Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[Goliath]

“Not bad firefly,” Goliath spoke, laying back on his portion of the tent once they were done. He pat around him for a moment before deciding to forgo finding his shirt which had been thrown off somewhere in the dark. Sure, Nyall could have lit up the tent with his powers easily enough. But he didn’t need it to sleep. Nor did he want to risk anyone who was still awake outside seeing the light through the fabric.

He knew there would be enough questions, or thoughts, from the rest of their team about their sleeping arrangements. Which was why Goliath wouldn’t be the one to confirm what they’d done tonight. Not because he was ashamed, but because it was none of their business. Nyall deserved as much privacy as he wanted, even if he didn't believe it. Regardless of whether he was used to living in the spotlight or not.

Goliath was lying on his side, with his arm folded under his head, facing away. His eyes shut. Compared to most of his hookups, Nyall had satisfied him. He remembered back to when he realized he was into men. Draven would hire all these pretty girls to come to the house and take care of them, like before a big fight. But Goliath never accepted. At first, it was the joke that he was a prude. But their leader was too smart for that. And then one day there were a few guys added to the mix as well. No questions asked.

But normally — they would be leaving his room with money in hand by now. It felt odd to have someone stay and sleep next to him. But that was what he’d agreed upon, so he needed to get used to it. In the silence, he was left alone with his thoughts. Was the cat boy a cuddler? Probably. He seemed like the type to want to be held after intimacy. But Goliath had no desire to do such unnecessary things. And the space between them made that pretty obvious.

He blinked slowly when he suddenly heard Nyall’s voice from beside him, half expecting the cat boy to have already fallen into a deep sleep. But no. And instead, he was rambling on about the repayment not being fair. It was almost funny. Goliath was quiet for a moment, knowing he could just act like he wasn’t awake, before deciding to speak.

“There is .. nothing you can give me that I want.” He sighed as he glanced over his shoulder at the dark silhouette beside him. “But so be it. Promise that when the fighting breaks out, you won’t do something stupid like run to the front lines. That you will protect your life above everything else.”

Maybe it was too much for him to ask, but Goliath didn’t care. His gaze lingered in the darkness, watching Nyall’s faint outline. The thought of him getting hurt because of some misplaced sense of duty. Nyall didn’t belong in the middle of a warzone. "Promise me," Goliath repeated, his voice low but firm, the weight of his words filling the tent. He didn’t look away this time, his eyes locked on the cat boy, waiting for the answer that he needed to hear.

Anne Boolean (Nyall)

 

[Anne Boolean]

A soft smile appeared on Nihal's face. It had been his job to satisfy. He was trained for it. The same could even be said for his musical career. Perhaps he was also trained to enjoy praise, as even after all these years, regardless of what it was for, it brought about a small sense of euphoria. Like Goliath, he also hadn't planned on kissing and telling. His reputation was of the utmost importance as a public figure, but right now, he could care less about that. Plus, he could have done much worse than the soldier. Right behind client satisfaction, confidentiality had always been top priority in his former line of work. Aside from a business standpoint, he understood it from a moral and ethical one as he grew older. Although, going back, if the rules had been a little more lax, he might have leaked word to the partners of committed men and women. It wasn't worth risking his life though, he told himself, and he tried his best to convince himself that their partnership was an open arrangement.

An almost involuntary chuckle left his lips when Goliath said he didn't have anything he wanted. That was certainly a first, and honestly, it was somewhat refreshing. So many people would have been so disappointed to find out that, despite what it seemed, he actually didn't have access to the means to grant their wishes. Or at least he hadn't in the past. How ironic that when he did did he find someone who wanted for nothing.

The actual request the other gave caused him to blink. "... I figured most people would be upset if someone fled their side on the battlefield," he said, unsure if it meant to be taken as a joke. He didn't think the other was stupid enough to assume he was all that capable of fighting. The best way for him to protect his life would be to desert. He swallowed, thinking back to Vixie. He wasn't so sure the others would take care of her if he left. He would have to take her along, or...

"Luckily, we have you to command us! Besides, you know how good at taking orders I am." He looked at the other's silhouette with a smirk on his face, but it soon faded after a moment of not being able to read the other's reaction. "... I promise," he finally said. He let his eyes linger on Goliath for a moment longer before turning over. Someone who wanted him alive yet wanted nothing from him... it was... certainly strange to think about.

Goliath

 

[ZackStop]

All she could think as these 'Atsalis' fled was how much of a bastard each and every one of them were, going to such lengths to terrorize this woman. As Isaac provided, it was all because of a centurion, Nye and their hatred for it. It was a horrible excuse for their misdeeds. Anything bad men need to justify evil she supposed, while looking to the girl Isaac referred to as Erina. Ilana had a good feeling in her heart, a rare feeling, but one that she had done some good in the world, something she hardly had a chance to do in her cesspool called home. She still had not found the strength to stand and walk to the girl, instead taking a seat in the dirt to balance her 'chi' as her master used to call it. Catching her breath is all it really was, and in a few minutes the young fighter was back on her feet.

Hours went by and Ilana sat quietly at the table center of the room in a rickety old chair, pushing around a small portion in the plate simply staring at it. She was quiet and standoffish as she had been since they left Nye, only now deep in thought. A simple idea conflicted in her head like a wary few moments before battle, as if what they had encountered before now was a peaceful stroll. to the others maybe that was the hardest they had fought in their lives, but what was within her was her real fight.

"whose side am I on?" She asked herself. It was already solidified in her mind how she felt about it, about Nye. She hated it. She hated how its very existence used others to stay afloat. Her and those like her suffer so the rich can thrive. Nye is the pedestal and the rest of them are the pillars.

The hand holding her fork trembled at the thought sprouting in the back of her mind. She stopped her sheepish picking as she tried to push away the thought. The Atsali raiders. Terrible people as she witnessed first hand, but their hatred aligned with hers. Her ultimate goal for being here could be a waste. Only a day in this land and everything was changing, leaving her with a sick feeling. There was nothing more to think about. Ilana dropped her fork suddenly, the metallic clatter as it landed on the table sounded. She made a brisk walk to the door and left for the dirt street, and once she was out of view from the others it became too much to bare. Stress, lack of sleep and physical exertion was killing her. Ilana fell to her knees and tried to hold back the retching as nausea overtook her.

Jet Goliath ManofManyRoles Emphoa

 

[Jet]

Johan found himself smiling at the embarrassed sputtering boy, a small respite from the crisis they faced, and a remedy for the precarious place they found themselves in. Trapped in a can under thousands of pounds of water, with nothing but rusty bolts and sheet metal to protect them. His power didn't mean much against the overwhelming strength of the sea, and every groan and creak made him wince. They'd be turned to paste if the rivets popped and the walls collapsed around them, and the mad captain didn't look like the maintenance type.

He kept on a brave face though. The moment he panicked was the moment fear was allowed. His position needed strength even inside a sardine can. He silently clenched his jaw as the submarine went deeper into the clutches of the sea, a mighty trench with ethereal glow coming from the bottom. It was visible through the wide cockpit window, like a giant emerald glittered far below them. The light revealed the canyon walls around them. The fish and sharks crossing their slow downwards path. But then the captain leaned forwards. His eyes narrowed and then widened like a deer in headlights.

"Bad omen," he grumbled to himself. He stared at bodies floating up from the undersea station, dressed in hospital gowns and covered in grievous wounds, fissures on their skin like energy had burst from within them. There were men and women and even children among them, gently bumping against the submarine like pieces of limp driftwood. They bounced from the window before fading into the abyss.

"What now?" Johan leaned over the captain's shoulder. "There a pressurized dock?"

He'd stick to business instead of dwelling on the drifters. Nothing could be done for them now. To linger on them would be a waste of what little time they had, and would further stress out his crew.

"No boyo," the captain said. "Our mutual friend gave me the whereabouts of a moon pool beneath the station. We'll be surfacing there." He pushed the steering sticks down to their limits. The submarine tilted and Johan grabbed the wall to keep his balance. There was a shifting of supply boxes across the floor. The submarine dove past a station of unimaginable grandeur, three stories tall and four hundred meters across, with the shape of a perfectly round circle.

They dropped underneath and found pylons anchoring the station to the seabed, and through them was a path leading to a moon pool. The captain flicked a switches as they made their final approach, tilting the fins down to propell them upwards.

"Yee may be entering into a battleground, best have your wits about you." He pulled up and the submarine breached from the moon pool, finding its balance as she bobbed up and down. There was a loud crack as the hull decompressed from the weight of the ocean, followed by a clunk when the captain unlocked the hatch. He peered from the window at the wide open docks, enough space for half a dozen submarines. The room was dim with only dull yellow emergency lighting, and another submarine gently rocked in the water. There was no noise, no movement in the room. There was nothing at all — only an eerie silence.

"He didn't say this place was abandoned," the captain muttered. "Tis a ghost station, an even wose omen."

"Maybe," Johan said. "Or maybe that's wishful thinking. This could be a trap."

He looked back at the others. "We could be attacked the moment we leave this ship, so make sure you're ready."

He looked out the window once again. The silence disturbed him more than attacks would have. It seemed off for some reason. He just wished he knew what it was.

rozukitsune ZackStop Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[rozukitsune]

For the most part, the undersea adventure didn't really bother the young Zuànshín woman as she breathed into her knees slowly. The further they got under the sea the less her insides revolted. It seemed that the depths were not as stomach-churning as riding the rough and tumble waves of the open sea as would be normal to traverse on a sailing vessel. She kept her ears open, but not much of consequence seemed to be happening other than Johan teasing the young Ren. That much made her smile despite her discomfort. No matter what was going on he seemed to always be doing his best to put on a good face for the rest of the crew. She envied his strength and wondered at its source. After all, this was just who he was. Always cavalier - even in the thick of things. It made her heart flutter with warmth and affection.

Right about the time the sea captain was commenting on the bad omens afoot, Marjorie decided to comment on how "delightfully macabre" the scene was. Narzas - feeling well enough to hazard a glance, almost wished she hadn't looked.

Death wasn't a foreign subject to the assassin. She'd barely batted an eye at the slashed up bloodied victims of the poison building's occupants. But this was horror on a level that could touch even her own jaded heart. Drowning victims was not something she encountered often in the large and primarily landlocked area she was from. And the way they looked like they'd just sort of ruptured open like that... she felt bile burn her throat at the sight. Muttering under her breath in her home tongue she gave the floating dead an abbreviated approximation of what funerary sayings were common where she was from for those who died at sea and then lapsed into a respectful silence as the ship was at last brought to the place where all could disembark.

The silence reminded her of the previous location... empty. Foreboding. She glanced toward Johan as he commented that it could be a trap.

Marjorie just smiled. "Ah guess we will see, won't we darlin~?"

Jet EldridSmith Lost Echo ZackStop Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
Interaction: Jet Lost Echo ZackStop​

The trip was certainly well, something Ava wasn’t paying too much attention too it frankly lost in her own thoughts for the day just staring at a wall way too much introspection for her and it was frankly making her head hurt, aaand there was corpses always more corpses… why the fuck was there so many people dying frankly Ava was getting kinda sick of this physical and mentally less disturbed and more so kinda just kinda pissed it was getting kinda ridiculous, still.. least they where getting out of the tin can they where stuffed in well no it wasn’t tin it was iron but that was besides the point frankly. Ava wasn’t really expecting to see well, anyone alive once they got out considering the bodies in the water, and she was right again. “god damn if I hate being right… can we just have one problem that we can hit with a sword… getting sick of this cryptic shit today…” Ava blurted out her tone clearly indicating she was kinda pissed at the events transpiring. “But yeah I’m guessing this is an ambush or we got here too late or some shit.. well guess we will find out soon won’t we?”

 

[ZackStop]

Ren felt too embarrassed to cough even more. He used all his brain power to cease or at least hold it down, and it worked for the most part and eventually subsided. He was finally able to take a deep breath and push away the terrifying thought of certain rejection. It wasn't the time for that anyway, he had to prepare for what was to come and began rummage through his bag trough awkward silence.

The boy pulled out the rock from before, looking at it with a deep focus and examining the engravings carved into it. He wondered if he could trust Damian at all as it was made apparent by the others that he was not to be. Was he really that bad a judge of character? He asked himself this before holding the stone tight and getting to work. With the help of some tape he had lying around, Ren crudely wrapped it around his shield with his rune kept somewhere in the center just as Damian said. The sharp crisp sound of tape being ripped apart was the concluding sound of his little project, giving it a mixed look of satisfaction and distaste. It'll do but it wasn't pretty.

"Not bad eh?" He asked rhetorically looking to Phalanx for some form of encouragement, but that's when they heard a gentle thump against the hull. It immediately aroused curiosity being that they were leagues under the ocean. They weren't expecting any pizza deliveries down here, as wonderful as that would be. They hadn't eaten since this all began and this was the closest form of rest they've had all day. Though Ren's appetite was staved off once again, as if he hadn't witnessed enough death the boy now saw the troubling sight around the same time everyone else had. Floating bodies slowly drifting up to the surface, leaving from their destination.

He slowly stood in morbid awe, hunched over as he took steps closer to the cockpit, leaning his arm against the metal surface around him. He was practically right above the sailor steering the thing through this nautical graveyard. He had seen so much of it by now that seeing it here was almost expected, yet something gave in his young mind at the sight that left him almost in a trance. He was certainly a long ways from home, uncertain however if he could find his way back.

He managed to snap out of it by the time they made reached the moonpool, much larger than the young man was expecting. But upon arrival, things were not looking any more optimistic. Dark, abandoned, chilling. The room was a far cry from the under-sea lab, instead it was like if a corpse could be four walls.

"Phalanx." Ren called down to his companion, and without anything else the message was received. The pair were entuned with anything. They merged as Ren put on a brave face and climbed up. His cat eyes lent him greater sight in conditions like this, he stuck his head out to give the spacious room a clean sweep. The coast was clear so he hoisted himself out of the open hatch and knelt down on top while the others exited.

"I think this place is on emergency power." He pointed attention to the sparse flashing lights lining the walls. He made sure to speak quietly, not wanting to project his voice too much. Two doors were left open on the far sides of the room and Ren wondered which one they should take. He'd leave that decision to Johan. The only question he really had now was about the other sub that left unattended. Does it belong to the scientists? It had to. Who else would be down here except for them? "So, what next? Left or right."

rozukitsune Huntertabbysandshark3 Jet Lost Echo

 

[Goliath]

Leon’s gaze drifted over the group, his expression unreadable as he processed the scene. The world around him felt muffled, as though he were hearing it through thick water, with voices and movement seeming to filter through layers of distance. Only when Mischa stumbled forward, her face flushed, eyes wide with the dazed bewilderment of battle, did his focus sharpen.

Her movements were shaky, and unsteady, but he wasn’t entirely surprised to see her already on her feet. Mischa had always seemed like a force of nature — relentless and resilient. No matter how beaten down or broken, she always found a way to rise, to push forward.

He was… impressed everything had gone so smoothly with their coordinated attack if he was being honest. The plan had been simple, effective. But the execution? That had been flawless. His heart still pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, even now that the attacker was restrained and the immediate threat was over.

It was one thing to have a plan, another to pull it off. His shot, the water blade, had been a gamble. If he’d missed, it would have all been for nothing. That kind of pressure wasn’t something Leon was used to handling. And as a result, his hands trembled in his pockets. But the relief that Mischa was no longer in the man’s grip — no longer in danger with a weapon to her throat — was enough to calm the storm in his chest.

A sharp sting cut through his shoulder as Mischa’s hand wrapped gently around his elbow, pulling him back to the present. The wound beneath his bandages had definitely opened again, the ache and warmth of fresh blood seeping through. He bit back a grimace, not wanting to worry her — the pain was tolerable, a minor inconvenience compared to what could have happened.

But none of that mattered. Not now. Because Mischa… thought his attack was awesome? He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, the rush of embarrassment he couldn’t shake. Awesome? He wanted to brush it off, downplay it, but the words stuck in his chest, and he couldn’t stop the awkward warmth spreading across his face.

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at her. Even covered in dirt and sweat, Mischa had a wild sort of beauty to her. A small, lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “There was no modesty, though. He almost blocked it.”

His voice trailed off, and he stayed quiet for the rest of the exchange. Mischa’s gratitude was sincere. She thanked everyone individually for their help, even though there was no real need for it. He didn’t mind the compliments to Rat’s magitech, though. It was impressive to see it in action. Something like that wasn’t common where Leon came from.

As he glanced over at Mischa and Yua, he blinked in surprise at the sight of them hugging. The gesture was unexpected, and a subtle twinge of something unfamiliar, almost like jealousy, twisted in his chest. He looked over at Rat, hoping to find some reassurance or maybe just an explanation. Regardless, he couldn’t help the awkward feeling creeping up his throat. He should’ve hugged Mischa earlier, but he’d held back. A missed opportunity. Now, he felt like an idiot for not acting on it.

Leon’s head tilted as he observed Yua’s flustered rambling. She was explaining herself with almost frantic urgency, as if her words might unravel into something worse if she didn’t clarify them. “Check you out,” she’d said to Mischa — but Yua had meant medically, he knew that. Everyone knew that. But the over-explaining? That made it weird.

He turned to his friends after she ran off, wrapping an arm around Mischa and Rat. “Let’s go find a spot to rest?” He asked, unsure if it was really for himself or the others.

———

Leon chose a spot on the floor in front of the couch, leaning back to use it as a makeshift backrest. Close enough to be there if Mischa needed support but far enough away not to crowd her — that was where Leon preferred to stay. It was easy to tell she was struggling. Occasionally glancing back to check on her. She was bundled tightly in a blanket, her face half-hidden, and her eyes distant as she stared into space.

Leon himself had devoured enough food for three people, despite his skinny frame, and was already working through another plate. As he stood to pile on more food, his gaze drifted around the room, and he saw Ilana. If they made eye contact, he’d give her a small nod. He’d overheard bits of what had happened — Ilana’s skill had been a vital part of their success.

Maybe she would train him if he asked? The thought seemed unlikely from their brief conversation. But he definitely needed the help. Leon watched quietly as she dropped her fork. The loud metallic sound making him turn his head away and stop staring.

Settling back down, Leon blinked as a flurry of questions came from Yua’s direction, all aimed at Mischa. Now didn’t seem like the right time for an interrogation. “You’re as restless as a rooster in a rainstorm. I’m sure if she needs something, she’ll ask,” he said calmly, taking a bite of… well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just picked up from the plate. It was some kind of roasted meat, savory and well-seasoned, and that was enough for him.

Turning his attention toward Rat, Leon decided to shift the focus of the conversation, hoping to ease the pressure on Mischa. He took a swig from the cup of wine he’d managed to grab and raised it slightly in Rat’s direction. “By the way, you’re going to have to show me how to use the Magitech stuff at some point!” he said, his eyes lighting up with a glimmer of excitement.

Leon’s gaze dropped for a second, his smile softening. Talking about the Magitech reminded him of his sister — she would have loved it, every gadget and device Rat had brought along. The thought of her tinkering, her face alight with curiosity, brought a bittersweet smile to his face. For a brief moment, he could almost hear her laughter, feel her presence. Strangely, talking to Rat about these things made him feel closer to her, a quiet echo of the past reminding him of how much he missed her.

Leon turned to Mischa. “Also, I think it was really cool that you kneed that asshole in the stomach once you were free. You guys are even now.” He smiled a warm reassuring smile.

Jet (Mischa) Emphoa (Rat) ManofManyRoles (Yua)
Mentioned: ZackStop (Ilana)

 

[Emphoa]

River, for the most part, was quiet while he listening to everyone moving about, the way they were trying to adjust after the events had taken place and recover. He was on and off quiet, here and there he would opt for a little bit of conversation. But he was thinking about the events that had taken place, what it all meant and what they were going to do now. His eyebrows furrowed a little bit now, sitting not too far from Mischa and Leon, his eyes slowly flitting up and over onto the red headed boy when he spoke directly to him. Blinking, soon enough, when he realized that Yua was there too, and it looked like Ilana had taken her leave as well. A small huff left him and he straightened up, focusing on the conversation around him rather than just allowing it to remain as background noise.

"Pft- how to use it?" He finally spoke up, and he looked between Mischa and Leon with a small smile playing at his lips. "Yeah, I could definitely show you a thing or two-" He reached forward, taking up the journal he had been scratching into and pulled it up with a hum. "Actually... I've been working on a few things- or well, trying to make some different magitech for..." He flushed a little bit, and he glanced between Leon and Mischa. With... everything, he especially wanted to be able to make magitech that would benefit those around him, in order to be able to defend them- to be able to enhance their current elements in any way he might have been able to. Because that was what he wanted to be able to do in the end, wasn't it? He wasn't one for the front lines- he wasn't sure any of them were, but...

They had to adapt.

"I was working on some ideas for you and Mischa, since I've been able to see your techniques in action." He finally spoke up, then paused as he looked right back at Yua with an amused huff. "Careful, Mischa might eventually bite your head off if you're hovering too much." It was light hearted, of course, and he didn't really think that Mischa would speak out against the young woman after everything that had taken place. Before he laughed quietly at the mere mention of Mischa kneeing that guy. "Seriously... He deserved it- what matters is that... we got through it, right? We're just gonna have to..." He faltered, unsure of what he wanted to say, and he looked right back to his journal. "... I don't know."

Jet ManofManyRoles Goliath ZackStop Fred Colon

 

[Arcanist]

Faraji Aguta

Mentions: Jet Lost Echo

​

Faraji glanced to Vixie, and it took a moment to register what she had asked. Before he could go rummaging through his things to find something to quell Marigold’s bleeding, Adrian had already tossed everything he needed to the two in that satchel of his. Faraji lazily lay back on the ground, eyes moving off to some dark spot he could stare at in the cavern.

Maybe if he just closed his eyes, imagined he was under some warm sheets in the comfort of his home, perhaps he would fall asleep happy. He was too aware of such a place they were in to fall to such delusions however.

Then came the apologies from Marigold for inadvertently sealing their supposed fate. “All the more fool of us to follow you in here,” Faraji mumbled, then sighed. Too harsh on the man, perhaps. “But I would have made just as poor a guide, I suppose.” At least neither of them truly knew the way in here.

The bard called for them to regale them with stories and interesting tidbits, to pass the time before they eventually feel to dehydration, starvation, madness. Perhaps it would have done good to think of something else than being trapped.

Lapis flew back over to Faraji’s side, perched on a nearby satchel, his neck shrinking under his feathers as he tucked himself in, but eyes still wide and alert.

“I quite enjoyed Valencia when I travelled there,” Faraji started almost absentmindedly, still staring at some dark spot in the cavern. “It was rather early in my career when we were sent there to appraise contestants. Nye hadn’t thought to raise me to that status yet. I was just on-hand to organise the events meant to help you enter into the competition in the first place. Bring stuff here, shout about this and that so everyone could hear me. Hardly glamorous, but it was a good place to start.”

“Somehow, I managed to get access to a party at some high-brow’s fancy apartment. There was so much wine flowing, conversation on poetry and UEK’s next technological marvel. Most of the runners for the team found it boring, but I was positively in my element listening to the intelligence and the culture practically flowing around the room.”

“Well, if you thought we would sit the whole night sipping wine and slipping off into some room for, ahem, further debate, it wasn’t the case. Catch my surprise when we were all invited to the apartment rooftops, some people already falling over their own feet. I can’t remember exactly how it came to pass, but the entertainment must have been so dry that it was insisted a rooftop race would be held. Somehow – I don’t remember volunteering for it – I ended up as one of the many contenders to try and run and jump over rooves.”

Faraji was laughing then, the idea of such a race not entirely hilarious then, yet, gave him such a chuckle now when he thought back on the idea. “I admit to not being the greatest athlete or fighter, but by God, did I vault over each roof, clutching a bottle of some 50-year-old wine in my hands for courage. At one point, another contender tried knocking me into the river between two buildings, only to bloody well fall in himself!” His laughter rose at that, and he wiped some mirth from his eye at the very memory of it.

When he settled, and breathed most of it out, he felt the need to add, “He was fine, by the way. Washed up a mile down the river, and walked back into the apartment absolutely drenched.”

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe

Mentions: Lost Echo ZackStop Jet

Brynwyr and Abaranne could at least come to one agreement; that they could free those imprisoned by the Yellow King and his subordinates. Perhaps even free them themselves, from the optimism in her words. She hoped that would be the case.

Of course, they would need their rest first as Esther suggested. Brynwyr would not deny her companions that, nor would she complain of earning some rest herself. Her body ached from the day’s treacherous survival, and she worried of Rhys’s strength following his near drowning.

She was grateful for the woman’s offering of shelter and supplies, and she showed as much with a gracious nod of her head.

Further questions were posed from Esther, many of which were answered by Abaranne in turn. Of the Seer, of how to pinpoint her sons. The serpent. Her words made sense, given how some of their crew was driven to madness, and of the magic that has long seemed to have a hold on the people of this land.

Spivey made a comment on the woman being high, and Brynwyr resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though, could not stop her words, “And you are not?” Their state of drunkenness was enough to constitute as such. Somehow, they still made coherent sense as they spoke, but Spivey’s state was still clear all the same.

As if their own ramblings hadn’t been enough, they insisted on more liquor for sleep, then, for a party. Brynwyr would have made a comment against such a thing, until she witnessed their fist collide with Huracan’s face. She did not hesitate to step in to try and grab their wrist and immediately came off scolding.

“What in the hells is wrong with you?! They offer us shelter and amenities after what has already been an excruciatingly difficult and long day, and you thank our hosts by punching them?” Brynwyr’s face had flared red, though, whether that was from her indignation alone, or the sheer heat that only seemed to irk her further, was up for debate. “Honestly, you are an enigma! Do you ever think before taking such actions?” She huffed.

Rhys shrivelled and couldn’t help but step away from his cousin. Best not to butt in and cross Brynwyr, even if Spivey’s actions weren’t appropriate in the slightest. He turned to their host and said victim. “Ap-apologies, Spivey is rather…” There was no reason to justify the situation. He tried to move on quickly. “We don’t want to seem ungrateful for what you’re providing for us. Are you hurt, Huracan?”