Grand National Tips 2021 Best 4 Bets Free Predictions

Lets build one hundred different tavern owners to make taverns more interesting!

Die Roll	Result
1	Davis Owensby - A retired farmer who converted his old barn into a tavern. This tavern keeper brews all his own beers with hops that he grows. He will sit and talk about farming for hours, if you let him. He is worried about his cows going missing, and suspects the ogres in the hills are to blame.
2	The Ghost of Sel'seren - This tavern is haunted by the previous tavern keeper who died a few years ago. Sel'seren was a gorgeous elven woman who treated all her guests like family. People who stay the night in this inn report having their covers being pulled over them on cold nights on their own, and mugs of ale being refilled on their own.
3	Mugsy - The ex-criminal Mugsy is a goblin who pulled off a BIG heist in his past, and is using the tavern as a cover to stay under the radar. He speaks fluent Thieve's Cant and usually takes a liking to rogue players. He charges paladins extra.
4	Slunk Copperpot - Slunk is a goblin stripper who recently came into possession of her own tavern because the previous owner died of mysterious circumstances. Slunk was always his favorite dancer, and he left the tavern to her in her will. The strange thing is, he died within days of telling Slunk that information. What a coincidence!
5	Al'Ashir - This foreigner from the desert is looking to start his new business in a land far from his home. He is overly accommodating, and typically cooks all the meals himself. If the patrons aren't used to desert cuisine, they may find it particularly on the dry side.
6	Thain D’ulbris - A former adventurer who says he has traveled with all the great heroes though none of his stories match up he is a portly fun loving man. Though he is a bit loud he has ties to the rebels though he doesn’t advertise this other than his rampant and aggressive nationalism he uses as a cover.
7	Lily - This charming, attractive Elven woman always seems to know exactly what to say to cheer up patrons and get them talking. A town drunk swears that she's actually a disguised monster and the head of a local organized crime syndicate.
8	Mimi - This enchanted wizard's familiaapprentice runs the bar, using her telekinetic abilities in place of hands. The bar features a variety of exotic drinks from across the world and even some extraplanar ones (dangerous and highly expensive drinks only available with a reservation and advance order).
9	Nimue - This bright red horned tiefling has spent quite a bit of money on the decor of her bar, which is themed after hell. The barestaurant is upscale, and the food and drinks, while good, are pricy. This is a popular spot for the children of nobility to attend. The bartender has acquired several rocks enchanted with Nystul's Magic Aura, which she has put in the foundations in order to create an "aura of evil" around the place.
10	Kra'ax Three Claw - The hulking Half-Dragon is surprisingly well mannered, but will violently throw out anyone they learn takes part in the trapping of animals. They lost their left foot to an owlbear trap while traveling the wilds and sorely miss going on long treks through the untamed wilderness. Will buy or trade at a very fair price for fresh wild berries and unique stones.
11	Grin Stoneboot - A stout dwarf, with fiery red hair and no beard, that owns and operates a tavern carved entirely from one large stone block. He’s known for his wild tales of his missing flying monkey. Every time one of his patrons asks him something he always manages to lead the conversation toward his missing monkey (Nam). Rumor has it that Grin shaved his beard and won’t regrow it until he finds his lost friend. I’m sure Grin would have a fantastic reward for the player that found poor Nam.
12	Orx Thrallkeep - former gladiator, living his best life running a bar with a solid connection to the local sporting events community and betting parlors. His favorite weapon, a silver trident, is more than just decoration behind the bar.
13	Abeg Two-Smiles - reformed thief, he was horribly scarred by an angry tavern owner during his early life and eventually returned from his adventuring days to not only buy the bar itself but also to help guide young, troubled future thieves by honing their skills and boasts that anyone able to successfully steal a mug from his bar will drink free for a year. So far, none have been able to do so.
14	Juli Wise (formerly Jani the Jannkiller) - druid with a focus on elemental magic, she's laying low for the time being until the next planar alignment allows her return to some mysterious place where her allies are waiting. In the meantime, she's keeping busy and trying get information from every traveler staying at her roadside inn.
15	Herk - a goblin who found the perfect score in treasure hunting - dead adventuring groups. His specialty is building quiet, lethal traps and placing them in front of already-cleared dungeons after the adventurers have entered. They die, he collects the loot and puts it to work building a safe space for his extended family. Remarkably, he's happier running a tavern than he ever was living in dungeons and caves.
16	Josh - A well-mannered ogre. Runs a small tavern on the edge of town, and it's clear that he puts a lot of love into it. His family was kidnapped for a gladiatorial arena, meant to test fighters prowess. Josh could never really stand the sight of blood, so he opted to take on the position of cook for the combatants in the arena. He's very self-conscious about his size, but he's a gentle giant, and a friendly soul. Speaks with a slight New Zealand accent.
17	Weiss and Jaded - an Aasimar and Tiefling Wife/Husband duo. Weiss mans the bar putting patrons to ease with her holy feminine charm while Jaded in the back is the Cook and Brewmaster known for his signature drink Devil Rose Ale. If asked about their relationship they'll simply state that it was originally a joke to screw with friends but they learned to truly love each other.
18	Lurag Strongbrew - Lurag is a retired Dwarven barbarian. He made it his mission in life to find the lost mead recipe of the legendary Dwarven brewer, Gilgoth Honeybeard. Once he retrieved it, he settled down and opened a tavern to share the legendary brew with the world.
19	Meef, Störsk, and Gjël - A trio of gnomes who take turns bussing tables, cooking, and bartending. Tavern is built into the bottom of a cliff-face and the goblins added wooden structure to turn a large hollow into a serviceable, if somewhat cramped for medium and larger characters. They each have small wooden protrusions on tight fitting jerkins that attach on the back of the each shoulder. They use these to boost eachother up and grab things from the top shelves. The food and beverages are mostly fungi-based with some options for everybody. They all complain of the smell if asked to cook meat, but will aquiesce and make the food without further qualm.
20	Kareem Sandjabar - A mage who runs the tavern liberal use of mage hand, unseen servant, summons, and other magical means. Keeps a pet mimic named Boorf in the tavern that likes to prank people by turning into mugs and foot stools. Will pay handsomely for self-washing dishes because he cant stand the way his minions clean them.
21	Elias Alondir - A high elf mage who seems a bit out of place running a tavern. Being a bit of a germaphobe, he has several unseen servants as his wait staff as well as his psudodragon that collects payment and tips. Elias never touches the coins from his customers, instead dumping it all into a chest with Mage Hand and cleaning it later. When the tavern gets busy, the high elf gets a bit of anxiety and copes by letting out small laughs and chuckles as he converses with his patrons. The name of the tavern? The Laughing Mage.
22	Iphin - A minor god of alcohol who got bored just being in his realm, sells stranded drinks for cheep and high quality drink for exorbitant prices, can cure hangovers for a price.
23	Chime - This kenku is the owner and operator of Three Crows tavern/inn. The main drink is made in house and is called the three crows. Upon taking the first drink of a freshly poured Three Crows the drinker feels a burp coming but when they open their mouth to burp they let out three caws (bird sounds) the bigger the drink you take the louder the caws should be, the smaller the sip the more quiet. Chime being a Kenku and having difficulty with communication has signs all around his tavern, not just menu/room and board, but also common sayings and phrases that he’ll point to when he doesn’t feel like interacting Backstory Chime a retired Pirate, he was The first mate to the famous Captain Dread. He retired after he was injured in a battle with the Royal Navy.
24	Littlebob Mancoon is a retired (from adventuring) halfling rogue with prison tattoos on his face. Barrel chested and rather tall for a halfling, he has a dead pan sense of humor but always raises one eyebrow when he's joking. Deep voiced, he is a quick talker who says "ya ya" and "no ya" alot. Always a gambler, he won this tavern called the Way Way in a high stakes game of Kiriki while incarcerated. He has a special where you roll 2 dice and are served drinks according to the outcome. If you roll a 1 and a 2 it's on the house. He also charges half price for those that order in thieves cant.
25	Vorrakas Crixush - Red dragonborn paladin-turned-mercenary-turned tavern owner. Despite suffering great tragedy in his life, he is a stern, yet friendly and fatherly figure. A life-time of adventuring has made him a veritable font of wisdom on the subject, and many up-and-coming adventurers come to him for advice. Runs the Red Fang tavern and inn with his old friend and sworn-brother, the dwarf Hjolthrun Bronzeheart. Mess with his wait staff at your peril. Don't mess with his adoptive drow daughter if you wish to live a long life.
26	Casémone Cosmone - A grey-skinned, brown-haired and ram-horned retired Lyre-playing Bard that runs a feywild-style tavern and claims himself to be a Faun. Drinks and dishes are named after imaginary feywild herbs, shrooms and berries, and tables are engraved with rings to make them look like tree stumps. Truth of the matter is he is simply a Tiefling that looks vaguely Faun-like and attempts to use this as a trick to get customers. Locals are usually aware of this, but an unassuming stranger may find themselves tricked. Despite knowing the trick, locals still come for the unique atmosphere and Casémone's bright smile and relentless dedication to the facade.
27	Hjolthrun Bronzeheart - Dwarven ex-mercenary, now part-owner and brewmaster of the Red Fang tavern and inn. A jolly old soul always willing to share a few tales to anyone who asks. Spends his days experimenting with new types of alcoholic drinks, from making wine from watermelons to trying to recreate an old recipe that includes slime from a gelatinous cube. His most prized possession is a reinforced dwarven adamantine beer stein his calls Fimbul'kheled (Great Mug). Mess with his wait staff are your peril. Don't mess with his drow sworn-niece if you wish to live a long life.
28	Aialla, a human bard who failed to make it in the big city and now runs an inn focused on performances. This way she can play all she wants. She's not amazing but not horrible either. Here anyone can play or read. In fact you need to perform or the price of your meal is doubled. What you perform is up to you, but each customer must do something on stage to get the discount.
29	Angus Throwbeard - a surly dwarf that walks around on stilts, making him seven and a half foot tall.
30	Dirk Prophet- Assimar Bartender with a love of spiced and mulled drinks. He stands at 6'5" and has golden hair with silver freckles. The most popular drink he makes is called Celestials call, it is 3 part vodka, one part berry juice, bitters and a sprinkling of mint and spices and a touch of silver dust. A retired bard he has his lute about the bar and can sometimes be caught playing on slow nights.
31	Boogle the Gnome - He has a pack of weasels that help him tend the bar.
32	Fizz the Kenku - who repeats your order back in your own voice. The "Fizz" is literally the sound of a sudsy beer being poured.
33	Father Endros - Tends bar at a location run by the local church. He and his fellow monks brew beer in the name of their diety.
34	Misty Spring - A hard as nails half elf who was raised by a nature loving human parent and now hates that lifestyle, almost as much as she hates her name. She hasn't left the confines of the city she lives in for years.
35	Floria - A sweet halfling barkeep who just wants to be everyone's mother. She has her regular's meals waiting for them when they clock out of their shifts. She is VERY attentive with her patrons.
36	Umlog and Nevell aka "the beauty and the beast". Umlog is a literal troll, yet an extraordinary one. He's as intelligent as a troll can be and actually not a bad fellow. He is well read and has particularly deep knowlegde of local laws. He acquired his tavern in a remote deal via an exchange of letters. No one knew a troll was the buyer, before the deal was done. People in this area -close to the feywoods- are very keen on honoring deals and contracts and thus, somewhat begrudgingly abstained from gathering their torches and pitchforks. The success of the "Green side of Life" -that's the name of the tavern- is not only based on Umlog's craftiness, though. A nymph named Nevell works in the tavern at the side of Umlog. She is hospitality personified, a skilled chef, baker and singer. Nobody except them seems to know how they ended up together, but they run a really homely place in a village on the edge of civilization.
37	Pierce "Ears" Moldun, a balding human with normal sized, non-pierced ears, is the owner of Sweet Relethe. He is always looking down, at the drink he is pouring, the bar he is polishing, or the food he is cooking. He is a man of few words. Tell him, "Ears, I need to give away a story," and leave a proper sum on the bar. You will know what his service is worth if you truly need it. It may be expensive, but rarely more than one can pay. The price is different for every story, but if you do not offer enough, he will know after a quick glance at you. He will shake his head and continue with his work. If your coin is sufficient, he will nod his head, then get the dark blue bottle down from the top shelf. Slowly. Carefully. The bottle is beautifully made, but you find yourself unable to describe it apart from the color. He will pour a tiny shot, small as a thimble, before replacing the bottle and pulling you a beer to go with it. He will tell you that it's best to drop the shot in the beer then drink it slowly as you tell your story. It is best to trust him on this. As you begin your story, he will look up at you with eyes the same color as the bottle, and you will not be able to look away. He will listen intently as you tell your story, and as the words pass your lips they will also pass out of your memory. The regulars say that even if someone is sitting right next to you, they will not hear a word, just the quiet mumbling of a slow moving river. You will leave Sweet Relethe no longer possessed by your story, not in the slightest upset at your expenditure, and quick to recommend Ears of Sweet Relethe to anyone who seems in need of his service.
38	Ripzicki Papqat - Gnomish owner of "The Shimmer and Shine," Rip is known for drinks that pack a punch stronger than their small size lets on. An accomplished but eccentric alchemist, Rip has taken to testing out the effects of his drinks at his inn.
39	Shanassa the Viridescent - Dryad owner of "The Cornicopia," Shanassa's inn is actually a tree magically manipulated to house guests. Unfortunately, she had to close down the tables balanced on branches until she could figure out how to get drunk customers to stop falling off.
40	Arthur "Art" Igneous Ficer - Art is a an average sized fellow with sallow skin and sunken eyes. To give you an idea of his general appearance: despite owning a bar and inn for travelers, it looks like Art is the one that really could use some rest. But Art is a pleasant man with a passion for magically enchanted items. He gladly will talk to any traveler with such an item about the item. He finds it all fascinating. He will tell you that he used to dabble a little, but he couldn't find too many volunteers. So, he opened a bar and inn, and that pays pretty well. He keeps the price low, and that keeps travelers coming in. If you decide to stay for the night, all weapons need to be left in his care before you head up to your rooms. He's had too many drunken fights break out in the dormitory area, he will tell you. For any party member that blacks out at the bar or decides to stay the night, the DM must roll a D4 when the party member checks out of the inn. You see, Art never did give up his love of magic item creation, and he is desperately working on figuring out how to enchant weapons and items in a single night. DM rolled a 4? Surprise! An item of yours, at the DM's choosing, has acquired a properly functioning effect, also of your DM's choosing! Rolled a 3? Well, it's the same as 4, except the DM will also roll a 1d10 on your every use/attack, and a 1 will mean that your item misfired in wild magic (DM's choice). A 2? Oof. Well, it is the same as rolling a 3, except your item is completely unmagical except for the 1d10 chance of wild magic. And if the DM rolls a 1, then you were significantly robbed of either money or an item. Making magical weapons and items costs a lot, after all, and Art has a bit of rogue in him, it seems. Also, for any night a party member stays at the inn, there is a 1d6 chance of an unsatisfactorily explained small fire breaking out overnight. The following morning after such a fire, Art normally looks a little worse for wear.
41	Judy Krom - Owner of the Dog's Ear Inn, she learned a spell of invisibility to "clean up messes". most patrons are none the wiser but casting a spell to see invisible things reveals that the cups and bar top are coated with years of dirt and grime. The town isn't really sure why people are getting so sick all the time but the bar is always packed because Judy is such a charismatic person. She'll tell you stories for hours, but none of them are true.
42	Will Hornton - This bar called The Screaming Pickle has been in his family for 5 generations. People come from miles around for his pickle hooch. He never married and has no son to pass the bar to and it's getting late in his years. However, the business has slowed since the latest news of the campaign has scared customers off and he isn't sure he will have had anything to pass on to a kin anyway.
43	Abigail Turnsprout - A jolly halfling who is an avid gardener. She spices her drinks with unique herbs grown in her garden just behind her tavern, The Tipsy Turnip. Her prized Top Shelf Brew has a secret recipe of herbs and spices that many have tried and failed to obtain.
44	Tally- an older, buff halfling woman who speaks with a country accent and repeatedly calls the players "honey." Used to be an adventurer and tells stories of the fights she once found herself in.
45	Bob, Jim, and Clyde- three gnomes in a trenchcoat. They all have completely different personalities, opinions of different races, and pricing. They go by whatever the name is of the gnome whose head is on top that day!
46	Oldeye Jasper - An elderly human with one white lazy eye. He's warm and inviting to people who come into his bar, but if you let him, he'll talk to you for hours about his conspiracy theories like Lizardfolk secretly running the kingdom, or Fey leaving changelings in place of local children, and the mayor being secretly a swarm of pixies in disuse. But these are just the ramblings of an old man. Right?...
47	Sweeps - An animated broomstick that serves drinks and cleans the tavern 24/7. This would be extremely advantageous if he weren't so incredibly clumsy. He was made by the previous owner and now the current owners don't know how to get rid of him.
48	Sloppy' Joe Reznar. A Half Orc who earned his nickname for often being drunker than his customers.
49	Tivali - A female tabaxi with 5 young kids all the same age who love roaming around the tables asking adventurers tons of questions. They will sometimes place wagers or entertain for money in order to compete with their siblings for who can make the most money in one night. If they were to ever get into trouble, Tivali would suddenly be there scooping them into her arms. She's a racing champion who's known to be able to run faster than a falcon can fly.
50	The Tavern - There is no tavern keeper because this magical tavern is it's own keeper. Food appears on tables seconds after ordering it, and all you must do to pay is toss coins onto the wooden floor which immediately disappear without even a sound. There are no rooms available in this tavern, it is simply for enjoyment only. Those who forget to pay the bill tend do go missing the next day...
51	Amie, Aedricks, and Harlen. Triplets who’ve inherited a tavern. They are a Human, Elf, and Half-Elf and the Human and Elf are always feuding, leaving the Half-Elf to mediate. When the heroes arrive, the two are in such a bad fight, it must be resolved before the party can rest there for the night.
52	Elane of Juunvanfel. She is a young bartender, daughter of the ancient bartender who was a mythomaniac. Everyone knows it, but He was harmless. He was saying he was a prince of a far away land called Juunvanfel, but no one believe him. Elane talk about it with a lot of humour, and there's no chance she is really a princess. But she is really kind and charismatic, and everyone in town called her Little Queen. (if you want the lie to be true, why not!)
53	Drubogg. An orc (or half-orc) who was a raider in the past. After 15 years of jail, the local authority had free him with mercy. One of the tavern in the town was dying because the bartender was very sick, and Drubogg help him to run his business. Since 3 year, this impressive orc are a meticulous bartender and the town seems to accept him quit gently, even with his violent past. He take care of the previous bartender with a cold, but sincere kindness.
54	Jomag and Marsia. A couple who run the tavern since 20 years. The love between them is still joyful. But sometimes, they seems to be quit melancholic. If the players want to know something about it, the bartenders don't want to spread the information. But the customers will respond : they suffer they can't have children. Maybe, if one day the PCs find an orphan, they can make them very happy.
55	One-Day-He. A clever halfling who is a sorcerer who had change his name to make a contract with a powerful, but naive, Wealth Spirit. After 10 years of labor in this tavern, he will have access to an impressive amount of gold. Technically, he trade his soul... but the contract say "One-day-he will give me his soul after he receive the gold.". He's very happy and boastful about that. Maybe he's not so clever, because it's obvious for the PCs that all rogue people in town just wait the day who One-Day-He will receive the gold to steal him. Maybe the Wealth Spirit is vexed to had been so naive, and will exchange the soul of One-Day-He with a lot of gold? Who knows!
56	Holt - A man in his mid thirties whos never left the town- and doesn't intend to. He knows everyone, and everyone knows him, and seems to owe him a favor. He's always willing to help out, going to great lengths to do so, and is very warm and welcoming to all in his tavern. The patrons of his tavern return his favors, and as such he holds many regular customers, many of who will jumpy quick to stop a destructive bar fight.
57	Nora Durthane and Agnes Baumann, a dwarf and human couple. Agnes keeps the ledger, walking through the tavern room like a queen through court, greeting every patron with a smile. Nora runs the kitchens, providing hearty fare for adventurers and locals. Their tiefling son helps run the bar and remove belligerent patrons.
58	Trish One-Eye - Owner and operator of the rickety old dive bar down by the docks. An old woman with a red embroidered eyepatch and short grey hair. She secretly can talk to rodents, and so can be an excellent source of rumors and information, if you get on her good side. Serves a spicy 'meat stew' which may or may not be made of cat. Will tell lewd jokes and talk shit about her ex-girlfriends if you get her drunk.
59	Eigen Renn: A tall, heavily built human with a smirking smile and an exceptionally loud laugh. Always knows just what to say to break up a fight or set up favorite patrons for romance. Full of stories, most of which are obvious lies that you can't help but half believe. Remembers everyone's first name, their drink, their birthday, their type, and their misadventures (which he will happily and loudly relate to the entire bar--but all in good fun). Ruddy faced, with scant blond hair and tired, grey-blue eyes. He brags that he is son of a tavernkeeper, who was son of a tavernkeeper, who was son of a fallen princess and a tavern keeper. He isn't. He also isn't Eigen Renn. In another time and a distant country he had another name, the name of a slave trader notorious for his charm and cunning. He dealt in "specialties:" finding just the right slave for your particular, and highly expensive taste. Children, oddities, half-breeds, even sentient monsters were all his trade. Rumor says he once sold a nobleman his own son after faking the boy's death. Another says he sold two rivals to each other, then sold both to a particularly inventive necromancer. Nothing was beneath him, and no one was beyond his reach. An elaborate magical ruse allowed him to escape his old life (with pockets full of gold and magical protections for his "retirement"), he now amuses himself playing tavern keeper and practicing his own slaver's skills by manipulating the lives of his clients. Whether his enemies find him again--and if they do whether he is worth saving--is up to you.
60	Bart Keep - an irresponsible innkeeper who runs a shoddy tavern. The food and drinks are low quality, brawls happen too often, a lot of stuff get stolen, and one time a pack of rats invaded the tavern. And he never notices because he says that he's busy with 'other things'. And when he means other things, he means looking at erotic literature and pleasuring himself. No wonder no one even bothered to shut down his tavern yet.
61	Alice Bob - An innkeeper of a tavern with a horrible reputation who tries her hardest to make her tavern better, and yet she only makes things worse. Turns out that the tavern is cursed by a witch after Alice refused to serve her, thus cursing the tavern with bad luck.
62	Xaero Xsisth: A lizardfolk woman, exiled in her youth from her tribe for being highly intelligent, which lizardfolk generally shun. Growing up in the shadows and alleys of a grand city, she learned how to cook, bake, brew and serve by observation. Asking her any question about tribal life may cause her to have an emotional breakdown. Xaero loves hearing tales of daring and adventure and if the story is good enough, she may just let you have a snack for free!
63	Jasmine Mcaull - A blue macaw parrot aarokocroa who serves up any rum-based drink with a song and a smile. She often requests bards to try their hand at playing salsa music in her tavern and is known to give a couple of unsolicited tips to the adventurers that seem to appreciate the unusual music. Her tavern stands out for its bright colors and attempts at island decor.
64	Torin Pliedes - A solicitous satyr who spends half his time behind the bar and half his time tormenting the serving wenches. He has a permanent "Help Wanted" sign in the window as he's a cruddy boss and most don't tolerate his attentions for long. He's so preoccupied that half the time he pours the beer but doesn't collect the money he's owed.
65	Falstaff Argon - A stout half-orc who boasts about his accomplishments as an adventurer and proudly displays his war axe on an ebony plaque behind the bar. He challenges adventurers to take the bigger jobs and bigger hunts if he hears them deliberating in his tavern. He was injured badly in his last adventure and decided only then to retire, though it is clear he misses the life. He pays nobly for a good stag or boar and is known to post hunts of unusual creatures that plague the area.
66	Grimm - This tavern is actually run by a number of different people and the main bartender switches out every single day to an entirely new person - but behind the scenes, it’s just a single changeling practicing their acting.
67	Illia the Wise: A handsome dwarf woman, Illia is actually Illixthalix, an adult Gold Dragon who is locked in her dwarf form due to a run-in with a Fey spirit decades ago. Became a tavern keeper initially to keep her ear to the ground to try and find someone who could break the curse, but has found that she quite likes living amongst mortals. The local government is aware of her true draconic nature, and she has a tense agreement to advise them on matters concerning dragons, historical events, and magic items in exchange for them not causing her trouble. She can temporarily assume her true form, but doing so causes a good deal of discomfort and she is unable to hold the form for longer than a few moments (quite long enough to intimidate unruly patrons to settle down however). Is THE expert on the architecture and infrastructure of the now-nonexistant country of Grecciyn and has authored four books on the subject.
68	Talensvar - Talensvar is a highly civilized ogre who dresses eloquently every night and keeps an immaculate establishment. The servers are all well-dressed, well-spoken and polite. Some are half-orcs, and some of the kitchen staff and plate clears dishwashers etc are goblins as well as human. It's a high-end inn. my game talents are lost two of his friends under mysterious circumstances in a battle and will pay adventurers to find them. He is well spoken polite tolerant, everything you don't expect an ogre to be. However he doesn't put up with any nonsense, except from a friend of his who's a local hedge wizard, who will be happy to join a party just for some pay at the end of it. He uses spells that often spectacularly fail, usually with somewhat comic but not too harmful results.
69	Rondo “Double Dizzy” Thimblebottom: A retired Gnome Ranger Beastmaster who hung up his adventuring cap after his lifelong friend and pet Giant Badger, Dizzy, was slain in combat. He’s now the proprietor of Dizzy’s Pub, a dive-y but well-loved pub by locals who come to hear Rondo recount tales of his adventuring days, some comical, some downright frightening. A giant painting (by gnome standards, it’s only 60”x48”) of Dizzy curled up resting under a tree is adorned above a fireplace in the pub.
70	Gina and Reyna, Gina is a kenku woman who owns the tavern and helps run it if the party has any questions she will point to Reyna her adopted daughter and tell them 'Ask Reyna'. Reyna is a half eleven girl that is 19 she has been teaching Gina how to talk more and is more then willing to answer any of the party's questions.
71	Tolbin Shortwick, a halfling rouge who speaks thieves' cant and has a few drugs and basic potions that you can get if you speak thieves' cant to him. There are investigations on people getting robbed at other taverns and with further investigation you will learn it was Tolbin or if you speak thieves' cant Tolbin will tell you it was him.
72	Chopper - A half-orc who cultivates rumors that they chop off body parts of those who dont pay their tab. They keep a few bottles on display with fingers and toes preserved inside, and have a ritual requiring those who want to start a tab, "Kiss the Toe" by taking a drink from one of the bottles. Truth is, Chopper secretly knows a Gravedigger who can procure parts, no questions asked.
73	Sweet Leaves - A small treant. The only type of alcohol that's served in their establishment is a special kind of Kirsch. This is because Sweet Leaves makes all their alcohol with their own cherries. As a result, Sweet Leaves' tavern is small but popular to a small group interested in the Kirsch.
74	Virtus Swifttail - A slightly overweight centaur in his late 20s who decided that he preferred city life over the nomadic life of his former tribe. While he's chatty and provides good service, he often ends up bumping things accidentally with his horse half.
75	Barrus Fymar - A large human man who's in his early 60s who towers over most of his guests. He used to be a paladin adventurer, but he lost his sword arm during a battle with a nightwalker and retired to become a tavern keep. He still displays the magical greatsword he used on his journey inside his tavern, but it's now unusable by him.
76	Sinead, Iron Golem operator of J.J. Killahans - Sinead was originally conjured as a bouncer for the rowdy establishment. The original owner, J.J., left the bar to Sinead in his will. Sinead runs the bar, though hospitality is often beyond her reach. She plays the same 3 tavern songs on a 15 minute loop, as 15 minutes is more than adequate time for a customer to consume their drink (and promptly leave).
77	Silent Joey is abnormal because he's, well, silent. Normally this would be an unacceptable obstacle for a bartender, but Joey is a master drink-maker and surprisingly good at interacting with customers. He's a very good listener, too.
78	Greenscarf Tabitha has the power of appearance-changing but can't control it. She wears a green scarf so others can identify her, as it's anyone guess what face you'll see when you walk in each evening.
79	Malamenmar is a polite and talkative guy who runs a quiet inn on a mountain road. But once a month a mysterious man comes into the bar and Malamenmar drops everything to cater to this guy. If pressed he will reply that the man is a very dear friend and he values his comfort highly.
80	Ranold & Ezra Nikos are brothers. Outgoing Ranold tends bar, reserved Ezra handles the supplies and finances. The strange thing is that the two are never seen in the same place at once.
81	A blind bartender that doesn’t realize his formerly-white rag is dirtying the glasses, but he still keeps perfect track of who orders what.
82	Kurdran Brewhammer - This Dwarf is the last remaining Brewhammer, legendary brewers that were known far and wide for a huge variety of beers. Kurdran is a retired adventurer who loves battle and action. He has a tall orange mohawk and a big bushy beard and is extremely proud of his family heritage. He's very friendly and loves to tell tales of his various adventures, but if provoked he is a fierce barbarian. With a swig of beer, he's ready to brawl!
83	Captain Andor Gray is the innkeeper of Sparrow's Rest. He was the captain of the Night Wind, a smuggling ship, but is now earning a mostly honest living. He retired after a shipwreck that killed most of his crew. He still keeps "Pickle", a green parrot, who can usually be found in the common room. The bird will squawk "awk stay outta the grog awk" whenever someone refills their mug from the cask that Gray keeps out, free for the sailors who can't afford better. You can almost always find a fence buying goods there (no questions asked), and rumors say there's a hidden tunnel from the cellar that leads under the city wall to an abandoned quarry.
84	Joost is the friendly innkeeper of the Crown and Crescent inn. He's either a very tall dwarf, or maybe a half-dwarf (no one's sure, and he won't say). He has rust-colored hair and a braided beard, which he tucks into his apron.
85	Kósh is the half-orc innkeeper of the Outside Inn, just outside the city of Redcliff. He named it, but he doesn't really get the joke. Surprisingly, the inn does good business, even though it has few amenities except for a large stable and a good location if you're just passing through the city.
86	Zhirella is the attractive female half-elf innkeeper (and madame) of the Golden Bush tavern. It's very popular for its high-class courtesans.
87	Egan 'Rusty' Ironmane is the dwarf innkeeper of the Silver Eel Tavern. He was formerly a fisherman and before that a soldier.
88	Hard'ach "Hardy" Sl'avis - A dragonborn with the mannerisms of a dwarf, he inherited his tavern from his grandfather, Sil'bahn. He has a knack for making spicy meals for his patrons, and is quite a friend to make, knowing all of the goings-on in the town.
89	Cressida and Corinth Vor Haishen - a Dwarven couple with an adopted minotaur for a son far taller than either of them. They'll give you a discount if you can tell their son a story that'll keep him entertained for a bit, and want your input on where to send such a curious young boy to learn more. An academy, a monastery, they want input!
90	Skaesgolr the Tired - Skaesgolr the Tired of the Uthgardt will tolerate near enough anything, a fair fight is welcome, but assassins and thieves are not. He has much pride, and still believes he honours Uthgar, both with his past, and his present. His greatest achievement, a Giant sized great axe, it can be seen broken and damaged, hung in it’s ruined majesty on the rear wall above the bar. Anyone who challenges his idea or faith in his God will be challenged to a fight and/or be made to leave. Growing tired of finding the next great challenge, he claims that if Uthgar wants him to die in some great battle, it will have to find him - here he will wait... warm, well fed, with a belly fully of ale and a sack full of silver.
91	Molly Rexxen - A red-headed human female who always wears a bandana over her hair. She's a retired high level fighter who was once a soldier, and was ridiculed because she was a woman amongst the guard. When her city was surprised attacked by a neighboring band of monsters, she devised a plan and led the charge that protected the city with no casualties. After this, she turned down a promotion and quit to build her tavern and create an adventuring guild.
92	Modeus Jackson - a retired high level bard who runs "The Pocket" Inn. Often humming as he works and any action he does seems to follow the rhythm to an unheard song. In fact anyone who stays in "The Pocket" for long enough will find their actions more rhyrhmic than usual, joining in a symphony of synchronized cultery clanking, mastication, foot tapping under harmonising musical conversations and even melodious arguments. Modeus takes extra delight in serving Bard patrons who bring their own instruments and will offer discounts and advice in return for a quick performance.
93	Krall Razorthorn - Former half-orc warrior turned tavern owner, he exchanged his armor for a tuxedo. He runs a high class tavern called The Silk Sheik Tavern, specializing in dainty cocktails and high end drinks.
94	Borgrarg - Having amassed a fortune adventuring, this dwarf opened Drink. The tavern hasn't make so much as a copper piece in 4 years. He's been drunk all this time giving away drinks to anyone who walks in the door. Lucky for him, he's located in a small village, now known for its sobriety.
95	Marty Oggbin - smallish, middle-aged human, with a slight hunch on his back. Born and raised locally. Marty is forever the optimist and mysteriously manages to spin any traveler's downtrodden tale. He often gives away food to those most in need.
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Cover Art!
Story Summary: After years of beatings and neglect from her parents, 13-year old Frances was summoned with her entire class to the fantastical world of Durannon to fight the monsters invading the human kingdoms and defeat the "Demon King." If she succeeds, she might have the home she never had. But if she can't overcome the trauma and self-loathing inflicted on her by her abusive parents, Frances will die, and be summoned back to the home she escaped, on the day that she left.
Teaser: Let's say the Grand Army of Erlenberg isn't going to be a Grand Army for much longer.
[The Beginning] [<=Book 2 Chapter 27 (91)] [Chapter Index and Blurb] [[Book 2 Chapter 29 (93)=>]
Index of Windwhistler Family Members
Art of Frances's friends, Elizabeth, Martin, Ayax and Timur. Courtesy of RianneDraws :)
Fractured Song Discord Server so you can ask me questions and just hang with other fans. We have a meme channel. It has memes of the serial.
As part of their preparations, the Grand Army of Erlenberg had dug earthworks on both sides of the Silverstream River. Comprised of a thick earthen wall about the height of two humans, there were a total of six V-shaped earthworks, three on each side of the river bank with the tip pointed towards the north. Each earthwork was packed with musketeers, cannons and soldiers to defend them.
Frances and her company were, to their surprise, not on any one of those Earthworks. Instead, they’d been placed far on the left flank of the army, along with a mix of cavalry and infantry.
The cavalry stood in front of Frances and her company, who were all on foot. There were about a thousand riders armed with pistols and sabers. In front of the horsemen, with the teenagers and the convicts, were about five hundred musketeers.
Their commander, called Helena, didn’t even introduce herself to the teens. When the group and their soldiers arrived at their position, they were met with a messenger. In a crisp tone, and a slightly apologetic wince, he said, “You’re to follow my troops and shoot any enemy you see.”
“Is that it?” Elizabeth asked.
The messenger coughed, “Look, you’re not really part of our army and we appreciate the firepower, but our plan is to keep the orcs back with our musketfire.”
“Wait, what if their cavalry charges us?” Martin asked.
“You have pikes so you should be fine, and we have our own cavalry to skirmish with them. Look, you kids don’t have to worry. We’re ready for them.” With that the messenger rode off.
Frances briefly thought about what she’d been told and turned to Ginger.
“Ginger, how many battles have you been through?”
Scratching her hair, the convict frowned, “A lot. Um, I was fighting before the Otherworlders arrived. I also did some skirmishing at Meluthen. I was also at Westfall Pass and Kwent.”
Frances pursed her lips, and turning to her friends, pulled them into a huddle.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” she whispered.
“That you have bad feeling about this and that you’re right? Yes,” said Ayax.
“Well, that and I’m also thinking of letting Ginger take command, or at least be our advisor,” said Frances.
Elizabeth nodded. “Probably a good idea to let her lead.”
“Not quite. She should advise. They are our company. If we let her command, they’ll question our authority and I really, really don’t want that to happen,” said Martin.
They all quickly agreed with the knight, broke the huddle and faced Ginger, Frances glanced at her friends, and realized they were all looking at her.
“Alright, we’d like you to advise on how to get through this,” said Frances.
Ginger blinked. “Me?” At Frances’s nod, Ginger squawked, “I’m a convict!”
“Ginger, we’ve commanded, and we’ve fought, but not in a major battle.” Frances looked the convict in the eye. “Do you think right now that we can hold against a cavalry charge?”
“No. This whole section of the line is going to break,” said Ginger.
“Then what do you think we should do?” Elizabeth asked.
The convict rolled her eyes. “Run.”
“Not an option, we have orders,” said Martin, arms crossed. “Besides, we can’t run when our own horsemen are behind us.”
Ginger eyed the horsemen and sighed. “Fuck. Well we’ll have to fight our way out of it after we hold their charge with our pikes.”
“If we stay close, hold a square formation with pikes on the outside, maybe we can withdraw to the earthworks?” Elizabeth suggested.
The convict nodded. “That’s probably our best bet, but I wouldn’t even think about going to the earthworks. We need to just head for the woods.”
Ayax hissed, “We’d be abandoning our army—”
“Twelve thousand untested, unblooded troops against fifteen thousand of Antipades’s veterans? We don’t stand a chance,” Ginger snapped.
“We’ll stand a better chance if we stick to our friendly forces, though,” Elizabeth argued.
“Let’s see how the army is doing first, before we decide where to withdraw,” said Martin in a calm voice.
Frances swallowed. Her instincts were screaming at her to just lead her soldiers away, but that just wasn’t an option.
No, they had to fight this battle, a battle they had no say or control over. One they had a good chance of losing.
“I think we should examine how the situation develops,” said Frances. She took a deep breath. “We do have a duty and we should try to do it, but if the situation looks hopeless, we’ll withdraw.”
There were nods at that, though, nobody was completely happy, least of all Frances herself. She had no idea if she had just condemned herself, her friends and her soldiers to die.
They stood, or sat, in formation for what seemed like forever, though, Frances could tell by the sun’s movement that it’d been only about two hours. It was still morning, though the sun was much higher now.
Given how wet the ground was thanks to the spring rains, there weren’t any dust clouds. However, nobody could miss the mass of soldiers approaching them. Weapons glinted in the sunlight. Hooves and feet stomped on the ground. They were clearly closing for battle.
Frances watched the approaching force with a spyglass that Edana had given her for a present. The attackers facing her were mostly infantry. They included: goblin light skirmishers with small muskets and crossbows, goblin wolfrider packs, a few groups of orcs and trolls.
As they continued to march toward them, the Erlenberg cannon started to fire. Huge gouges were suddenly carved into the ranks of the enemy army as the Erlenberg cannon skipped their shot across the wet ground. Frances could hear the ships off the coast also opening up.
She turned her spyglass across the battlefield to the other side of the river and blinked.
The Alavari were charging. Orc boar cavalry, goblin wolfriders, centaurs with lances and carbines, raced across the field. There were undoubtedly infantry following them.
Somehow, they continued to charge, even as Erlenberg cannon cut down bloody gashes in their formation, but they only hit from one direction. Was the fleet not firing?
A closer look with her spyglass revealed what was going on. Thick, grey smoke, magical or artificial in nature was rising along the far eastern edge of the coast. It was so thick it seemed to obscure the sight of the ships at sea.
Frances turned her attention back to the enemies in front of her, and found that they weren’t advancing any longer. They’d stopped, and were lying down, just out of effective bullet range. Moreover, now that they were lying down, Frances could see that there weren’t a lot of Alavari facing them.
It came together all at once.
“They’re going for an all-out attack on the right side!” Elizabeth gasped.
“Now can we run?” Ginger asked.
“We have to go to them,” Martin said.
“Wait!” Frances grabbed Martin and Elizabeth’s shoulders. “I don’t think we can change this! We’ll just get killed.”
Martin shook his head. “Frances, you don’t know that. We need to try—”
“Hate to break it to you, but she’s right,” said Ginger, pointing at the other side of the river.
The Erlenberg line was spitting musketballs, and hundreds of Alavari riders were dead. And yet, the charge didn’t stop. A wave of panic spread through the Erlenberg line as the Alavari army, moving like one great beast, cut into their foes. They clawed through the lines of footsoldiers and musketeers, cutting down fleeing troops. Some squads and companies tried to rally around flags and standards, but the orc war pigs and centaurs surrounded them, and crushed them beneath their hooves. Meanwhile, as harpies harassed the gunners firing from the earthworks, goblins and trolls scaled the fortifications, leaping onto the platforms and attacking the soldiers manning them.
Tearing her eyes from the scene, Frances could see the other soldiers' shock, could see her own convict soldiers nervously backing glancing at each other.
The horsemen behind them? They were running, riding away toward the direction of Erlenberg. Small squads at first, and then full companies. Frances could see officers shouting at their soldiers, but they weren’t being listened to.
“Where’s the general?” Martin asked. Frances couldn’t see the general’s standard. It should have emblazoned the Erlenberg coat of arms, a city surrounded by ocean. Only, that standard was fleeing, with the cavalry.
Elizabeth stammered, “They’re abandoning us.”
Frances grimaced. “Withdraw to the camp! Everybody together!”
The camp on the left side of the river was chaos. Alavari and humans were grabbing food, supplies, anything really. Frances, her friends, and their company only just managed to get out of the mess thanks to having packed their supplies into two large wagons.
“How long until we get to Erlenberg?” Ginger asked.
“Five days. Assuming we can outrun their cavalry,” Martin muttered, panting heavily. The teens all had horses, but they didn’t want to exhaust their animals. Not unless they got into trouble.
That and Frances and Elizabeth had hitched their horses to the wagons they’d borrowed. Every convict-soldier carried food, but the wagons carried the rest of their supplies and more importantly, ammunition.
“Elizabeth, you and Martin were studying the maps. Do you think we can outrun their cavalry?” Frances asked.
Elizabeth and Martin exchanged glances, before Martin said, “If we get to the forest tonight, we might stand a chance. They’ll have to sleep too.”
“Tomorrow, we should try to rally as many soldiers as we can and try to make a stand there, slow them down a bit,” said Elizabeth.
“Wait, slow them down? How are we going to do that?” Frances asked.
“Guerilla tactics. We hit, and disappear back in the forest,” Elizabeth explained.
“They outnumber us, though, Elizabeth,” said Frances.
Martin looked back from where he was marching. “We need to do something. They will reach the walls of Erlenberg and they will not hold. I know you want everybody to stay safe, but if we retreat now the fighting will move into the city.”
“I understand but…” Frances thought about the decision, tried to think through the possibilities, but honestly she had no idea how to act, and what to do in this situation. “Ayax, what do you think?”
“I have even less combat experience than you three. So I think we should ask the professional here,” said Ayax, thumbing at Ginger.
The convict seemed to panic for a second, before swallowing. “Um, yeah about that. I’d run for the city, but… if you really want to fight, I’d rather fight in a forest than at the city. City-fighting is brutal.”
“Forest it is then,” said Elizabeth. Martin nodded after her, and was followed slowly after by Frances and Ayax.
Ginger watched this and frowned. Coughing, she walked ahead of the teens and turned around.
“Holdup, who here is actually in charge? I thought it was you who was in charge,” said Ginger, pointing at Frances.
“Me? Oh no. I… I’m not in charge. We… we make decisions together,” Frances squeaked, waving her arms.
“Well, we do agree with you a lot, cuz, but that’s because you tend to have a pretty good head on your shoulders,” said Ayax.
“Except you seem to trust… Elizabeth and Martin right?—Yeah, you trust them with military stuff. So who will be making the call in battle?”
“Elizabeth,” said Frances and Ayax.
“Frances,” said Elizabeth and Martin. The four stared at each other as they realized what they all had said.
“Elizabeth, you are good at leading troops. I saw you at Freeburg, you had everybody rallied to you and following your lead,” said Frances.
Elizabeth shook her head. “But you came up with the plan, and I’m the youngest of everybody here! You come up with all of our plans!”
“Yes, but you lead us through them, Elizabeth,” said Frances.
Martin nodded. “Actually Frances is right. I think it should be Elizabeth too.”
“Wait seriously?” Elizabeth stammered. The only reply she got was a bunch of nods.
“So that’s decided. Elizabeth has final say then,” said Ginger. “What are your orders?”
Elizabeth took a moment to brush her hair out of her eyes, and stand straighter.
“Get to the trees. We’ll find as many people as we can and rally them to our cause. Then we’ll delay the Alavari army as long as we can.”
“Aye,” said Frances, gently clasping and squeezing her friend’s shoulder.
The company had just reached the edge of the Pinewoods when Frances felt her hand mirror vibrate. Reaching into her belt, she pulled out the mirror to find the face of her Grandmother staring back at her.
“Oh Gods of Sea and Sand, Frances, you’re alive. Where’s Ayax and your friends?” Eleanor stammered.
“We’re all alive. We’re going to the Pinewoods. We’re going to try to slow them down as much as possible.
“How many do you have?” Eleanor asked.
“A company, but we think we can gather more soldiers and use the Pinewoods to our advantage. Grandma, you need to reinforce the city’s defenses and evacuate the civilians. General Antigones is on his way to the city.”
“I’ll do that. But please, in the meantime, stay safe.” Eleanor pursed her lips. “Call you mother. You need to let her know. You know…”
“I will.” Frances glanced ahead at the treeline. “When I get the chance. Thanks, Grandma.”
“Good luck, Frances.”
The Pinewoods existed in Erlenberg for one reason and one reason only, to provide a ready supply of ship-quality woods for the repair of Erlenberg’s many ships. This was why the majority of the woods were the eponymous pine, firs, oak and teak.
So unlike a typical forest, where the ground is bumpy and curled with tree roots and boulders, where bushes grow at the foot of trees and smaller shrubs and fallen trees split the undergrowth, and where squirrels, birds and all manner of animals frolic, the Pinewoods were… different.
The best way Frances could describe it was that there was a kind of ‘fake’ feeling to the woods. She remembered being in Leipmont’s forests and to a national park in one of her school trips. The woods here seemed more open, with very clear paths running between clumps of trees. The sound of animal life wasn’t there and there were places where she could see quite far into the forest. This was because the trees were all the same size and type and all planted with fairly uniform spacing.
They also weren’t alone. The first night they were in the forest, Frances had been on guard with their sentries, and several squads of soldiers joined them, drawn by their campfires.
The next day, as they marched deeper in, they ran into more hungry and tired soldiers. Most only had their weapons and the clothes on their back. Some didn’t even have that. They didn’t care that they were agreeing to follow a bunch of teens leading a group of convicts, they just wanted to be safe and fed.
By mid-afternoon, their company had tripled in size to a force of over three hundred as they had picked up a group of musketeers who’d fled, along with another group of footsoldiers. The teens had enough soldiers to send a scouting party to find a fjord so they could get across the river.
Frances was leading this scouting party of ten foot soldiers along the riverbank, with Ayax bringing up the rear. Martin and Elizabeth had told them that there was a bridge ahead they needed to secure.
As they approached the bridge, Frances’s eyes scanned the surroundings. The bridge itself was a sturdy structure of stone, with low, interspersed columns, carrying the arched structure over the wide river. It had no railings, and divots in the stonework showed its frequent use.
Taking a deep breath, Frances signalled for her squad to halt, pushed magic into her barding and ran across.
Nobody shot at her, nobody showed themselves. She reached the other side without harassment. Even after a brief lookaround, she couldn’t find anybody else. Seeing the area was clear, she signalled the rest of her squad to come.
“Stay alert and set up a perimeter. Can one of you go back and tell Elizabeth to bring the rest of our troops up?” Frances asked.
“Aye ma’am,” said one of the convict soldiers, a lithe girl who couldn’t have been more than Frances’s age.
“Just Frances, thank you.” She peered back into the forest, crouching low close to a tree, watching the silent forest.
“Ma’am—Frances, is it true you’re an Otherworlder?” asked one of the convicts, a grizzled, muscular man in an awkward fitting helmet.
“Yes. Though, some of us like to call ourselves, the Displaced,” Frances explained.
“Is it true that your world has flying machines and not a single Alavari? That even poor people own two story houses?” he asked.
“Yes. Though, we do have… less fortunate people in our world.” Frances smiled. “What’s your name.” “Gareth. Used to be a farm hand. You know, times got tough, debts piled up,” he sighed. “Don’t have a home to go back to, unlike you, but at least my family’s safe.”
Frances winced. “Durannon is my home. I’m one of those… less fortunate Otherworlders.” She glanced back at the forest and narrowed her eyes. “Look sharp. Someone’s approaching. Hold your fire.”
The squad pressed against the trees, peering at the approaching figures.
There were Alavari and humans, about twenty. All of them were out of breath, crashing through the woods on horses so tired they were foaming at the mouth. They were heading right toward them and were nearing their position.
Frances stepped out, her wand raised. “Are you of Erlenberg?”
The riders yanked on their reigns, staring at her. “Yeah. Who—the hell are you?” one asked.
“Frances Windwhistler, Otherworlder mage,” said Frances.
“Well mage or not we need to get away. We’re being pursued by goblin wolf-riders,”
“How many?” Frances asked.
“Fifty. So unless—”
“Gareth! Tell Elizabeth that the bridge is going to be contested by fifty wolf-riders and I need reinforcements!” Frances turned to the riders. “We have three companies heading this way. Were there any behind them?”
The riders blinked and shook their heads. “No-"
“Then dismount and get your carbines ready. We’re going to hold the bridge until our allies arrive," said Frances.
Ayax smirked. “Or you can run like you did a few days ago.”
The riders flinched and dismounted, taking positions alongside the rest of the squad.
Frances pulled Ayax aside. “Ayax can I ask you something?”
“Too on the nose?” the troll asked.
Frances blinked, realized her cousin was talking about her comment and shook her head. “No, I think you were right. If you went further I would have been worried. What I wanted to ask you about was if you have any spells that affect a large area?”
“None, but I can fire a pretty good bolt of magic,” said Ayax.
“Alright. Everybody, fire at will, but pick your shots! Save your ammunition.” Frances pulled out her spyglass and scanned the tree.
Then she saw it, wolves bounding over the undergrowth, weaving between trees.
Goblin wolf-riders were amazingly mobile scout cavalry. Armed with shortbows, but also increasingly pistols, Frances knew they’d have to get very close to get their shots off. What they relied on were numbers and psychology.
It was rather terrifying when an unnaturally large wolf charges toward you after all, especially when they are carrying a rider.
Frances however, planned to turn the tables. Ivy’s Sting in hand, she began to sing.
Ayax glanced at her cousin as she recognized the aria. As it always was, there was a primal quality to it. It was hard to pin down why. If she had to say, though, Edana’s song sounded a lot like a shriek, a banshee or ghost venting its anger. Frances’s aria however, was somehow more delicate, reedier and almost mournful, as if the notes she chose would never be resolved.
Until the last chord, followed by a thunderous crack that blinded the soldiers. Ayax blinked away spots to see the wolf riders in disarray, their mounts cowering, fleeing in all directions, out of control.
“Fire!” Ayax bellowed, she threw her first spell, smashing a goblin into a tree with a sickening thud. The convict soldiers and the cavalry added their own fire, and the quiet forest became split with the crack of muskets.
In the forefront stood Frances, throwing rocks at the goblins with force enough to split armor, sending bolts of fire that made wolves howl. Soon, the goblin riders fled, much of their number down and groaning.
“By Amura and Rathon, we won!” gasped a convict-soldier.
“Ahahah look at them run!” exclaimed a troll rider.
Frances took a quick sip from her hip flask. “Reload and ready for a counterattack. Keep your eyes peeled. Does anybody see our reinforcements?”
“We’re here!” Elizabeth yelled, at the head of a marching column of soldiers. She rode across the bridge, dismounted and blinked. “Oh? You ran into some friendly cavalry.”
“Survivors from the first day. How many did you bring?” Frances asked.
“One company. The rest are bringing up our supplies. They’ll be here in ten minutes. The horses can’t go any faster than that,” Elizabeth swallowed. “We have a problem, though. We saw some troll and orc foot scouts. So we don’t know how many we are being pursued by.”
“You said you fought about fifty wolf riders?” Ginger asked, jogging up to them.
“Yeah, why?” Frances asked.
Ginger grimaced. “There may be more behind them. Goblin wolf-riders are great scouts but they wouldn’t have attacked unless they knew they had serious back up. We’re talking about orcs on war pigs or even a full regiment of foot soldiers with archers and musketeers.”
Frances winced. “So we need to decide if we want to hold the bridge so we can cross it or retreat and keep on the west bank of the river.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “We hold the bridge. It’s only ten minutes and we need to get to the west bank.” She glanced at Ginger, “You don’t agree. Why?”
Ginger stiffened and her eyes narrowed. “Look. I get that we need to get to the west bank, but we don’t want a fight. We can fight, but we really don’t want to get into one.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You’re right, but Erlenberg’s west side faces the Silverstream and is defensible. They don’t need us there. However, Erlenberg’s north doesn’t even have a moat. We need to slow them down from reaching there.”
“Elizabeth, you’re right, but we have enemy forces behind us too. What if we get sandwiched between the two?” Frances asked.
Elizabeth frowned, “Ayax?”
The troll swallowed, tail swishing back and forth. Looking Elizabeth in the eye, she said, “Liz, I don’t know. Just do what you think is best. I trust you.”
Elizabeth blinked, and stared at Ayax for a second, unmoving, until the troll broke contact, looking away.
“Thanks, Ayax.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Here’s what we’ll do.”

Author's note: So I will be taking a break from updates on Thursday this week as I am coughing a storm and he also used the entire weekend working on an important job application instead of writing. Hopefully, it's not the-you-know-what, but I am hanging in there quite alright and I'm off work until Friday. I wrote a short character sketch below to make it up and I am thinking of making a lore-update to flesh out a few things about Erlenberg I wasn't able to earlier.
Question of the update: What's the worst thing you've ever tasted that wasn't actual feces (so it was food that was prepared and so Chinese herbal medicine doesn't count)?
So if the question wasn't a hint, I'm Asian. Specifically Chinese, though, I actually live in Canada so I'm apparently Chinese diaspora? Whatever the term is I consider myself Chinese-Canadian. My mom however has a habit of making these Chinese soups that... I just don't like. She's an amazing cook, but she tends to put herbs in the soup and yeesh, never like em, still don't, still have to drink them.
Character answers:
Frances: ... If... if we're excluding the times I was trash-hunting, and if my biological mother and Dan weren't making me eat scraps.... then I think the worst thing I've ever had was mom's first attempt at poutine.
Elizabeth: Edana's bad at cooking?
Frances: No! She's not bad at cooking, but the dish is from our world and well, you know how easily people in Durannon can mess up fries.
Martin: Ohhhhh yeah I remember that. You took two days to drill my cooks to make good fries. (See chapter 63).
Frances: blushes Oh yeah I did...
Ginger: Fries?
Ayax: I'll remind cuz to make you some. They're really good.
Elizabeth: Anyway, so I'm allergic to almonds, but I didn't know that I was for the longest time. When II was a kid, I tried this dish called um... I don't know it's a Chinese dish with almond tea and well, after I drank it, I started choking. I remember it was good, but um... yeah. Can't look at almonds the same way again.
Martin: shivers. My mom's... that is my Countess mom, is really really bad at cooking. She's so bad that we tried one of her pies and we very nearly broke our teeth on it. I felt really bad for her. She's really good at most things, but cooking is just not her strong suit.
Ayax: How did you nearly break your teeth on a pie?
Martin: I don't know! She added something into it that turned it into like... this hard thing.
Ayax: Snaps her fingers. OHHHH she made flour ornaments. She must have forgotten the butter and added like salt to it and then when she baked it so it turned hard.
Frances: Mile long stare at Martin, But... but how do you forget butter in a pie crust and add salt... I ...how?
Ayax: laughs I think the worst thing I've eaten was my adoptive little brother Benjamin's first attempt at cookies. Um.... let's just say... he didn't cook them very well, and thought um... thought that THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS NOT ENOUGH SUGAR! Now... I have a sweet tooth like any other, but that... I think Edana could set these cookies on fire there was so much sugar in them.
Martin and Elizabeth laugh whilst Frances giggles and Ayax beams proudly. Ginger sitting there looking a little lost.
Right that's the character sketch, enjoy everybody!

Well this was quite a spectacle. Or not.
So we begin this patch with the Scions talking about what they'll do next since they haven't done anything in months, you would think our most illustrious Warrior of Light would ask for backup in Bozja or something but we all know how useful the Scions are when they aren't using their favorite meat shield against Primals.
Then our least favorite ex-scion Lyse shows up to deliver exposition, pretending that she still cares about her former fellow lackeys and exploiting them. This time, Lyse wants the Scions to help her with Alliance business, which is quite a surprise because Lyse has ALWAYS been a shining example of competence and not stealing credit from Warriors of Light.
Alisaie, sensing politics, wisely decides to bail and makes up an excuse to go to Azys La with us, and then G'raha Tia local fanboy turned hanger on, decides to hang out solely to block Alisaie's latest attempts at getting at her idol's pants and together we set off to Azys La to find a cure for tempering. For Ga Bu. Remember him?
At Azys La ( which really should have fallen by now since those Scions turned off the device at the Steppes ) the golden trio go through some "WACKY ANTICS ", Alisaie decides to remind the most likely poorly educated, murder hobo, and idiot Warrior of Light that she's had a pampered lifestyle and had education. Oh and Alphinaud is a master debator who mocked the Hikkomori Sharlyan posers. Yes, a truly fascinating backstory. Really nice of Alisaie to remind her crush of how she and the rest of the Scions benefited from the rigged educational system and how the Warrior of Light really is the odd one out by not being a rich and/or educated Sharlyan Archon. Also some vague lines about her Papa. Something something may be important later.
Heck, even G'raha "Totally not a Simp" Tia ( For you people who zone out at lore out there, that means G'raha can't have sex with the multiple catgirls he grew up with. Basically laugh at everyone with the name Tia, their lives can't get any more embarrassing. And hey, you now understand why he's so desperate to get into the Warrior of Light's pants. ) reminds us all he's technically royalty when he hacks into the node to plagiarize a dead persons work. Typical Scion actions. After more " WACKY ANTICS " G'raha and Alisaie decide Cid would be better at identity fraud. (Side note, the Node when next to Krile and Tataru backhandedly refers to them as lowborn. Emet-Selch you depressed snide walking mummer's farce you.)
After more scenes talking about the fake atherology that most of you playing have doubtlessly zoned out, we learn that the Tempered(TM) take on the elemental traits of those who branded them. And the more clever in the audience can deduce the Ascian's powers is a benefits package when being recruited by Zodiark. They still have to deal with Elidibus's nagging though, and an eternity of that does make immortality much less fun.
So now they need ceruleum for some made up science experiment and off the Warrior of Light goes to get Ceruleum from Ishgard. Yes I can totally buy that the fundamentalist frozen wasteland Ishgard who has a grand total of ONE manufactory has enough ceruleum for Cid's made up experiment. While there, we conveniently meet up with famous sex symbol of fundamentalism Ser Aymeric. Remember him? He also wants to get into the Warrior of Lights pants after so long but decides to humor the Vanu Vanu Chief. Even though Ishgard really has little history with with them. But gotta show how noble and kind the hero's allies are. But it was a mistake for the writers to remind us he exists, and I'll get to that in a while.
Moving on, and one failed science experiment later, G'raha " Can't even make it to first base despite what the fanbase wants. " Tia through the power of plot knows how to use a magic spell to cure tempering. We don't learn in much detail because the Writers don't really understand magic beyond plot device though. This magic spell needs Alisaie's pig, who I will name Lolorito, so they can cure tempered, and decide to test it out on the traumatized child who saw his parents die. Truly brilliant. Really a cure for tempering would just make the Primals even less of a threat. For Zodiark's sake, Ifrit is reduced to a punching bag for useless side characters in the farce that is the Eorzean-Beastman conflict.
But in order to facilitate mass curing for tempering, the heroes go to the old bat Matoya. To mass produce pigs. And not even for bacon to feed starving children. Bastards. And somehow, the old hag has a factory at the ready, one dungeon later, the heroes beat up a newly born pig, turn her into a baby factory, and go on their merry way. But don't worry, this is for the greater good. But truly the image of pigs being used to cure people is a sight I will laugh at no matter how detrimental.
So after curing Ga Bu, the heroes then decide to do admiral MeaJLKSGASKJLHG"S dirty work and collect blackmail material on her political enemies, the "insert edgy pirate name here" wisely refuse to make peace with beastmen who are smart enough to realize that the Pirate Nation can't be trusted, and what Limsa is good for is public debauchery, which is why the Beastmen are committed to their course. Is there really a reason to trust the Pirate nation? The writers will surprise you with inane arguments.
So a stakeout session and another G'raha " Isn't he adorable with how Kawaii and shy he is " Tia screw up later, a curiously stupid Lala leads him and by extension, the equally stupid due to elitist education Scions to their crystal market. Before the Scions can trick the audience into believing this is bad somehow, the leader of the operation somehow captures the Warrior of incompetence and the twins. With a simple pistol.
The Warrior of Light, Blessed by Hydaelyn, Slayer of Primals/Eikons, Bane of the Imperial Legions, Eorzea's Champion, Savior of Ishgard, Rider of Dragons, Khagan of the Azim Steppes, Liberator of Ala Mhigo and Doma, Knight of House Fortemps, Soldier of one of the Grand Companies, Scion of the Seventh Dawn, Warrior of Darkness, and Azem, Fourteenth of the Convocation of Amaurot, was defeated by a mere stick up? Must investigate further.
So the Scions having been captured by a low level pirate is honestly one of the funniest parts of the story not having been intended by the writers. It is truly a most amusing idea to have the Scions in all their power shot to death and left to rot in a random cave by pirates. But the Sub numbers prevail and it turns out the leader is actually ANOTHER SIMP FOR THE WARRIOR OF LIGHT? That is the most threadbare excuse for a villain to spare the Scions I have ever encountered. The Simp for the Light asks the Warrior with all the Simps to relay a message to Admiral MEHGKJDHGLSAKDHF that he wants to challenge her to a duel or something.
So Admiral ME:":{":{:>ASD{DPAW decides to agree for some reason. ( Betting you all 500 gil that Square realized the Husbando to Waifu ratio was tipped in the former's favor and needed to attract more thirsty fans with MEHYURPJSAWGHAL's pirate thighs.) And what follows is the biggest mummer's farce I've seen yet.
Pirate Simp and Admiral Merl;lkashgjl;asjg;as have a duel with guns, but somehow their bullets hit each other, repeatedly, and then Pirate simp gets talked down to by a random old Roe. With one of the worst speeches delivered on how Pirates should value freedom over being an actual pirate and how the most rebellious thing one can do is obey authority, this random old Roe is able to convince the crowd who were just 5 minutes ago baying for blood to become simps for Admiral MEAKJRLASJKDHAKLSJ.
For Zodiark's sake, this is like telling someone to be a criminal for freedom but not to commit crimes. Do you realize how dumb that sounds? These are pirates, they don't explore the seven seas searching for adventures, they steal, kill, rape, and keelhaul people. Look up what keelhaul actually means to get a sense of what Pirates actually do.
Perhaps the writers think the Yakuza honorable gangster can be registered to pirates. Pirates and Yakuza are different occupations, the Writers may have an idealized view of crime, but you can't pirate without actual victims. Hell, the Pirate crew in question weren't even doing anything heinous, they were stealing crystals from beastmen, what else do beastmen use crystals for? That's right, summoning Primals, you know the thing we are trying to stop? If the Scions did the exact same thing, it would be considered heroic.
Really now, do any of the people really care for Limsa politics? It's been so long since Limsa was relevant. I get that the writers needed an Eorzean based adventure to care about this place again when the audience mostly cares about the First, but this is a poor way to do it. I guess how one enjoys this particular plot point relies on how much they care about Limsa.
So then with another pirate crew reduced to a simp crew, we go to negotiate with the head Kobold priest. After another fight, Admiral Ayemeric asks how Ishgard can atone for it's crimes of betrayal, alterations of history to favor Isghard, and perpetuating a cycle of bloody revenge. And Hresvelgr decides he'll trust Ishgard again because Ga Bu said so.
Do you see now why this pirate plot point isn't very compelling? It's because it's basically the Ishgard plot again, but in just a patch, with less development and compelling characters. Admiral Not-Aymeric even reveals she killed her dad. Okay.
So the Heroes think they can rest but then towers start to appear and reports are coming in that Ala Mhigo is being attack, and now we come to the plot point that the majority of the audience cares about: Me finally meeting the Scions.
And of course, my trusty Lunar Bahamut. I know you all really want it, but don't worry, Square will introduce more class exclusive glams to recover from their latest screw up. After making my very flamboyant entrance with my very much improved actor, I kill all the heroes, destroy Zenos, and then the entire universe using my Lunar Bahamut.
Also we see u/GarlemaldForever lunging at Lyse.
The end. And we all lived happily ever after.
So I must say, overall this patch had a tough act to follow, Patch 5.3 had some very emotional moments, great character work, Elidibus dying like the little nagger that he is, and my first big scene. So of course this patch had much lower stakes, had the dumb idea of cramming in too much in too little time, and you are left feeling, " wait, is that it?" Because just as the plot finally begins to focus on something we care about, it just ends abruptly.
I give this patch an Asahi out of 10.

​

Table of Contents
Chapter 19 l Chapter 20 l Chapter 21

Dei
Palma landed outside a large building near the center of the city. Mighty stone steps lead from the street to the main doorway. Palma walked in and nodded at the officer who sat at the security desk in the main lobby as Palma moved quickly to a set of stairs.
Looking up at the large column of stairs, Palma noticed a large space in the center with plenty of room for his muscled body to fly through.
With several powerful motions of his large black wings, Palma took off and soared straight upwards through the stairwell and he swiftly arrived on the sixth floor.
Palma made his way through the hallway and past the receptionist who tried to protest as Palma made his way into a room where the door had a golden plaque with bold black lettering stamped firmly into the metal which read: “Police Commissioner Gabriel Palma.”
Inside, Palma’s father Gabriel, an older man with brown wings and dark hair like his son’s, stood pouring a dark liquor into a crystal tumbler with a brass ring around the rim. Though the senior Palma’s hair had streaks of white along the sides. Gabriel turned to Palma, his eyes narrowing on him, “Son,” he took a sip, “I should have known he would send you.”
“Hey Pops,” Palma said simply as he shut the door behind him, “we need to talk.”
“Warren fucked me,” Gabriel said, drinking from the glass deeply, “utterly and completely fucked me.”
Palma nodded.
Gabriel turned to Palma, and asked, “So, what’s the game plan?” he hissed as he took a deep drink from the tumbler of booze, “So, who did I piss off inside the organization?”
“Trueman, mostly,” Palma said, “but Sorjoy’s taking full advantage of it.”
“What else does that little shit got on you?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes on Palma, “how fucking sloppy have you gotten, boy?”
Palma shrugged, “probably the same shit Trueman has on you.”
Gabriel threw his glass down onto the ground, causing it to completely shatter into shards as it struck the floor, “Guardian Dammit, boy!” Gabriel roared.
Palma took a step back to avoid the flying shards of glass from the broken tumbler as his father bellowed.
“You had one fucking job! Keep your fuckin’ nose clean!” Gabriel shouted, “But no! Not my stupid son-of-a-bird son! He’s got to get his hand caught in the honey pot… and by who? Erik fuckin’ Sorjoy?” Gabriel sneered, “That kid Sorjoy is as clean as a damn whistle and here you are getting caught by that little punk scout of The Scale!”
“Pops I-” Palma was interrupted quickly.
“No!” Gabriel screamed, “you’re out of excuses,” Gabriel barked, “and I’m done protecting your dumb-angel-ass. I can’t do shit for you anymore, boy.”
Palma looked to his feet and nodded, “No Pops, you can’t. That’s why I’m going to do something for you. I’m going to save your ass, but you gotta do what I say. Got it?”
“Really?! You’re going to do something good for me? That would be a first,” Gabriel gave Palma a cold glare, “Well spit it out. What do my shit-for-brains son and little Erik want from me?”
“For you to resign,” Palma stated coolly.
Gabriel’s knuckles went white as he glared at Palma, “What?!”
Palma now took a more aggressive stance against his father, “I said: You’re going to resign,” he said, lacking any emotion in his voice, his face stoic.
Gabriel’s lip quivered in rage as he stared down at his son, “I am not going to resign my post as Commissioner…”
“Don’t worry Pops,” Palma smiled wickedly, “I’ll take your spot.”
“You?!” Gabriel roared, marching up to Palma and sending his large fist towards Palma’s face.
Palma blocked it, grabbed Gabriel’s fist, and pulled it tight under his armpit, kneeing his father in the gut, causing the older man to double over.
Palma took a swift step back to allow Gabriel to fall to his knees, “It’s time to retire, Pops. You’ll be fine. Move down south,” as he lorded over his fallen father.
Gabriel wheezed and glared up at Palma, “You... little… shit… what dirt do you think Trueman has on me?”
Palma said nothing, giving a nonchalant expression as he shrugged.
“That little slut? She went and got a rape kit and filed a full report against your stupid ass,” Gabriel snarled, “your fuckin’ DNA is all over it. Trueman has it and he’s held that shit over me for years. You think Sorjoy and Trueman aren’t going to do the same fuckin’ shit to you?”
Palma frowned, “...The girl I fucked is Sorjoy’s personal assistant.”
Gabriel grumbled, getting to his feet slowly, “Oh, is she now?”
Palma grinned, “How’s this Pops? You’re not that old you can still get the job done. Resign, promise me you’ll kill the bird, run down to south before anyone catches wind of it. I'll claim to know nothing, you get to remove the black-mail over my head and I’ll run this department exactly how you always did.”
Gabriel smiled, “Now… for once… you’re actually using that fucking brain of yours!” Gabriel laughed, grabbing Palma by his shoulder, “That’s my boy,” he gave Palma a wicked grin, “To be honest with you, it will be satisfying to finally kill that little slut. Finally shutting her the fuck up will be a nice end to my long career.”
“Because if I can’t have you, Cleo, then no one can have you,” Palma thought to himself as a demonic grin crossed his face.
…
Sorjoy sat in his office, listening to Palma and Gabriel’s conversation in his lavish office from a small receiver, “Palma you sorry sad sack of shit,” he said venomously, “like I’d let you or your father touch her.”
Sorjoy got to his feet, walking towards his office door. He opened it, spotting Cleo sitting at her desk, her violet eyes darting between multiple icons on her screen, occasionally tapping here and there.
Cleo eventually noticed Sorjoy, she turned to him, “Mr. Sorjoy, something I can help you with?”
“I wanted to let you know that I thoroughly enjoyed myself with you at the wedding,” Sorjoy said with a warm smile.
Cleo gave a nod, “it was a lovely affair, sir. Mr. Hoffman chose a lovely bride.”
Sorjoy chuckled, “she wasn’t the most beautiful woman at the wedding. If you ask me.”
Cleo turned to her computer screen, “Mr. Sorjoy, we are on the clock and as I stated: the event was me accompanying you to the function as a last resort, as you put it.”
“So, I can’t speak my mind?” Sorjoy asked, “you were, well, are beautiful.”
“Mr. Sorjoy,” Cleo said, narrowing her eyes on him, “This is not appropriate workplace behavior.”
Sorjoy nodded, “yes and I wanted to address another situation: Based on your records from HR, I see that you’re renting a small home outside the city limits. No doorman or other form of security.”
“Sir?” Cleo asked, her well-sculpted eyebrow raised.
“With this ‘Cerberus’ group placing letters addressed to you in my limousine, I feel it’s important that you find yourself in more secure accommodations,” Sorjoy offered.
Cleo narrowed her eyes, “Mr. Sorjoy, if you’re about to suggest that I move in with-”
“There are condominiums on the middle floors of the Fondsworth, Inc building,” Sorjoy interrupted, “and if you are an employee you can receive a significant discount for purchasing one.”
“Mr. Sorjoy, while you pay me fairly well you do not pay me enough to live in one of the condominiums in The Fondsworth Building,” Cleo pointed out.
Sorjoy chuckled, “there are a few vacancies, why let them remain vacant? You’ve been a valuable asset to me. As such I cannot risk losing you. I can arrange for you to live there for the next year or so, in order to keep you protected. Rent would be considered a non-issue.”
Cleo frowned, “it seems more like you’re trying to keep me under your watchful gaze and I think that would be a conflict of interest.”
“Cleo,” Sorjoy said, glaring at her, “I have two ways to protect you from Cerberus: I can fire you, or I can move you into this building: Make your choice.”
Cleo’s eyes went wide as she stood up abruptly, “Mr. Sorjoy, I’m going home.”
Sorjoy stood up straight, looking down on Cleo, “oh, are you now?”
“Yes,” Cleo stated, taking her laptop and moving to the elevator, waiting for the doors to open for her. She stepped inside and turned to Sorjoy, “I have some packing to do, apparently,” she explained as the doors closed.
Sorjoy grinned, “Perfect.”
…
Cleo walked to a waiting limousine, cursing under her breath as she spotted Naberious holding the door for her, “thanks, Nab.”
“Did something bad happen up there? You seem like you’re upset,” Naberious asked.
“We’ll talk about it on the ride home,” Cleo snapped, pulling out her tablet once she was inside.
Naberious soon was in the driver’s seat and rolling the partition between the passenger and driver cabins down. “Want to talk about it?”
“Sorjoy wants me to live in his little ivory tower,” Cleo stated.
“Oh,” Naberious was silent for a moment, “how are you going to afford that?”
“Sorjoy says the company will foot the bill,” Cleo said as she tapped on her tablet.
“Mind if I say something?” Naberious asked.
“Go ahead,” Cleo shrugged.
“Seems you’re pissin’ and moaning about something that’s a pretty sweet deal,” Naberious reasoned.
“I’m not pissing and moaning!” Cleo shouted.
“Oh, but you are,” Naberious chuckled, “living in a luxury condo in the same building you work? Sounds so terrible,” Naberious said sarcastically.
Cleo sighed, “he just wants to lock me up in a tower and try to keep me as a little wage slave..”
“Like a fairytale princess?” Naberious laughed.
“Fuck off!” Cleo exclaimed, “granted… Teryn did just move out… it’s going to be kind of lonely in the old room.”
“So what’s the problem?” Naberious asked.
“The problem is this was all kicked off by those idiots at Cerberus who left a note in the limo!” Cleo hissed, “which, by the way, I’d love to know how that got by you!”
“The envelope was not there when I parked,” Naberious sighed, “whoever slipped it in did so without opening the door.
Cleo looked around the cabin, examining it carefully before she spotted the sunroof, noticing it was slightly ajar. A very tiny gap that barely let any light in could be seen. She pointed to the sunroof, asking, “Nab, is the sunroof opened?”
“Hmm? Not according to the indicator,” Naberious pressed a button on the dash, the sunroof shifting slightly, closing the small gap.
“I’m guessing the sunroof doesn’t have an alarm?” Cleo asked.
“The whole limo is alarmed, why?” Naberious asked.
“Because the sunroof was opened,” Cleo pointed out again.
“Fuck,” Naberious cursed under his breath, “I’ll check the system later.”
“Yeah and maybe lock the damn sunroof,” Cleo sighed as the limo pulled up to her home.
“So, do you think Mimi is going to get pissed about you moving out?” Naberious asked.
Cleo shook her head, “Mimi has bigger issues on her plate than whether or not I’ll be paying rent for the next few months.”
Cleo left the limo just as she spotted the cleaning imps leaving, Mimi supervised their departure.
Ipszwellia beamed at Cleo, waving weakly.
Cleo stopped and smiled at Ipszwellia, “Hello, Ipszwellia was it?”
Ipszwellia stopped, gasping in surprise, “y-yes Miss?”
“Ipszwellia, how would you like it if I hired you to be my new house imp?” Cleo asked.
Ipszwellia’s small eyes grew wide, “R-Really?!”
Mimi, who was standing in the doorway, lifted an eyebrow as she eyed Cleo on the front lawn.
“Yeah, I have a new place and I’ll be so busy working, I won't be able to keep it clean on my own,” Cleo mused.
Ipszwellia beamed to Cleo, “I’d be honored!” she tittered, excitement filling her to her very core.
Cleo pulled out a business card, handing it to Ipszwellia, “Call me for the details - I’ll need you to start as soon as tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much, Miss!” Ipszwellia gasped as she took the card and quickly rushed to catch up with the other cleaning imps.
Cleo smiled, but that smile dropped once she turned to Mimi.
Mimi let loose a plume of smoke from her lovely lips, “Something you want to tell me, dear?”
Cleo gave Mimi a nod, walking up to her, “Mimi, I’m moving out.”
“Says who?” Mimi narrowed her eyes, “your debts aren’t fully paid off.”
“Teryn left,” Cleo now glared at Mimi.
“Teryn was bought and paid for,” Mimi explained, “your little white-feathered ass is not.”
“I’m not one of your girls anymore!” Cleo shouted.
“Aren’t you?” Mimi smiled, “you went on a date the other day with one of my clients, did you not? I put the money towards your lease, did I not?”
Cleo glared at her, “So, what? I’m stuck here? You won’t let me leave?”
“I never said that,” Mimi said, taking another inhale of her cigarette through her obsidian cigarette holder, pouting her perfect lips at Cleo, “I said that in order for Teryn to leave, her bill had to be settled.”
“Her bill?!” Cleo shouted.
“That pretty little dress that you wore to get Sorjoy all hot and bothered at the wedding? Who paid for that dress?” Mimi reminded Cleo.
Cleo turned from Mimi.
“Look at me,” Mimi hissed, “you fucking bird.”
Cleo turned to face enigmatic Mimi again.
“You think you can just leave without telling me? Who made these plans for you? That hotshot Sorjoy? Is he going to pay for you?” Mimi asked.
“He doesn’t know-” Cleo was cut off.
“Right,” Mimi continued, “he doesn’t know who owns your ass.”
Cleo narrowed her eyes on Mimi once more, “what is my bill?”
“It depends,” Mimi said, turning to walk inside.
“Depends on what?” Cleo asked, following her inside.
“It depends on what you think your freedom is worth,” Mimi smiled, “little girl.”
“Okay, Mimi,” Cleo shut the door behind her, “let's negotiate.”
…
Gabriel Palma walked up to a podium before a slew of press. The podium stood before the police department's steps.
“Citizens of Seraph City,” Gabriel Palma began, “My tenure as Chief of Police has lasted for many decades. In that time, I have placed Law and Order at the forefront of my goals as your Commissioner.”
Cameras flashed as several officers lined up behind Gabriel.
Palma was among them, standing to the left of his father.
Sorjoy stood in Trueman’s manner, watching the events unfold on a large TV.
Trueman, sat before the screen, scowling at the image, “So, as you said, you forced Gabriel Palma out. His son… however… he’ll be taking his father’s place?”
“Yes, Grand Patriarch,” Sorjoy stated.
“And you have his loyalty?” Trueman asked.
Sorjoy gave a nod, “yessir, absolute loyalty. I have complete control over him thanks to him tilting his hand a bit too hard.”
Trueman nodded, “I see.” Trueman grinned, knowingly, “well done then. Perhaps I was wrong regarding your will to lead.”
Sorjoy smiled, “more so than Hoffman?”
“Let us see about that, yes? For now,” Trueman motioned to the screen, “let us see the fruits of your labors.”
Meanwhile, at the press conference, Gabriel continued his speech, “As such, it’s with a heavy heart that after so many years I resign my position as Commissioner-” Before he could complete his sentence, a shot was heard and Gabriel collapsed.
There was shouting, screaming and the camera shifted position.
Trueman grinned a half-smile as Sorjoy’s eyes went wide.
“What the hell just happened?” Sorjoy shouted.
The news anchor’s voice soon came over the TV in a panic, “We can confirm that shots were fired from the rooftop! We are unsure if Commissioner Gaberial Palma was injured!”
From behind the podium, over the doors of the police station were three explosions, followed by the unfurling of a trio of massive banners which reached down to the ground.
Each banner had the silhouette of a wolf’s head in black, the banners blue, yellow, and purple respectively. The eyes of each wolf matched the color of each banner.
Finally, the TV flickered for a moment, with a logo of the three wolves silhouettes, with eyes that matched the three banners.
On the screen was a trio of individuals, each with a dog’s head mask.
The voices were obscured as they spoke.
“Dear Seraph City,” the middle angel seemed to speak, “We are the heads of Cerberus.”
The leftmost voice now began, “and if you are seeing this, then Commissioner Gaberial Palma is, sadly, deceased.”
“Such is the fate of any of those who would dare to harm our leader,” the rightmost figure shouted, “Persphone!”
“It is not you we have come to claim,” the middle head called, “it is those who sicken this city from the top down.”
“So if you are of meager means, eeking out your existence as we all are, know we are with you,” informed the leftmost head.
“If you struggle to make ends meet,” the rightmost head continued, “Know we are with you.”
“But if you rule over all of us with dirty money, corrupt power, or other ill-gotten gains,” the center head declared, “know we are your sworn enemy!”
All three now spoke, “We are here to Tip the Scale. We are Cerberus!”
Sorjoy narrowed his eyes and grabbed his phone, calling Palma. “Answer the phone, you useless bastard,” he whispered under his breath.
Soon the image returned to the sight of officers pulling the banners down and Palma shouting orders to his officers.
Trueman said calmly, “Leave the man to handle the situation,” Trueman said as he turned to Sorjoy, “let us see the sort of man he is when the ‘heat’ is on, so to speak.”
Sorjoy turned to Trueman, shocked, “Sir, this is an attack on us. If Persephone knows of The Scale and Cerberus gave that message, is that not a declaration of war?”
Trueman gave a nod, “it’s a gauntlet thrown at our feet, certainly,” he turned to Sorjoy, “how would you respond in kind?” Trueman asked cryptically.
“What do you mean?” Sorjoy asked, “We have to take the fight to them directly.”
Trueman nodded, “So, you’d plan to assassinate their Leader then?”
Sorjoy paused for a moment, “Wait, wasn’t that why they said they attacked Gabriel?”
Trueman smiled and turned to Sorjoy, “Yes. Perhaps you should consider that. Who was the aggressor here? Why was Gabriel the target?”
Sorjoy narrowed his eyes, “so you’re saying…?”
“Perhaps you do not have as much control over the younger Palma as you thought,” Trueman said, his smile vanishing. “I suggest you speak to your dog and reaffirm his training.”
Sorjoy bowed to Trueman, “I will sir. Thank you.”
Malik entered the room, bowing gracefully, “Mr. Trueman, the project is ahead of schedule.”
Mr. Trueman gave a nod to Malik, “Mr. Sorjoy, I believe you have some business to attend to, as do I.”
“Of course, Mr. Trueman,” Sorjoy stood up and made his way out of the manner, heading to his limousine which was waiting outside.
Once Sorjoy was gone, Mr. Trueman looked down the steps with mild contempt before following Malik towards the atrium. “Completely rudderless, nothing like his father. A shame, to be honest. I do not think he will do well as Grand Patriarch.”
“But Mr. Hoffman?” Malik asked as he escorted Mr.Trueman through the thick foliage of the atrium.
“Hoffman is an even poorer choice,” Trueman sighed, “I’m merely pitting them against one another to determine who is the less of two poor outcomes.”
Malik gave a concerned sigh, “Are there no other candidates?”
“None within The Scale,” Trueman admitted, “thus why this project is so important.”
Malik and Mr. Trueman soon arrived at the location of the Heart of Lucifer.
Several Imps stood around the diamond with multiple scanning devices, computers, and finally, a pair of imps stood under the Heart of Lucifer.
The Heart of Lucifer was lifted high enough to allow them to work underneath it. There, the pair were drilling away at the hardened diamond.
“How much longer?” Mr.Trueman asked, his breath shorter than normal.
“Almost to the core, but we aren’t sure how much pressure is inside,” one of the imp technicians advised, “so please, stay back!”
The pair with the large drill soon shouted, “We’re through!” and a hissing noise could be heard.
Mr.Trueman watched as the blue liquid turned an even more radiant blue. Below the diamond, a small clear flask filled with the liquid before the technicians capped the flask.
One imp held the filled flask up, his eyes mesmerized by the swirling blue liquid and strange metallic flakes within it.
Mr.Trueman snatched the flask from the imp, “it is the blood of Lucifer… the last Patriarch only had a single ampule of this fluid… and he squandered it like a fool. But I…” Mr.Trueman smiled triumphantly, “I will use it properly.”
Malik frowned, “Mr.Trueman, sir?”
“To the elevator,” Mr. Trueman ordered, “Now!”
Malik nodded and hurried Mr. Trueman along from the atrium to the elevator, “Mr. Trueman, sir, are you certain this will work?”
“If it doesn’t, then I may just lose my faith in the Guardian Lucifer,” Mr. Trueman looked at the fluid, “it must work.”
A concerned look crossed Malik’s face, “Of course, sir.”
Mr.Trueman walked into Kaelen’s room, followed by Malik.
Malik walked to a medical drawer and pulled out a fresh syringe.
“Quickly, Malik,” Mr. Trueman ordered, “Quickly now.”
Malik nodded, unwrapping the needle and inserting it into the flask. He drew the blue liquid from the flask into the needle.
Malik walked over to Kaelen and injected the fluid into a vein in his forearm.
Kaelen’s veins turned blue for a moment at the point of injection. After a moment or two, Kaelen’s body convulsed, the devices hooked up to him showing an increased heart rate.
Mr.Trueman smiled wide, “Yes! Yes! Revive my son, Guardian Lucifer!”
Kaelen’s convulsions slowed down and finally, he settled back to rest.
Mr.Trueman walked up to Kaelen, slowly feeling his arm, “he’s stronger… but… Kaelen? My son? Are you there?”
Malik looked to the floor slowly, giving a heavy sigh, “I’m so sorry, Mr.Trueman.”
Mr.Trueman took the syringe, looking at Malik, “I suppose I have nothing else to live for.”
“Mr. Trueman?!” Malik shouted as he watched as Mr.Trueman injected the remaining blue fluid into his arm.
…
Jax pulled a rifle from a window sill and ducked behind a wall, heaving a sigh of relief. “Fucking A man,” Jax’s brow was furrowed, sweat seeping down his face.
Jophiel handed Jax a cloth, “dry yourself off, wipe your prints off the gun and leave it. We’ve gotta go.”
“Did I get him?” Jax asked.
“He went down like a sack of shit,” Jophiel said as he slid his mask on, “which serves the bastard right. A corrupt cop who killed Guardian-knows how many people.”
Jax nodded, “Never killed anyone before.”
“Me neither,” Jophiel said, offering Jax his hand, “but let's just trust in the fact he deserved it.”Jax grunted as Jophiel hefted him up, the pair heading out of the room and through the fire escape on the other side of the building. Both angels climbed down the fire escape and slipped out of the room as best they could.
Upon reaching the ground, each slipped on normal respirators and vanished into the crowd.
After a few minutes of using the chaos to escape, Jax and Jophiel each met up on the outskirts of town and they pulled out a phone.
Jax hit the call button and kept the small phone on speaker while Jophiel ensured they had not been followed.
Mimi’s voice soon chimed in over the line, “Speak,” her lilting voice carried over the phone, beguiling her intent.
“We’re clear,” Jax said.
“Good,” Mimi stated, “that cock-sucker was a real pain in my ass.”
“What’s next?” Jophiel asked.
“What’s next,” Mimi instructed, “is the two of you skip town for the better part of a month or two and lay very, very low.”
Jax frowned, “What do we do for cash?”
“Boys, boys, boys,” Mimi laughed, “didn’t we take care of that?”
Jophiel sighed, “you gave us enough for a week. What are we gonna do for a month?”
“Are your hands broken, boys?” Mimi gave a sinister laugh, “Go find yourselves some jobs.”
“And what do we do after that?” Jax asked.
“Don’t call me, I’ll call you,” Mimi said. The call ended.
“What?!” Jax shouted, dialing the number again, the call going straight to voicemail.
Jophiel sighed, “We gotta go, man, we’re too hot right now.”
Jax snapped the small cellphone in half, and grunted to himself, tossing both halves across the alleyway.
Jophiel looked back on the city and narrowed his eyes, “I guess we can’t do anything but wait and trust Persephone.”
Jax nodded, “I hope to get a call soon,” as he glared at the city in the distance, “I still got a score to settle with Fondsworth.”
…
Three Months Later
Shuttle Goodwill
Yuki smiled as she woke from her sleep, excited that the day was finally here.
Tarrabetha seemed equally excited, but Yuki was certain her emotions were affecting Tarrabetha’s or was it vice versa?
Tarrabetha smiled wide as she floated through the air, “oh, I can’t wait to talk to Tom!”
Yuki smiled, “And I can’t wait to see my son!” While Yuki missed Serren very much, her joy at finally arriving at Dei to see her son was overwhelming her longing for Serren.
At the same time, Tarrabetha and Yuki’s joy had spilled over to Issla and Briggett as they were both in a cheery mood.
“Well, we’re within radio range,” Briggett stated.
Tarrabetha grinned and floated over to the radio equipment, “This is Shuttle Goodwill, announcing we are only three hours from our descent!” Tarrabetha announced in a well-practiced Dei accent.
Yuki was impressed with how well Tarrabetha spoke Dei. Though she was still curious how or why no one on Dei had known about a Niten shuttle.
After a short delay, Tarrabetha heard Thomas’s response, grinning wide, “Oh, Tommy, I cannot wait to be closer to you…” she grinned wide, “I want to kiss you so bad!”
Tarrabetha waited a few more moments before a reply came from Thomas, “Can’t wait, Tarra! When you land… okay?”
Tarrabetha beamed, turning to Briggett, “Please, let me get off the ship with Yuki? Please?! It’s the last chance I’ll ever have to meet him!”
Yuki’s face fell slightly, “Tarra… he’s never seen you, right?”
Tarrabetha laughed, “Well, no,” she frowned, “why, is there something wrong with me?”
“No, no, it’s just… how can you… feel something for him if you’ve never met him?” Yuki asked.
“Because of how well we flirt,” Tarrabetha grinned.
Issla sighed, looking out the main viewing window, “Tarra, Yuki has a minor point: Even if you meet, we have 72 hours to leave.”
Tarrabetha turned to her colleagues and grinned, “Well… yeah… I’m kind of going to stay on Dei.”
“What?!” all three of the crewmates shouted at Tarrabetha.
Tarrabetha staggered back, “What? I love Tom and I wouldn’t ask him to leave his home and I’ve already been gone-”
“No!” Yuki shouted, rushing to Tarrabetha, “you do not want to live here! Why do you think I’m trying to bring my son home?!”
Tarrabetha was confused by Yuki’s confession, “But, Yuki, didn’t you live there?”
“Yes!” Yuki shouted, “and trust me, you’d be miserable there!”
Issla frowned, “I have to agree with her Tarra… we don’t know much about Dei culture and you’d be the only Niten Dragon on the whole planet. Honestly, I think it’s a bad idea.”
Tarrabetha frowned, “I’m seeing Tom! No one can stop me!”
“I can stop you,” Briggett ordered, “now let's get ready for landing. The only person getting off this shuttle is Yuki.”
Issla nodded, “Tarrabetha, it’s a bad idea. You know how miserable we feel when we land. That isn’t decompression, that’s the way all of the Dei Angels feel. Stressed, anxious, and worried. Is that how you want to live?”
Tarrabetha pouted and floated away from the three of them, small tears floating after her.
Yuki could feel how upset Tarrabetha was, and decided it best to not bother Tarrabetha until they landed. Still, she felt a new level of nervousness as everyone was concerned regarding how they would handle Tarrabetha once they landed.
After a few hours, the shuttle was entering Planet Dei’s atmosphere.
Yuki watched as the shuttle took a long and gradual descent through the atmosphere.
“Everyone strap in for our descent,” Briggett announced.
Yuki moved to strap-in, adjusting her straps slightly as she did so. She rubbed her brow, painfully. Somehow she had gotten a pair of bumps on her head at some point. Where the bumps came from she was unsure. Yuki wondered if something had bumped her head while she was sleeping.
The rest of the crew strapped in as well, Issla checking their altitude and heading.
“Currently ten minutes to landing, cruising through the upper atmosphere, heat shields are holding,” Issla announced.
Biggett now stated as she gripped the controls, “holding re-entry angle steady, speed dropping below supersonic.”
Tarrabetha’s seat was closest to the communication panel and she spoke into a handheld radio, “Shuttle Goodwill coming in t-minus 9-minutes there, handsome!”
Yuki just did her best to hold on as the shuttle shuddered and rocked back and forth for a moment.
Yuki felt the ship begin to drop as it continued. Briggett’s hands were firmly on the control stick, however, guiding the ship down slowly.
Issla announced, “temperatures are nominal, speed has dropped below supersonic, engaging terrestrial engines.”
The shuttle shuddered once more and Yuki felt a sensation of the ship lurching forward for a moment.
After this, the ride grew much smoother, and Yuki looked out to see a set of dark clouds below. Yuki took a deep breath as the ship dipped through what she knew as the smog of Seraph City.
Tarrabetha smiled as the radio chimed in, “Shuttle Goodwill, this is ground control. You are cleared to land at the landing site designated Alpha, please confirm navigation.”
Issla announced, “radar showing active landing site designation Alpha, plotting our landing now.”
“We’ve got a lock on you,” Tarrabetha announced, “see you soon, Tommy!”
As the ship descended through the clouds the dark city below was a familiar sight to Yuki, who was growing nervous as she found she could sense far more of her fellow Dei’s emotions than she normally could.
It was as Issla explained: anxiety and stress.
To Yuki’s surprise, she watched as the ship lowered further and further, eventually touching down on a runway of sorts like any other airliner.
“Touchdown,” Briggett announced.
“Confirmed landing, Shuttle Goodwill, please taxi to hanger alpha for unloading and refueling,” Thomas’s voice crackled over the radio.
“Confirmed, Tommy!” Tarrabetha turned to Briggett.
“Taxing,” Briggett announced.
Yuki was confused as the ship began to roll down a long ramp which led to an underground hanger of some kind.
The ship came to a complete stop inside of a large hanger that was a few hundred meters underground.
Yuki unstrapped herself as the ship shuddered once more and Yuki saw a massive ramp similar to the one they had launched from on Nite. This one, however, had the launching track going above ground from down below.
“Shuttle Goodwill, you are locked and loaded. Refueling you now and unloading your cargo,” Thomas announced.
Tarrabetha grinned wolfishly, “Oh, Tommy, fill me up good, okay?” She giggled.
Briggett sighed heavily, “Tarra, not over official channels!”
Tarrabetha grinned at Briggett.
The radio soon buzzed back, “Always Tarra, always,” Thomas announced.
Yuki heaved a sigh, “so, how do I disembark?”
Briggett nodded, “Tarrabetha, ask about Yuki, can you?”
Tarrabetha nodded, “Tommy what are we doing with our extra passenger? She needs to get off.”
Yuki sat in her seat, looking out the window to where the control tower was.
…
Dei
Meanwhile, in a control room, the imps quickly rerouted the radio call.
Sorjoy stood in his office as the red phone rang. He answered it quickly, “Yes?”
An imp cleared its throat, “Mr. Sorjoy, sir, we have communications from the Shuttle Goodwill.”
Sorjoy narrowed his eyes, “What do you mean? That ship was not due until hours from now…”
“It apparently landed early,” the imp informed, “they’re requesting instructions for the miner.”
Sorjoy nodded, “I’ll send someone, tell her to wait.”
The imp relayed the information quickly, speaking to the radio himself, “Shuttle Goodwill, please wait. Someone will be there to escort Mrs. Karkade.”
The imp waited for a moment before there was a return communication, “Confirmed. Where’s Tommy?” Tarrabetha asked.
The imp frowned and shrugged to his cohorts, “He’s only handling the control tower responses. We are in charge of disembarking Mrs. Karkade.”
…
Shuttle Goodwill
Tarrabetha turned to her crewmates before asking the next question, “Tommy, are you there?”
A new voice came through the radio. “Tommy stepped away for a minute Tarra. This is Hammond, I’m his co-worker he never lets on the horn.”
Terrabetha turned to Briggett, “oh, crap, do you think Tommy is in trouble?”
Briggett rolled her eyes, “you were flirting with each other pretty heavily over official channels. Bet his superiors weren’t too pleased with that.”
After nearly half an hour a knock soon came on the door.
Briggett turned to the door, “guess it’s for you, Yuki.”
Yuki walked to the door, spotting a man dressed in a street cop’s uniform, “I guess this is my ride,” Yuki announced.
Briggett walked over and hugged Yuki tight, “good luck, Yuki.”
Issla smiled at Yuki, “I hope to see you soon.”
Tarrabetha smiled, “and tell Thomas, if you spot him, that I love him and that…” Tarrabetha looked to the floor, “that I’m sorry it might be a very long time before we talk again.”
Yuki nodded, giving each crew member a hug, “I’ll see you guys really soon, I promise.”
Issla smiled at Yuki as the airlock opened.
The officer smiled at the women, “Ladies, nice to see you. Name’s Azreal Palma,” Palma grinned as he walked into the cabin, checking to make sure the outer door was closed behind him.
“Officer Palma,” Yuki smiled, “nice to meet you.”
“I assume you’re Yuki Karkade?” Palma asked, looking at Yuki.
Tarrabetha grinned, “No, that’s me!” she laughed.
Palma laughed, “Good one.”
“So, where am I headed?” Yuki asked.
“I’ve been told to take you to see your family,” Palma explained, stepping away from the door, “after you.”
Yuki gave a nod and walked into the airlock. “You’ve seen Niten Dragons before?” she asked.
Palma gave a nod, “I’ve seen those three.”
“I have a whole lot of questions for Fondsworth,” Yuki informed.
“We’ll get to that, first let's get your family situation squared away,” Palma said with an innocent smile as he led Yuki out of the ship and down the steps.
Yuki sighed, “Right, right,” she sighed as she walked towards Palma’s squad car.
Palma opened the back door for her and closed it, hopped into the driver's seat, turned on the lights, and drove off.
Yuki sat in the back of the police car, looking up at the buildings passing her by. She looked up to the sun, barely visible through the smog in the air, and heaved a sigh.
“Missed home?” Palma asked her as they drove on.
“No,” Yuki confessed, “not one bit.”
Palma laughed, “so, I have to ask, what was Nite like?”
Yuki smiled, “It’s beautiful.”
Palma nodded, “I bet.”
Soon they pulled up to the Fondsworth building, Yuki’s brow furrowed as she looked up to the building. “This isn’t my home.”
“Your family moved since you were last here,” Palma explained, getting out of the car and opening the door for her, “please, follow me.”
Yuki got out with some apprehension, confused as to why her family would be in this large skyscraper.
Palma turned to Yuki, “Please, Mrs. Karkade, follow me,” Palma insisted.
Yuki followed tentatively, walking through the eerily empty lobby. She looked around slowly, having visited the main HQ of Fondsworth once or twice before.
Maybe Aphod moved into one of the Condos somehow? She doubted that much changed in the six months she had been on Nite.
Palma led the two to a single elevator, far back from the rest, with a set of golden doors.
Yuki gave Palma an odd look as he approached the elevator and opened it.
Palma stood behind Yuki and now she felt a sinking feeling in her gut.
Yuki turned to Palma as he took a step forward.
“Get in,” Palma said, the pleasantries gone now that she was cornered.
“Where are you taking me?” Yuki demanded as Palma forced her into the elevator by walking forward.
Once inside Palma didn’t say another word, merely blocking her path and pressing a button on the elevator.
For Yuki, the elevator ride felt like it took forever.
Once it came to a stop, Palma stepped out, motioning to Sorjoy’s office door.
“Palma?” Cleo shouted, glaring at him, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Palma placed his fingers to his lips to hush Cleo, “Shh.”
Cleo turned from him and Yuki as Palma walked to the office door, opening it and letting Yuki walk in.
Yuki walked in, only to have the door shut behind her. She turned to see an expensive desk with a large high-backed leather office chair. An arm clad in an expensive suit placed a small tumbler of liquor on the desk before pressing a button on a small device which began to playback an audio recording.
A cough was heard, as well as some sounds of a microphone scratching fabric and thumping as it was placed down on a surface of some sort.
​

Ever since the first Dei ship came close enough to the orbit of Nite, the people of Dei have both feared, and wondered: what lay in the nearby world? One man, long ago however did venture to Nite.

“Daddy?” Yuki’s eyes went wide, “Why do you have a recording of my father?!” Yuki demanded, but the man behind the desk did not answer as the recording continued.
​

What he saw did not shock him nor did it frighten him. Rather it filled him with joy; the very first Dei to meet Nite knew two things.:
Nite had things Dei needed. Meat, Vegetables and other foods that Nite had an overabundance of, so much so that it would spoil if not harvested or otherwise preserved.
Nite could not know of Dei because the ideas of money, greed and murder would slip into the Niten world's society and poison it. Nor could Dei learn of Nite, for our own greed would plunder their world.
From that day a secret order known as “The Scale” existed within Dei’s high society. The most powerful men and women of Dei, from the most successful CEOs, to the elected leaders of great nations, make up its esteemed membership.
The job of The Scale is to protect Nite by any means necessary from discovery by Dei. Our founder is the first man to return from Nite. His knowledge in which the order has passed down through several generations is our burden.
From my father and his before him, from the very man who breathed in the air of Nite. Its existence purely secretive, those who left the Sect could only do so by leaving the mortal coil. Not even the Nite themselves knew of The Scale’s existence.
My Son, this is the burden that I have to give to you now. I know the path I set before you is difficult, this is no simple task.
But, if it were simple I would not trust you with it. You have the tools my son, you must now go forward, let nothing hold you back and ignore mercy and morals. Your ends will justify any means, for your burden is sanctified by the Guardian Lucifer Himself.
I know you could not be here in person, there is far too much for you to do and you make me proud. Ignore your sister's resentment. If you do, it will pass, as will I.

Yuki narrowed her eyes on the desk, “Why do you have my father’s voice on a recording? And what is he talking about?”
Sorjoy stood up from the chair, turning to Yuki, “It’s pretty much the only thing dad left me.”
Yuki shot to her feet, “Erik?!” she shouted, shocked.
“Nice to see you again,” Sorjoy said, pulling a pistol from his pocket and aiming it at Yuki, “little sister.”

Australia’s princeling of pop was holed up in a hotel in the summer of 2019, preparing for his country’s inaugural season of the “The Masked Singer,” when he started following the world swimming championships. As he watched records fall, Cody Simpson soon found himself focused on one thought:
Why am I not there?
Long before he was a singing sensation with a Barry Gibb falsetto and a huge social-media following, before he became a heartthrob with a top-10 hit, his own fashion doll and a leading role on Broadway, Simpson, 24, was a record-setting schoolboy swimmer in his native Queensland.
Transfixed by the races, he decided it wasn’t too late to resurrect his own Olympic dream when he realized that he was five months younger than the American star Caeleb Dressel, who had just broken a world record held by Simpson’s childhood idol, Michael Phelps.
“I stopped drinking that night and started finding pools the next day,” Simpson said.
Three months later, Simpson would be unveiled as the robot who won “The Masked Singer.” Another year would pass before he made his surprise swimming reveal.
Last month, more than a decade after his previous long-course race, Simpson surpassed the qualifying standard for the Australian Olympic trials in the 100-meter butterfly. He beat the required time at a meet in San Diego organized by David Marsh, a coach with whom Simpson occasionally trains. It was his second competitive outing after less than six months of consistent training, and his second race of the day. He had completed the 200-meter freestyle less than an hour before.
Faster than anybody had anticipated, he had shown his return to swimming was no casual dip.
Simpson, whose career has already included stints as a singer, guitarist, songwriter, dancer, actor, author and model, now is aiming to add 2024 Olympian to his résumé.
“My whole life has been a series of ticking off boxes, putting my whole mind, body and soul into things,” Simpson said in a video interview from his home in Los Angeles.
Simpson was 6 or 7, his mother, Angie, said, when he grandly announced to his grandmother: “I’m going to be famous some day at something. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
Swimming was a safe bet given that his parents had met as elite athletes in the sport. Angie Simpson cracked the top-10 world rankings in the 200-meter breaststroke before tendinitis in both shoulders doomed her hopes of representing Australia at the 1988 Olympics. Cody’s father, Brad, was a member of Australia’s national team.
Cody Simpson was beginning to build his own name in the sport when videos that he had posted to YouTube and Myspace — of himself playing the guitar and singing — led to a trip to America in early 2010. Before his 13th birthday, he was in New York City meeting with executives from Atlantic Records.
On his way, though, Simpson said he and his father stopped in Baltimore to meet with a music producer. While there, he arranged a workout at the pool where Phelps had returned to training after his record eight-gold performance at the 2008 Olympics.
“I remember buying 20 Baltimore caps and making Phelps sign all 20 before practice so I’d have something to give my mates when I got home,” Simpson said. He was more nervous around Phelps that day, he once told his mother, than he was years later when he met U2’s Bono.
Phelps followed Simpson’s singing career from afar, as did his coach, Bob Bowman, who recalled stepping inside a Whole Foods one day and seeing a display of CDs with Simpson on the cover near the checkout counter.
“I remember thinking, ‘That kid actually did OK,’” Bowman said.
The lifestyle of a musician, though, was not harmonious with competitive swimming. But Simpson never quite shook the sport out of his hair during his teenage years, which passed in a blur of promotional and touring stops and included a Billboard top-10 album in 2013 and a 2014 appearance on “Dancing With the Stars.”
Simpson’s 2018 departure from Atlantic Records placed him back on his own path. He formed his own recording label, Coast House Records, and joined the Broadway cast of “Anastasia the Musical” for a six-month stint. After publishing a book of poetry, he saw a return to swimming as the next logical step, a chance to refocus on the Olympic dream he had set aside years ago.
“I love the music industry very much, and I’ll continue to be a musician long into my life,” Simpson said, “but it’s not as pure of a pursuit as sport, which just comes straight down to the clock.”
Since June, Simpson has been training under Brett Hawke, a two-time Australian Olympian. “I just didn’t know whether he honestly really knew what he was getting himself into,” Hawke said. “Being a swimmer at the age of 12 is completely different from trying to take on the best in the world at age 23. But I’m not a dream killer.”
At their first practice together, Hawke put Simpson through a grueling 90-minute workout and then surprised him with a timed 200 butterfly. When an exhausted Simpson gutted out the swim, he had passed Hawke’s test. Since then, he has trained in pools in Southern California and in Florida without lines on the bottom or starting blocks, hopscotching counties and even states to find facilities that haven’t been shut down by coronavirus restrictions.
“I’ve thrown up at multiple pools so far,” Simpson said with a laugh.
One day, according to his mother, Simpson dreams of a double not even the versatile Phelps attempted: singing the national anthem at the start of a meet and then stripping down to his suit to compete. But that day remains a ways off. In October, Simpson entered his first meet and swam a 200 freestyle. “I broke out in hives I was so stressed,” he said.
Simpson remembered feeling the same way in his 2018 Broadway debut.
“And I just remember how by closing night, after having done the show 130-something times, I was absolutely soaring, no nerves whatsoever,” he said. “That’s what I figure it’s going to take in swimming — 130, 140 races before I can get up without fear and just do it.”
Hawke routinely creates racing opportunities for Simpson, who did the interview for this article after returning home from a practice that had included a timed swim. Plunging into the pool behind the 2016 Olympian Jordan Wilimovsky, he had sprinted to catch and pass Wilimovsky over the last 200 yards of a timed 1,000-yard swim.
“I was nervous all day because I cared how I did,” Simpson said.
Simpson has received encouragement from Phelps, to whom he sends videos of his swims. Phelps replies with tips on stroke technique and race strategy.
“I think his mind is truly like a swim nerd’s,” Phelps said.
Simpson is also in regular contact with Ian Thorpe, a five-time Olympic gold medalist and former rival of Phelps, who made a pitch-perfect observation recently about stroke rate. He told Simpson that during difficult training sets he would often imagine that his hands were like a kick drum and his feet were like a snare and that he was playing drums with his stroke.
“That’s so cool,” said Simpson, who soaks up the feedback and delights in each small milestone, like covering 25, then 50, and now 75 yards underwater using only the dolphin kick.
When he clocked 54.91 seconds to beat the Olympic trials qualifying standard in the 100 butterfly by almost two seconds, Simpson said he felt the same sense of satisfaction as when he won “The Masked Singer.” He had succeeded not because of his looks, reputation or connections, but on the strength of his talent.
Simpson knows he has a lot of ground to make up. The Australian record in the 100 fly is 50.85. Dressel’s world record is 49.50.
“I’m ambitious, but I’m not a crazy person,” Simpson said. “I know what I’m up against.”
Australia’s princeling of pop was holed up in a hotel in the summer of 2019, preparing for his country’s inaugural season of the “The Masked Singer,” when he started following the world swimming championships. As he watched records fall, Cody Simpson soon found himself focused on one thought:
Why am I not there?
Long before he was a singing sensation with a Barry Gibb falsetto and a huge social-media following, before he became a heartthrob with a top-10 hit, his own fashion doll and a leading role on Broadway, Simpson, 24, was a record-setting schoolboy swimmer in his native Queensland.
Transfixed by the races, he decided it wasn’t too late to resurrect his own Olympic dream when he realized that he was five months younger than the American star Caeleb Dressel, who had just broken a world record held by Simpson’s childhood idol, Michael Phelps.
“I stopped drinking that night and started finding pools the next day,” Simpson said.
Three months later, Simpson would be unveiled as the robot who won “The Masked Singer.” Another year would pass before he made his surprise swimming reveal.
Last month, more than a decade after his previous long-course race, Simpson surpassed the qualifying standard for the Australian Olympic trials in the 100-meter butterfly. He beat the required time at a meet in San Diego organized by David Marsh, a coach with whom Simpson occasionally trains. It was his second competitive outing after less than six months of consistent training, and his second race of the day. He had completed the 200-meter freestyle less than an hour before.
Faster than anybody had anticipated, he had shown his return to swimming was no casual dip.
Simpson, whose career has already included stints as a singer, guitarist, songwriter, dancer, actor, author and model, now is aiming to add 2024 Olympian to his résumé.
“My whole life has been a series of ticking off boxes, putting my whole mind, body and soul into things,” Simpson said in a video interview from his home in Los Angeles.
Simpson was 6 or 7, his mother, Angie, said, when he grandly announced to his grandmother: “I’m going to be famous some day at something. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
Swimming was a safe bet given that his parents had met as elite athletes in the sport. Angie Simpson cracked the top-10 world rankings in the 200-meter breaststroke before tendinitis in both shoulders doomed her hopes of representing Australia at the 1988 Olympics. Cody’s father, Brad, was a member of Australia’s national team.
Cody Simpson was beginning to build his own name in the sport when videos that he had posted to YouTube and Myspace — of himself playing the guitar and singing — led to a trip to America in early 2010. Before his 13th birthday, he was in New York City meeting with executives from Atlantic Records.
On his way, though, Simpson said he and his father stopped in Baltimore to meet with a music producer. While there, he arranged a workout at the pool where Phelps had returned to training after his record eight-gold performance at the 2008 Olympics.
“I remember buying 20 Baltimore caps and making Phelps sign all 20 before practice so I’d have something to give my mates when I got home,” Simpson said. He was more nervous around Phelps that day, he once told his mother, than he was years later when he met U2’s Bono.
Phelps followed Simpson’s singing career from afar, as did his coach, Bob Bowman, who recalled stepping inside a Whole Foods one day and seeing a display of CDs with Simpson on the cover near the checkout counter.
“I remember thinking, ‘That kid actually did OK,’” Bowman said.
The lifestyle of a musician, though, was not harmonious with competitive swimming. But Simpson never quite shook the sport out of his hair during his teenage years, which passed in a blur of promotional and touring stops and included a Billboard top-10 album in 2013 and a 2014 appearance on “Dancing With the Stars.”
Simpson’s 2018 departure from Atlantic Records placed him back on his own path. He formed his own recording label, Coast House Records, and joined the Broadway cast of “Anastasia the Musical” for a six-month stint. After publishing a book of poetry, he saw a return to swimming as the next logical step, a chance to refocus on the Olympic dream he had set aside years ago.
“I love the music industry very much, and I’ll continue to be a musician long into my life,” Simpson said, “but it’s not as pure of a pursuit as sport, which just comes straight down to the clock.”
Since June, Simpson has been training under Brett Hawke, a two-time Australian Olympian. “I just didn’t know whether he honestly really knew what he was getting himself into,” Hawke said. “Being a swimmer at the age of 12 is completely different from trying to take on the best in the world at age 23. But I’m not a dream killer.”
At their first practice together, Hawke put Simpson through a grueling 90-minute workout and then surprised him with a timed 200 butterfly. When an exhausted Simpson gutted out the swim, he had passed Hawke’s test. Since then, he has trained in pools in Southern California and in Florida without lines on the bottom or starting blocks, hopscotching counties and even states to find facilities that haven’t been shut down by coronavirus restrictions.
“I’ve thrown up at multiple pools so far,” Simpson said with a laugh.
One day, according to his mother, Simpson dreams of a double not even the versatile Phelps attempted: singing the national anthem at the start of a meet and then stripping down to his suit to compete. But that day remains a ways off. In October, Simpson entered his first meet and swam a 200 freestyle. “I broke out in hives I was so stressed,” he said.
Simpson remembered feeling the same way in his 2018 Broadway debut.
“And I just remember how by closing night, after having done the show 130-something times, I was absolutely soaring, no nerves whatsoever,” he said. “That’s what I figure it’s going to take in swimming — 130, 140 races before I can get up without fear and just do it.”
Hawke routinely creates racing opportunities for Simpson, who did the interview for this article after returning home from a practice that had included a timed swim. Plunging into the pool behind the 2016 Olympian Jordan Wilimovsky, he had sprinted to catch and pass Wilimovsky over the last 200 yards of a timed 1,000-yard swim.
“I was nervous all day because I cared how I did,” Simpson said.
Simpson has received encouragement from Phelps, to whom he sends videos of his swims. Phelps replies with tips on stroke technique and race strategy.
“I think his mind is truly like a swim nerd’s,” Phelps said.
Simpson is also in regular contact with Ian Thorpe, a five-time Olympic gold medalist and former rival of Phelps, who made a pitch-perfect observation recently about stroke rate. He told Simpson that during difficult training sets he would often imagine that his hands were like a kick drum and his feet were like a snare and that he was playing drums with his stroke.
“That’s so cool,” said Simpson, who soaks up the feedback and delights in each small milestone, like covering 25, then 50, and now 75 yards underwater using only the dolphin kick.
When he clocked 54.91 seconds to beat the Olympic trials qualifying standard in the 100 butterfly by almost two seconds, Simpson said he felt the same sense of satisfaction as when he won “The Masked Singer.” He had succeeded not because of his looks, reputation or connections, but on the strength of his talent.
Simpson knows he has a lot of ground to make up. The Australian record in the 100 fly is 50.85. Dressel’s world record is 49.50.
“I’m ambitious, but I’m not a crazy person,” Simpson said. “I know what I’m up against.”

Where this tournament began.
If you're lost or wish to know more; Here's some extra info on our fighters provided by the NFC.
Where we left off: For every victory, there's an even greater consequence.
-
There was only one person among the crowd not applauding, not celebrating and not cheering.
Nelle had been trembling since she looked over the distorted form of Wendy and had barely calmed down now that things had settled.
Together, we looked at the descending screen showcasing the fight between Malphas and Zunkle, the countdown to their match and the title fight following it. There was a moment of silence before she put her hands on my arm, gripping the bicep tightly.
“We need to talk. I think it’s time to be honest about some things. Bring your equipment, even the music player. We'll need it.”
I stared back and went to open my mouth, but thought better of it and nodded as we took off for her intended destination, darting & weaving through the crowds as deftly as we could. Nelle refused to let go of my arm the entire time. Though if it was out of necessity or fear, I couldn’t tell you.
Passing through the third ring of the venue, something bumped into us and sent me hurtling to the ground, smacking my skull on the concrete and struggling to get up amid swathes of eager audience members looking to make a bet, grab a snack or discuss tactics. Each time I tried to get up, eyes blurry and ears ringing, something would knock me back over.
A gruff hand took me by the shirt and hoisted me effortlessly to my feet, dusting me off. “It’s gonna happen soon, Sal. Protect ‘em, like you promised.” A cocky, brash voice called from behind me as a furry head nuzzled against my hand for the briefest of moments. Before I could turn back, the figure pushed me forward, through the crowd and towards Nelle, who’d only just spotted me.
“Up here, we’ve got the area to ourselves. Just the three of us.” She muttered, leading me to a wall adjacent to the pit, an embedded ladder leading to a hatch above.
“Three? You mean the guy and his dog who just picked me up?” I asked, following her up the steps and the promise of fresh air filling me with vigour. She twitched when I said that, frozen in place as if stabbed with a dagger. Without looking back, she shook her head.
“No, not them… You’ll see.”
With that, she hoisted the hatch open and climbed up, helping me to my feet as we traversed the concrete and over to a pair of sofas and a coffee table opposite the edge of the building. The stars above rhythmic in their blinking, constellations I couldn’t recognise swirling in the inky blackness, promising secrets untold if I just sat down to decipher them. Across from the building, we could see a pair of lit up billboard’s, one highlighting the: "Natural beauty and mystique of Sturgeon: the nations black pearl!" The latter offering a stay at the eponymous Hotel Inertia, the pair of finely crafted Olive Tree doors sporting an ouroboros serpent across the length of them, a radiant woman standing in front. Middle-aged, a shaven black head and a trim frame adorned by a blue suit with not a single button out of place, smiling wide with the motto of the establishment beneath her.
“The Hotel Inertia; A room for Sturgeon’s finest. A floor for every occasion.”
I felt something the longer I stared at the billboard. Prying my eyes away felt like the smart thing to do as I followed Nelle over to the couches. She propped her feet up and winced, wounds still tender from her brush with death.
“It always finds a way to keep me going, though I’d hoped I’d never have to have this conversation. Least of all with you…” She pinched her nose and let out a bitter chuckle.
“Fate is cruel, isn’t it, Sal?”
She gestured for me to sit down and mechanically, as if I was awaiting grim news, I did so. Setting up the recording equipment and hitting play, I fell back into my usual role as a broadcaster.
I spoke my mind.
“Madame Lockwood… Nelle… what is it you need to tell me? So much of my time here has been spent in secrecy, voices calling from the shadows and people who know ME but I don't know them. I... I need some answers. I need them from you." I asked, keeping it blunt was the best course of action to begin with. Open questions allowed for better answers. She sighed and without looking at me, began talking, her lip quivering.
“We talked about the monk & the nun before, the idea that there is a constant cycle of birth, pursuit, struggle, death, regret and forget. I’m not going to insult your intelligence by stating that it's JUST a story, we both know it’s not. But since this began, both the story and this…”
She gestured around her, signalling the NFC tournament.
“You’ve been kept in the dark about the various roles at work. Some of those threads will unravel themselves before the night is done. Some will be obvious and some will… inevitably hurt. But, the one thread I suspect you wouldn’t know of without intervention, is the one I hold onto…”
She reached over the table and grabbed the music player, scrolling to her chosen playlist and hitting play.
Slowly, she pulled out a locket from around her neck alongside the ear she’d severed from the lycanthrope, placing it on the table with a small thud.
“This is the ear of Buck Nasty McGraw… Sir Simon “Buck Nasty” McGraw, to be specific… He got the two tiered moniker from taking out his first abomination… a Lycanthrope that’d been eating the denizens of a local indigenous village. It bucked and kicked around while he frantically held on, laughing heartily like there was nowhere else he’d rather be… from that day on, he was Buck Nasty McGraw. Never a dull moment or cruel bone in his body, he’d only take down what was a threat.” She smiled wistfully, eyes glazed over with years of pain and regret. “He was my confidant, my friend and my everything. Far away from the eyes of Sturgeon in another world entirely, we hunted down a rogue group of individuals seeking a power no-one should ever wish to behold. They’d housed themselves in the lives of unsuspecting townsfolk, whispering in their ear to do unspeakable things and bring them items to cause unmitigated disasters. When the elder reached out, he called them “The Order of 8” but they had a more direct titling…”
She looked over as the hatch swung open and a battered, tired Wendy hoisted herself up and walked over, arm still bandaged up and face-mask once again in its rightful place as she finished Nelle’s sentence.
“The Unbounded. The same scourge that dogged us in The Hotel. They were called “The Order of the 8th floor” before we came to know them intimately.”
There was a chill that ran through my bones, the very phrase standing my hairs on end, and made the surroundings feel like they rattled for a moment. Nelle nodded.
“Buck and I went in there to stop them. Buck was special, you see. He had an innate ability to see what nobody else could, to befriend any creature that had the capacity to love and to identify the weaknesses of those who would seek to do us harm. But in this particular instance, it was my specialities that were needed. In the life before I became The Compendium Keeper, I was known as something else. A Sin Eater. The last Sin Eater, to be exact.”
She took pause and passed the locket over, the faded image of a younger Nelle in her 20s, dreads tied back in a bun with dimples in her cheeks as she smiled ear to ear. A dashing man in his 30s winking at the camera with his muscular arm draped over her, adorned in tattoos and a thick black beard, sporting a stetson and a gold tooth that shone brightly even from the sepia toned photo, his ears adorned with piercings and a stretched lobe on the right. She directed my attention to the severed Lycanthrope ear on the table. Adorned with piercings and a small hole at the bottom of the skin.
“We went in there and began extracting them one by one, before something happened and we were left with a choice; Buck could give up me or something just as precious… he chose the latter, leaving me with a world devoid of him and a new purpose: Seek out the evil that subjected him to a fate worse than death, help end the cycle and guide the next group in their time of need. Such is my role. Buck lost me, but you can still save Nora.”
I looked at her dumbfounded, wondering how on earth I fit into any of this.
“Nora Zayne does not need saving from anyone, she’s clearly a beast who knows how to fight. I’m just an ordinary guy.”
She smiled at me, clearly in a place of far greater understanding than I was, but without that air of superiority. She simply offered warmth when she spoke.
“She knows as well as you do how strong she is, but that isn’t the kind of saving I’m referring to. She will need you at a critical moment and how you respond will change everything afterwards.” She sighs and tucks the ear away, keeping the locket out. “And as for you being ordinary? Right now, yes. But much like Buck, Sully, Sigurd & Sema before you, you’ll become something wonderful. When the time is right. She left you a note, didn't she?”
I blinked, thinking back to the note I'd seen on top of The Compendium right before Nelle's fight:
"Sal,
This tournament is coming to a close and you’re going to see things you don’t want to. Things that will hurt. But if you believe in anything while you’re here, make it this:
You are only as powerless as you let yourself feel. You are only as in control as you allow yourself to be. You can be the background noise in a busy room or the light that punctures the darkness.
But either way, you’ll always be my friend.
- N”
"You mean... that wasn't..." I breathed, but she shushed me softly. She leaned forward and kissed my forehead, a motherly affection running through me as she cupped my cheek and patted it gently before walking off to the hatch.
“In the right light, you even remind me of him…” She grinned and I saw years peel away in the wake of her joy. I just nodded, still dumbfounded. “I’d best get our notes prepared for the exhibition match and have a word with our eponymous Nora. You still have the interview of a lifetime, right?”
Turning back, Wendy was already splayed out on the couch, arm draped over her eyes and one leg crossed at the knee bouncing in rhythm.
“A promise is a promise, Sal. I’m sure all those at home will get a kick outta this…” She took her good arm away from her face for just a moment, long enough to give the Hotel Inertia billboard the finger. “Fuckin’ hellhole, I wonder how the fuck it’s even still standing?”
“So you were a resident in this Hotel? What happened? How did you get from there to… here?” I took out a notepad and began hastily jotting down shorthand, something I’d learned to do from my younger days as a fight analyst on live broadcasts. Certainly not for the bum-fights, regrettable as those were to be a part of.
“Resident isn’t the right word. I wouldn’t have even said I was from Sturgeon prior to meeting the gang, because to me: Sturgeon didn’t exist. Every floor in that fuckin’ structure is its own reality. Its own world. One floor, where we met our friend Robin, contained an entire tent community basking in the sickening sounds of a grand gazebo atop the hill that made them all docile, sickly and weak. When we stopped the sound, they began tearing each other apart. The last thing we saw was the elders skull being caved in as the doors closed.” She sat up and leaned forward, putting a finger up as if to stop me from asking something.
“To be clear: The elevator stopped inside the tip of a rooftop terrace, not unlike the one that we have here with the hatch. There was NOTHING above but black skies, the expanse beyond this floor was endless. And yet… we ascended when we got back in, not descended. That entire Hotel houses things you could never dream of. Including where I came from, a cul-de-sac of domesticated monsters…”
For the first time, I saw a deep pain in Wendy, even more pronounced than the initial anger after seeing Nelle fall. She was shaking, fists balled up so tight that the fingers cut into the palms, eyes alight with passion.
“I don’t remember being a child. I just remember waking up in the middle of this prissy, far too perfect cul-de-sac with monsters pretending they weren’t monsters. That bitch over there on the billboard picked me up, my body just filled with the kind of impending doom you feel when you see someone driving dangerously on the road in front of you or walking down a street at night and the only other guy on the footpath has his hood up and is making a beeline for you… just absolute fucking dread. As she knocked on the door of the people that would come to be my “adopted family”, I remember her looking down at me with wide eyes, tiny pupils and a grin that looked like it was on tenterhooks. She said: “you’ll be a fantastic offering for the others” before everything faded to black…"
She shivered and I felt the same disgust and dread she felt. The idea of being somewhere you didn't recognise, the last face you see that of utter malice and sinister intent emanating from their being. I'd been there...
"Some time later, I found a crazy guy named Sigurd laying in a crumpled heap by the elevator doors. I tended to him and he got to see firsthand what role I played in the hungry family… that of their endless meal. I don’t know what it was about him, but something in the way he behaved, spoke to his friends or maybe his will to survive… but I swear to god that it was the first time I truly woke up.”
She ran a hand through her hair, breathing out dramatically and sniffing.
“Man, if and when I see him again, I need to thank him properly. He helped me see something in myself that I knew was always there but had been too stuck in my own head to realise…”
“Freedom” I asked, tapping my pen against the notepad. She shook her head.
“Value."
There was a silence and I grew a stronger respect for her, not even realising the importance of self worth in the strong until that very moment.
"After that, we acquired some new friends; one in the town of sickly sounds, a guy in a lone radio tower, and so it went. We’d eventually take on The Order Of The 8th Floor and all their horrors, before we ended up reuniting with The Concierge on the top floor, worse for wear and with a couple of losses in our wake. When all was said and done, we had her beat and Sigurd walked over to put an end to things. I’ll never forget how she smiled when the lightning struck or the last thing she ever said…”
The wind picked up and I felt a bitter snap behind it, either my empathy was through the roof and I could feel what Wendy felt… or something ominous was in the air.
“One down. Seven to go.” She finished, getting up and shaking her head. “I’m only just now understanding what she meant, but that question would lead me to rumours about the NFC and their tournaments. I decided to make myself a target for the upcoming Openweight tournament and seek out more answers, maybe get my wish along the way if I happened to win… of course, that didn’t happen and it leads me to a question for you, Sal.” She leaned down and looked me dead in the eyes, that mask more intimidating up close, power radiating from every pore of her skin.
“Who made me feral? Who took out Qwong Xiao? Who is pulling the strings and why? You don’t see it as convenient that Eustace De Kolta, well known Wendigo hater, ends up facing a version of me that couldn’t see sense? That former challenger Nora Zayne is in there too?”
“They’re setting up for something more…” I breathed, the tapping of my pen stopping. “But what?”
“All I know is I’ll be on hand to help, however I can. Something tells me that we’re all gonna be needed when this is over. Beyond that, I have a feeling this exhibition match is going to be… interesting.” She cracked her back before walking off, holding up a lazy thumbs up with her good arm. “Thanks Sal, takes a skilled guy to do what you do and to let me run my mouth like that, hope it was worth it!”
“I hope you see Sigurd again, Wendy. I’m sure he’d be proud of what you’ve done here. I know I am.” I blurted out, almost on command. She stopped in her tracks and didn’t turn back, but I saw her hand shaking as she put it back in her pocket.
“Hell, now you know my wish. Good luck, Sal. You’ll need it.”
-
Sitting there and gathering my notes, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed in the moment, as I had done so many times throughout this tournament. It’s not so much that the world revolves around me, because it doesn’t, but to even consider I have my own part to play in this is a lot to absorb for someone who is used to calling the action from the safety of a booth or behind a computer screen.
Why someone as decidedly dull and boring as me has a place here among killers is beyond me, but the more time passes, the more I feel that surge of emotion and desire to do SOMETHING.No matter what happens next, I have to do my part. I just wish I knew what that was.
Picking up my things, I realised Nelle had left her locket and, not wanting it to get stolen or lost, I picked it up.
A flash of memories hit me like a freight train. Holding onto a great beast as a younger Nelle screamed in fear, a conversation shrouded in darkness with a pair of sunken eyes floating in front of Nelle as I stood there, powerless. A deal with a gold toothed shadow, the handshake that sent shockwaves through my body…
“Hurts, doesn’t it, Sal?”
Whipping round, the voice seemed to come from all directions and I immediately recognised it as that of Moirah, one of the sisters. A tapping that sounded as if it was pounding on my eardrums reverberating around us, the thick air ripe with the smell of sulphur.
“All those places, all those memories jostling for position. Like a mass in your skull… It builds strength, malice and accumulates the experiences you build over time before one day bursting and taking you with it. Life isn’t like a box of chocolates… no, it’s like an aneurysm; You never know which moment will be your last.”
Hands gripped my shoulders and thick yellow nails dug into the soft flesh, pulling up at my tendons and moving me without my consent. My arms reaching out for the locket, Moirah giggling in my ear and Clodagh’s incessant banging making my eyes throb.
“We are tired of waiting. Tired of constant mis-steps by you and those associated. If you cannot willingly understand the truth, we shall force it out of you. There is too much at stake for failure.”
Hands grasp around the locket and the images begin to burn into my skull; Downing a drink that burns my insides. A lightning strike surging through my body. A gunshot to the head. A plane crash. A white snake curled in my arms as I slip away. The tear-stained face of someone I know strangling me as I helplessly struggle and buck my hips for dear life. Everything ebbs out of me and my knees buckle to the floor. All I see is red, my nose dripping blood and the world fading into nothing more than a pink hue.
“She… she needs me.” I gurgle, the hands pushing down on me with extreme force, the tapping evolving into a thunderous chorus of aggression at my resistance.
“She needs nothing from you. She only needs to play her part and that will be achieved with or without you. You are inconsequential. You are moments from fulfilling your purpose.”
More flashes as a deep shade of red fills my peripheral vision. A young woman laying in her apartment, blood everywhere and an empty crib. The sounds of despair as the woman on the other end of a phone is beaten to death. Nelle crouched over a body and sobbing… Nora. Nora’s warm face as she hugs me before her last fight in the NFC. Why is she hugging me?
“It’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ll win it for both of us.”
Something in me snapped. A protective instinct I didn’t know I had. Pulling at the hands and feeling the pain surge through my chest, I didn’t care in that moment, I just knew I had to get up.
“No. I have to… I’m all she has. We bring each other strength… you can’t stop that!” My body moved before I gave the command. My left leg flew out from under me and drove itself upwards, front of the foot colliding with the face of Moirah behind me. Bone fragments and blood accompanying a loud groan as I felt my body freed and the thunderous booming returning to a tap. Not waiting for a retaliation, I swiped the locket into my bag with my sleeve and dashed for the hatch, nearly tumbling down the stairs as I hit the bottom, breathing heavily.
What the fuck did I just do?
I took my time walking back to the venue, nobody giving me any trouble or even a dirty look for once. If anything, people seemed to go out of their way to avoid even looking at me. Which, after what had transpired previously, was welcomed.
I sat down just as the 2 minute bell called out and the exhibition match was announced.
This was going to be bloody.
-
As the lights dimmed, Alduin walked over to me, cape billowing behind her and a manic grin on her face as a cinderblock hand slapped my back and damn near winded me.
“Sal! Glad I caught ya, loving the musical vibes you’ve been putting out there. SO much so, that I have a few… additions for ya. I mentioned to Madame Lockwood there n’ she said they were already on the device. Damned if I know how… technology ain’t one of my friends. But, if ya could play these during those ever so pivotal moments in the upcoming fight and during mine & Nora’s entrance, I’d be pretty damn grateful… Oh, speaking of: since I’m the one fighting, I’m gonna need ya to do the announcing. That won’t be a problem, will it?” Her eye flashed, and the eyepatch rumbled, the exhaustion of what transpired out there suddenly setting in, making me feel decidedly ordinary as I nodded.
“You got it, Commissioner. Whatever you need.” I croaked, fumbling with my bag as everything spilled onto the table, Alduin laughing as she walked off.
“That’s why I like ya, Sal. You just do it. You’re certainly a changed man! Ha!” She stretched as she sauntered off to get the microphone. I guess even warming up wouldn’t stop her from showmanship.
I reached out for the locket when Nelle grabbed it first, as if she knew I shouldn’t touch it. Whisking up my notes with far quicker hands and placing it on the table, she thanked me before silently pointing to the recording material as the lights dimmed.
“Fight fans, before we reach the conclusion of this night under the NFC banner, we have two very special matches for you. Our first is one forged in blood and spilled just as much. It’ll be a battle between Father and Son as the former attempts to help the latter see the error of his ways and perhaps seek a little justice for the lost lives here tonight. Without further ado, we throw it over to Commissioner Alduin Von Trier for the official introductions.”
I pointed to Alduin, who grabbed the mic with gusto and began her spiel.
“Without further do, let’s get this blood feud on the road! In the corner to my left: He is the Jersey Devil, our resident chef and the Father of violence… Put your hands together for Zunk!”
I looked down at him. He was in a tank top with fighter shorts, his gargantuan frame only accentuated without the chef’s outfit and apron. His usually pleasant expression replace with a cold indifference as he stared a hole in the opposite direction. Towards his opponent.
“And in the corner to my right: He was a standout fighter in this year’s tournament and one that brought us violence at the very start of the proceedings, so it’s only right we end with him. He was formally paired with his entourage, Mr. Stares, but he’s now back in his usual form; The Black Dog Of Jersey: Malphas!”
She gave both an eager look before leaping out of dodge and to the safety of her perch as she walked off, understandably to train, but throwing her hand in the air and bellowing “BEGIN!” For the match to start.
NFC EXHIBITION MATCH: “JERSEY DEVIL” ZUNKLE VS “PUPPET MASTER” MALPHAS
Malphas, unchanged from the last time we saw him, took furtive steps forward, cocking his head to the side as he grinned, the nails in his lips now nothing more than bloodied holes which stained his teeth.
“Well pops, we knew this was gonna happen at some point. To be the baddest, you have to take out the best and the weakest. You taught me that.” Zunk stood his ground, unflinching in his resolve and unwilling to move.
“I didn’t teach you a damn thing. I tried to channel your anger and hatred into something productive. I thought you’d grow out of it.” He clenched his fist. “But you only got worse.”
-THUMP-
Without warning, Zunk struck himself square in the stomach with all his might, his eyes widening in pain and a wheeze leaving his lungs as Malphas continued to walk him down.
“Well, you didn’t teach me directly… But I sought out info, determined to find out what was so WRONG with me. Until I was found, reborn, and told the most important piece of wisdom I’d ever get. Do you know what that was, Dad?” He twitched his fingers and Zunk pulled his head back, fingers pulling on the hair so tight it threatened to pull out thick black tufts. Malphas leaned forward, inches away from his father’s bloodied face.
“The sins of the father will always impact on the son. But you can so easily reverse that, if you’re willing and open to doing what needs to be done.”
He curled his hand; the fingers twisting and Zunk’s body doing as he obeyed. His arm volleying back for another unprotected shot at his face, but his head also being forced forward by the other hand in a macabre torture technique.
“He’s using him as a goddamn punching bag… literally a human puppet. Is there anything he can do, Nelle?” I look over to her, the book is closed, and she’s resting her elbows on it, hands clasped and over her mouth.
“Not if he wants to keep what little of his soul he has left, Sal.” She replied, as if speaking from experience. I felt a lump in my throat as I looked back, Malphas laughing giddily at the prolonged beating his Father was sustaining.
“Marvellous, now let’s try taking out that tongue, no more bullshit spewed from your mouth!” He clapped his hands, observing the battered father figure and framing him like he’d done with Rex. “Hmm… or maybe we should just take the head entirely? Hard to say when you’re having so much fun!”“There’s really no hope for you, is there, boy? If I brought you back to your Mother… what would she think of you now?” Zunk called through gritted teeth and smatterings of blood. Malphas just laughed.
“She’d probably wonder how she came back to life and why she’s nothing more than a bag of bones! Still, better than being a sack of meat, right? I’d have probably had to cut her up too. So safety the or-“
A punch flew from Zunk that instead of hitting his own face would connect with the stomach of his son. The force of which sent him flying back, feet dragging through the pit floor and dropping him to his knees.
“Hey, Sal. There’s a song of mine on there, think you could do me a solid and uhh… y’know? Oh and don’t put it on an odd number.” He didn’t even look at me, instead muttering the prime numbers in quick succession under his breath.
Sure enough, I scrolled down and saw a single song under his name.
It simply said; “Blizzard.”
The deep bass rang out and Zunk cracked his neck as he walked towards Malphas. Who, to his credit, was up to one knee and one hand on his stomach, the other twisting in front of him.
Again, Zunk saw resistance, his right arm striking at him repeatedly and smashing his ears, jaw and nose. But each shot just made him more determined to walk forward, spitting out blood on the fourth punch.
Malphas backs off and places his hands and legs against the wall, a cornered and frightened animal as Zunk walks him down, determined.
“You always thought The Jersey Devil was some goat-like creature of the night, didn’t you? I never told you that it was always just me… a part of me that I kept firmly locked away and promised to never touch again when I met your mother. After we had you, bad people came after me. Very, very bad people. They got to her while I was away, made you watch what they did to her. Christ, you were four…”
Zunk stopped in front of his son, pity across his face.
“I went after them, did what any husband and father would do, but worse… Still, you changed so much after that. But I believe there’s still hope for you. Some glimmer of what your mother was in there. You just need to take my hand and we can put this behind us, a few broken teeth, and some fractured ribs are nothing to a family like ours.”
He outstretched his hand and Nelle shook her head in dismay.
Malphas stretched his own out and for a moment, I thought we’d see our first good ending to a bout.
To my horror and disgust, I was wrong.
Malphas leaned forward and sank his teeth into Zunk’s hand, biting at the fingers until he tore off one of the digits at the mid-point, the blood spraying across his face and the canvas. He spat the finger out and coated his hand in it, giggling as he crawled along the wall and away from Zunk.
“There is only ONE family and it sure as hell isn’t yours. With your blood on MY hands, I can show you just how good I am at control. As I did with Zanaya, Rex and the rest. I am DAMN good at carrying out my master’s will, and as long as I get to carve people up, I’ll keep on doing it!” He held his hand up and Zunk’s face grew vacant, his mouth hung open and he bore the same expression the others had done before him.
This was the prelude to the end.
“I can’t believe this. Of all the sick things I’ve seen in this tournament, biting the literal hand that feeds has got to be one of the worst! Malphas should be ashamed, but given his prior antics, I don’t think that’s possible! Get up, Zunk! Move for god’s sake!” I pleaded, my hands shaking, and the fear of losing someone else with no means to save them filled me with such dread, but there was nothing I could do.
Nelle didn’t move from her analytical stance and the crowd bayed for blood as the techno music swelled.
Malphas walked over with confidence, pulling a weapon from his back and brandishing it playfully as he got closer. He showed no hesitation as he drove the blade deep into Zunk’s chest, dark blood running down his torso to the delight of his son.
“Guess blood ties do run deep, huh?” He looked at the trail and laughed. “Best of luck, dad. I’ll keep your legacy going and improve on it!” He patted the shoulder of his still standing but vacant father as he began to walk back, never seeing the surging knee coming for his temple as he turned.
Malphas flew through the air and crumpled into a heap on the ground as Zunk lowered his leg, sadness and disappointment riddled across his face.
Malphas tried to scramble, but Zunk was quick. He picked him up by the head, his gargantuan hands cupping the younger man in them as if holding a coconut. He slammed him down once to pacify him before hurling him towards the centre of the pit, no longer able to crawl away.
Every step Zunk took bore the weight of what he was about to do, echoing the gravity of the words when he spoke:
“As of late, you’ve been doing terrible things. Things I cannot forgive, forget or ignore.”
“Please… dad, I’m sorry! I’ll… I’ll leave the services of my masters... of the order and I’ll stop what I’m doing… I’ll change. I swear! Oh god… please, help! I deserve better, I did what was asked of me! Are ANY of you gonna help me?!” He snivelled and darted frantic eyes around the venue, but none would intervene as his father honed in like a lion ready to make the kill.
“There is no other avenue left for you, Malphas. But, let me offer you one final piece of fatherly advice…”
Zunk raises his fist, his entire body twisting back with the force he’s generating and his eyes glowing like that of the Jersey Devil he is synonymous for. Malphas’ whimpering a mere backdrop to the swelling beat and his father’s chilling final words.
“Leaving this world is not as scary as it seems.”
With that, he drove the fist down onto Malphas’ face with such force that the venue shook. When the dust cleared, there was a divot left where Malphas’ head resided, the decapitation marks on his neck clear as day, something resembling scorch marks across the neck lining as Zunk raised his bloodied fist from the hole and walked back without a single word.
It was over.
I looked at the broken body of a man who had spent this entire tournament dismantling the enemy, pulling their strings and making sure at least three families were torn apart by his insatiable lust for destruction. But my mind wasn’t on that, nor was it on what was going through the mind of a man who had just rekindled the flame of his old violent moniker to take out his son. Hell, for a moment, it wasn’t even on the upcoming title fight that would determine everything.
It was on what he said in those final moments of bravado that stuck with me.
The claims of pulling the strings, making sure everything went to plan for his “masters”.
But before I could ask Nelle what she thought, I was handed a slip of paper that contained the details for the bout. Standard things like the fighters names, monikers and the match stipulations.
There were two things on that slip of paper that caused me to break out in a sweat and my heart to jump into my throat and stay there. Just two simple sentences changed my world and raised the stakes of the title fight exponentially so.
The match type? 3 Stages of Hell. First to 2 victories wins the belt.
The names? NFC Champion Von Trier and Sabotta.
Nora Sabotta.