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

[Giovenith]

Brit and Chrys

"The Somber Caverns," Arrow hissed, eyes running down to the ground. Given that Clover had already explained most of this stuff to the two dimension travelers and they were all unusually aware of the root reasons for their animosity, there wasn't much point in being secretive. "The power is growing, just as I predicted, though I can't tell why..." The pebble turned a few times through the air as Arrow inspected it closer, before tucking it away within her cloak, slamming her hoof against the hall, and running ahead as quickly as she could on only three legs. "It's truly an anomaly, one that I believe could not have solely been a result of the cave-in tragedy, the energy is too flexible and complex to have come from mere painful death. Whatever it is must have existed long before, and we given boost by the tragedy - Clover never thought of that."


The fire would not have hurt Chrys even if it had managed to consume her, it was illusionary after all, but even so, she managed to succeed. It took some sputtering and flickering, but translucent white light was suddenly able to form a spinning dome around the Conservapony, blocking the test flames from touching her. They did, however, continue to grow, and thus begin to consume the field up inside them.

On the other side of the wall, Clover offered no immediate solutions, but instead shouted through the display, "Use your ingenuity, Chrys!" The young magician could teach the traveler plenty of tricks, but the true marker of competence was the ability to combine tools with one's own forward thinking.

[Germanic Templars]

LOBBY
"I'm here to fight! Now who needs t-" Dr. Smith exclaimed in excitement as he rushed down the stairs, only to find that the supposed enemy was in their halls. As guest in that nature.

Queen fucking dammit! He screamed in his mind. he raised his pistol over his head, pointing at the ceiling. His finger was off and away from the trigger and more closer to where the chamber was. A passive sigh let out as he let the magazine slide out of the pistol, hitting the ground in front of him with a solid thud. His left hand cocked the pistol enough so to let the bullet fly out it's chamber to prevent it from causing harm. His once tight grip on his firearm loosened as he let the weapon hit the ground next to the magazine. His hand lowered down to his waist to clasp together with his other hand.

While he unloaded his gun, Smith's sight remained on the ogres while his mind wondered on the situation. What the hell. Enemies now friends. Or what is happening? This is why I hate the past, it is no longer black and white but fifty shades of grey. Then again, maybe they are not bad.. Maybe. Upon removal of the gun, the doctor stood there, looking more like a butler waiting for orders. His eyes changing from yellow to red to blue and every other shade of the spectrum.

[Swith Witherward]

RACHE AND WILLOW

Rache hadn't expected a hug. A real, genuine, heartfelt hug! The pony's cheeks reddened under the grey fuzz. Nopony... er, nobody hugged a daemon! Admittedly, Rache wasn't feeling very daemon-esque, however. He accepted the gesture, even lifting a foreleg to gently hug Pansy in return, before breaking apart at Willow's suggestion to move on.

He fell in step with companions, Pansy between them as they made their way down the street. He kept alert for nosy patrols, as well as kept an ear out for Cloud Duster. Why was the pony flagging behind? The pegasus snorted at the behavior.

"Hey, Cloud Duster, come up here and join us," he offered. "No reason you should be excluded. Maybe you can tell me how that old mare ended up living in an alley?"



BUILDING

"About Neste?" The hand resting in Giovenith's grew clammy. Of course the old cyborg would know everything, but he didn't expect Thaddeus to reveal it. Especially to reveal it without knowing that Marcus had recovered his memories. Or did he know?

Her next words pushed his paranoia aside. Freedom. It came at a terrible price, but Marcus supposed that's what made it so precious. He'd taken it for granted for far too long. Scel's dire warnings about not following his father's footsteps sprung to mind. It was time to change, to remember and to never regret, and to break bad cycles. Marcus smiled as he met the godling's gaze.

"We're free in this life," he squeezed her hand gently, "and we have our whole lives ahead of us. Giovenith, I promise, no matter how rough it gets, I'll stand beside you for as long as you'll let me. We might not know what we want out of life yet. We have a lot of stuff to wade through. But, I think we're gonna be just fine because we have each other."

He sighed and slowly closed his eye. "You should get some rest, beloved. I'll be here when you get back. Not going anywere soo-" Sleep stole his words as it crept over him.



Rodney's expression subtly shifted to offer the cyborg a lazy lion's grin. "Adults should learn their history before they deem who is behaving disgracefully, Septimus Itum. Gather all the tasty facts before making an assessment. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life thinking entire cities spring from wishful thinking... or that ships blow up for no good reason?"

Eternally entertained by hornet nests and sticks, the Nifid snapped off the tether and eased back in his chair.

[The BranRiech]

A Prince named Drova

There was nothing wrong! He didn't have to explain himself to a stranger, especially one he'd never even seen before.

The Prince stood there, his face twitching somewhat as he tried to come up with something to say. He couldn't be an ass about it, or could he? More like, he didn't want to be an ass, considering his image in the eyes of others already felt low enough. Did the others see him as a Prince, a friend, or an asshole? "I-I . . . Ugh. I shouldn't even have to explain myself, but fine." Drova huffed, shaking his head. His usually well-kempt hair rustled, and a few white strands splayed off, a few catching on his wings.

"Have you ever thought you . . . You won't be able to do something you have to do, and there's no backing out of it?"

The boy was of course referring to his future, as the king of his people, the highest-ranking member of his entire species. He was literally slated to go down in the history books for simply being born. His name would be used to name new streets, buildings, and heck, probably more than one or two children.

And he couldn't do it.

"It's a long story, unless you have time of course, I don't want to bother anyone with it, most of my friends probably already hate me for it anyways." He rolled his eyes. The Prince knew it was a lie, but saying it felt . . . Empowering? Most people, when they met him at least, saw right through his name and to that dreaded word: "Prince", without knowing the pressure and the life-altering implications it had.

[New Aksarben]

==//\\==

Fae and pony came into the hospital, with Dora, Sand and another there. He looked vaguely familiar, perhaps the one that passed him with the barest of touch and moved along the previous night. The night was tiresome, having spent most of his time lending his healing to triage first, and frightened children second. But in that moment, the fatigue he felt had washed away, replaced with vitality. Dan didn't understand where the sudden replacement of life had come, though he wished to thank him for it, the man had already moved on.

Looking at the three, the fae smiled, albeit a bit shy given he wasn't with the usual company, "Evening, everyone. I'm with the healer's group, Anais and Alexia mentioned this was the hospital level, and well, I'm here to help. Sterling here has volunteered to assist, as well."

The summer fae noted Sandy and extended his hand in greeting, "You must be Sandy. I saw you in the dining room, I've never formally introduced myself. Good to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

The pony trotted after the Fae, smiling now that they'd dismounted from that terrible contraption that they called an elevator. It was just too creepy! "Hey Sandy! Good to see you again, we didn't get to talk too much earlier. And yeah, like Dan says, I'm here to help you guys out! Not much of a fighter anyway."

The pony glanced over at the other people in the room, wondering who the rest were. Well, who the other two were. He picked up one of his hooves and gave them a polite wave, smiling at them. "Nice to meet you all! I'm Sterling Venture, a Unicorn from Equestria. What are your guys' names?" The pony inquired, glancing around the room while wondering just what was in the area. It was obviously a hospital, to say the least. His tail flicked behind him, more by equine instinct than emotion, the golden tail brushing against his flank briefly before going back to rest. A tiny bit of his magic flared up as he adjusted his glasses, making sure they were properly perched on his snout.

[Primordial Luxa]

Primordial with the Ogres

Primordial took his seat next to Amanda smiling casually, he seemed to occasionally give an odd glance at how the Ogre’s made themselves so at home but he didn't speak about it or acknowledge it much more than that. He gave the cluster of wine bottles he had brought down earlier a glance and ran his tongue across his teeth without opening his lips, before quickly looking back at the only other creatures in the room who probably had the stomach to withstand the beverages. To the Ogres he merely gave a very practiced but sympathetic look that reached every part of his face except his eyes, one he used frequently with strangers but rarely with friends. His unnaturally pale face seemed expertly crafted for creating complex emotions with just subtle muscle movements and tricks of the light.

"Your castle has caused trouble," the former began without preamble. "For two lifespans, the Dragon-Litch has called the Ruins home. It's pissed off. Now it's attacking us. It is only fair that you settle the matter." His eyes scanned the room again, taking each Resident into account. "You lot seem capable of it. This is the Way of the Wold. Set right what you have caused to go wrong."

“Our condolences.” The Baron said, his second thought jumping to his lips “We want you to understand that our arrival here was slightly chaotic. Our buildings initial interactions with our surroundings produced results beyond our control but which we want to take responsible for them as best we can.” He spoke like he did when representing his country, find that spot where what your bosses would most likely say and what the people across from you wanted to hear overlapped. Then sprinkle some ambiguity over it so as not to implicate anyone or thing until you knew the exact details.

He took a quick look around the table and then also to any of the residents who had managed to loiter around and looked for signs of approval or disapproval from the crowd. His own expression was that of sympathy but also inquisitive and it was now that he was able to get to the first thought that had entered his mind one which peaked his curiosity supremely. “If you don’t mind me asking, could you elaborate on the nature of this Dragon-litch? I personally have met a handful of impressive draconic creatures and come from a place where liches are commonplace and non-aggressive but I believe we would be curious to know exactly what has befallen you.”

It could be seen in his eyes that this was the real question that interested Primordial and that he would act in any capacity or for any flag if he was able to gain insight into this creature which the ogres had hinted at. But this was also a gambit to buy time for some of the other residents who seemed to have an internal conversation of minds or wills. His body language showed his ignorance of their exact conversation but he figured he could give them some extra time to get their thoughts together while he stalled his guests with conversation about their plight.

[Tiltjuice]

Tranquility in a way far less restrictive than what she'd been used to. It soothed, quietly. Ogoti, Dan and Sandy were familiar to her, but Sterling less so. The brief flash of light was rather curious, but Dora didn't stare.

"Call me Dora, please. An old acquaintance of Dan's, somewhat." She smiled casually, inclining her head to acknowledge the interlude with Ogoti's reply. "And more or less a nurse, I suppose. How about you? And hello, Sandy."

[Germanic Templars]

A Prince named Drova

There was nothing wrong! He didn't have to explain himself to a stranger, especially one he'd never even seen before.

The Prince stood there, his face twitching somewhat as he tried to come up with something to say. He couldn't be an ass about it, or could he? More like, he didn't want to be an ass, considering his image in the eyes of others already felt low enough. Did the others see him as a Prince, a friend, or an asshole? "I-I . . . Ugh. I shouldn't even have to explain myself, but fine." Drova huffed, shaking his head. His usually well-kempt hair rustled, and a few white strands splayed off, a few catching on his wings.

"Have you ever thought you . . . You won't be able to do something you have to do, and there's no backing out of it?"

The boy was of course referring to his future, as the king of his people, the highest-ranking member of his entire species. He was literally slated to go down in the history books for simply being born. His name would be used to name new streets, buildings, and heck, probably more than one or two children.

And he couldn't do it.

"It's a long story, unless you have time of course, I don't want to bother anyone with it, most of my friends probably already hate me for it anyways." He rolled his eyes. The Prince knew it was a lie, but saying it felt . . . Empowering? Most people, when they met him at least, saw right through his name and to that dreaded word: "Prince", without knowing the pressure and the life-altering implications it had.

Thriller took a few steps forward closer to him. His arms relaxed to his side, except for whose hand rested on the prince's shoulder. His gaze wasn't so intimidating or inquisitive, but rather calm. He sighed passively, "I have ran into that scenario one too many times. It is like staring at a train coming at you. You can't jump off to the sides, you're in a tunnel. Can't run from it because it will catch up to you. The best you can do is either stand your ground or charge it head on; meet it in the middle. Do most of the outcomes end with a happy ending? No. Sometimes lives are destroyed and it hurts, not for those lives ruined but for me as well. Best you can do then is learn from it and try to heal and mend the wounds of others."

Thriller's hand retreated from Drova's shoulder back into his pant pocket. "As for those who try to hurt you either physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally - shake them off. They mean nothing to you if they intentionally try to hurt you." Thriller's ramble went on for a little longer before the emperor caught himself. "Oh, sorry for that. I doubt you wanted to hear me ramble on. You need help. I can provide that free of charge."

[Giovenith]

Rache and Willow

"I don't know," Cloud Duster answered with casual dismissiveness. "I guess she just didn't want to be a member of society anymore."

There was a variety of ways that statement could have been interpreted. Willow decided to play on the safe side and assume Duster probably didn't really know for certain Valoria's full story. "She wasn't thrown out?"

"Not that I know of."

"You seem like you know her, or, she knows you."

"Old friend of my late mother."

Pansy rubbed the frozen tear buds from her eyelashes with her wing. "Couldn't you allow her to stay with you then?"

"I don't know if you noticed Pansy, but she'd rather shove a full pine branch up her bum before staying anywhere near me," Cloud Duster pulled a small hunk of dried sap from one of his storage pouches and bit a piece off, slowly chewing into it like hard gum.

Willow frowned at this. "But if she was friends with your mom...?"

"My mother and I didn't really get along."

"Why?"

"Why don't you tell me something about your family?" Duster deflected. "You're the one of a kind explorer clan."


Building

Beloved...

The godling smiled and gently ran a finger across Marcus' cheek. Yes, forever.

She couldn't help but dwell back on old stories of loves like her's; it was the majority of what she went on in life, after all. When you picked up a book of tales and read about when a goddess or other great woman of magic found love with a human man, it was never designed to be particularly satisfying. There was always a twist. Either she was fickle and abandoned him, or underestimated her presence and saw him go by too quickly, or he was too admirably humble to want someone as high tier as her, or worse yet, she didn't want to be there and the whole thing was little more than a successful quest on his part. They were not like any of those things. It was as Willow told her many times, her life as a god did not have to adhere to anyone's rules or stories but her own - this life belonged to the two of them.

She lingered just a while more to lay her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It could have disappeared today, but it hadn't. It was there, steady and sweet, ready to follow her own where ever the wind may take them.

She hadn't expected Miss Neste, but then she did not feel too much shock over it either. Giovenith barely knew the construct, only that she lived here and she was very powerful. It might make sense that she would come here then, to see her baby again. Right?

Giovenith soon pulled herself from her seat, made sure to tuck her boyfriend in a little tighter, and then set off in search of Adrastus and Thaddeus.

[Cerillium]

LOBBY

Ogres had exceptional hearing, though not as keen as Rodney's and, although they didn't catch all the words, the gist of the whispered conversation between Representative and woman didn't go unnoticed. It was the Baron that eased Möf Knednar's rising disappointment.

"Hne," the Möf grunted at Primordial. It was somewhat a relief to know the Ruinscrashers weren't shirking responsibility. "Chaotic arrivals and gruff interactions aren't our concern, though you have my sympathies for the rough go. The Law of the Wold is specific-"

"Tea?" Volker set cups at the elbows of guests and representatives alike before retreating to the safety of the desk.

"-thank you. The Law of the Wold is specific in these matters. Intentional or not, your arrival displaced the dragon-litch. By Demens, you must get rid of the creature before it does more damage, or you'll find yourself dragged into the Wold Court for reparations to all those affected. That's how it is here," the Möf finished. He fetched his cup and sniffed at the contents before taking a small sip. The shaman took this as a cue.

"Dragon-litch are nasty business," the shaman began, bristly chin whiskers puckering as he attempted to present a tidy exposition. "Most dragons are polite enough but, as with all creatures, some are nice and some are nasty. Varg, the dragon-litch you displaced, was a bastard: cruel, greedy, sadistic. Even his own kind despised him. He was defeated a thousand years ago by the Wold's inhabitants. Here. In this very place. The castle fell when he body crashed on top of it, to give you an idea of his size. Yet he was too sadistic to die. His spirit remained in his corpse. The Woldkin battled him a fortnight until he was contained inside the Ruins, and then they put a great many enchantments on this place to keep him contained. Your castle shattered all those enchantments. Now he is free to terrorize the world once more."

"The world," Möf Knednar interrupted. "Not just the Wold. Woldkin do not want the world poking its nose in here. Let's not give Ascalon any excuses to hunt down nonhumans."

The shaman nodded. "They have a bad habit of doing that. I digress. Varg is free to terrorize everything. You set him free, you deal with him. He escaped, he knows his punishment is death. That's the Law. And don't think you can ignore this. He might return here of his own accord just to make certain the spot is destroyed lest he be imprisoned here again."

"The mayor tells me you are a potent people," the Möf turned cool eyes on Septimus. "You destroyed an entire Fiend wave. The plants sprung up at your command, and fire sprang from your people's hands, and magical ships sailed in the night to bring people to safety. The mortally wounded were restored to full health. You have the audacity to make music on the Fey Dome while stealing their magical sheep from under their very noses. Killing Varg won't be much of a trial. -- Unless, of course, all those feats are lies, and you're nothing but squatters pretending to be intelligent and gifted people. The rest of the Wold would like to give you the benefit of the doubt, however."

[Fvaarniimar]

Rmwtyliin squeaked.  "What is happening?!  What -"  Taking a deep breath, she glanced around.  It feels like I am overlooking something important.  I should be more scared by this.  I mainly feel surprised, puzzled...  There were a few reasons for this; some part of her subconscious had recalled that the building was different to different people, for one.  Spirits, is this your guidance?  ...Or perhaps I am accustomed to strange things here.  As modern technology was commonplace and scarcely distinguishable from magic, 'strange things' had certainly become her norm.   Why, she stood with a person with the ability to mend wounds far faster than she had once believed possible.  A person to whom she really needed to respond. Oops. 

Unsurprisingly, the name wasn't pronounced correctly, although Rmwtyliin appreciated the healer's effort. "It is also pleasant meeting you, Ahllegzksia -" dung, I got her name wrong - "And I understand.  However, I thought we were to sort the wounded here?"  Nevertheless, Rmwtyliin did not feel that she had any authority in this area; she followed where Alexia was gesturing, hoping that she would see fit to explain.

"The lobby is a high traffic area," Alexia explained, recalling the previous night.  Through the chaos, there was barely a semblance of coordination.  Entering the library, the monk further continued, "While it would be easier to treat them at the lobby and move them here, it's best we were out of the way entirely.  Besides," the monk smiled, "I don't want our guests agitated at the sight of us mulling about in preparation for something that may not happen.  It'll give the wrong impression."

The girl nodded.  "That is not what we want.  What can we do here to prepare?"  Even as she said it, a possibility occurred to her.  "Maybe we could get some bandages.  Some wounds might need immediate care. Also, thanks again, Duncan."
[OOC: Alexia appears courtesy of the Civet Actors Guild.]

--

Nick, who had finished grooming, noticed that his door was ajar.  (That this was not cause for concern said something about Nick's trust in his neighbors - although a cynical person might instead correctly conclude that few of the cat's possessions held much non-sentimental value.)  So that's why I heard the yelling...  While a completely soundproofed apartment was not at all ideal for Nick, most sounds were muted enough to easily sleep through, and he'd been in the brick wall.  His plodding towards the elevator was punctuated by pitiful moans.  "MwaOWoo..." Why is there a sign?

...Oh.  Good!  We can get around without issues.  Is this an emergency yet?  They did yell "Alarm!"  Is the intercom broken or just for really big problems? If so do [i]I count as a healer?[/i]  He padded over to the nearest window.  Still no fighting, I think. The problem is fighting those people? There's a lot of them.  Would it have been announced if the fight started?  Eight stories up, it was difficult to gauge size, particularly as the delegation was too close to the Building to see.

Nothing yet - ARE THEY MOVING TOWARDS US?! "Meoow!" Frantically, he ran for the nonlabeled elevator, pressing the button until it arrived - roughly concurrently with a jolt of shock/fear. Uh-oh. Fighting in two minutes? The terror which followed wasn't exactly reassuring, either.

---

Normally a stop on the second floor would involve the kitchen, but the cat's stomach still rumbled ominously. Making a face, he passed it by, glancing around the hall with more moan-y meowing. I guess it's on the first floor today...

I'll take the stairs. Less walking. A few steps from the bottom, it occurred to him that he could have slid down the banister. Rats. What's that sm - "Mrow!" Are those ogres? They look... Well, they looked tough and ogreish, but neither their garments nor their manners were as rough or absent as most stories depicted. Maybe they don't mean us harm? Hey, what happened to the lobby?!

...Actually, these pillars are really cool. In fact Nick found that he'd like them to stick around after the ogres left. I think they're probably here for the ogres' benefit? If so "You guys have good taste -" shit! He fled for the comparative safety of the library. Not betting they know that expression! Really hope they don't think I'm offering a taste of myself - here it...This isn't a hospital.

Unable to peer through the normally-perceived-as-glass door, Nick had flopped onto his side (with a groan) and adjusted his head until one eye had a decent view through the crack. (Alexia might spot a dark brown paw snaking under, as he was using it for a little extra leverage; Rmwtyliin, who was thanking Duncan and then glancing around as her words were translated, did not.) Those are Residents, but I see no equipment - too small - I don't remember anyone in here helping...  Didn't Sandy or someone mention an actual hospital?  Presumably it was close enough so that wounded could be transported. Now if only he could remember the floor!  Scooting backwards, the cat rolled onto his feet, sneaking around the perimeter towards the elevator - eyes widening as he heard the ogre's speech.

[Northwest Slobovia]

The two ogres reluctantly unbuckled sword belts to leave their weapons on the door stoop, which was the polite way of doing things in the Wold. These were joined by an axe and a club.

Amanda was relieved that the ogres accepted her offer, though she tried to maintain a polite, diplomatic expression. Despite the Residents' advantages in numbers, firepower, and magic, battle was a not something she wished for. In fact, she'd like nothing more than a quiet evening.

Relief turned to understanding when their guests took off their weapons, although she was intrigued that they left them just outside the door, rather than just inside as she was used to. She'd have to remember that, and remember to tell Sandy. Amanda considered the wisdom of being in Rome, but decided that since the Building was her home, she'd leave her gun where she thought belonged, and slipped out of her shoulder rig just inside the door, leaving her holstered pistol on the nearest table.

The subject of Rome returned to her mind as she turned around and saw the changed lobby. How odd? Why not just let the ogres see what they wanted? Hmm...

Ushering Amanda inside following the Möf and the Shaman, Septimus' hoarse voice whispered in her ear to the best of his ability, "If they have forces outside our immediate vicinity, we might do well to acquire them as allies. Ascalon is not the friendliest of places, and these warriors might help us tip the scales if the Council decides it's not in their best interest to leave us alone." [...]

"The Dragon-Litch might be the bargaining chip we need," he whispered to her, eyeing the ogres warily though offering a pleasant, diplomatic smile, "If we can get a promise for some sort of treaty in exchange for dealing with it, we'll be in good shape."

Amanda merely nodded at Septimus' point about an alliance, though it seemed premature. They had much to learn about their neighbors before committing to any political arrangements. She started to shake her head and reply to his other point, but was cut off by a chorus in her head. She misstepped, and had Septimus not been at her elbow, she might have stumbled or even fallen.

Once she realized it was Rodney speaking over a telepathic connection, she was fascinated and then annoyed. The started a response with Thank you, Ambassador Obvious but was cut off by the sudden loss of contact. Oooh! That man! If he'd only mentioned before he was a telepath, so much of the nonsense in Ascalon could have been avoided.

[...]“If you don’t mind me asking, could you elaborate on the nature of this Dragon-litch? I personally have met a handful of impressive draconic creatures and come from a place where liches are commonplace and non-aggressive but I believe we would be curious to know exactly what has befallen you.” […] It could be seen in his eyes that this was the real question that interested Primordial and that he would act in any capacity or for any flag if he was able to gain insight into this creature which the ogres had hinted at.

“The Law of the Wold is specific in these matters. Intentional or not, your arrival displaced the dragon-litch. By Demens, you must get rid of the creature before it does more damage, or you'll find yourself dragged into the Wold Court for reparations to all those affected. That's how it is here," the Möf finished. He fetched his cup and sniffed at the contents before taking a small sip. The shaman took this as a cue.

Amanda nodded energetically as Primordial spoke but waited until the chieftain and shaman had finished their pieces before saying anything. “Baron Primordial is correct: our laws are similar in this regard. We will take care of Varg at our own expense. And we will have to learn about the Law of the Wold as well, so we don't accidentally transgress it. The study and practice of law is my profession, so it will likely fall to me or my fellow lawyer to learn the Law of the Wold.” Amanda idly wondered in how many jurisdictions and how many worlds she'd have to learn law.

Amanda brightened as she remembered something. “I should introduce us. This is Baron Primordial of Luxa, a man knowledgeable in magic, the supernatural, and the esoteric. Behind him is Anais, one of our healers, and behind me is Representative Septimus Itum.”

After a short pause to let the ogres associate names with faces, Amanda returned to previous topic. “We'll have to learn what we can about Varg, and how he was defeated and imprisoned here. If this isn't the time or the place, we'll do so as soon as we can. Beyond examining the ruins themselves for traces of enchantment, with whom or where would you recommend we start?”

“Oh, and as to our reputation...” Amanda tried to suppress a grin, but didn't quite succeed: she had a good idea who the audacious one was. “Why would Mayor Mercer lie about us? She has no reason to. If you'd rather not wait for us to confirm our abilities by deed, I expect you'll be able to speak to some of those who helped the villagers catch sheep. They are here, and I believe one or two of them will come down to the lobby soon, if they're not already here.”

[The BranRiech]

Thriller took a few steps forward closer to him. His arms relaxed to his side, except for whose hand rested on the prince's shoulder. His gaze wasn't so intimidating or inquisitive, but rather calm. He sighed passively, "I have ran into that scenario one too many times. It is like staring at a train coming at you. You can't jump off to the sides, you're in a tunnel. Can't run from it because it will catch up to you. The best you can do is either stand your ground or charge it head on; meet it in the middle. Do most of the outcomes end with a happy ending? No. Sometimes lives are destroyed and it hurts, not for those lives ruined but for me as well. Best you can do then is learn from it and try to heal and mend the wounds of others."

Thriller's hand retreated from Drova's shoulder back into his pant pocket. "As for those who try to hurt you either physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally - shake them off. They mean nothing to you if they intentionally try to hurt you." Thriller's ramble went on for a little longer before the emperor caught himself. "Oh, sorry for that. I doubt you wanted to hear me ramble on. You need help. I can provide that free of charge."

A perturbed Prince

Drova looked at the trajectory of Thriller's hand, and winced as it rested on the boy's shoulder. It had officially gone from awkward, to well, even more awkward as Drova backed up a step or two. "Uh, well . . . That all makes sense and all, but, I'm a prince, I don't think you understand what that's like." He shrugged as the older (By quite a long time) man released the Prince. "I'm going to be a king some day, and I don't think I can do it." His eyes drooped somewhat. Why was he pouring himself out to some random guy he just met, having burst in to find the source of the noise. He was completely oblivious to the Ogres downstairs, and the entire diplomatic meeting was lost to him.

"And uh, I really don't think you can help, as I said, you probably don't get it."

It was probably the largest irony, that Drova happened to be pouring himself out to the leader of an intergalactic empire, something Drova couldn't even begin to comprehend. If one told him that there was a nation that spanned multiple planets, he would have scoffed, and called it a fantasy.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Others began to arrive, much to Ogoti's pleasure. "We should set up a system. There are treatment bays designed for magic users and spell casters, and ones designed for standard medicine. We have two operatories on standby as well. And, should the need arise, I might scare up an extra nurse or two. Daemons, of course, but every one of them just as competent as Nurse Malaise."

Sandy accepted the information with a nod. "I'll see who I can round up; we're still without electronic communications. If need be, I'll ask Anais to come up here. I expect that if something unfortune happens in negotiations, she'll retreat to the Building under covering fire and spells. Not that I think that will happen: the ogres seemed interested in talking, and I can't imagine fighting will break out while their negotiators are so exposed. I think it's more likely they'd go off in a huff, discuss their chances, and then decide on offering battle or not, and if so, now or later."

The summer fae noted Sandy and extended his hand in greeting, "You must be Sandy. I saw you in the dining room, I've never formally introduced myself. Good to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

The pony trotted after the Fae, smiling now that they'd dismounted from that terrible contraption that they called an elevator. It was just too creepy! "Hey Sandy! Good to see you again, we didn't get to talk too much earlier. And yeah, like Dan says, I'm here to help you guys out! Not much of a fighter anyway."

Sandy turned towards the pony and the fae as they greeted him, smiling at Sterling's cheerfulness. He took the hint in Sterling's comment as to the fae's name. "Good to meet you, Dan."

Sandy took a step back, and then spoke to the whole group. "I need to run up to my apartment to get some alchemetical cures Amanda and I made last night, pop back in for a moment, and then take a diagnostic instrument downstairs to help with triage. I expect to be back shortly. If the two of you" -- he meant Dan and Sterling -- "could explain to Ogoti what you're good at, he'll help you get oriented. Um, if you would, Ogoti? Otherwise, I'll be back to help get organized. Sorry, I really need an assistant." Sandy gave them a helpless smile; he wouldn't have an assistant until after the healers met next, and that would be after they had comms again.

Sandy didn't wait for discussion, and took the stairs up a flight, fetched all his spare cures, and returned. He dropped off all the Ox Blood and two doses of the Balm of Gilead, explaining to those present what each was best suited for.

Searching the cabinets, Sandy came up with something that looked suspiciously like a tricorder, though it had a much better graphical user interface. He made a hurried goodbye, and took the medical-use elevator down to the lobby.

[The BranRiech]

Bran took up a comfortable position, leaning up against one of the nearby walls, perfectly within earshot of the debate that seemed to be unfolding. Well, it was less of a debate, and more of one side stating some grievances. But why were they agreeing to defeat the . . . Dragon Lich, or whatever they were talking about? Was it the resident's problem that they were rudely sucked away from their original home, and dropped into a strange new world? Bran didn't think so, and a slight scowl was plastered onto his face, that had seen a range of nearly every emotion over the years.

Still though, the fact that they were talking it through, and not fighting over it was reason enough to be happy, and the conscript uttered a sigh of relief. His rifle was still at his back, though as the meeting went on, and he was comfortable sure he wouldn't need it, the man took it down from his back.

It too, was soon leaned casually up against the wall, still loaded, but locked in safety position, and not in Bran's tensed arms.

"Too much, why are we even here? What did we ever do?"

He whispered to himself. Of course, the apartment-dwellers had done much to draw the ire of . . . Well, nearly everyone, but what could have caused the entire building to tumble through space, to end up crashed on top of some old ruins?

And even moreso, what was the city that lay far beyond? He knew a group went, and returned, but what was the city like, even? So much, for Bran at least, remained unanswered.

[Tiltjuice]

Brit and Chrys

The fire would not have hurt Chrys even if it had managed to consume her, it was illusionary after all, but even so, she managed to succeed. It took some sputtering and flickering, but translucent white light was suddenly able to form a spinning dome around the Conservapony, blocking the test flames from touching her. They did, however, continue to grow, and thus begin to consume the field up inside them.

On the other side of the wall, Clover offered no immediate solutions, but instead shouted through the display, "Use your ingenuity, Chrys!" The young magician could teach the traveler plenty of tricks, but the true marker of competence was the ability to combine tools with one's own forward thinking.

Ingenuity? What was ingenuity? Luce was the clever one, not her. The best and brightest. Where was he now? And Dia. Her wings folded up, drooping slightly.

The same voice from before spoke again. Hèn oîda hóti oudèn oîda, Chrysanthe, and she stopped for a moment to think about what the old lanista, so far removed from when and where she was, now tried to tell her. Hopping from place to place to dodge the flame as it began to eate through the field, the Conservapony suddenly stopped dead.

Wings! I have wings! Go back to the beginning of what you know as if you were a child - because that's what you are here, Chrys!

Her spirits soared nearly as fast as she herself did, and she had to stop herself at the last minute from crashing into the bottom of the dome's curve, banking hard to the left. As the last of the walls faded, she beamed at Clover.

"How did I do?" she chimed as she landed next to her friend.

[New Aksarben]

Lobby

Maghrl was listening to all the conversation, and one thing intrigued him. What exactly was a Dragon? He had heard stories of the Krayt dragons of Tatooine, maybe they were of a similar caliber? Large, aggressive, and reptilian. Like a moving Sarlaac in aggression and desire to eat all other life. Thoroughly unpleasant creatures. Hopefully this one, which sounded undead no less, wouldn't prove as troublesome to kill as one of those massive cave dwellers.

But the Squib kept focusing on the emotional states around the room. If anyone got too heated it might prove disastrous, though it did seem like everyone was relaxed. Maghrl did feel a lot of confusion and introspective feelings coming from one of the humans near him, at least on the surface. With a twitch of an ear and Opening one large blue eye, the alien looked up towards the dark-haired human. It wasn't hard for the Squib's ears to pick up what he had whispered, but he didn't exactly seem like he wanted to speak.

Wouldn't hurt to try. Might even make a new friend in this strange place!

"Hilo, New one to Maghrl. Strange-Interesting day, yes yes? Human been in place-here longtimewise?"

The squib kept his tone down, and kept an ear toned on the deliberations with the ogres.

[Mincaldenteans]

"I do not think the Mof underestimates our capabilities," Anais spoke up at last. She had mulled over the chieftain's words, and the shaman's, and all she had were misgivings layered on top of the shared desire to set things right. The task was daunting given the brief description told by the shaman. She continued, "But that was in a heat of one battle. We may have powerful people among us, but you said a fortnight, a protracted battle to lay the beast down enough to imprison him behind layers of enchantments."

The ritualist shook her head in awe of the power needed to fight, let alone enough power to contain the beast. And now the Mof spoke of death upon the escaped dragon. "In my world, there have been records of imprisoned beings, but such feats required the sustained power of beings resembling that of gods. One night's battle does not reflect one's infinite power."

She took a breath and looked at the chieftain, "Mof, you said it took the inhabitants of the Woldkin to contain the dragon? We are but a few. Your people, the burrows, and the Fey in counting, who others were involved? How was it done to keep the battle sustained and imprisoned the dragon so? And is the creature affected by other weaponry? Are there any available records about this dragon lich and of that fateful day?"

[Giovenith]

Brit and Chrys

"Good!" Clover grinned, and with a flick of her chin caused the illusionary flames to disperse. "You've got the instincts clearly, but..." The apprentice tilted her head to the side, bending low to examine the Conservator. "Tell me, why on earth do you have wings?"

Ever pragmatic, Clover's immediate concern was how to hide this. Unknown to either of the mares, but they were actually very lucky in their circumstances, that Clover didn't know (yet) what alicorns were and saw Chrys' unique shape as little more than a possible mutation-type condition effected by the strange ins-and-outs of dimensional travel. Simple enough to correct, just put up a simple glamour and none would suspect.

"Mirare is very powerful," Clover explained, urging her friend to come along as they made their way back the way they came. "And it's full abilities are not known to any of us, they were really only known to Argenta, and she never passed them on to anypony. As far as I know, Mirare is a stable creation, but you should still try to be cautious when tapping in to it's magical potential. Because you are compatible I trust you to be able to work it for the most part, but you're still a newbie to unicorn magic."


Yuna and Aegis

"Ahuh!" Moolisa huffed in disbelief, glaring after Aegis and Yuna as she held her jar close. "The indignation!"

With all that finished, finally it was time to get down to business. The citizens of Groundtown who had decided to attend the meeting were all hearded in and took various seats, most gathering on benches laid on the ground but many also flocking upstairs to the overlooking balconies up above. Smart Cookie had found her charges easily and secured them seats up in front of row on the ground, in front of which several crates had been dragged in together to form a stage for the Chancellor and her secretary to stand upon, and a podium for Puddinghead to address the crowd from. Doors were closed to keep what little warmth there was inside, with a few ponies hanging back to make sure to allow in any tardies.

Up on stage, Smart Cookie brought forward a box for the Chancellor, which contained a gavel and a heavy stick covered in carvings, beads, and feathers. Briefly, their gazes met.

Things weren't always quite what you dreamed, especially not in the world of leadership. Oh, to be newly elected again, full of ideals, hope, and confidence, wide eyes and big dreams. Puddinghead and Cookie made a lot of promises back in those days, but all of that had to be pushed to the side as they dealt with the more pressing, immediate matter of cold and famine. When you were responsible for the entire community you had to put the necessities before your vision, and often those necessities could get so desperate that they consumed your entire career before you got any chance to do anything ambitious. C'est la vie. But nonetheless, some ambitions once begun were not as easily put on hold....

"You're going to keep your word?" Smart Cookie asked low but insistently, narrowing her brow. "Please."

The Chancellor folded her ears and picked up the gavel in her teeth with a slight sadness. "I have to do what I can for us."

Hurt but accepting, Smart Cookie took the box off and took her seat near the back of the stage while the Chancellor proceeded to silence the gathering by loudly banging her gavel on the podium.

"Hear ye, hear ye," Chancellor Puddinghead called, her voice echoing off the walls and balconies. "Order now! I hearby call this meeting to order. Thank you all for coming."

"What is this for, Chancellor!" somepony in the crowd called.

"Yea, this is the third meeting you called in the fortnight! You gonna say something new, or you just gonna shovel the obvious again?"

The crowd stirred in volume again with agreement and frustration, but was quickly quelled by a waving of the Chancellor's pink forearms. "In dire times such as these, it is important for us all to stay consistently on the same track and to give as much opportunity as possible for new ideas to come to the foreground. Communication is key. As well as reminders about things that are already established..."

This caused murmurs, coughs, as well as confusion, concern, and glaring all tossed about in the crowd. While Aegis and Yuna had been brought in by a rather one-minded crowd, the Earth pony tribe itself was still made up of widely varying individuals. This wasn't as simple as what Smart Cookie had done to save the travelers with the mob, this was a serious and complex matter. Gesturing Smart Cookie to come back over, Chancellor Puddinghead removed the crafty stick from the box and held it above her head to show the crowd.

"You all know the rules of the talking stick," she explained loudly. "To prevent confusion and make sure everypony gets a chance to share their thoughts uninhibited, only the pony holding the talking stick gets to speak and everypony else must listen. As the Chancellor, I am the steward for the talking stick, and make sure that it's purpose works without complication. WHO WANTS IT?!!!"

"I do!" somepony called.

The Chancellor chucked the stick roughly in the direction of the call.

"Ow!" The citizen rubbed the spot on his face where the stick collided, but recovered and stood up with the stick, all eyes on him. He blushed and waved at the attention, then cleared his throat and spoke. "Okay, well, um, so, I think... like, I think, that maybe, we could like, okay, I think... look, listen, hear me out, I just think that maybe we could consider doing what I think, and I think that maybe..."

"GET ON WITH IT!" somepony screamed, only to subsequently be slapped for violating the rules of the talking stick. "Ow!"

"Keep your hooves to yourselves!" Smart Cookie snapped from the stage.

Feeling more anxious, the pony with the stick stumbled to get his thoughts out. "Can we please, please, please quit giving our food to the pegasi and unicorns? I don't understand why we are. I mean if they caused this, and we haven't got enough for ourselves, why?"

The Chancellor held up a hoof. "As I have repeated many times already, there is absolutely no confirmation whatsoever that either of the other tribes are responsible for the winter. These are rumors and speculations at best. As far as we know, they are just as much as victims as we are in this."

Somepony sitting next to the stick-wielder snatched the wood piece from him to speak her mind. "That's a complete load of manure, Chancellor! Ya keep saying that, 'Oh, oh we don't know they didn't do it, they could be innocent...' Manure! You expect us to believe that the ponies who have always controlled the weather before just so happen to not have a single hoof in this when it all goes wrong? And the witches! Well they're the damn witches! I don't put them above nothing!"

"You're letting your anger get the best of ya!" yet another citizen declared, snatching the stick from themselves. "Hot tempers'll get us killed, you realize that? Take away the birds and the witches' food... what do you think that'll make them do? Huh? You think they'll tolerate that? War. War! They'll plow us down with lightning and curses! And then there'll be more dead children than there already are."

"So you want us to be cowards and starve instead?!" the second pony tried to pull back the stick, and soon a struggle ensued.

Over the bickering, the wind's howling outside seemed to pick up.

[Chedastan]

Romulus listened closely to the talks that were being discussed in the lobby. Apparently the building is being already handed a quest of sorts, courtesy of their ogre guests. Straight to the point then, huh? He couldn't help but feel a little skeptical of what they were forcing on them, at least so soon. This dragon-litch sounded like a big deal to entrust to strangers that could easily botch it up and somehow make the whole situation worse, if Ascalon from earlier today wasn't already an indication of how badly they could screw up simple procedures already. Maybe the ogres were really that desperate, or maybe reluctant to deal with this Varg? He thought about it some more, as questions were being shot around by the other residents. And whilst doing that, he went to the back of the lobby, stepped out his suit of power armor to reveal his nice dress uniform underneath, and to show as any further reinforcement that he just wanted to talk, then made through the residents again to get to the front where the ogres are.

He definitely did see the potential opportunity being given here, no doubt about that. They had to build relations up, and deal with any threats that appeared, it was too sensible not to take. He realized through the barrage of questions that no one asked where this Varg was exactly. That seemed like something very important to know, he spoke up after the last resident went. "If I may add, do you know where Varg's spirit escaped to after the enchantments were broken? Did he have a place he liked to frequent? A place that'll be his first target?" He asked the ogre chieftain.

[The BranRiech]

Yuna-t a peacemaker

Yuna sighed.

The grievances were valid ones, yes. From all she could glean, and everything she'd been told, the Unicorns and the Pegasi were the ones controlling the weather. If they were all in the middle of some horrifyingly depressing winter, then Yuna did see it was valid to shift at least some of the blame onto them. Who would simply stop allowing the weather to be . . . Well, normal? Why would someone muck up what seemed to be a good relationship?

Her eyes narrowed at the mention of someone who still blamed Aegis and her for . . . Something at least.

But her narrowed eyes were narrowed for another reason, and not that they were too big and cute to begin with. What if the Unicorns and Pegasi actually didn't even control the weather? She looked up the the Chancellor with a face that begged to be given a turn to speak, though fearing the same punishment as the Pony that spoke out of turn, she kept quiet for the moment.

Her head did turn though, as a scuffle broke out over who had speaking-rights.

Didn't she once hear Drova say something that the Royal Council was much the same way? Something she attributed to the lower levels of society, the peasants she was forced to interact with in Groundtown, was still the same at the highest levels of it? Yuna held no ill-will to any members of a society, but could anyone really agree on anything when only a few could speak?

One of her ears flicked towards the sky, as the sound of blaring wind increased.

[Primordial Luxa]

The quite but present Aegis
Aegis watches with concealed amusement as Moolisa grew angry at their taunting and attempt to prove the validity of her product. But obviously the strange begotten substance revealed itself to some kind of oily mixture as she attempted to pour it over another pony, its texture and smell were unmistakable and this only made Aegis smile with large equine teeth at the pony’s actions. His smile grew when he noticed that the pony which Moolisa had pout the hideous substance on was the annoying mare that seemed Leng bent on their persecution. Maybe things were looking up he mused.

He turned again this time to follow Yuna’s gaze towards the sky. Something which sent a quick shiver down his spine as he scanned the unwholesome black abysses of space for some form of recognizable start or constellation, perhaps Xoth, Aldebaran or Fomalhaut. He didn’t place much or really any significance in the sight of the visible path of the meteoroids as they entered the atmosphere but he noticed that Yuna and SkyWishes seemed to. He personally saw them too frequently to put much stock in them but he noticed Yuna’s prayers and lost him humorous smile instead focusing on the task at hand with new intensity.

He remained quiet out of principle he worried the more he said that more jeopardy he could put Yuna and himself in an instead resolved to focus on the town meeting and look for an opportunity to escape so that they could make their stick art. As he watched earth pony politics in action he actually began to gain a measure of respect for the Chancellor. Her opening statement were logical and seemed reasonable plus her commitment to foreign aid was admirable even if such actions seemed foolish to the Luxan. The talking stick seemed laughable childish but he caulked it up to local customs and continued to observe the back and forth debated with had spiraled into war talks.

[Germanic Templars]

Thriller took a few steps forward closer to him. His arms relaxed to his side, except for whose hand rested on the prince's shoulder. His gaze wasn't so intimidating or inquisitive, but rather calm. He sighed passively, "I have ran into that scenario one too many times. It is like staring at a train coming at you. You can't jump off to the sides, you're in a tunnel. Can't run from it because it will catch up to you. The best you can do is either stand your ground or charge it head on; meet it in the middle. Do most of the outcomes end with a happy ending? No. Sometimes lives are destroyed and it hurts, not for those lives ruined but for me as well. Best you can do then is learn from it and try to heal and mend the wounds of others."

Thriller's hand retreated from Drova's shoulder back into his pant pocket. "As for those who try to hurt you either physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally - shake them off. They mean nothing to you if they intentionally try to hurt you." Thriller's ramble went on for a little longer before the emperor caught himself. "Oh, sorry for that. I doubt you wanted to hear me ramble on. You need help. I can provide that free of charge."

A perturbed Prince

Drova looked at the trajectory of Thriller's hand, and winced as it rested on the boy's shoulder. It had officially gone from awkward, to well, even more awkward as Drova backed up a step or two. "Uh, well . . . That all makes sense and all, but, I'm a prince, I don't think you understand what that's like." He shrugged as the older (By quite a long time) man released the Prince. "I'm going to be a king some day, and I don't think I can do it." His eyes drooped somewhat. Why was he pouring himself out to some random guy he just met, having burst in to find the source of the noise. He was completely oblivious to the Ogres downstairs, and the entire diplomatic meeting was lost to him.

"And uh, I really don't think you can help, as I said, you probably don't get it."

It was probably the largest irony, that Drova happened to be pouring himself out to the leader of an intergalactic empire, something Drova couldn't even begin to comprehend. If one told him that there was a nation that spanned multiple planets, he would have scoffed, and called it a fantasy.

Thriller figured as much the prince would not be too keen on people touching him. A note he kept to himself as he studied the lad; he played along. "Of course I will admit I do not know what it is like being a prince, but the only thing that separates an emperor from a king is title and land. Everything else is politics and bureaucracy, especially in constitutional monarchy." However, as the prince continued about his lack of confidence, Thriller smirked at that thought of the Prince. "Oh really? What makes you believe that? Well other than your restive behavior." His stance changed to a more inquisitive, placing a foot forward and arms crossed. Don't think I can? His smirk stretched out a little more. " Maybe, but what makes you so sure I won't be able to? After all I do not know what you truly need help with, lad. If it is advice I can give you that. Hell, I can give ya want ya need or simply help, no trouble to me."

LOBBY

Smith took a knee as to pick up his pistol off from the ground as well as the discarded magazine and round. As he scanned around for his missing round, Dr. Smith continued to over hear the conversation with the ogres and some of the residence of the apartment.

Interesting, creatures of folk lore, or once thought, actually exists. And dragons? Well this gets so much more interesting.. Maybe I might.. His train of thought was interrupted by the sighting of his bullet.

Found it. He whispered to himself. He picked the round up and stuffed it back into the magazine before placing the magazine back into the pistol. He secured his weapon to his side as began to to stand up again. His curiosity began to get to him. Perhaps he could collect notes on the ogres. Until then, a mental image is enough for the cyborg.

[Primordial Luxa]

Primordial
Primordial raised a quizzical eyebrow at Möf statement that killing Varg would not prove to be much of a challenge. The Luxan baron had met dragons before, although they had definite blood ties to his pantheons and other unspeakable forces, so they were much more horrifying and unnatural than the red lizards depicted by role playing games and Medieval Dark Ages stories. But these creatures had been loathsomely vast and hideously monstrous so much so that he was forced to observe them from a distance. He could imagine that a regular dragon would be a challenge for the residents of this building and he usually thought of the draconic race as the undisputed apex predators of worlds like this.

That was before the idea of it being a lich came into his mind. A dragon was one thing, they might lose several residents to it, but a dragon that could bring armies of the dead back to life and that could wield powerful necrotic sorceries might prove their entire undoing. Primordial frowned hoping that his assumptions were wrong and he was prepared to follow up with questions regarding this creatures exact abilities before he voiced his own opinion on how best to proceed.

Currently he was considering a small six man party could be sent to investigate and monitor the creature, while the rest studied the area around the building and sought historical texts on the enchantments which had bound the creatures. Then when they were ready a dozen or so people could head out and try to bind the creature, perhaps three four man teams of fighters, magicians, and healers. It was very skeletal but he figured that it would be better to start with bones and add devilish details later.

Anais was asking from of the question he had been mulling over but he still decided to keep quiet until the Ogres had a chance to answer his friends.

[Highfort]

Septimus nodded at the numerous questions posed to Möf, though he blanched inwardly at the notion that eliminating the Dragon-Litch would be a trivial matter. Though he was loathe to imply that the Building and its Residents had weaknesses, Anais echoed his concerns. Clearing his throat, the Representative offered a nod at Amanda's responses before offering the Building's ogre guests a question of his own.

"Would the Woldkin perhaps be open to dealing with this matter cooperatively?" a harsh, gravelly voice left his lips as he slowly blinked and thought about how terrible he must sound right now, "As Ms. Anais has mentioned, yesterday's battle taxed our power. If we are to subdue this Varg, we may require assistance."

Swallowing hard as his throat protested at the sounds, the cyborg returned to silence and awaited the ogres' responses. Hopefully, they would not be too offended by his request and by the implication that they, too, might have to have a hand in dealing with the dragon.

---

Opa scanned each of the ogres in-turn as he waited silently. Though Brother Itum held no control over him, it was clear that the cyborg's opinion was highly-valued in the Building and that he held some sort of position of power. That he would delegate it to the rather plain and unassuming Sister Bela surprised the android, though his processor indicated that there must have been much more going on than he knew if this was the case. Agitating the blacklisted Representative needlessly would do Opa no favors.

Still, the combat droid wondered, what was Septimus doing here? What was this strange place?