. "You must be new. I'm Dora. This is a little embarrassing."

She sat up, arms folded tightly in a stiff-looking posture that quickly dissolved as Opa Two landed with Greek fanfare. Disheveled red hair remained as it was; she didn't want to give the unmistakable male the wrong idea. (His head might explode...but actually, that could be fun., an inner voice monologued.)

"Come on. Might as well get all four of you settled in," the redhead said briskly, unbending enough to extend a hand to the Prince. She was, of course, mistaken about the number of new Residents, but being a guide was more or less what she did, now.

---

Brit and Chrys

Cloak and dagger. Great. Just what she loathed most: court politics!

Chrys breathed out and let her hackles drop again, trying to clear her head from the flash of irritation that was and was not battle-madness. Working on psychic abilities probably wasn't a good idea while upset!

She gave Brit an encouraging smile, and then eyed the hoofful of gems. Focusing on one in particular, a striking emerald, she concentrated. Up! Up out of that hoof!...but slowslowslow!

[Highfort]

A clink and clatter, then a sputter and a whir.

Opa Two had awoken.

There was a terrible void - or it would have been, had Opa Two been aware of it. As best as the droid could tell, his operator was not present. The familiar hum of Sister Gull was not ringing in his processor and his control matrix indicated his chip had been badly damaged by whatever he'd just gone through. Memory banks came up blank, however, right after entering the teleporter bound for Wolston.

There was no other choice, he concluded. He would have to revert to original programming: protect the innocent and remove hostiles with minimal force. As soon as he figured out where he was, he could get himself back to Wolston and reconnect with Gull there. Subroutines implanted as part of the Vigilant Diversification Reforms were buried as the combat robot quietly prepared himself for an encounter with possible hostiles. The police programming, long-since overridden by Gull for his riot squad assignment, came back full-force.

His single robot eye scanned in front of him, indicating he was in what appeared to be a residential complex, specifically a lobby. Curiously, the architecture resembled the ratty, run-down tenements he was used to raiding on Falkoss-IV, but the inhabitants were another story entirely. As soon as his matrix indicated he was safe from hacking - at least, provisionally - the droid raised his attached shield in greeting.

"Good evening. Citizens," the words were stiff and unpracticed, as was the standard for combat robots. He found himself looking at an odd mix, no doubt more at home in a smuggler's operation than on a dust world. A quick scan revealed as much: three humans - one in what appeared to be a military uniform, a redhead, and a woman with orange hair. One of the males appeared to be a foreign race - unidentifiable in his memory banks, so probably from beyond the fringe - as did one of the females. Preliminary scans indicated no weapons, except...

"You are armed. Please present. The Confederation-issue license For. Your knife," a whir indicated he was raising his gun-toting arm, the plasma barrels warming to a frosty blue in warning. He aimed it at the dark elf, addressing her in robotic monotone, "You have sixty seconds. To comply."

[Mincaldenteans]

Dining Room

"Not to worry, I'm sure she had her reasons," Cherry responded as she leaned against her own chair, two hands upon the crest rail of it. The rest of them at the table had fallen silent with the arrival of the baren and pony, most the guild looked on with polite smiles but wary eyes. Hunter included. Dan, however, was nothing but pleasant at the sight of new company, although the funny smell was becoming something a nuisance. Manners, he reminded himself.

"Allow me to introduce the others," the young woman continued. "Alexia," Cherry began as she placed a hand momentarily on the monk's shoulder to the left of her and then moved on to Traxt, the elementalist, to the monk's other side; Erick, garbed in a simple brown, blue and light grey robe, sat across the table; to his right was Reyna, short hair, bronze skin, and a sharp appraising look upon the baron. The rest were not part of the Guild but were friends regardless and Cherry introduced Hunter, who merely nodded his hello and Dan, the summer Fae who took an instant interest in Sterling. The guild seemed unfazed with the two new arrivals, though that in itself was exposure to other races: klingons, fae, cyborgs, lizards, cultists... it never seem to end.

"A pleasure to meet you two," Dan said with a friendly smile as he leaned forward a little in fascination across from Sterling. "I only ever seen other ponies in the building from afar; I don't want them to think me odd or rude, but it's fascinating to see an equine outside the Summerlands; it's a rare sight. I think I've only seen two others before, though I've never had the opportunity to speak to them, would you be of the same people?"

"Seems Dan made a new friend," Cherry said lightly and took her own seat after introductions. She noted that the baron hadn't actually introduced himself, and were it not for Sterling, she would have never knew his name. Minus one for manners, she thought to herself. "So, Primordial, what were you two discussing with Anais? It looked pretty involved."

"Yes, it seems Sandy join in there just before leaving; I hope everything is alright? Whatever the case, it must be of some import," Alexia spoke up next to Cherry.

[The BranRiech]

"I-I don't believe we have met. I'm Drova though, similar names?" Drova said, stopping as he reached the hand that was dedicated to rubbing his head, to grab onto Dora's hands. His eyes were quite obviously focused downwards, realizing for one of the first times the wonder of a wet shirt. Of course, as much as he thought he was being cool or sly about it, he failed to admit to himself that he was just staring at this point, as he used Dora's arm to get back onto his feet.

"But . . . Wait, I'm uh, not new here. I've been here a while now, actually." He said, dusting himself off once he was back onto his feet. And as much as he wanted to get settled in, he knew she meant it in the terms of new residents, who seemed to be coming out of the woodwork.

And now this machine thing?

"Oh." He grunted in slight disapproval. Was another giant machine really what the building needed? And to boot, it was already threatening someone. "But I could stick around, if you're giving the tour." He turned back to Dora, shrugging. He had nothing else much better to be doing at the moment.

[Cerillium]

LOBBY

"Eh, Opa, nearly everyone is armed here. It's the norm. Dunkelelfen can have her knife," Volker's eyes shifted to take in the droid. Machines! Full machines, half machines, robots! Demens was very clever or else building the most fucked up automat division this side of the Warp. "Residents don't require permits."

He sighed and fished the dreaded Emergency Backup Clipboard from the desk drawer, and clamped a lease to its Hello Kitty sticker-riddled surface. "So, you sign," he quipped in his crisp German accent, "And then you get to access your personalized docking bay thing. Ja. Docking? Where you go to do what you do when you're not doing what you're currently doing, which is to say you're currently annoying Residents and this is Taboo."



FRONT YARD AND WOODLAND THICKET

The ratel's rear foot swept through his white cape, dislodging dust and a few dead fleas in the civet's direction. New Place smelled alright though the ash at the sidewalk's edge unnerved him. The trees in the distance were nice. Yes, they'd do, and the bits of green remaining under them carried a welcoming smell. No honey, though, and the stinging musk of snakes was nowhere to be found. Winter clung to the air. The ratel's time in Bielefeld gave it a healthy appreciation of snow's chilling properties.

He waddled down a game trail, casting his claws about until finding a tree that felt sufficiently hollow. A quick climb confirmed a nice, wide hole near the bole, perfect for owl-shaped bodies, and branches thick enough to comfortably support the sloth's weight. The truck's lower portion also had a narrow place suitable for a penguin. Flapping and Climbing Things' needs taken care of, the ratel set to work making a den large enough for itself, Brush Tail, and Little Squeak.

It was Brushtail that reminded him of Moss Fur's needs. The civet politely sat nearby, eyes blinking as his nose pointed towards the heavens. The ratel supposed the dead of winter wouldn't favor their sloth companion. A grunt and more digging, and the den widened sufficiently enough to fit them all should a storm catch them outside the Building. Ugh. The only thing that smelled worse than the ratel's own ass was Moss Fur after a rain.

[Giovenith]

Rache and Willow

"Mmmmhm." Aurora Mist deemed Rache strange, but nothing more of it beyond that. He was an oddity outsider, so it was to be expected. She didn't elaborate on the status of the Commander... she was under orders not to.

Ordering the other team members into a new direction, the lieutenant explained some of the basics of the boundaries along the way, carefully pulling out a map from her satchel to better demonstrate. "Even though Cynisca itself is in the sky, we still retain ownership of the grounds directly below it, though we're not very protective of it. None the less, Earth ponies generally respect those territory lines. If the reports about where you and your companion landed are accurate, then you were both well within our vicinity territory, meaning that even if you had landed on the ground instead of the sky, you'd still be in pegasi territory. If we're lucky and your guess is correct, your friends might be wandering around down there somewhere. That's probably a best case scenario..."

Her hoof moved downward and jabbed at Groundtown. "However, if they wandered too close into Earth pony territory, there's no telling what might have happened. Sometimes the township lynches, sometimes they turn wanderers loose. We believe that there are likely opinions at war among them, on whether or not attacking and killing outsiders is acceptable, meaning that while there is a danger, we at least can assume it's not directly institutional. The mud-dwellers may have very well released your companions or are at least holding them hostage, so there is some hope if it turns out they wandered to far into the other territory."

She looked at Rache. "I must give you an unfortunate warning: If it turns out the Earth ponies have killed your friends, there is very little we can do about it. Many of the pegasi in our city would like to go to war with the other cities, but there has never before been war between the tribes, and only the Commander has the authority to ever declare it, so should anypony ever go rogue and attempt an attack on either Groundtown or Caer Gloriana, they are disowned by Cynisca for the greater protection of the city. Tensions are high though. This is a very dark and difficult time for us all. If however they are merely imprisoned, we can easily cook up an ambassador to negotiate their release."



Rusted locks and chains pooled to the pavement after a brief ticking and tinkering with their inner levers. It hadn't been too difficult to pick, as they had only served as a minor deterrent to an otherwise unassuming building. The opening was just with a wet little alley and the indication that it lead to a 'museum' nonexistent, leaving Willow feeling very confused. He was used to seeing museums as these prestigious, towering, well-kept things, but this felt like they were breaking into some abandoned shack.

"I thought you said you had a key," Pansy remarked critically to Cloud Duster, who was flipping back in the blade he'd used to pick the lock.

"Oho, Pansy, everypony has keys," he explained with a slightly condescending niceness. "The question is whether or not one can utilize them!"

Willow tentatively pushed the door open a few meters before it hit something blocking it. It felt like a box. He tried to give an extra shove to the door to push it out of the way, which succeeded but also sent a flurry of dust into the three pegasi's faces, irritating their eyes and sending them into coughs and wheezing. The space inside was pitch black, as somepony had neglected to position the cloud plaster in such a way that light could get in.

"Oh, this can't be it!" Willow backed up a few steps, irritated at the lack of glamour to the place. "You've brought us to the wrong place."

"No, no, this is it, see?" Cloud Duster pointed to a brass sign that had been bolted atop the door that was engraved in Greek script (Μουσεῖον), which Willow could not read. Though guessing from Pansy's calm reaction, he had to assume this was correct, and reluctantly followed the two into the dark, dusty, crowded room.

Barely five steps in Willow's hooves were already kicking into more boxes, which all clattered and tinkled from the unceremoniously piled artifacts within them, as well as piles of them brushing into his feathers if he tried to open his wings. Pansy managed to wiggle herself enough room to fly her way up to the low ceiling and use her hoof to drag along a long, slitted opening across it, letting in the dim winter light and illuminating the room. Sterling would have had a heart attack. The whole place was less a museum and more a supply closet, with all the supposed "important" antiques, plates, and papers carelessly tossed into disposable boxes that had either be stacked or just left on the floor. Larger items that could not be fit into boxes, such as a set of seemingly outdated armor or two, were pushed up against the walls and in corners, many leaning against one another haphazardly since whoever managed this place couldn't be bothered to give them actual independent supports. Dust, rare in cloud cities but not impossible, completely bathed the place, the particles visibly dancing and swirling in the light.

"Great, this is just great," Willow huffed, falling low and roughly grabbing a box to begin digging through. "Some museum! Why is this place such... such... trash?" He moved aside several faded metal vases before concluding none of his antiques were inside it, pushing it aside and grabbing another. "All the museums I've seen were places of respect, they kept the treasures behind glass and gilded fencing, there was respect. This is just... gah! Why?"

Pansy descended from the museum and gently ran one of her hooves down some abandoned spear in a corner. "I guess ponies just don't care about these sorts of things here..."

"Don't cut yourself now," Cloud Duster gently grabbed one of Willow's hooves from plunging too quickly into a box that held a few parchments and daggers. "No sense getting an infection when resources are already scarce."

Willow roughly pulled his hoof away. "Infection would just be another drop in the bucket for this place!" he snapped. He glared briefly but Cloud Duster's eyes only took on a kind of glassy look as he slowly tilted his head, causing Willow to soften and sigh. "I'm sorry. It's just, really, really important that I find what I'm looking for. My... family's, way of life depends on it. It was my job to care of the antiques too. Honestly, it's really my fault we're back here in this dire situation in the first place..." He pushed the box away, looking and feeling defeated. "I've had plenty of time to figure the things out that I was supposed to. But I haven't. I'm every bit as clueless now as I was in the beginning. I don't know if I'm just an idiot, or inept, or whatever, but... I'm just not right to handle this. I'm not. I've never been right at handling anything."

Although he often hid it well, whenever Willow was especially upset about something, he had a tendency to regress back into the insecurities of his youth. Childhood had been plagued by self-exaggerated but powerful feelings of ineptitude and disappointment for him, manifested even in even normal situations by his regular dedication to hyper-competence and logic. Willow did not like letting others down. Especially not now, not when it meant he could cause so many people to lose everything, including the loved one of Rache's host, including both his and Giovenith's close friends. Rache was going to return soon likely without any clue about where the others were and if Willow didn't have anything to show himself, they were right back to square one, and it was all because of him and his stupid antiques.

The painter from the future sighed deeply to release the growing tension in his chest and tried to disguise a quick wipe of budding tear as wiping dust from his eye. Across the room Pansy's eyes had begun to grow wide and glossy, hoof sliding off the spear and ears and mouth lines drooping in clear sympathy. Before she could get a word in though, Cloud Duster had already swooped in, making himself comfortable next to Willow and pulling the box back close.

"You don't seem incompetent to me," he reassured in a controlled, relaxing tone, much akin to that of a friendly teacher or counselor. "Sure, you've never been in the agoge which means you can't do objectively as much as some of us, but for what you have experienced, you're quite the prodigy. Most untrained ponies don't just fly in down a slope and whack a bunch of ghoulings for fifteen minutes straight and come out alive."

Willow snorted. "Yeah, well..." he grumbled dismissively, unconvinced.

Cloud Duster's simplistic little smile didn't waver, his marble-like glassy gaze only rolling down toward the box as he began to search through it. "You also have a comparatively very exaggerated way of speaking compared to us, so if you lived here, ponies would probably slap you for whining a lot. You're also one of the smallest built stallions I've ever seen, so I assume you don't exercise well. Most of our Domestic mares could beat you in direct confrontation."

"Okay," Willow accepted the criticisms, but with some annoyance. 180-degree, much?

"I also could tell the sign out there didn't register to you, so there go your reading skills."

"Okay."

"You're also way too old to catch up in agoge at this point, so you better hope you miraculously meet a nice random mare from outside your family out there in your little travels, 'cause you're not getting married otherwise."

"Cloud Duster! I said ok-"

The younger soldier cut him off with a hoof to the mouth, ending Willow's protests in mumbles. He continued: "You're right. Okay. It is okay. Acknowledging your flaws doesn't mean you can't still like yourself."

Willow shoved off Cloud Duster's hoof with narrowed eyes, but his expression began to soften as the other young stallion's words sunk in. Acknowledging your flaws doesn't mean you can't still like yourself. Nothing about those words actually changed anything. Rache was still gong to come back empty hooved. Willow was still stuck in a mountain-load of meaningless, disorganized nick-nacks with no clue about where to start. Pansy was still in danger of falling by fate's hand any moment and completely obliterating his entire existence. He was still frustrated and afraid. But that was okay. Because just because these things were all true didn't mean he couldn't still find something good in himself. He was trying, wasn't he?

Pansy flapped over from her spot by the corner onto the floor near the two colts, tentatively taking a few steps forwards and lowering her head in attention and slight anxiousness. Willow sighed and gave her a small smile and nod, reassuring that it was okay to approach. He wasn't the type of guy who let his own ill feelings negatively restrict others. That was a good thing about him. Smiling back for the first time since he'd met her, she pushed away two other boxes and made herself comfortable as possible in front of the two guys.

"What do you think you're good at?" Cloud Duster asked, smiling and putting a hoof on Willow's back.

"Ahh," Willow waved dismissively. "I'm not going to sit here and brag about myself when we have so much work to do. We should be looking for the antiques I lost."

Cloud Duster pointed out the lighting from the ceiling slit. "It will be curfew very soon, we honestly don't have all that much time to efficiently search all these boxes. You and Rache are staying the night at my home anyway, we'll have plenty of time to come back and look tomorrow, early in the morning. Most of me and Pansy's agoge training has been canceled because of the weather, so we'll be right there with you."

"Eh, I don't know."

"Come ooooon, it's not like you're being arrogant or anything, you've clearly got a good sense of humility. It's not bragging, it's pep talk. Give yourself a pep talk! You deserve it. Besides, aren't we all way more likely to get a task done quickly and efficiently if we're feeling good about ourselves? Pansy wants to hear." He calmly gestured to the young mare, who perked in surprise.

"Oh, uh," she smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of her head, not expecting to have been addressed. "Yeah, sure, I do."

"Ehhhhh," Willow thought about, feeling surprisingly flattered. He smiled slightly, finding himself on board with Cloud Duster's logic, if only because this day had been so long, confusing, and hard that it would be nice to just stop, sit down, and dwell on the familiar for just a little bit. "I guess, yeah. Well, I'm a really good artist, that's the most obvious one."

"An artist?" Pansy blinked in surprise. "They never let us focus on art here."

"That's just one of the ways Willow is special," Cloud Duster said to her, so plainly and obviously.

"OH! Pfff!" Willow waved that away. "Come on!"

"Pep talk, remember? It's okay to be corny," the blue pony egged on with a teasing smile. "Tell us about your oh-so-forbidden art, Private Special. It's intriguing."

Willow wasn't sure if they would have any concept or grasp of abstract painting, so he decided to bend the truth a little for the sake of his cover. "I mostly sketch things that we see on our travels, you know, for future documentation and reference."

"Ohhhhhh. Anything else?"

"Well, sometimes I like to take inspiration from things I have seen to create new ideas. Like, uh, using different parts of birds to draw an imaginary new bird?"

"How queer! But very, very interesting. Pansy is correct, we're very much discouraged from such things around here," Cloud Duster suddenly grabbed Willow by the shoulders and leaned in by his ear. "I once saw a little colt lashed with a switch thirty-five times for stealing some coal and parchment to draw a rabbit..."

"Oh jeeze, that's awful!" Willow recoiled in horror.

"Aftó eínai Kyníska! He was alright. Do you do anything else?"

"Well..." Willow rubbed his chin. Again, he didn't want to reveal anything that could displace him. "I, like to think that I'm a logician and a skeptic. I don't really believe in a lot of popular myths or fairy tales or anything. I need for things to be presented to me, or argued well. It leads to some arguments sometimes with my, uh... sister. But we still get along pretty well most of the time?"

"Is your sister one of the ponies that got lost out there?" Pansy asked, tipping her hoof to her lips worriedly.

"No, we left her with other family in another far off land," Willow said, doing his best to not lie too ambitiously. "Because she's young. One of the reasons we need to get back soon is so she doesn't worry about us."

"Don't you have a sister, Cloud Duster?" Pansy suddenly looked up at the other Cyniscan pony.

Cloud Duster's calm expression didn't fall or budge, but he did pause for beat before answering. "No."

"No? But," Pansy winced thoughtfully. "No, you're always with a girl though, she looks a little like you. She whistles a lot when she talks because of the gap in her teeth?"

"Kiiiiiinda getting a bit off topic there, Pansy," Cloud Duster gently touched Willow's shoulders again. "We're trying to make Willow feel better."

"Actually, I think I'm feeling pretty good already," Willow reassured, cracking a few joints back into place as he stood up, shaking the dust off from his tail and feathers. "I guess you were right Cloud Duster, I just needed to sit down for a moment and pep myself a little. Thank you. Honestly, I can't thank you enough for everything you've been doing, you just kind of came out of nowhere and started helping us. I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but... why?" He offered a hoof for the other pegasus to stand up.

Cloud Duster smiled with clear self-contentedness, accepting the offer and getting to his hooves. "Does a pony need an excuse to do good things?"

"Nope!" the born and raised Equestrian saw no flaw with that logic, smiling and nodding along at the rhetorical question. Yes, yes, somepony who finally got it! He was really glad and grateful to have such a caring new friend.

Pansy, born and raised Cyniscan, wasn't quite so decisive. Although the little talk had actually done well to make her feel calmer about the situation than before, she still sucked in her lips and knitted her brow silently in slight discomfort at the certainty Willow and Cloud Duster carried between the two of them about these 'super positive' principles. Pansy was a skeptic herself. Just much, much meeker about it.

"I do think we should probably be heading out now," Cloud Duster looked up at the ceiling slit. "It's going to be dark soon, we don't want any of the vigiles swatting us for making mischief. I'm sure when your Rache comes back, the proper authorities will show him the way to my house."

"Yes, that's a good idea," Willow nodded, convinced.

"You two go on ahead," the blue soldier urged Pansy and Willow. "Just go make your way to the square, and I'll meet you up there. I'm just going to close everything up here."

So Pansy and Willow left, bracing themselves against the wind and cold as they flew around and out the alley, then up the street while Cloud Duster remained behind to handle putting the tricky chains back into place. Some short time after going ahead, Pansy spoke up.

"Willow, I just wanted to say that I appreciate you were willing to admit how you felt bad about your situation," she said. "Most ponies don't do that. Nopony here wants to appear weak, or make it seem like they've lost control. We're expected to bottle it up."

"To be honest, I usually bottle it up too," he had to admit. "But I'll let it out if I'm at a breaking point. I'm uh, glad you appreciate it though."

"I wish I could be more open like that," she admitted, looking ahead. "I'm not a very strong pony. You saw how I fell down the slope. Lieutenant Star Catcher lectured me at the hall, she said I needed to be more careful or I could die. I'm not good at being assertive, so I'm not a very good soldier. Nopony thinks so, anyway." Her ears folded and she looked downward, clearly dejected.

Ah. So that was the reason for the constant gloomy aura. Willow had flashbacks to countless years of watching the Hearth's Warming Eve pageant, Private Pansy the Character always largely morphed into an element of comic relief despite her important role, exaggeratedly screaming and jumping around on stage at the fake sounds of thunder and howling windigo wind. He suddenly felt like shit for laughing every time. It couldn't have been very funny for her, a naturally calm and careful pony born into a harsh time and place of survival and fighting. He could relate to that with his own upbringing, and he suddenly found himself awash with a newfound respect for her; not merely as a founder of Equestria, but as a pony.

He put a friendly foreleg around her shoulders as they flew and smiled. "Well I believe that you've got a greater purpose out there for you, just the way you are."

"I thought you said you only believed in things with proof," she countered, sucking in her cheeks. "Why do you say so?"

He chuckled. "Hey, these are desperate times. And in desperate times, sometimes even I have to go out on a good hunch."


Meanwhile, Cloud Duster was whistling a tune to himself as he pushed several boxes back into place, closed the door, and started untangling the chains on the ground to lock back onto the handles. He froze when a voice came from behind him.

"Duster..."

Cloud Duster glanced over his shoulder. There behind him stood another Private, slightly older than him (maybe about a year or two older than Willow), helmet left behind somewhere and a standard scarf similar to Rache's team's fixed around his neck. He did not look pleased, though he didn't seem looking for a fight either.

"Silver Wind..." Cloud Duster greeted in a jesting tone, parodying the stallion's own severity. He laughed a little. "You need something, sir?" He managed to untangle most of the chains, and snapped the large lock shut on the end of one of them.

"During the ghouling attack, you willfully abandoned the post I gave you," Silver Wind said, clearly upset. "Several ponies saw you fly down the mountain slope without warning or explanation. That was unacceptable!"

The younger soldier wasn't phased. He continued to work with the chain, easing it's length by tying a bit of the end a few loops around his right hoof. "I had other things to do. Lieutenant Star Catcher already knows, and she was not upset. She gave me a new assignment."

"That's just it!" Silver Wind continued. "I'm getting real sick of this Private Cloud Duster, I'm getting real sick of you always just going off and doing whatever you want and never even getting any punishment for it. I'm the prefect of your cabin! You're supposed to listen to me."

"Let's talk about this some other time, yeah?" Duster's tone had dropped slightly, going from calm to full monotone, a soft, tingling metallic taste beginning to fill his mouth. He still didn't lend Silver Wind the courtesy of turning to look at him, still preoccupied with the locks and chains. "I've got better things to do."

"No!" the minor superior snapped, stomping a hoof on the ground. "You know who gets in trouble when you disobey orders? Me, me and everypony else in your group too. We get in trouble because we didn't stop you, but you always freaking sneak off before we can stop you. We get in trouble, not you. That's not fair Cloud Duster, and it's ending right now. I'm in charge, and I'm not going to leave you alone until you come back to the barracks and apologize to the other-"

Four teeth went flying from Silver Wind's open mouth as the big rusty lock collided into it, turning his muzzle into a red waterfall. Loose chain bits soon flew in after it, heavy metal links shocking his skull and old brown rust ripping up and out long, ghastly red tears across his face's skin, his left eye only just reflexively closing in time to save it from being permanently smashed in and blinded. It would blacken deeply in short time. He fell to the ground and was only given enough time to shakily try to push himself up for a blue foreleg caught him the face, breaking his nose, and then straightened out to push him out with enough force to slam him roughly into the opposite wall of the alley. It winded him, which was already made worse by the profuse bleeding from his gums.

"Maybe later, sir," Cloud Duster breathed monotonously, carefully unwrapping the bloodied chain from his wrist. "Maybe later."

The younger stallion bent slow to quickly snatch Silver Wind's scarf from him before it could become too thoroughly soaked with blood. He used the cleanest end to meticulously wipe away the little splatters that had backfired on him, licking his hoof to rub away any stains that might be in his coat much as he would wash up in the morning, seemingly ignorant of Silver's coughs and trembling moans. He wipe down the chain a little too. Once through with clearing the immediate evidence of his assault, he tossed the scarf back over the prefect pegasus' face. "I told you, I've got more important plans to take care of."

Now hurrying so as to catch up with Willow and Pansy, Cloud Duster quickly fixed back the chain and lock on the door before sniffing, ruffling his feathers a bit at the chill, and turning out onto the street to head toward the square he'd instructed the two of them to go. He left Silver Wind there. He wasn't worry about him snitching about the true circumstances of his injuries. It was as Pansy said: No weakness. No loss of control. Silver Wind was just as conditioned as any of them, even with his current state, he wouldn't dare publicly admit to such a loss of control over an inferior. Cloud Duster didn't care, he was fine with lies.

He was always fine with lies.

[New Aksarben]

Dining Room

"Not to worry, I'm sure she had her reasons," Cherry responded as she leaned against her own chair, two hands upon the crest rail of it. The rest of them at the table had fallen silent with the arrival of the baren and pony, most the guild looked on with polite smiles but wary eyes. Hunter included. Dan, however, was nothing but pleasant at the sight of new company, although the funny smell was becoming something a nuisance. Manners, he reminded himself.

"Allow me to introduce the others," the young woman continued. "Alexia," Cherry began as she placed a hand momentarily on the monk's shoulder to the left of her and then moved on to Traxt, the elementalist, to the monk's other side; Erick, garbed in a simple brown, blue and light grey robe, sat across the table; to his right was Reyna, short hair, bronze skin, and a sharp appraising look upon the baron. The rest were not part of the Guild but were friends regardless and Cherry introduced Hunter, who merely nodded his hello and Dan, the summer Fae who took an instant interest in Sterling. The guild seemed unfazed with the two new arrivals, though that in itself was exposure to other races: klingons, fae, cyborgs, lizards, cultists... it never seem to end.

"A pleasure to meet you two," Dan said with a friendly smile as he leaned forward a little in fascination across from Sterling. "I only ever seen other ponies in the building from afar; I don't want them to think me odd or rude, but it's fascinating to see an equine outside the Summerlands; it's a rare sight. I think I've only seen two others before, though I've never had the opportunity to speak to them, would you be of the same people?"

"Seems Dan made a new friend," Cherry said lightly and took her own seat after introductions. She noted that the baron hadn't actually introduced himself, and were it not for Sterling, she would have never knew his name. Minus one for manners, she thought to herself. "So, Primordial, what were you two discussing with Anais? It looked pretty involved."

"Yes, it seems Sandy join in there just before leaving; I hope everything is alright? Whatever the case, it must be of some import," Alexia spoke up next to Cherry.

Sterling nodded to all of the guild-mates of Anais and the Fae, smiling brightly and widely. "Nice to meet you all!" Then dan spoke to him, so the pony turned his attention to the Fae, keeping his bright and eager expression on his face.

"I'm not sure if we're related to those 'Equines', actually. I'd say no, most likely." Sterling told the Fae, hoping he wasn't too disappointed. "I'm just an unicorn pony, from Equestria. Only species of ponies that I know of are the equestrian races, the zebra, changelings if they'd count, and crystal ponies. None just called Equines! Though, I've also never heard of someplace called the Summerlands. What is that place like?"

The pony asked, tilting his head to one side in confusion and interest. His gold-colored mane fell to that side messing it up, but it wasn't very neat or styled before that anyway. His golden tail swished along the floor, flicking back and forth. Then Sterling thought of another question and spoke again.

"Oh, are Equines as colorful as ponies? I mean, the horses on earth were usually shades of brown, not like purple like I am and such."

[Primordial Luxa]

Dining Room
“A pleasure to meet all of you.” Primordial said refilling his own glass and offering the assembled people a glass. The liquor was a strong smelling stuff that was labelled wine but seemed to be more like vodka than anything else and it was obviously one of those unique Luxan blends. Primordial had been drinking quite heavily but it didn’t show in his actions since his natural resistance held off any negative effects.

“I must say Erick, I really appreciate your attire. Very aesthetically appealing.” He said commenting the guild member. He thought the get up had a very classical style which he enjoyed in magicians and hoped it was an indication of their attitude towards sorcerery. He was dressed in his own mixture of victorian formal wear and bondage gear that meshed in a strange Luxan style. He had a set of robes however similar to what Erick was wearing but usually reserved them for certain types of rituals.

He noticed Reyna’s gaze but ignored it figuring that acknowledging it would be awkward. He was used to people being wary of him by this point in the day. Instead he tried to relax his posture and show that he was in a friendly and talkative mood hoping that if she had any questions she would ask.

He went on to answer Alexia and Cherry’s question “Oh nothing is wrong I assure you. We were all discussing ways and means for getting more integration and cooperation between the different magic users in the building. She was very helpful and had some wonderful ideas regarding meetings. In fact I believe Sterling and I will be meeting up tomorrow to send out invitations, which of course will include your own illustrious party if that appeals to you?”

[Chedastan]

Amanda clumsily climbed down from Thaddeus' rig, her dismount made awkward by her travel mug in one hand. Her coffee had gone cold hours ago, but sipping at it was one of her few distractions from the long silence during the drive home.

Feet now safely planted, Amanda more heard than saw Romulus climb down over the rig's tailgate. As he started to collect his ammunition, she walked over to him and quietly asked, "Seventeen years, General? Seventeen years in the field? My grandfather fought for a bit over seventeen months, and that was enough war for him. Who... who were you fighting all that time?"

Romulus had unloaded a couple things from the back of the truck, including his ammo and hydrogen tanks. It had been a good enough haul, all things considered, he’s just happy he still managed to get some well needed supplies from out of it. He had just started picking up his stuff again to bring into his room, when Amanda came over to ask him about his 17 years of military service, he smiled. He was more than happy to answer her questions, especially since the ride back had been so quiet.

“You heard me right the first time, seventeen years. Seventeen years of non stop campaigning on the constantly expanding frontiers of the Wilhelm Imperium, against anyone that met on our borders, and anyone after that who met on our new borders. Obviously not all at once at any given time, but everyone we encounter eventually gets subjugated by us one way or another, as it’s within Willhelm’s Will that his Imperium keeps expanding to infinity.” He was then curious of her grandfather.

“Now you say your grandfather served for only seventeen months, was he just a typical soldier then? That sounds a little long if he was that.” He asked her about him.

This, this is what Demens chose? An overgrown mobster’s chief enforcer? Or Hitler’s own second in command? Considering his actions at the checkpoint, maybe more a Keitel than a Jodl. Amanda considered the situation: her opponent was a heavily armored man, apparently without any scruples. In a straight fight, she was dead. But with his visor open and his hands full… No, that wasn’t necessarily the situation. Romulus wasn’t necessarily an opponent. He wasn’t clueless at the checkpoint, just adapting to his new situation badly. Perhaps he wasn’t unscrupulous, or not entirely. Or did Demens send him here to get him away from that?

“No, seventeen months was how long he fought, in two long stretches, interrupted only by training for the second round of fighting. He served for closer to three years in total. He was a low-ranking officer, a lieutenant and then a captain.”

“But what he fought was that sort of imperialism, that blind desire to subjugate anybody in another tyrant’s way. You make your Imperium sound like the Judge and his thuggish opponents in Ascalon, just bigger. Is there more to it than that?” The words came out of her mouth as a challenge; a little harder than she wanted, but it would do. She was better at blunt and forthright than soft and slippery.

The General was intrigued at first by her grandfather’s service time and rank, but he presumed he was from the same democracy she was. Whatever it was anyway, either way they were all strange to him anyway. But his intrigued had turned to frowning from the offense he took from the Imperium being compared to those outright primitives in Ascalon, it was no doubt ignorance from Amanda’s part, he felt. He relaxed himself though, as he knew this tends to happen when he has to explain the Imperium to outsiders, and or recently subjugated people. This was routine for him at this point. His frown went away.

“You’re getting the wrong idea of my home. It’s way more complicated than what any of those thugs in Ascalon could comprehend from their limited world-view. I understand, you’re from a democratic society that probably thought they struck a good deal from having the ability to elect leaders, and think you’re more privileged from it. But that doesn’t resonate with me, because we can remain trusting and loyal to a Wilhelm, because we know he was chosen by Maccabees, the head of our patheon, to lead us from all ills and persevere. I can spend days telling you about this honestly.”

“But I wanted to know where you are from first. Tell me what it’s like exactly.” He wondered with slight curiosity. But almost felt he already knew the answer, after dealing with many like her before. Maybe he’s hoping she’ll surprise him.

He’s a true believer, like I was once. He might even have true faith, which would make him one up on me. Amanda was abruptly somber and thoughtful. “Once, I might have said something similar about my god, General, but no longer. What goes on here in the Building has changed my view further, but that will take a while to explain. We should sit down to talk about it.” Amanda’s tone returned to being purely conversational. “I live on the sixth floor; where’s your apartment?”

The General raised his eyebrow slightly at first, to her comment on her presumably former view of her God. But he lowered it when he remembered how outsiders tended to forsake their beliefs when the Imperium comes smashing through their defenses. It made him feel that what anyone else believed in was going to be irrelevant in the face of what he knew of the Imperium. And that was simply because everything they did so far worked out for them, they were prosperous and thriving, were vast and mighty, because they didn’t need to have faith that what they did was going to hopefully work out for them. No, what they had done gave them faith that it was working, because they knew it has worked for them time and time again, and should continue to work for them forever until the end of time.

He was willing to sit with her to discuss of course, especially since they were apparently close neighbors. “On the sixth floor too, 6D. I need to drop this stuff off in my place, you’re welcomed to join me there if you want. Or if you prefer, your place instead of course.”

Amanda cocked her head to the side, taking a second to consider the choices. “You asked about my world, General, and all the information we have about it is in 6C. Sandy’s the historian, and if he’s home, he can give you much more detailed information than I can.” Pick up your equipment while I call an elevator.” Amanda started for the elevators without waiting for a reply.

Romulus just simply nodded to her and followed suit, gathering his supplies and bringing them to the elevator when it dinged opened.

[OOC: Amanda appears courtesy of the Treste Hub Online Roleplaying Group, the finest roleplaying in Northwest Slobovia.]

[Saleon]

BEFORE
Astra had spent roughly a week hunting down her missing partner. Her eyes came to an odd building that seemed almost out of place in the industrious city of Brigholm. She walked in to the rickety, old, shoddy woodworks, the frayed carpeting, and the rusted sconces. It had a long hallway with rooms on each side. Her lantern had been lit, revealing a trail up a set of stairs in front of her. She walked slowly across the hallway, surveying each room for any other signs. The rooms were austere, with a small kitchen in one, a reading room in another. She began up the stairs.

The crick of the rotted wood gave a stale feeling to it as she made her way to the attic. The floors almost felt as if they were going to fall apart. The lantern glimmered and revealed a powerful force arising from the room before her, in that attic. It seemed to be of some strained magic, not yet studied fully by mages. She opened the door, not expecting that, even if it was locked, that it would be difficult to open. The mechanisms seemed as if they were defunct as the place. Her hand twisted the knob and slowly moved the door forward. And so, she came to see what lie ahead.

The ground was covered, beyond all doubt, something not easily comprehended in this world. Candles had been lain on the floor, seemingly been lit at one point recently. There was a red rug with golden lining. She opened her book of spells to identify the magic before her. The magic which remained was so bizarre, and beyond what could be known in this world, so there was but one obvious culprit. A "jump" took place. This magic was not of this world, so it was that the magic was brought forth from the World of Chaos, which marked the home to all demons.

It was obvious that her partner hadn't been here anymore, but the understanding of 'here' was found faulty. 'Here' happened to mean 'here in this world.' Her shock was not out of character, as no fool would attempt this magic. The Armistice of the Arcane found that such magic, forbidden by the Gods, was to never be traversed. It is one of the highest crimes and for good reason, the war against the demons, caused by such magic, was the bloodiest incident in all of the world. You cannot commit such an act without being outcast or killed.

With this new information, she decided it was vital to leave, to collect more information, to collect her thoughts. Her mind had not yet expected this possibility. She hadn't even come to fully grasp what this new information represented. She began to leave that rickety attic, in the rickety building, which had seemed so forgotten on this street. She marched out of the stairs, closing off the flame of her lantern. She stepped out the door of that house, only for her head to become fuzzy. Her head grew heavier and heavier, her eyelids couldn't stay open, and her legs seemed to lose stability. Soon, she collapsed--knocked out on that lonely road that nobody traversed anymore--and lost consciousness.

LOBBY

Volker took his eyes off Opa Two in order to address the elf that had finally stirred. He supposed the machine would come around in due time. Everyone always did. "Ja, the lease," the cultist slid the clipboard across the desk for her inspection.

The documents clipped to it were in her native tongue, and very explicit. She would lease one (1) apartment in Demens Towers, and have use of the common areas such as the kitchen and dining rooms on the second floor. There were other areas (the library and gym) she could also utilize, but some areas were completely off limits (maintenance sections, Chaos quarters, bomb shelter); accessing Residents' apartments without their explicit permission was verboten and would result in death.

"We are-" the cultist began, but then the chandelier trembled again. He sighed and consulted the new arrival list -- It never rains but it pours! "Okay, to answer one of your questions: you arrived through that chandelier above us. Just like how this new person is arriving. Simple."

A light bulb unscrewed from the chandelier and vanished into its socket. Something colorful oozed from it in a gooey strand, and then the blob dropped to the floor and reformed into a female deep in slumber. She was, of course, unhurt from the fall.

"Thank you!" Volker shouted at the fixture, but the only response was the soft squeak of the reemerged light bulb returning to its former place.

"Nearly every new Resident arrives that way, now. Wasn't always the case, Miss Enali. But times have changed, and dimensions have shifted. You are now far from your former home. We are on Gallimaufry and, at the moment, we don't know much about the place. This dimension may have existed a million years, or only a day. Can't say. Nobody has ever heard of it before. The whole Building landed here day before last. Excuse me."

He hefted a new clipboard, bringing it to the counter with a sharp SMACK! to wake the newcomer from her enchantment. "Hey, you down there! Astra Foriano, ja? Wake up and sign your lease. I don't want to repeat myself over and over."

His fingers plucked a cheap pen from the cup beside his newspaper. "Miss Enali, you sign? Then maybe Mr. Drova over there -- he's the dark one with the feathery wings -- maybe he can give you the tour or show you to your apartment. You'll be on the eighth floor. There's a lift. Let's see -- apartment 8F. Miss Astra here is in 8E. That makes you across-the-hall neighbors."

LOBBY
Astra felt only a brief figment of feeling when a man with a newspaper whopped her with some object, not one she could make sure, yet. She felt as if a child awaking from some deep sleep. She had that new morn feel, that one which asked to not awaken. Her eyes only came up when the light finally flood them. "good..." she struggled, "good morning? I swore it was afternoon..." She looked up to see an odd sort of... lobby?

The place carried a familiar, yet unfamiliar aesthetic. It had some familiarly ugly, deep green wallpaper lining the room. Sconces laced those walls, each holding a small torch in them. The floor was of a dark, dark wood. Up front was a reception desk was made of a more moderately dark wood. In front of this desk were others, but one which her sight had found curious was the man with pens and clipboards, the one who was imploring people to sign, or maybe demanding. It was hard to tell. This man wore a robe, one similar to a... cultist. The kind who would be involved in things she wouldn't be involved in. "W-W-Who are you!" she shouted, receding back, and hitting a stand near one of the couches, "was i kidnapped? Did you freaks put something weird in the air!?! a poison, maybe it was on the doorknob..."

[Fvaarniimar]

...
"But . . . Wait, I'm uh, not new here. I've been here a while now, actually." He said, dusting himself off once he was back onto his feet. And as much as he wanted to get settled in, he knew she meant it in the terms of new residents, who seemed to be coming out of the woodwork.

And now this machine thing?

"Oh." He grunted in slight disapproval. Was another giant machine really what the building needed? And to boot, it was already threatening someone. "But I could stick around, if you're giving the tour." He turned back to Dora, shrugging. He had nothing else much better to be doing at the moment.

"I would like to join as well, madam. If it does not inconvenience you." Rmwtyliin was walking over, as she also had little else much better to do at the moment. What would be wiser than learning more about the place she'd been staying for so long? "You might need to explain some things. I actually never have had a tour -" Gulp. "I blame no one! We got keys at a time most people really want to sleep....But there is a lot I do not understand about this place and period. I wish to change that." Maybe the tour will help.

[Giovenith]

Brit and Chrys

Concern slowly knitted Clover's brow as the jewels stayed in her hoof despite Chrys' best efforts. She rearranged them a bit despite to try eliminate the possibility of bulk making it more difficult, but no dice. Setting them down the table, she went to Chrys' side and very gently smoothed away her locks to tap at her temples.

"Telekinesis comes naturally to some ponies," she explained. "But others have to practice it even well into their late childhood. For those who do, there are a few tricks to get the hang of it. It's a bit like stretching a muscle: Eventually you'll get so used to it you won't even feel the strain, but before that, you need to take it slowly but firmly. A good practice is to try and mentally put yourself in a situation where you feel the most competent. What are you best at outside of this? Painting? Sewing? Singing? Take the peace of mind you have with that, and push..."

Unbeknownst to all, a tiny trinket was lodged way, way up high. No bigger than a human's thumbnail, it had sat there in the wee wedge between the book shelf and the ceiling edge for days, covered thoroughly in dust but managing to keep it's golden gleam. It shook off some of that dust as it began to jerk side to side, suddenly forcing itself up as it's metallic wings began to move and it's tiny emerald eyes gleamed. A trail of dust glided behind it as it zipped through the air, tumbling and soaring through the library unseen to the present occupants until it darted it's way through a teeny crack between the bricks of the wall.

It twisted and zoomed through the halls of the great castle, until it finally stopped and came upon it's destination: It's mistress's room.

"... she's not even pretty, that's thing though! I mean no offense but I'm gorgeous, I care about my appearance, you can't really be expected to do much else well if you don't even freshen yourself up, and whose idea was it to make the curtains on the third floor blue? It certainly wasn't my idea, I would never have such an idea, my ideas are good, my ideas are great, that's why I didn't need any of those stupid classes I do just fine on my own ponies here don't know how good they've got it oh it makes me so mad..."

Arrow jibber-jabbered to herself intensely as she winked around her room, roughly searching through boxes and drawers for small bottles and ingredients here and there and generally making an erratic mess of her room. Every so often she would teleport back to a rather stereotypical-looking cauldron set up in the middle of her room (which was much more spacious than the average guest room, as she had demanded) to toss what she had found in. The mixture inside pulsated a heavy glow which bathed her face in light, and changed a new color everytime she threw something in. Pausing a moment, she levitated a wooden spoon to stir the mixture, but stopped shortly after to pull it out - it's end had been burnt off. Arrow tossed it over her shoulder and grabbed something more sturdy, and old curtain rod, to continue the stirring when the little flying trinket met her.

"Oh there, look at you now," she allowed it to settle in her hoof. It was an old hairpin of her's, golden twisted into the shape of a tiny dragonfly, enchanted for extra bidding. "What have you got to show me?"

The hairpin tweeted a little before it's emerald eyes projected a magical hologram in front of Arrow. In it, a silent recording of Clover the Clever's interactions with Chrys and Brit played over, including Clover's own projection of the dark crystal caverns.

"Ahhhhh, so the weensy little apprentice is enlisting help from the strangers now, is she? Hmm-hmmmmm," Arrow tapped her hooves together with a smile. "She is trying to outnumber me, I can see why. But she's not quite so clever in that move. Replay it again, but with sound."

The pin obeyed:

"If there were about six of us...hmm...as little help as this is, you have to understand me when I say that you'll know them when you see them. We're an odd sort, really. Willow, though, I know him. He had one of those pocket-watch looking things that I forgot the name of that you do. He, from what I gathered, isn't the usual pegasus. Fancies himself more with the arts than the military. Shame, though. But, he's a great friend. We've been through a lot together and I really can't see living without him. Me, and other people back where we come from. Which brings me to that. This isn't our first time sifting through other worlds. In fact, with as much as it happens, it's gotten almost...dare I say, normal. Really, I can't count the times I've jumped around to different places and dimensions now. Some are nice, others aren't."

She took a deep breath.

"But no matter what, everything all comes down to one thing: An apartment building. No matter where we are, the Building is with us. We live in it, day-in and day-out, with all the other Residents. People that come from literally any and all walks of life that you could imagine. I, myself, was just a normal girl. I'm not sure if you know what it is, but I was a human before I found myself here. And I have forged friendships that will last all my life. Willow, though, was always a pony. That much I do know. Always wears a sweater of sorts, has black hair and grey skin. As for the others, I'm not sure what they look like. But we can't leave without them, and any of us will tell you that. But, there is still one thing I need to know before we go down there. What happens if Arrow shows up? I've seen the others use magic with their horns, but I don't know how to do that. Should I be expected to fight her or just distract her?"

"Awww, wee geode, I don't think you're going to do either," Arrow teased to herself, but quickly turned to frown as she snatched the clip from the air and pulled a curtain around the cauldron with her teeth. Act fast, act fast.

Arrow couldn't get into the library herself. Aside from the chalk, Clover had an unending arsenal of protection and barrier spells on the place to keep her out, so the archer had been forced to be creative in her ways of trying to counter the apprentice. Grabbing her satchel and pushing the dragonfly pin back into her hair, she winked her way all the way back down the halls until she finally arrived at the little crack in which the spy pin and flown out of, leaning in to listen close.

Clover was trying to teach the lighter-haired stranger how to use telekinesis. Figures. Normally Arrow would be ecstatic to learn of inter-dimensional beings, but she had more important plans to take care of. How was she going to address these strangers? If it was true what she heard from her spy, they couldn't have been very knowledgeable about unicorn culture, which could work to her advantage. Thinking fast, she pulled a parchment and quill out from her satchel, and began to write.


In the library, tid bits and advice about magic continued before a voice was heard by the door.

"Special message!" called a brownish unicorn standing at the door. He'd come without a sound, and had kind of an empty smile.

Clover's ears twisted toward the stallion, turning and looking at him with surprise. "Hello! I didn't hear you coming in."

"Special message!" he said again. A scroll levitated over from him, and Clover caught it with her own magic.

"From whom is it-" she tried to ask, only for him to walk off without so much as a good-bye. She raised an eye but brushed it off, unrolling the scroll and reading it aloud: "My dearest Clover the Clever: The lottery and dinner is over. I have spoken with Razzalia and her companions about the two newcomers they invited to the palace, and wish to speak to them about the scene they caused this evening. Please send over..." She lowered the scroll to look at Brit. "... the one with black hair. Princess Platinum."

Instantly, Clover became on edge. Only Brit? And via a messenger? It wasn't impossible, Platinum was very busy. But still...

[Tiltjuice]

(snip)

(snip)

(snip)

(snip)

"Of course you will," Dora said crisply, having dropped her arms to step in front of Enali. The dark gray fabric of the sports bra (what other color would any self-respecting Conservator, former or not, have worn?) hid everything, and she straightened up, ignoring any further reactions about her appearance.

The other woman in the orange uniform, clearly unnerved, had reared back into the furniture, and now the ex-priestess fell back on what she knew.

"I enjoy my poisons, I must say," she drawled casually as her hand emerged from the armband iPod holster. Not with a music player, but with the enchanted cigarette lighter she never went anywhere without. Flicking it for the cigarette to materialize from thin air, she caught it casually and lit up. "Though mine are a bit less malicious and a lot more relaxing - this, or some alcohol. Perhaps you'd like some, any of you? I would like to stop by my apartment at some point to change, and you could get refreshments there. Not tainted, trust me."

Her gray eyes turned to Astra as she said this. "Volker's a good sort, so are most of the cultists, generally speaking. You'll see as you go along. They've got a bit of a bad name, but that's deceiving. Trust me - my Sister shares rooms with one. But I'm sure you all have questions, old and new alike. And oh please, don't call me madam. I may be old, but I'm going to deny that until I actually look the part."

[Highfort]

The cultist's words gave the robot pause as he processed that, in fact, he may not be in Confederation territory at all. If this was the case, then, logically, he was to obey local laws and determine effective methods at signaling to the Confederation that he was here so that they could reclaim him for future service. More violence would yield him only useless battles and destroyed parts.

A thin, metal gripper emerged from his back as Opa flexed forward and allowed his cream-colored back armor to roll away, revealing some of his oiled, dusty grey inner mechanisms and his two maintenance arms. Rubbing the damaged side of his face with some understanding, he lowered his rifle-wielding arm.

"My apologies. Where exactly. Are we located? Are we not in. Confederation. Space?" he intoned, bowing his head slightly in deference to his miscommunication toward Enali before claiming the clipboard from Volker with one thin set of fingers and picking up a pen with the other. He read over the document, though his mind processed little more than words that said that he had accommodations here for the time being. Who had gone through all the trouble to set this up for him and why was lost on the combat droid, and he clumsily signed the lease with 'OPA 2' written in messy, childish scrawl.

Paperwork had never been his specialty. Gull had always handled that.

Handing the clipboard back to Volker, Opa turned to survey the other apparent newcomers - was this some sort of galactic trade hub, perhaps? - Astra's sudden movements caused him to involuntarily tense-up for battle. Raising his rifle once more, he added, "Please do not. Move quickly. Indications of. Agitation. Or propensity to. Violence. Will be dealt with. Accordingly."

Processor churning away, the robot quickly ascertained that this was what Volker meant by 'annoying the Residents' and lowered the rifle once more, adding, "I apologize. Again."

The arrival of yet another curious individual piqued the droid's interest and he began cataloging the people in the Building for future reference. If this was, in fact, his temporary residence, it would be wise to determine who was who - and, more importantly, who could help him return to Confederation lands.

The speaking redhead was offering a tour.

Given the fact she hadn't yet drawn a weapon and appeared at ease, that meant she was probably his best bet for getting the lay of the land and determining his next course of action. The spontaneous materialization of a cigarette intrigued him - such advanced tech was not normally hoarded by scavengers and lowlives. No, she must be very important to have such an item - especially a trivial one, given that she did not place much importance on its presentation. Perhaps she would indeed have the answers he sought.

"Sister Dora. Was it? I would like to. Accompany you on. This tour. It would be most. Helpful if I. Understand where I," he directed his yellow eye at her while he rolled the words out slowly, his white and blue armored body stepping forward to address her, "Am. Do you by. Any chance. Happen to have. Contact with the. Confederation?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

Anais set two cups down, putting a few loose leaves of tea into them, “Herbal tea,” she explained as she dropped its delicate dried leafs into her cup, “An Elonian variety, though we have a few others if you’d like a sweeter or spicier mix?

Anais' description of the library and its rebuilding renewed Sandy's interest in it, and he studied it again, this time taking note of the building's construction rather than its contents. He started his reply while studying the ceiling. "How Demens manages his tricks is beyond me, but I can say I'm familiar with the poignancy: our apartment is identical to the one we fled in Philadephia a couple of years ago. Whether Demens copied the rooms or read the memories from our minds, he did a good job at it."

Sandy lowered his eyes to Anais as she brought over the tea. "You're being very modest about your library. I own just a single book of thaumaturgical principles, and my own 'library' wouldn't fill a single one of your shelves." He took a sip of his tea, face carefully neutral: he'd never been a tea-drinker, and probably never would be. The drink was neither good nor bad, merely not to his taste. "Thank you. Perhaps you should make my tea the way you like yours, so I can be prepared should you come to visit Amanda and me. I know a spell that lets me conjure any beverage I've tasted; it's very handy."

“And speaking of spells,” Anais pressed on gently as she closed the lid to the herbal tea and looked at Sandy, “would you be comfortable sharing with me what exactly happened in the dining room?”

Anais' unexpected line of inquiry caused Sandy to momentarily freeze, poised to thank her for immediately preceding offers. He nervously examined her face to try to divine her meaning and intent; her phrasing puzzled him. After a long pause to consider what she was driving at -- probably nothing more than trying to draw him out -- he quietly answered, "Perhaps later."

There was another pause, then Sandy returned to what he'd been about to say. "Your offers are very generous, magnanimous even. Again, thank you. I'm not sure how to repay such generosity: most of what remained of my world's magic was lost -- or at least carefully hidden and now misplaced -- centuries ago."

He fell silent, a finger on his lips, thoughtfully looking down at the table. "I can't say I know Dan." Another short silence, as Sandy recalled something from the conversation downstairs. "I'm sure I don't need to warn you about letting us become too familiar with your magic: you seemed concerned enough about Baron Primordial's prying, and that was merely rude of him, not dangerous. Although... he is-- no, the better way to put it is that the gods he worships are not very nice, and even he may fear them. Letting him too get to close could be a disaster. The rest of us... I don't think we would do more than make nuisances of ourselves." He favored Anais with a flash of mischevious smile before returning to a more serious expression.

"This conclave we were discussing does make me think: do we need somebody to coordinate all of us Residents who work magic, as I do for the healers? As I mentioned downstairs, I don't think I know all of us in the Building, and new arrivals seem to be trickling in now that we're here. This world seems to have an abundance of magic, which gives us both opportunities and risks. With a little planning, we may be able to make the most of our opportunities and reduce our risks. But... chosing leaders presents its own difficulties: in such a small community, bruised egos and wounded pride can grow into serious problems."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Amanda arrived home to find Sandy's stick propped up below the coat hooks and a note the the kitchen table reading "gone to dinner: thanksgiving feast in dining room". Thanksgiving? Is today Thanksgiving back in the States? Or is this a local thanksgiving holiday? Hm. Dinner with the other Residents would be relaxing after her long day, but having invited a guest in, she was committed to staying home.

She hung a sign on the outside doorknob reading, "Welcome! Please knock.", and slid a wedge in to prop the door open for Romulus. What next? With a snort, she remembered, and unfastened her shoulder holster to hang on one of the coat hooks. Unsure what the General would drink, she instead set out the last of the homemade cookies and pretzel sticks on the coffee table, then laid out a pair of atlases, one open to a world map, and the other to central Philly.