Sandra
The Merrymens' Bar (locally 'Aazruetaazoshaach') is one of the few establishments within the entirety of the Exile's Watch that possesses the privilege of being called affluent. An unambitious exterior is contrasted by a boastful interior of what is quite impressove decor and architecture, not quite lush, yet far above the typical standard of that of the Exile's Watch. A dark-oak, foreign, rustic-sort of atmosphere is seen within its bar lobby, serving as a hotspot for quite a few of the exile residents of the village.

Unique bottles of what is not typically-fermented alcohol, but what is, in a literal sense, tea, line the shelves of the bar. These are no ordinary teas, however; they are intertwined and laced with a variety of herbs which possess a variety of *Unique effects* Upon their ingestion. As-is for the rest of the Watch, the sleep-inducing citrus pellet is used as a form of currency in its midst.

A strange door is located at the rear of the bar, and what faintly sounds like music can be heard beneath the floorboards...
Ann
With Kuouo following after, the well-dressed man pushed through the front door of what once appeared to be a large, yet shoddy building, taking a step into its dim interior. Its lack of light was initially hiding of its true nature, yet as the bandit's eyes were to adjust, the interior of the so-called bar would be revealed to be quite intricate and grand — dark, oak paneling and well-set furniture was placed tastefully throughout the affluent bar. Larger than the average bar, it was more akin to a tavern, yet was sparse in customers, with only three, four, or maybe five total patrons, scattered throughout its spacious interior.

```fix
"𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚜' 𝚋𝚢 𝚅𝚊𝚊𝚣𝚟𝚊 '𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚞𝚑. 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔'𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 '𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛, '𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎."```

Vaazva swaggered over to the front counter of the place as if he owned it (yes, because indeed he did) taking a seat atop one of its polished stools. As his presence was made known, most — if not all of — the current occupants of the bar glanced over at the form of the masked man, each with the subtle glints of different emotions in their eyes. From respect, to anticipation, to suspicion, to even downright fear, it seemed there was quite a mixed blend of reactions to Vaazva's sudden appearance. Yet, amongst those reactions, there was not a *Hint* Of disrespect. It seemed that, Vaazva, by his sheer will of nature alone, did not only *Command* Respect, but *Forced it.* He was intimidating without even needing to try, and influential enough to get what he wanted done without moving a single finger. 

The more Kuouo got to witness the spectacle that was this man, the stranger, and perhaps even worrisome, he grew, as time went on...
Janis
```fix
"..."```

A masked patron of the bar gives a sharp glare towards Vaazva, and the cloaked individual he had in tow — Kuouo. A strangely-familiar, golden glare glints from beneath his mask, as if carefully analyzing the two...
Charles
*`Sweep. Sweep. Sweep.`*

Present in body, absent in mind...

*`Sweep away all the dust...`*

...A woman, some distance from Kuouo and Vaazva, mindlessly pushes a broom back-and-forth across the barely dirtied floor of the Merrymen's. Apparently quite mentally preoccupied, she stared blankly down at the broom — which was honestly only kicking up dust rather than anything else at this point — whittling away her time, slowly, inattentive to the shift in her surroundings.
Vincent
*```cpp
"Back again, V."```*

Stood behind the counter, the brusque man who donned a peculiar set of blue-hued glasses murmured a greeting, in a low, surly, yet sophisticated tone, his colorless, grey irises peeking up to view the figure of the masked man who sat opposite himself. Briefly glancing over the cloaked figure of Kuouo, the barkeep enunciated a quiet *`'huh,'`* Before returning to cleaning out a rather intricate glass vessel. 

His demeanor was not describable as polite, whatsoever, and he rather took on a most detached attitude, as if disenchanted with the entirety of his surroundings. Yet, nonetheless, the man seemed attentive, and remained in-line with what was a prevalent attitude of respect for Vaazva. Curt as he was, he was still courteous enough to respond in the first place, and even gave a slight nod. 

Even the man whose nature, to Kuouo, would be most akin to a mobster — the man's general appearance withwhat scars, burly build, and again-remarkable height of 198cm being what it was — acknowledged Vaazva, continuing:

```cpp
"I'll prepare the usual for you."
"...Something lighter for your guest, here," Sheto whispered, staring unimpressed at the sight of the man Vaazva had brought along.```
Ann
```fix
"𝚈𝚎𝚑, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝙶𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚕 𝚘'𝚎𝚛-'𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚑-𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚘 '𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚢𝚎-𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 '𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜."```

Vaazva spoke in response, after a brief period of contemplation. Leaning his elbow on his table, and his chin on his rested arm, Vaazva invited Kuouo himself to take a seat, inviting him as one would an honored guest — at the chair directly beside himself. Sheto, the barkeep, nodded, turning to withdraw several of the tea-filled nonalcoholic (yet very hallucinogenic) beverages alongside the wall, pouring and preparing the two drinks as per Vaazva's typical order and special request.

_ _
```fix
"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚅𝚊𝚊𝚣𝚟𝚊, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝 '𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙼𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚘'𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚐-𝚘' 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 '𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝙶𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚊 '𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚊..."```

The masked man peered at Kuouo from beyond his mask. His yellow gaze remanifested in subtlety, its all-discerning nature as a spear against Kuouo's very soul within the moment that Vaazva laid eyes upon him. Relaxing, the glow quieted, and the man returns his gaze to the counter.
Vincent
```cpp
"Your drinks, V."```

Sheto spoke abruptly, laying down two glassen vessels. To the one he gave to Vaazva, its glass was chalk-full of what appeared to be a most unique, bountiful, and fragrant mixture of several herbal blends — citrus-y, yet not in the same way *Taarei* Was, and spicy, not unlike saffron, were Kuouo to be familiar with that. To Kuouo, he was given a more mild blend. It almost smelled akin to black tea, yet had a slight, yet pleasant funk to it, and would taste strangely like bitter cherries, were he to take a sip. Not unpleasant, however.
Ann
```fix
"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚞𝚑? 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝙰𝚊𝚝𝚔𝚎𝚒, '𝚗 𝙺𝚘𝚟𝚛𝚘𝚝?"
"𝙱𝚢 𝙴𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚜... '𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎'𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 '𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚊𝚕, 𝙺𝚘𝚟𝚛𝚘𝚝..."```

...He appeared almost to reminisce, staring down at the table, silent, before returning to questioning Kuouo.

```fix
"𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 '𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚠, 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛. '𝚂 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 '𝚘𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚕, 𝚅𝚊𝚊𝚣𝚟𝚊, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗' 𝚝𝚊, '𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗' 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔..."```
Terrance
Kuouo stepped through the doorway, thoroughly more impressed of the interior. *``'Don't judge a book by its cover I 'spose.'``* He thought, although it's a line that's sporadically held its weight ever since the bandit entered the Vektet. Kuo nodded as Vaazva initially spoke, almost agreeing to stay in line for the duration of his invite... As long as things went smoothly anyways. 

All eyes were on Vaazva; although some spared attention for the cloaked bandit that trailed behind him, it severely lacked in comparison to the way this masked man *Controlled* The ambience of the bar and its patrons by simply *Walking* Through the spacious tavern. Kuouo couldn't help but ponder the nature of the Vaazva's strength for it to *Command* The room as it did. That is, before he recalled the frighteningly trailless approach in Kuekat's stand.

```He approached with some sorta speed or invisibility or somethin'... And with such ease too, he didn't seem the slightest bit winded with his ghost-like approach. It seems we're in good standin' for now, but I should have some sort of back-up plan in case things go south. Otherwise, I oughta play it cool.```

Kuouo made notes of the other patrons and their locations within the bar. It was almost second nature to the thief, which is all the more reason as to why Vaazva's method of approach threw him off. A second masked man glared at the two, the bandit reckoning he was doing the same. Off in the back, a girl mindlessly swept the floors. Normally Kuo wouldn't pay her any mind but if it was anything like that ``Grillby's Incident``, he knew not to underestimate seemingly incompetent girls.

By the time he approached the bar, Kuo exhaled. It was quiet, but it held a heavy weight, hand-in-hand with the tenseness held in his shoulders. Kuouo exchanged similar glances with the barkeep before Vaazva invited the goat to take a seat. 

```fix
"Yeah, no prob. I've been itchin' for somethin' to drink for a while now. I almost took a sip of the water in the stream past the gate but... Yeah, that's not drinkin' water. If yer wantin' to ask questions, I hope ya don't mind answerin' some of my own after."```

**And then the piercing yellow gaze peered through Kuo's eyes and into his SOUL.**

It dimmers down, Vaazva returning his gaze to the countertop. Sheto approaches the two, breaking the moment of silence and placing two glasses on the table. One contained Vaazva's and the other had whatever this ``𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚑-𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚘`` happens to be. Kuouo rises the glass up to his snout, taking a whiff before tilting his head back and taking a full gulp. He looked down at the floor before smiling, although it wasn't as harsh as alcohol, it hit allllllll the right notes. He took another gulp of the herbal mixture, turning his body to face Vaazva and spill the tea (not in a literal sense of course).

```fix
"Riight. So, I had come in from that big ass tower from the gate. I approached the two, Kovrot tryna attack me with two dead knights from wherever the fuck. I took those things real easy, thank fuck. I already had t' kill two knights in that tower, so I wasn't really plannin' on havin' another full-on fight, ya know?"```

Kuouo shifted his body, extending his arms out across the countertop and crossing his legs as he sat up straight with the bar keeping his back straight.

```fix
"From there, she jus' happens to fall asleep. Aatkei is freakin' out cuz some asshat that followed me shot at 'em while I was tryin' to take care o' things without startin' another fight. I finally calm 'im down and make a deal with 'im... A bottle of whiskey, say, 3/4ths the way full in exchange for information and gettin' past the gate. Didn't give me much, jus' told me about Kaataa and Otaaraa, some dickhead on the second floor, and whatever the hell 'eclipse magic' is... Though for that last one, I didn't get much info. From here on out, I jus' know those are the guys I oughta look out for when I make my way to the tower past the Watch.```

Kuouo sits back up, now facing Vaazva to give him the juicy details as he took yet another gulp.

```fix
"Anyways, Kovrot starts talkin' about this root crown and stuff. She's about t' snitch and turn me in. She's got Aatkei by the balls by rotting the skin on his chest but that just sorta... Sets 'im off, ya know? He throws her off and even though he's got a dagger, he throws it off and settles the ordeal hand-to-hand. Even though the chick was soberin' up, he managed to knock her out of her socks.```
Ann
Staring at his drink from beyond his mask, the man gave a slight grin as he stared at its swirling, complex, and potent color. Lifting it to gain a better sight of its intricate swirls of herbal blends, he peered carefully at the contents within the drinking-vessel, his dimmed irises squinting at the suspension of particles within the nonalcoholic blend. Sheto was always a careful prep; any tea made by his hands was certain to be of the highest quality. Pleased, Vaazva subtly lifted the lower-half of his mask, revealing the rough surface of his scarred, ink-stained tattooed skin, his slightly dry lips pressing against the warm glass as he takes a large, *Large* Sip of the tea. In what was two-to-three gulps, he had downed about half the vessel, tapping it quietly against the countertop as he listened to Kuouo speak.

```fix
"𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚞𝚑?"```

Vaazva had been mostly relaxed and carefree in manner in every preceding act and word towards Kuouo. However, with the mentioning of the **Gate** And the reference to the **Tower**, the masked man's attention had been, for the first time, apprehended. It was not quite a nature of fear or worry, but simple concern — and a careful attention to what Kuouo said following. The inferred hint that Kuouo came from byond the Vektet was one of the few things that piqued Vaazva's curiosity. Surprises were few-and-far-between for the man-in-charge, but this particular statement appeared to have caught him off-guard.

**`Peer.`**
_ _

The yellow glow in his eyes returned, as he briefly stared with deep intent towards the bandit beside him. Yet, in what was the briefest of moments, it seemed that he came to a conclusion, his all-seeing, piercing eyes dimming in a flicker.

```fix
"𝙰𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚎, 𝚑𝚞𝚑. 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗'."```

His subtle astonishment faded, yet his attentiveness persisted as Kuouo continued on to speak about how he had *Eliminated two knights within the tower.* The man gave a low, quiet `'heh'` as the bandit continued on in what would be, to any other citizen within the Exile's Watch, an aggrandized or fancifully-fictitious story chalk-full of baloney. But, in the two occurrences that Vaazva shot his piercing gaze in Kuouo's direction, it appeared as though he confirmed something: *He wasn't talking out of his ass.* Everything he had said, and continued to say, was true... Despite how ridiculous it sounded.

```fix
"𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 '𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚎 '𝚗 '𝚎𝚖 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗' 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜."```

Vaazva knocked back another long swig of the tea, and went silent as Kuouo continued on from his foundation-setting for the rest of the story. Now came the part that Vaazva initially was curious about: the nature of Aatkei and Kovrot's conflict, both of whom he seemed familiar with, in one way or another.

```fix
"𝙿𝚏𝚊𝚊𝚑𝚑."
"𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚝' 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 '𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚊𝚗' 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 '𝚘𝚕 𝚙𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗' 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜, -𝚞𝚑."```

Vaazva palmed the upper half of his mask, letting out a quiet, prolonged groan of disappointment following Kuouo's description of the two's encounter. Taking a deep breath in, he again swings back another large gulp of the tea, finishing it off in record time.

```fix
"𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙼𝚞𝚌𝚑-'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎."
"𝙷𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 '𝚎𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 '𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚊' 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗' 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎."


"'𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑' 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢... 𝙺𝚘𝚟𝚛𝚘𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚊𝚕, 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎-𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 '𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝. 𝙰𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚝-𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 '𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎-'𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝' 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 '𝚘𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚕𝚎𝚝."```

The masked man lowered his mask, giving a deep, contemplative *`'mmm...'`*, as he stared forth at the counter...

```fix
"𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 '𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚊' 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝' 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎-𝚘' 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚢-'𝚛-'𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛."```

Going quiet, it seemed the man had no need for further questioning of Kuouo, instead allowing him to enjoy his drink. His curiosity had been sated, and so too had his favor been paid off; the bandit likely could now leave if he wanted. Though, considering Vaazva's nature, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to say that he might be open to answer a few questions.
Terrance
```fix
"Yeah he vaguely mentioned they both came from the second floor, kinda in passin' ya know? The two's got a lotta history behind 'em, I could tell... Lotsa pulled punches durin' that fight."```

Kuouo fixed his new cloak, swiping his glass of tea and chugging the rest of it down. Following the bandit's quenched thirst, he set the empty vessel down, tapping his digits along the countertop as he calculated his next move. Now would absolutely be time to ask Vaazva some questions before kicking out of there.

```fix
"Hope ya don't mind if I get one more favor outta ya. Yer hospitality's been much appreciated ever since I got 'ere. The name's Kuouo by the way. That aside, I just wanted to ask ya a couple of questions.```

Kuouo stood up, now leaning against the chair he was standing on with the 'golden' dagger in his hand. He shook his head, not even knowing why he took it seeing as its made out of a weaker metal. He placed it on the bar and slid it in front of Vaazva.

```fix
"Jus' two and I'm outta yer hair. First one is who's the root crown. Izzit someone else I oughta worry about while zoomin' across the Vetket? I already vaguely know about Tvotkei, but that's someone on the second floor, right? Kaataa and Otaara are also some dickheads t' look out for I know that much too...```

Kuouo held up his paw, flashing two fingers as he asked his second question.

```fix
"And second question... The reason I came t' the Vetket is to rid my bad luck and find somethin' of worth around here. As it turns out, in my sect of the world this gold ain't really that much. I guess you can say its worth is... Rather ambiguous there instead of the treasure it is here. In the city I'm from, it'd take 15 of these gold coins t' buy ya a bowl of grub, daheheh."```

He reached into his left pocket, taking the coin out and inspecting it once more before placing it next to the dagger Vaazva bought. He winked at the Wenchdiver, parting ways with the coin as thanks for the polite gestures so far.
Ann
```fix
"𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚞𝚑? 𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝... 𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚕, 𝚅𝚊𝚊𝚣𝚟𝚊. 𝙶𝚘 𝚊𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚢' 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛-𝚕𝚊𝚍. 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚝."```

The masked man briefly glanced towards Kuouo, breaking from what seemed to be a momentary period of deep thought. Without further drink to chug in his moments of downtime, he was left only to fidget, tapping his left hand's index finger against the wooden table before him. This act of fidgeting would perhaps be the first thing that would bring Kuouo's attention to his left hand, and thus, by extension, attention to his *Fingers,* Of which he was missing a single digit: his left ring finger.

```fix
"𝙺𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚘, -𝚞𝚑."
"𝙴𝚑, 𝚝𝚠𝚘... 𝚃𝚠𝚘'𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕... 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞."```

He scratched the side of his robed head, pondering as Kuouo spoke. To each of his questions, he had an answer — and quite solid answers, for each. In terms of sheer knowledge upon the intricacies of the Vektet, Vaazva was, surprisingly, quite the scholar. His *Former occupation,* Prior to his exile, lead him to learn and to memorize unfathomable quantities of knowledge. Knowledge worth multiple lifetimes, and knowledge which he could never forget. 

*`A full-on outsider from beyond the Ground Gate. And unabashed to show it, no less.`*

```fix
"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚝-𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗-𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗' 𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎'𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚣𝚒𝚗' 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘'-𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 '𝚎𝚖 𝚋𝚢, '𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎-'𝚊-𝚝𝚑' 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝'𝚘𝚕𝚎-'𝚟𝚎-𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚕𝚎𝚝. 𝙷𝚎'𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎-'𝚏 '𝚎𝚖 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙴𝚡𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎, '𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚖𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙴𝚡𝚒𝚕𝚎, 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝."

"𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝙻𝚘𝚛𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚊𝚊𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚝 𝙴𝚣𝚎𝚛..."```
 _ _

```fix
"𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚎, '𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠, 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚍, '𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚎, 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝' 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝' 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜.

𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 '𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗' 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝙸𝚏 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎-'𝚝𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙸𝚏 '𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎'𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚊' 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚜. 𝙼𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. '𝙽 𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚜."```

...He completed, before staring briefly down at the coin that Kuouo offered.

```fix
"𝙶𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞, -𝚞𝚑? 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝'𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗..."

"...𝚗𝚊𝚑, 𝚢'-𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎."```

Vaazva dismissed the thought, his grin unseen beneath his mask.

_ _
```fix
"𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗' 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗' 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑' 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛. 𝙰𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚝' 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛."

"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛, 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍-'𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚛 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚖, 𝚑𝚘𝚠-𝚎'𝚎𝚛..."

Vaazva leaned in, speaking discreetly:

"...𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚃𝚟𝚘𝚔𝚝𝚎𝚒'𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗' 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠-'𝚗-𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗."```
Vincent
```cpp
"I'm curious."```

Sheto spoke abruptly at the very moment that Vaazva's voice stopped.

```cpp
"You mentioned something called 'whiskey'. In a bottle."
"Explain to me what that is."```

He squinted carefully at Kuouo, his grayed irises peering from beyond his slightly blue-tinted glasses. His brow furrowed, apparently in anger — yet, upon closer examination, and with greater understanding of Sheto's character, he merely was interested. It seemed as though the man had a bad habit of appearing angered at every given moment. Perhaps it was just the way he was born...
Ann
Vaazva, while his face was hidden beyond his mask, gave a subtle nod. He was impressed, with perhaps himself, or perhaps Kuouo — it was quite vague. Who he was impressed with and why was rather indistinct; it seemed as though it could either be that he was impressed with *Himself,* And his *Own knowledge,* Or perhaps the fact that Kuouo was able to take in so much of it with ease. In either case, Vaazva was one proud and pleased with the exchange information, and one wholly content to teach. Once a reservoir of limitless knowledge, the man known as Yellow-Eyed Vaazva was both a keeper and teacher of all forms of erudition, be it fact-of-history or the greater mythos of the *Arue.* His days as a priestly scholar had long past, yet the familiarity of sharing the inner lore of the Ark was a warm kindling that never departed from his heart.

Yellow-Eyed Vaazva. Once known as *The All-Wise Veitvaazva, Archregistrar of the Court of the Eclipse.* An honorable title, which was later superceded by the title *Eye of Providence of the Order of the Left Hand.*

```fix
"𝙷𝚎𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚑. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛-𝚕𝚊𝚍."
"𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚍𝚊𝚢-𝚒𝚗 '𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚢-𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚗'𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝' 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚔 '𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎-'𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍."

"..."```

...He murmurs,

```fix
"...𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜, '𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 '𝚘𝚕 𝙰𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑..."

"...𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, '𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚕𝚎, 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕..."```
Vincent
```cpp
"I see..."```

Sheto said, still squinting with furious intent towards Kuouo. His eyes were sharp, piercing, and skirting on aggressive. Yet, as Kuouo likely began to grow familiar with his nature, it was simply a demonstration of his attentiveness. Sheto, surprisingly being the one to come up with the herbal concoctions and brews that the bar was so well-known for, was one quite invested in the field of inebriating, brewed beverages.

```cpp
"A warm feeling. Not unfamiliar. Dizziness, double-sightedness... The effects of the chekte branch are alike to such...```

*...Wait...*

Sheto's brow impossibly furrowed further as Kuouo went further into the process of *How it was made.* His head tilts forwards, as he places both hands on the counter of the bar, leaning precariously close to Kuouo as he spoke, alert, and wide-eyed as he continued.

```cpp
"Aging... Grains? You'd make grains, hallucinogenic...?"
"Like vinegar... It'd rot... But it'd certainly waste away... Or, no..."```

He placed a hand to his forehead, his squinted eyes peering towards the ground, in an entranced moment of deep calculation.

```cpp
"...The ripening of fruit... The aging process... Its sweetening over time..."
"...An added intensity of wood-like complexion... The exploitation of deep aging..."```

He places both hands to his head, and slowly paces away from the counter, staring at the many bottles that lined the wall. Cataclysmic quantities of information rushed through his head at a tremendously accelerated pace, each like a rushing tidal-wave that flowed vigorously throughout the mind. Each detail from the outsider was gleaned, and utilized to its utmost, matched against the information about brewing a proper drink that he had already established. The result...?

***AN EPIPHANY.***
_ _

```cpp
"The fermentation process."
"I must confirm it. Immediately."```

The man forcefully bursted forth, emerging from about and around the counter. Hardly managing to squeeze in the words:

***```cpp
"Taaraa! Manage the lobby. I'm performing an experiment. I'll be gone for a few days."```***

...He practically exploded out the front door, disappearing before a single person could react or even object.
Charles
*"I don't do danc-"*


"Eees—Uh?"
**"What?"**

Taaraa shook her head in disbelief, tightly clasping the broom which she used to sweep.

*"H-H-Huh...?!"*

*`W-where am I? What did he just say? How much am I getting paid for this? Oh, mother Eikokue... What? Not my shifts again...`*
Terrance
Kuouo lightheartedly chuckled, grateful for both information crucial and not-so-much crucial. Regardless, he understood, much better that than some of the *Human priests* In his world. Had the bandit not settled down for the love of his life so early at his age, he would've probably shared a similar streak of promiscuity.

```fix
"Daheheh, well, I'll make sure t' make good use of it! Who knows, if all goes well then I might jus' come back with heavier pockets with gratuity in mind.```

Kuouo winked, holding his hand out to shake.

```fix
"It was nice meetin' ya Vaaz, I think I'll be on my way—```

Kuouo raised an eyebrow before breaking back into his smile as Sheto vocalized his hypothesis outloud. He nodded along, not knowing the *Exact* Process but it all sounded right to him. Sheto made his way out the door, quickly demanding his waiter girl and snapping her out of whatever daydream she was in.

```fix
"Daheh! Make sure ya let — Whatwashisname, Sheto? - Yeah, make sure ya let Sheto know t' credit me when y'guys make a fortune off of this alcohol stuff. Should be maaad lucrative!"```

And with that the thief took a similar exit to Sheto, now fully rested, camoflauged, and richer with the *Information* Needed to keep himself alive and focus his drive on throughout the Vetket.
Sandra
Briefly traversing through the Exile's Watch, which had now begun to grow familiar to the bandit Kuouo, he would swiftly and discreetly be able to make his way through the plaza and into the bar known as the Merrymens'. The plaza remained mostly unchanged since the last he saw, albeit slightly... Emptier.

Pushing through the doors of the Merrymens', he would take note that quite a few of its patrons had cleared out of its midst, including **Ve,** The masked man positioned at the rear of the bar, **Sheto,** The bartender, and last but not least, **Vaazva,** Its owner. It was almost completely empty, save for the presence of a single individual — Taaraa, now positioned behind the bar where Sheto once served the inebriating (and partially hallucinogenic) tea-like drinks. 

Strangely, the strange sound like music not only continued to reverberate through the floorboards, but now seemed slightly louder...
Charles
Both hands atop the counter of the bar, the woman leaned against its spruce form with her gaze shifted towards the dark floor below. She seemed to be deep in thought, having not even initially noticed that Kuouo had re-entered the bar, her eyes of a common and unimposing brown languidly drug down to the ground, hints of restlessness and unease clearly visible in the way that she held herself. Only accustomed to the common and thoughtless labor of sweeping a broken broom across a floor that wasn't even all that dusty, the sudden change in posts had left her quite a bit nervous. 

Her fingers tap irregularly against the table, and it is only when the door slammed shut behind Kuouo that she lifted her eyes to give him a distant, detached gaze, her mind elsewhere — drowned in the erratic haze of combined nervousness and tiredness from several sleepless nights. She could scarce recognize what she was even staring at, up until a few moments later, when a realization clicks in her head, and she gives a most startled expression in response, gasping suddenly.

*"Uh! Welcome to the Merrymens'!"*
She clasped her mouth with her left hand, questioning of her own words, in a slight moment of confusion.

*`W-Wait, what did I just say?`*
*`W-w-who in the world is this? Did I just greet him?? Was that the right greeting?`*

*"Right, what, uh, p-potion—-errrh, drink, brew... Tea?! Can I get you?!"*
Terrance
Kuo was slightly relieved; with rush hour done in the plaza, he'd have to worry much less about someone spotting him. Even with the cloak, that guy ``Qaarrorroq`` really made an ass of both himself and Kuo. 

```It's not like there's any other blonde goats out here.```

Whichever the case, he pushed through the heavy oak door leading into The Merrymens' and quickly scanned his surroundings. As previously mentioned, Sheto had taken his leave as well as Vaazva and the stranger sitting alone from earlier. The only person that had remained was the chick Sheto had left to run the bar by herself. The bandit, figuring she'd have to do, kicks the bottom-corner of the door with his right heel and shuts it closed. He glances up at the barkeep, temporarily disassociated from reality, before she put the pieces together and snaps back to reality. 

```fix
"Daheheh, daydreamin' on the job aren'tcha?"```

Kuo approached the counter, sitting in the same spot he had about an hour ago and slouching forward. He shook his head and waved his hand, dismissing the idea of getting a drink... ``'It's not like I got any`` *``taarei``* ``anyways.'`` The bandit scoffed to himself before inching his eyes to left, and then to the right, ensuring that nobody else was there to impede on his conversation. 

```fix
"I'm not gettin' a drink... In fact, the plaza's kinda empty right now, so yer prolly gonna have a slow night, daheh. Nahh, I'm just here wonderin' where I can find Sheto. I'd given him that advice and I jus' wanted to follow up with him in addition t' some questions I gotta ask him. Hope the information ain't too private."```
Charles
The impromptu-fill-in bartender's fingers danced disquietedly atop the surface of the table, tapping in arrhythmic pattern as she gave a perturbed glare, mismatched with an unfitting and nervous smile as she attempted to greet the new patron of the bar. Taking a step away from the counter, she gave several rapid blinks, glancing left, then right — attempting to even scarce recall *Who he was.* She hadn't seen him or his face within the proximity of the bar, or even within the Exile's Watch, for that matter — or so she *Thought,* Maybe she did remember him? Or—no, she didn't remember him after all. *`Did she?`* 

*`Cloaked? Furry? Blonde? Weird accent? Who???`*

Her smile persisted, even as she gave the most confused glare in his direction, her right arm curling close towards her chest.

*"D-Daydreaming??"*

*`Oh, right... Right, right... My shifts. Ugh...`*

She shook her head, stared back down, towards the table, clasped her brow, and disregarded the thought. 

*"Right, so... What drink can I get you—"*
_ _

Now gathered, recovered from her brief moment of confoundedness — her gaze more clearly set on the man before her — the woman behind the bar counter leaned once more against its wooden frame, questioning, before swiftly being interrupted.

*"Sheto...??"*
"Uhh..."
"...What business do you have with him?"

She questioned, raising a brow at the man's slightly odd question. As far as she was familiar... *No one asked for Sheto. **No one.*** He was thought to be a crook, or some sort of gangster: he had the build, the glare, and the scars to show for it. Honestly, she hadn't a clue why Vaazva would have him so openly within the lobby... He, on occasion, scared some customers away.

Nonetheless, for one reason or another — she vaguely recalled being asked to partake in some sort of odd blood-test of one sort or another. Now, if she could just recall clearly...

*"Sheto..."*
"Right, Sheto... I think he lived... Down by the church? Somewhere... A blue light... A lantern..."

*`Right, right... Wait... Huh?`*
*`Why am I...`*

*"...Who the hell are you?"*
Terrance
```fix
"Well, I've told 'im about a drink that hadn't existed on the Vektet 'til now. I know you were starin' off int' space when he told ya to man the bar, but that's the whole reason he left. I guess you could say I jus' wanted to give 'im some additional advice and maaaaybe exchange info... I heard he's real good at this brewin' stuff, so I thought I could trade my brew for somethin' I need."```

Kuo smiled, keeping his answer vague, but truthful. His tone was light and friendly, not wanting to alarm the girl — He didn't want her to be too defensive — or worse, a panic — after snapping her back to reality so harshly. He did, however, mentally take note of the points of interest she absentmindedly mentioned. ``'Down by the church with some kinda blue light orrr... Lantern. Shouldn't be too hard to find.'``

Indeed, it wasn't going to be a challenge for the bandit to at least find the church. He distinctly recalled the large stonelike structure sticking out northward like a sore thumb in comparison to the shoddy woodwork of the rest of the village. Had it been any other kind of structure, the bandit might've visited it first but. . .

``'churches are mad lame.'``

He cared not for their existence.

He watched as the woman stared at the counter after relaying the basic information needed, almost deep in thought before catching herself and pulling her attention back onto shore. By the time she had done that, the goat was already sliding off his chair - Not quite ready to leave just yet, but eager to get a move on. ``'Sheesh, I wonder she takes that taarei stuff.'`` Kuo tilted his head, feeling as if the fact that it felt like she was going to sleep at any time solidified his hypothesis before she eventually questioned the bandit's identity. Taaraa was met with a prideful-toned answer,

```fix
"The name's Kuouo Aiche Dee! Ya mighta heard in passing while I was talkin' to Vaazva, but I'm from out the Vektet where I'm quite the bandit, daheh! Ya said this place was down by the church, right? With a blue light emittin' from a lantern? Any specific kinda directions ya wanna give me so I don't gotta search the whole block?"```
Charles
"Kuouo *Aiche Dee..."*

The woman mimicked his introduction statement, tapping a finger against her furrowed brow in a prolonged moment of recollection. Her memory truly wasn't usually this shoddy; it was just the major lack of sleep in the past few days that had strongly been getting to her typically composed mental state. *Taarei,* Despite being a currency in these lands, was in high demand as a drug to be consumed, and so the payments she received for her laborious shifts tended to vary. Considering there were no day-night cycles within the First Floor, overtime could last *Multiple twenty-four hour periods,* And even the principally-immortal bodies needless of either food or water could still tire over time. Without the pay, she couldn't sleep; those who take *Taarei* Oft grow reliant on it to soothe their wearied minds into a state of slumber. And even with the pay, she couldn't sleep; *Working through the time in which one would typically rest doesn't exactly allow for a restful mind, either.*

*"Ugh..."*

*`Kuouo Aiche Dee...`*
*`Kuouo Aiche Dee...`*
*`Kuouo Aiche Dee...`*

_ _

She tightly shut her eyes, the fingers of her raised right hand pressing against her eyelids, massaging their irritated forms. The overworked-impromptu-fill-in-underpaid-bartender shook her head, and simply accepted that she hadn't a *Single clue* If she had even heard that name before or not.

*`Kuouo Aiche Dee... From ou—`*

—*Wait. Was that even what she needed to be questioning?*

*`Out of the Ark??!!`*

"H-***What?***"

She shot a very, *Very* Concerned glare to the cloaked goat opposite herself. She could scarce take another breath in before giving a harsh, outwards gasp, as if she had been stricken in the gut by the late recognition of his statement

***"You're from __where?__"***

Her hand, once rested upon her face, slid up and into her hair, tugging at the slightly messied roots of her bangs. Her mouth remained wide open in shock, as she squinted at the cloaked figure of the bandit, her expression of raw disbelief. Disbelief which she would soon cast away — she shook her head, furrowed her brow, and stared down at the counter, as if far too exhausted to even continue reacting to the unbelievable nature of his statement.

*`T-Then, right, right, that means, no, uh... Huh... Uh. No, whatever... Am I in danger?`* 

*"Huh..."*

Several quickened blinks, as so to stave away her confusion and her tiredness, and the woman snapped back to the conversation at hand.

*"Uhm. Right...* Just... Cling to the right, I guess?? Look for the residential district...?"

"Uuumh, a *Nap,* Huh..."

She interjected in response to the very statement, as if she longed for such a thing. Briefly closing her eyes and placing her hand to her chin, she contemplated, and then nodded in response to his suggestion. *Maybe a little rest could be afforded, after all...* It wasn't like anyone was going to be using the bar for anything, any time soon. Especially when Sheto wasn't here to serve one the *Exact drink* That one typically ordered. Even when he was here, the bar wasn't used as much as the *Other* Purpose this building existed...

His usage and familiarity with the nature of the Exile's Watch — and *Especially* Of his familiar use of the names Vaazva, Sheto, and even *Aatkei,* A regular of the bar, which she was certain he wouldn't have met in the bar, itself, was quite odd to the woman behind the counter. The whole ordeal was far too confusing and complicated for her to attempt to mentally resolve or even *Begin* To wrap her mind around, so, instead of slaving over it, she would simply just accept it with a quiet *`"Whatever."`*

*"Tip? Tip?"*

She spoke, then echoed, her eyes opening briefly with what was the first dopamine shot she had had in the past two-or-so *Days.* Her irises fluttered with the light of joy, her mouth tugged into an instinctive smile.

*`Oh, beloved pay—`*

**`"...I don't have anything else reasonable to give ya."`**

*`Damn it all.`*

The brief light that was once in her eyes faded, and her smile faded, yet would persist in slight, so as not to seem ungrateful. All she wanted was *Taarei,* But whatever else he had to offer couldn't *Hurt,* Right?

_ _

...Truthfully, she had no interest in anything *But taarei,* In the end. That was simply wishful thinking; and she also did not want to appear thankless in response to his tip in return.

*`H-h... Huh.`*

She stared at the extended gift... A pillow, of sorts... 
Her eyes could scantly recognize the foreign object, or even what it was attempting to depict on its surface—*`was that a person? W-what...?`*

*"Right..?"*

Reluctantly taking the gift from his hands, the woman watched as he departed, gazing down at the 'tip' in bafflement.
Sandra
Unfortunately for Tabby, the spruce oak door did not lead into a store as expected, but rather the midst of a mostly-empty tavern.

Its interior was much better than its exterior would suggest it to be; the bar was boasting of finely-made furnishings and an overall lush interior of high-quality wood, tastefully built together to form a sort of semi-rustic atmosphere. Or, well, perhaps it was just the standard type of atmosphere one would find in a bar during whatever sort of strange, alternate era that the architects of the Vektet originated from. Nonetheless, the bar seemed well-kept, yet, as aforementioned, was almost entirely empty. Many things in the Exile's Watch seemed empty as of the moment; it seemed that, perhaps due to the sudden appearance of intruders from the Embrace of Sol, most people had fled.

However, there was still one person within the bar...
Charles
...Seated on a stool, behind the bar counter, was the figure of a young woman, her right arm leaned against the wooden surface of the countertop. Her head laid atop her right palm, and her eyes were closed — in a most relaxed position, she seemed to be fast asleep. Clutched within her left arm and held close to her chest — and incredibly strangely enough — was a *Pillow.* A *Body pillow.* Featuring *Bulma, from Dragon Ball Z.*

What a sight to see.
Tabby would be left to guess how in the world someone from the Vektet got their hands on such an item...

Aside from the woman, herself, there was the faint, but resonant sound of **Music, vibrating from beneath the floorboards.** Further, some distance beyond the bar counter, at one of the bar's far-side walls, there was the strange form of an **Overshadowed door,** Likely leading into some sort of further chamber within the building.
Jennifer
*God fucking damnit, I found the bar on accident.* She recalls the enigmatic person's speech about a man named *Vaazva*, thoroughly upset that she managed to find the bar while being completely unprepared to actually undertake such a task. She glances around, her eyes falling on Taaraa's sleeping body.

*What. The fuck. Is that.* She raises her finger and points at *It*, her Defender silently nodding in agreement. This. Is really weird. What kind of person would make a pillow with an imprint of... *Whoever* That is, from *Whatever* Medium, and... Was it made locally, perhaps? *Surely if they COULD create something such as that pillow, they MUST have a tailor nearby.. Which means I can complete the infusion on my..* She puts one of her paws to her cloak and looks down at her boots, wondering of the possibility that such a place exists in this poor, poor town. *Hmmmmmmm...*

She quickly scouts around again. *Any Vaazvas around here?* 

She shakes her head and prepares a little teeny-tiny trick, handing about 50 gold coins to her automaton & ducking down as her Defender quietly saunters over to the bar, taking great care to not wake the sleeping woman, lest she call security on the cat for this next move.. *Is there even security in this town at all?* The master ponders, casting *Guidance* To aid her *Stealth* Check as she attempts to sneak around to the entrance of the counter as quietly as possible. 

Tabby rolls an incredible *29* On her check, (17 + 4 (Guidance) + 8 (Stealth modifier) meaning her steps *Should* Be whisper quiet. With her guardian sitting on a stool — and causing it to bow under its incredible weight - she hops that, should the woman awake, she would instead focus mostly on her happy metal customer, who would love for nothing for than her finest *'drink.'*

_ _
The robot does not drink alcohol. In fact, the robot does not really drink at all, but Tabby simply hopes that the artificial intelligence kicks in and finds an explanation as she *Makes her way towards the door*.
Sandra
The door is closed, yet not locked. And, once opened, revealed behind it would be a dark staircase. The subtle sound of music played by strange instruments had never once graced Tabby's ears before ascended up the dark stairwell, suggesting that there was... Something *Else,* Below the bar. It smells strangely like... Citrus?
Jennifer
The Defender watches from the bar as Tabby opens the door, making sure the bartender doesn't go anywhere as the stool breaks apart; splintering under the robot's incredible weight and sending it to the ground, flat on its ass. Despite this sudden crashing, the construct is unphased, head peeking over the counter as it simply sits and keeps watch for anything that could potentially pincer Tabby from this end. What a vigilant protector, refusing to let go of the task at hand even at the expense of its metaphorical tailbone. Truly astonishing. The metal being stares with incredible, unflinching intensity, boring holes into the sleeping Taaraa. Any sudden muscle movement would not escape its gaze. Remarkable. It has trained its whole AI model for this moment.


As for the mere master... The cat slinks into the stairway, once again casting *Guidance* In case another stealth job is required. She very, very carefully sneaks down the stairs – taking in all the weird sounds and smells as she slinks down towards their source, taking INCREDIBLE caution and making mental notes to her watchdog on the upper floor, keeping it well-informed should something go wrong; her dagger in its small sheath, glinting with the *Blessing* Placed upon its finely polished blade, *Another potential escape option would be to gut, I guess...*


*Is this even a good idea..?* She questions, realizing now that she may be slightly too deep in now. *No guarantee other than 'trust me' for information... No nothing. What even IS a 'Root-Crown'?* Tabby begins to ask so many unanswered questions as she descends into the next floor of the tavern.
Sandra
Sneaking down the stairs was indeed an idea of a rightfully-cautious vein, and one taken without fault. Yet, as Tabby continued to descend to the bottom of the staircase, she would, in an instant, realize that the notion would ultimately be worthless, as, upon descending about the fourth-to-sixth step, she would note a *Pair of eyes, staring straight up at her.*
Arthur
Red eyes — customary of many individuals that Tabby had seen in the Vektet up until this point — stared watchfully up at the tabaxi, who appeared to be making her descent rather *Stealthy.* Extending her left palm to her side in a motion akin to a half-shrug, the young lady at the base of the staircase gave a wry grin toward the approaching individual within the stairwell. Stood at a rather above-average height of 175cm, the woman donned a relatively fanciful, yet not exorbitantly overflourished black dress, her head topped with a widely-brimmed black hat to match. Her lips, too, were thematically painted black, curled into an oddly-inviting, slightly sarcastic grin directed towards Tabby's caution.

"Oh, hell-*O*..."

Her tone was light, gentle, and yet not with a hint of innocence. Her voice was full of a deeper richness; a flavor of gorgeousness that granted the raw essence of her voice a sense of innate allure. Dragging the final vowel of her greeting with a fluctuating, coquettish tone in her breath, Reizaa's glare remained unbroken from the tabaxi, pausing, as she thought how further to conduct business.
_ _

Hanging from between the index and middle fingers of her pale right hand, the woman held what appeared to be a long smoking-pipe, hazing with the subtle soot of an embered blend of herbs, its carcinogenic scent laced heavily with the drowning scent of *Citrus.* The woman tapped the base of the pipe with one of her slender digits — pristine, smooth, and boasting of long and pristine nails, elegantly painted a glossy black. She brought the pipe close to her face, yet would not take another huff of the hallucinogenic smoke drifting from its tip. Rather, she would simply bring the back of her right hand to her chin, the pipe hanging loosely some distance from her face, as she curiously stared at the cat-like stranger within the stairwell.

"Here, here. You haven't a need for caution, *My lady,"* She spoke, her smile slightly growing, as she gave a light exhale from her nostrils.

"Step down, if you would. There's no need to be *Afraid,* Mm-hmm?"

Reizaa's dim, red eyes squinted. Her smile persisted, yet her eyes, overshadowed by the brim of her hat, remained with a lingering caution in their gaze.

"Say, say— I haven't seen someone as fine and unique a young lady as *You* Around here. Pray tell, what brings you to the *Merrymens'?*" 

Bringing her left and right arms inwards, she tucked her arms folded, taking an instinctive care to not spill the remnants of the burning herbs within her pipe. Nonetheless, as her body-language would subtly suggest, she had her doubts about Tabby's sudden appearance, and, being stood at the base of the stairwell as Reizaa was, she would likely stop her entry, were the tabaxi's response to be... *Off.*
Jennifer
Alarm bells start ringing mentally in Tabby's head, prompting the Defender to... Well, ignore orders. Surely if it's just one person, Tabby is currently in no danger. If someone were yet to sneak up from behind, however, that would likely be catastrophic even WITH *Alert*. The Defender instead remains laser-focused, shifting its gaze from the sleeping barista towards the door, completely focused on the more important task. It is SO focused that it refuses to sit on another stool or... Awaken the clearly sleep-deprived woman to do her job. Surely nobody would mind if the robot sat there a while until the going gets real tough, right?

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." The cat thinks quickly, *Improvise, Tabby! Improvise!*, before simply *Following orders*, ready to use her *Guidance* Should she be ambushed and require a slick Dexterity save or check. *Jesus, she's taller than ME!* "Uhm.. . Well, thank you, you're not too bad yourself.." *Think, THINK.*

"I- was looking for a manager?" Her voice twinges at the end of her proclamation, "Umm.. One of the employees here is napping on the job and won't wake up.." The tabaxi rubs the back of her neck, playing sheepish with this encounter. *I'm fucked, aren't I.*

_ _
"The reason I need one is..." *The bang from earlier..* "The bang from earlier was the sound of someone accidentally breaking a stool at the bar stand, and... Wood splinters, and all that.. Yeah.." Despite Tabby's uncertain tone, there was that loud noise earlier, hopefully lending credit to her alibi of just.. *Needing a manager.*

"I.. Don't know if you *Are* One, but, well.. It's a stepping hazard to guests to have all that everywhere." *Ha! Hit them with the old safety problem. That should do it. Right? Rrrrrright?*

"Just... Looking out for the other patrons, is all." At this point, Tabby seems to be talking herself in circles — either due to having poor social skills, a low *Charisma* Score, or otherwise — "Cuz there's... Wood on the..." She trails off into a mumble at the end, observing the woman's face closer and taking in the amount of effort put into matching the whole *Aesthetic*; and of course noting how the pipe would probably detract from her fashion sense. Not that Tabby has any of that, either, what with all the armor and clearly modified & patched up cloak. She clears her throat quietly, attempting to add to the facade she hoped to employ.
Arthur
Reizaa's skeptical expression grew into one of an almost endearing nature as Tabby continued, her squinted red eyes matching the more eased curl of her inviting smile. The rosewood of her eyes warmed as Tabby danced about confused words in a careless pirouette of unstructured narrative and odd lines of reasoning, her speech unrefined, yet her intent like her very life relied on the excuse she conjured at the very moment. Her closed posture allayed in stance, her left hand hanging delicately at her side, as she once more extended her right hand in an outwards motion, holding the burning pipe a short distance from her cheek.

Her cheeks would rosy slightly were they not to be so delicately powdered, pulled taut and upwards, her grin spreading into a full smile. 

*"Ahaha!"*

She gave a short, but hearty laugh in response to Tabby's nervous explanation. Shifting the brim of her fanciful hat downwards, Reizaa hid her eyes, and so gave a grin without the sight of her upper countenance withwhich to harmonize. From where she was standing, it was quite hard to ascertain the finely-dressed woman's reaction toward Tabby's hasty fibs. Yet, even with her visage hidden, it seemed that she was enjoying herself, in a way; she flourished the skirt of her dress, twirling delicately-some to the left, and delicately-some to the right. 

As the fleeting moment of glee passed, her grin faded, and she adjusted again the brim of her hat, her eyes of rosewood lifting to view the tabaxi with amenable intent.

*"I'm flattered, dear lady,"* She spoke, her smirk returning, as she replied to the tabaxi's half-hearted(?) compliment, taking a step back from the stairwell.

"And, Miss Taaraa, asleep on duty? My. I suppose she's earned it."
"In any matter, it's not as though we're even fully *Open,* At the moment."

The finely-dressed woman put a hand to her hip, continuing to stare up at the tabaxi within the stairwell.
_ _

"You needn't worry, though. Come *Right* On down, my lady."
"Oh— but, if you're looking for *Servicing,* I'm afraid many of our staff are out. And, mm... We're on a bit of a *Break,* At the moment."

Reizaa gave a wink to the woman in the stairwell, quickly pivoting on her heel as she turned from the stairwell, stepping into the darkened room that was the 'basement' of the Merrymens'.
Sandra
With the finely-dressed young woman out of the way, Tabby would be allowed to continue into the lower floor, its strange, alien music growing closer and closer the further she descended the stairwell. Finally, once the tabaxi had entered, she would be greeted with the whole view of the bottom floor.

Akin to the room above, yet simply darker, the lower floor boasted quite exquisite interior architecture of a fine, dark wood, and though slightly compacted in space, it seemed the lower floor had many more doors within its midst, likely reading to smaller, private back rooms. A small, elevated stage was positioned to the far-right of the room, and to the left, a bar — yet significantly smaller and with fewer drinks than the one upstairs. Only dimly lit by several lanterns positioned at each of the walls, the room had a much darker, yet more personal atmosphere, brought together by the close quarters of its smaller midst.

Upon entry, Tabby would be met with a drowning blend of loud music — played by instruments unique to the Vektet's culture — and the potent stench of smoky citrus, a thin haze of smog permeating the atmosphere in an almost entrancing, murky, yet pleasant fragrance that tickled the nose and mind. It was almost a tad bit hallucinogenic to bring into one's lungs, numbing to the mind, yet joyful to inhale in its citrusy-smoky-sweet scent that calmed one's demeanor.

The longer she remained within the room, the more the smoke would permeate her mind; the more the smoke permeated her mind, the less overbearingly loud the music would grow. And speaking of the instruments—
Lisa
—the one who played them—three in total, each with an entirely foreign shape and appearance, though one appeared to be stringed—was no more than a single man, playing all three with focusless proficiency that had mastered itself unto the point that it lacked the need for persistent, intelligent thought. Each of the instruments were as one part of his own body, and so he melodiously wove the loud, atmospheric music that dominated the lower lobby, his eyes closed as he did so, his body dead-calm, pallid, and only lacking of limpness for the fact that he continued to perform.

The man's closed eyes were blackened, his cheeks scarred, and his lower mouth covered entirely, wrapped-about by bandages that hid his lower lip and chin in their entirety. Wounded in body and soul was he, yet music was the vessel through which he made his soul known. His body was a mere accessory, and so he would continue to play, unflinching, and unnoticing of the stranger's appearance.
John
A woman, most foreign in appearance — even within the standards of the Vektet — leaned atop the bar-counter, a pipe trailing with smoke positioned loosely within her hand. Her skin was almost teal in color, with a slightly lustrous gloss at its surface; her appearance was eye-catching and resplendent, and yet her displeased countenance detracted from the eminence of her appearance. She would lift lazy irises to view the one who entered, and briefly entered a moment of shock as she laid eyes on the tabaxi, instinctively pushing her body up-and-at-the-ready upon the sight of the stranger. Disquietedness, for lack of a better word, would rouse in her expression as she met the gaze of the stranger, her fingers nervously tapping the pipe against the bar counter.

...Yet, in what appeared to be either a conclusion of frustration or of simple reasoning, the young woman scoffed, and turned her gaze from the tabaxi. Taking a short puff out of the pipe, she turned to one of the corners of the room — some distance from the bar, itself, yet close enough that the man, positioned within the corner and hidden in the shadows, could hear her following words:

```diff
+ "Boss, I don't feel like dancing. Can you get this gal the hell out of here?" +```

She spoke. Her voice was naturally high and softspoken — silvery, pleasant to the ears — and yet the tone she chose within the moment felt *Tightened;* Shrill and brittle in the moment, as if from one thoroughly annoyed and on the verge of being burned-out. Her odd eyes of a light-green settled on the man within the corner, whose figure was shadowed by the overall darkness of the room, awaiting an answer that she would not immediately be graced with.
Arthur
"Oh, don't be so *Temperamental,* Rueq. No-one asked you to dance. You — and I, and, well, everyone down here — are on *Break.* "And that isn't changing *Any* - time - soon."

Reizaa smirked, slowly pacing to the side of Rueq, laying her emptied left hand atop the teal-skinned young woman's shoulder. With a nod, Reizaa peered up, and glared toward the man sat in the corner, continuing.

"And beside, 𝓥 already informed us of the *State-of-affairs* Within the Watch."

The woman's smile swiftly faded, her tone shifting into solemnity. She quieted the last three words of the sentence, closing her eyes, as she briefly took a humble puff of the herbal smoke into her lungs. She let it rest within her body, holding her breath, mouth, and eyes closed in a lingering moment, before finally releasing the herbal fume in a delicate stream of outwards-borne air. Following the prolonged pause, Reizaa continued in her explanation, her words deeply mellowed in tone.

*"As the Boss said, these could be our last days within the Watch."*

Patting Rueq on the shoulder twice-again, the finely-dressed young woman paced away, making her way into the very center of the lower floor. Gracefully shifting on her heel yet again, Reizaa turned to view the stranger — the tabaxi, Tabby, likely still positioned by the stairwell — and spoke up:

"Anyway! Fine *Lady,* You did say you were looking for a manager. Is that so?" —Reiza questioned, her smile returning with twice a nod.
_ _

"Well, I'd ought to first confirm your... *—hmm—...* Your *Business,*" She enunciated in excessive clarity, her tone almost sarcastic in nature — as though she was questioning the very thought, yet not in such a manner so as to scorn Tabby herself — "Would be worth the Boss's time."

"Oh— well, that is... A measly *Chair* Wouldn't be... Quite enough. I'd hope you'd have... *Better reasoning?"*

 Reizaa folded her arms, lifting her right hand to her mouth, as she took another brief puff of the pipe.
Jennifer
Half-hearted, it is not, but due to Tabby's nervousness, it makes a lot of sense how someone would think of it that way. *She TOTALLY did not buy it. I KNEW I should've played the 'this is all a bad dream and the talking cat isn't real' trick..*

As Reizaa steps back, Tabby tentatively takes a few small steps, enough to where she would be able to properly take in the room that was once partially obscured by the lady who remained in front of her at this very moment. As the woman suggests she step further down, she of course, does so, sensing no intent to endanger herself, which is a welcome sign — at least, for now. "Not.. Fully open..." She repeats, quietly. *That's an interesting thing to say if the door is still open...* As Reizaa speaks of the break, she outwardly nods in acknowledgement — something curt & polite, though with a small amount of worry laced in it. No amount of promising is going to convince this cat to give up the *Alert* Nature she typically employs, it seems.

*Guess this must be the break room...* She thinks, taking in the well-crafted wood in this relatively small room. It's enough to make one jealous; *If only the break rooms were like this back in the old Guild*.. It is in that moment that the artificer realizes that *Maybe* Having alcohol in an easily-accessible workplace that deals in inter-personal goods *Might* Be a bit of an issue in other parts of the multiverse, her origin included.. The cat breathes in her first gulp of the hallucinatory smoke — *Oh, shit. It's citrus.*

_ _
Cats, typically don't respond well to citrus; at least not the edible types. But, seeing as this is most-decidedly *Not* Edible, she figures she'll be fine... Besides, it's not like she has enough residual magic to conjure up her gas mask that she uses for some of her spells. "That's pretty impressive..." She whispers to herself absentmindedly in regards to the musician. *Wonder what kind of bard college he went to to get that good... It's like magic to the ears..*

*State-of-affairs, huh... Last days in the Watch.* "Well. . . The chair is, rather unimportant at this stage, but the man-or-thing-or-whatever-it-is that broke it is rather big and refusing to leave.." Using her master position to her advantage, Tabby throws her robot buddy under the bus, if only for a brief moment before continuing on.

"I. . . Also need to know a bit of information... Something about a Root-Crown..?" She phrases it with a similar tone to the uncertainty from before, yet, one could glean that she simply has *No idea* What's she actually talking about in regards to such a strange phrase. *What the fuck is a Root-Crown and why did the church guy mention it? Why does he want Vaazva dead?*
Arthur
*"The Root-Crown,* You say..."

Reizaa's eyes of rosewood squinted at Tabby as she spoke, and she placed a hand to her cheek, her right hand — holding the pipe — pressing against her hip. As if in a moment of thought, the finely-dressed woman paused, continuing in her squint, as she processed how exactly to manage the question. Tabby was, indeed, a stranger to the Vektet, and Reizaa could tell this from first glance. Familiarizing oneself with the local populace is inevitable, especially when one lives within it for well-beyond the average mortal's lifespan. Yet... She asked of the Root-Crown, and seemed to know at least a little about the First Floor. *Hmmm...*

She wasn't all too familiar with how outsiders *Got into the Ark in the first place,* But she could assume that Tabby likely came with some others. Would granting her the knowledge be troublesome? Or not? If all the outsiders were violent, would the tabaxi not have barged into the bar, guns-blazing? Or, perhaps, she was playing the long game? 

*`No, no, Reizaa, you'd ought not to discriminate like that,`* She thought, tapping her chin. The fine young lady before her hadn't shown any ill intent — yet, that was — so she truly couldn't make such rash judgments. With a lingering *`hm-mm-mmmm...`*, Reizaa pondered...

"You *Know...* I truly shouldn't rush to tell. *My lady,* I hate to impose this upon you — and do not take this insultingly, it is simply a matter of *Precaution* — but, we'd really ought to get more *Acquainted* Before speaking upon such delicate matters."}

This... Seemed the best course of action, at least to Reizaa. Delay the question for the time being, and, while maintaining control of the situation, gather more information on the patron before her. It may step on her toes to not give her an immediate answer, but she seemed courteous enough to oblige for but a few moments. With a nod, Reizaa motioned—
Ann
```fix
"𝙴𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚜. 𝙱𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝-'𝚗-𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕, 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚊, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎'𝚗𝚝-'𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑' 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝."
"𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜, '𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗' 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 '𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚞𝚙-𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗."```

*An imposing, deep, and rough voice speaks up, originating from the darkened corner of the room.* Its origin revealed, a man with a golden mask slowly stood upright, donning a strange, black, robe-like set of apparel, embellished in every whichway with the boisterous and flagrant colors of gold and pearl. Slightly lifted, his mask left enough room to reveal the scarred lower-half of his face, raised enough so that he could take several, long puffs from the pipe in his hand. With one, good long huff, the man stared toward the tabaxi, his eyes of a familiar, peering, **Golden yellow** Piercing a gaze toward her very *Soul.*

In each motion that he made, and with every word that he spoke, he emanated the tangible presence of *Authority.* When he spoke, the three others within the bottom-floor of the Merrymans' were at attention, and, without even so much as moving a finger, he commanded the coordination of each, their eyes set on his striking form. *If there were one worthy of the name Boss, it would certainly be the gold-clad man before them.*
_ _

Yes. There was none who could match the name better. This man was Vaazva — *Yellow-Eyed Vaazva,* A feared and respected man within the Watch. His golden gaze poked beyond Tabby's physical exterior shell and into the spiritual, his arcane eyes delving to view the deepest aspects of her personality.

```fix
"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚢'-𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝-'𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚝-𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗, -𝚞𝚑?"
"𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝 '𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕-𝚎. 𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝙸 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚝' 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢'𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. '𝙽 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚝𝚘𝚘. -'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕-𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢."```

The masked man stepped up, and with a swaggering gait, made his way toward one of the stools positioned infront of the small bar-counter. Pointing down at the stool beside himself, he offered — or perhaps demanded — for her to take a seat.

_ _
```fix
"𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚊, 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍-'𝚢 𝚐𝚘 '𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜, 𝚞𝚑? 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐-𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚔... 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚕 '𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚍."```

He spoke, shooting a goldless glance to the one behind himself. His tone was much more comfortable when he addressed Reizaa; he respected her, and so she respected him. Indeed, he was a man worthy of the title *Boss.*
Arthur
*"O-*Kaaay, got it!"

Reizaa gave a slight curtsy, shifting her grip on the pipe within her right hand, as so to tuck it and press it against her forearm. Slightly flourishing her dress, the fancifully-garbed young woman began to make her way up the stairs — but not before she first, and briefly, turned toward Tabby, staring at her with a word of warning.

*"Please, don't waste the Boss's time."*

She would speak not a word further, yet in her mind, would continue—

*`—for it is running short, already.`*
Jennifer
Tabby nods, quickly and smiles lightly "Of course — no insult taken. If it's delicate information, I need to earn it fir-"

*Oh, fuck. There he is. Vaazva.* The cat suddenly feels the vial concealed in her pocket a lot more prominently than before, debating in her head how best to do this, or if it was worth it at all. The man hasn't done anything and, if he truly had talked to someone else — which implies being truthful as, well, how else would he know there were multiple people in the group? 

*Information. That's all I need. Some kind of explanation to help decide what I'm gonna do about all of this.. Why does Vaazva need to die in order to kill the Crown? Why will the floor flip upside-down?* Additionally, she takes note of the odd mask, likening it to that of the man she saw outside. They are certainly different in color — and perhaps in material, too from the looks of it, but the coloring of their robe *Seems* To have similar feel. *I shouldn't be thinking all of this.. Who knows if the big guy's got some kind of Divination, too..*

The cat bows politely in response to the boss standing up, unsure as to *Why*, really, but it just felt correct in this moment to show a little respect for someone as hulking and powerful as he. *Thiiiis is someone I want to get the good side, with..* Despite this, his *Arcane Eyes* Reveal, if anything, that she would still be heavily pondering the churchgoer's request. *So far, Vaazva is kind.* He additionally gets the sense that Tabby is not one to just up and kill someone without a valid reason to do so, yes, Gaige included. 

So, she sits in the chair Vaazva motioned to, bowing her head once more to him before firing off a telepathic message to her Defender, who stands up and promptly walks to a stool far from the one it just broke. Truly a master of espionage.

"Day of mourning and celebration.." She repeats, "Why's that..?"

_ _ 
*Oh, I'm not someone who wastes time talking to people..* Tabby replies mentally, outwardly nodding in acknowledgement at the words of Reizaa.
Ann
The rather imposing man, made comfortable atop the stool within the bar, slowly took another huff of the pipe, imbibing its faintly-hallucinogenic smoke into his lungs, allowing it to linger as Tabby sat alongside himself. In the initial stages of their conversation, he would remain mostly quiet, listening to the tabaxi beside himself as she questioned, allowing her as much time as she needed to put her curiosities into words; Vaazva, while a man of pressing and incredibly commanding presence, did not so far appear to be the type to pressure others into doing his bidding.

Time calms even the most uproarious of storms, to those ends.

The man exhaled, and lowered the pipe, taking a deep breath of the slightly hazed atmosphere of the lower lobby. He set his gaze to the empty bar opposite the stools, tapping the smoking-pipe longingly against the bar counter — he was seeking of comfort, yet the temporal distractions of drink and drug could not substitute that longing in his heart. His body had only grown burdened in the unending ebb and flow of time, and the coarsening of *Age,* Even within the blessing of immortality, had harshened his corporeal and spiritual form unto such ends that even the use of *Taarei* Was a futile endeavor to soothe it. Even still, the elder ***V***Aazva's tongue thirsted for more drink to make him merry, and his lungs for the succor of the smooth, savory smoke of the embered herbal blend.

*```fix
"𝙼𝚗𝚗𝚐𝚑..."```*
_ _

The golden-masked-man grumbled, scratching the back of his head with his left hand — which, now closened in sight, was revealed to be *Lacking of a ring finger,* Cut at its base — as he delayed an immediate response to the tabaxi's question. Slightly peering at her from the corner of his eye, he took a hit of the smoking-pipe, composing an answer.

```fix
"𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐."
"𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑, 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑... '𝚗 𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜-'𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍, '𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑' 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎."

"𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚗, 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎... 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍'𝚟𝚎-𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝."

"𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢' 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚔."

"𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜'𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚑' 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙾𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜-'𝚟 𝚂𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝' 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢'-𝚝' 𝚋𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏𝚏."```

...Vaazva paused, grumbling ocne again, as he took another deep breath in, sucking in the haze of the pipe. There was a deep, yet hidden sense of turmoil in his voice, as though he were contemplating extensively. He paused, closing his eyes, lowering the pipe as he let the smoke settle within his body, before finally exhaling, his posture shifting uncomfortably.

```fix
"..."

"𝚁𝚞𝚎𝚚,"
"𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚣𝚞𝚎..."

"𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜."```

A cleared, austere tone rang in sharp clarity, the man's characteristic roughness of voice broken by the sheer weight of the words he spoke. He continued to face the counter, yet it was clear that his eyes were sharply set on Tabby, the golden glow behind his mask multiplying vastly in intensity.
John
The young woman would typically sigh at a request. But this time around, she knew better. Vaazva was... *Serious.* He typically was, but this request was *Different.* She composed herself, slowly standing from the stool, tidying her scant garb, before making a beeline for the staircase, ascending without a second glance backward.
Lisa
*`...The music stops.`*

`"ₘₘₘₙ"`

Trezue enunciated, his darkened eyes slowly opening. He limply, slowly — as if dazed — packed up his instruments, and made his way up the stairs some time after Rueq had already ascended.
Ann
***V***Aazva took a slight breath in, and sighed quietly.

```fix
"𝚃𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢'𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗'."
"'𝙲𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎'𝚜 𝚞𝚙 '𝚗 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜-𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗-𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗' 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜'𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢."

"𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜'𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚝𝚑'-𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜."```

***The pipe in his right hand snaps like a twig.***

```fix
"𝚈'𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚐𝚊𝚕... '𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝... '𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛-𝚕𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝' 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎..."
"...𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝' 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗' 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎... 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜—𝚗𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚐𝚘."```

He grit his teeth, his entire body seething with a virulent, cold anger. An anger that lied deep within, surfacing not; it boiled and bubbled, simmering at a level thirty-thousand leagues beneath his exterior shell of exterior composure. It was an anger so thoroughly concealed, so thoroughly stowed away, that ***V***Aazva himself had thought it no longer to exist.

And yet, even despite taking such thorough lengths to stow away that anger, it was beginning to *Return.*
_ _

```fix
"𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗'-𝚝' 𝚜𝚊𝚢,"
"𝚒𝚜... 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚘,"```








***```fix
"𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐭."```***

***V***Aazva curled his right hand tightly into a fist, crushing the two halves of the pipe effortlessly in his grip.










```fix
"𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕."
"𝙰 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐚 𝚘𝚏 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡."
"𝙴𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜."

"𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎."```

*__V__aazva glared sharply at the tabaxi beside himself. His eyes of a peering `gold` strengthened in their already overbearing gaze, each like the shining light of the sun, focused in an almost blinding light at Tabby's very **Inner essence.***
Jennifer
"Knowledge is the building block of everything in this multiverse." 

She takes a deep inhale, unwilling to beckon her Defender forth to her defense. There's an easy answer to this accusation that would explain away even the most sickly stench that reportedly plagued her soul.

"I. . . Am not proud of the things I have done in my many years of being an adventurer, but I must have you know that felling the **__*Goddess Auril*__** Was to save the countless lives of those in Ten-Towns, lest they and their kin be condemned to the Nine Hells.." She responds, an indirect warning of strength laced in her words. Yes, Tabby's years in Icewind Dale were culminated into killing the Deity of Winter.

"**Letting those who have no voice for themselves perish in an eternal winter that would not be quelled otherwise** *Doesn't sit right* With me." She looks up, gazing him in the eye — a steely-cold look, to be sure. "I did what needed to be done. No more, and no less. And if you have an *Issue* With that, *I'm not sorry.*" She raises her arms in a shrug, tilting her head downward ever-so-slightly, keeping her eyes locked with the man who threatened her.

"The issue with felling a God where I come from... It's a tough feat. Do it wrong and they'll see you in a few years' time, back as if nothing ever happened. But how do you make sure that they're gone forever... I set out to find an answer to that question and put it into motion."

"The stench of death has lingered on my person ever since, **But I only did it for the greater good.** In my time here, I have only acted in complete self-defense; plant monsters arose from the forest and made an attempt on my life. If that's wrong of me to defend myself against those who would take my life, then I suppose I am truly rotten." She takes a deep, frustrated breath, standing up, "But I have killed no innocent native to this village, and I don't *Intend* To, either. I hope that much's clear."

_ _
She raises her chin towards him and continues. "I, am only here for information, and to fulfill an obligation made with people outside of this *Vektet*. People who, you haven't met — and *Never* Will. Not any kind of '*Odysseus Corporation*'', I mean *Powerful* People. People who know everything about anyone outside." Although her response is cold and calculated, the cat makes no aggressive maneuver outright. No vial, no dagger, no nothing. She intends to resolve this conflict with only her word to back her up.

"My deity watches over me, even in here. No amount of protection could potentially even pierce their unwavering gaze. *Vaazva*, **I don't want to hurt you.** I don't wish ill-will on you, nor did I come here with the express plan of doing anything rash. Hells- I found this place on accident while trying to find a *Smith* So I could work on my gear.." 

"So, to answer your question.." She raises her hands to her sides and waves with them, putting them back down rather swiftly. "You caught me. I killed a God to save **Tens upon thousands** Of lives. And Gods be damned, I'd do it again, too." She is very thoroughly disgruntled, making no attempt to hide her ""Misdeed"", but instead pointing out that in turn for one life, innocents everywhere were spared.

Her defense, upon further inspection, would prove to hold up in whatever type of Divination Vaazva employed. Tabby did kill Auril, and feels justified in doing so. 

"Now, let's talk about that maniacal *Duergar*. The one with a metal dragon who attempted to lay siege to multiple cities & towns. Are you going to fault me for that as well? Or, how about when we *Actually had to defeat* The beast?" She taps her foot and crosses her arms. "Was that wrong as well? *Tell me, Vaazva,* If you know so much, how did I feel seeing that thing burn houses and taverns to the ground? Do you think I felt good, seeing hard-working everyday people get turned into nothing more than a pile of ash or a blackened spot on the ground? Do you think — *Maybe* — that in retrospect, a small bit of bloodshed can be worth sparing others from everything someone like you or I has had to go through in our lives?"

"I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that I'm wrong for wanting a better future, one where everyone is preferably *Alive* And not suffering from starvation due to crops and animals all dying out across the land."
Ann
The pulse and quiver of her lungs and diaphragm as she took breaths between speaking, the pump and flow of her heart pushing blood through her veins, the subtle increases and decreases in her brain's temperature as she continued speaking, and the very slightest shifts in her fur as she enunciated words — each aspect was on open display before his all-seeing eyes, and not only this much, but so too the very agitation of her *Soul.* With such concentration as he placed upon her form in his wrath that desired a just answer, he would not let a single detail pass. How *She viewed* Her own words was specifically that which he looked for; that which she said directly to Vaazva were a secondary, yet most definitely significant facet of her explanation.

And with this clearness of understanding — of her intent, the connotations of her words, the point she was trying to convey... The words which Tabby spewed before him were *Less than chaff;* They were rather more like the revolting hum of cockroaches' wings in his ears. 

*The fact that she could spew such ignorant bullshit within his presence with only but a few quivers in her soul gave him **Conniptions.***

*```fix
"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝."```*

Vaazva's fingers curl against the form of the wooden bar ahead of him, his fingertips digging deep into its surface, crushing it with a ferocious wrath that seethed throughout the entirety of his body. The deep-rooted pains that he suppressed for centuries was beginning to manifest exteriorly — he was *Slipping.* As though he were backpedaling on his own anger, he calmed the wrath which overtook his right hand, loosing the grip of his right hand's fingers.
_ _

```fix
"𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚒𝚕𝚎'𝚜 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐-𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝'𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔, -𝚞𝚑?"```

**Greater good.** Those two, stressed words filled him with nothing but *Wrath.*

As the tabaxi stood, the dominating presence of the man only progressed throughout the dark, hazed basement of the bar. The seething anger pouring like the flux of disturbed magma throughout his veins struggled to restrain itself, his vessels bulging with a fierce pressure that pushed harshly from within.

```fix
"𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗' 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍."```

He warned. Twisting his right hand that seethed with wrath inwards, he bore the furled fingers of his right hand at his side, as though they were the ruthless claws of a wild animal. 

```fix
"𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚜? 𝙰 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗' 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗? 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗' 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 '𝚗𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜? 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎."

"𝙽𝚘. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚖-𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚔𝚎. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗' — 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗' — 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑' 𝙰𝚛𝚔."```
_ _

His tone wavered and shifted back-and-forth between the precise, discerning nature of his time as *Veitvaazva,* And that of the roughened, current era that he existed as *Vaazva.* He was once the Archregistrar, many years in the past, and yet now, he existed as some sort of pseudo-elder of a depraved hamlet who led by money, intimidation, and connections. The words which he so vulgarly slurred and contracted were that of his *Present nature,* And in the moments that he spoke with clarity and correctness beyond ordinary wit were those which he slipped to the former persona he so carefully tucked away.

```fix
"𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚢-𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎. 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚜 𝙴𝚡𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜; 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜? 𝙳𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍? 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐."```

His tone of refined austerity peeked beyond his roughened exterior again, and he continued, his tone of anger and disgust intertwined with each of his following words. He did not care for her extensive recalling of her virtuous deeds in the *Past.* He did not care to hear what she had to explain of her own character *Before this point.* In this moment, Yellow-Eyed ***V***Aazva only cared for a *Single detail.*
_ _

**```fix
"𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗."```**

```fix
"𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍."```

The man spoke, in clear, black-and-white warning. In the moments that his fingers briefly curled, and his lower mouth, the sole portion of his face left to be seen by Tabby directly, flared, she could sense a doleful **Lethal intent** Which resided within the elder.

*From where he was standing, he could very well fulfill that promise.*

*```fix
"𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡, 𝐎𝐭𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐚, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐚𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐚, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭?"```*

His eyes of a golden glare sustained in their all-piercing nature, honed in on the flow of the aspects of Tabby's soul. A lie to be told, the sense of aggression to manifest... He may very well find himself regressing to that despicable state he was in, so many centuries ago.
Jennifer
"I don't know who Kaataa is." She replies, simply. "Otaaraa attacked someone else I know. The other idiot in the fight was going to get himself killed, so I assisted to bail him out before he got on a first-name basis with the local worms. Otaaraa struck first and damn near cut my head off." 

She rebukes the earlier mention of Gods. "I don't think myself better than *Anyone* Or any*Thing.* All I seek is knowledge. You asked what blood is on my hand, and I replied with complete honesty; you *Know* I didn't speak a singular lie, and you *Know* I'm not lying now. You yourself just admitted to your Divination magic — it fills the air so strongly that I can feel it without the need of a detection spell. You know the words I am speaking to be true." The cat lowers the tension in her vocal cords, still speaking strongly, but without malice — instead of taking the offensive, she pivots to the defense.

"I wholeheartedly admit that I shot Otaaraa the Eclipse Knight in order to save a blithering idiot who was throwing his life away by just trying to *Punch* Him."

"In a similar vein of thought, you *Also* Know that my intention with firing my crossbow was to make sure that dunce didn't up and die, and you know full well I was not the one who jammed a metallic fist into his temple But, we both know who *Did*."

She exhales, taking a deep relaxing breath. "The only drop of blood I have *Ever* Spilled in this watch was done because that absolute fool couldn't figure out the Knight would dice him into pieces without me trying to bail him out. I did not go for lethal shots at any point. At the start of the encounter, you and I both know I prepared to cast the *Sleep* Spell to avoid the confrontation altogether before that got foiled."

_ _ 
Because Vaazva said not to move, Tabby helpfully obliges and refuses to move. "And, you know that I don't have the foggiest idea who Kaataa is. You know everything that I've done since I came into this floor, and you know that I haven't even seen a 'Kaataa'. Unless they were one of the Desecrated, I have no information to shed on what happened to.. Umm.. Them?" Seems that Tabby struggled on finding the proper pronoun; indicative that she has absolutely no idea who the powerful man who's threatening to squeeze her to death, is talking about.

"Does that satisfy you?" She asks, remaining neutral yet clearly knowing the answer to the following question. "You asked for the truth; did I lie at any point? Cumhall killed Otaaraa while I was trying to bail us both out towards the watch. The spells I used at first were non-lethal, and I tried to resolve the situation through *Invisibility.* Cumhall decided that attacking at close-range was a good idea, so I had to change to stagger-shots to make sure he didn't get himself killed. The knight did not make a warning, rather instead attacking outright and with haste."
Ann
```fix
"𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢' 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚏𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜'-𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛."```

In the blink of an eye, in the swiftest shift of Vaazva's muscular structure, in such a short timespan that his motion almost entirely eluded the following of one's eyes, the elder lifted his right hand, fingers outstretched, to Tabby's neck, a virulent sense of dreadful hate and anger intertwined about his weaponized arm. He would hold it close in threat to her throat, yet would move it no further; the motion was as if lacking of any actual intent to kill her, existing simply to reminder her that he would not tolerate *Lies.*

Progressively, as she continued speaking, the elder bit his tongue and withheld his seething wrath, his all-seeing eyes peering deep into the tabaxi's mentality as she spoke. The words that she rationalized were lacking of harmful intent — indeed, while not entirely *Innocent,* Per se, they were not words born of a deeper malicious intent. For the most part, what she spoke was true, and such truthfulness in word and in nature would serve, even if only a little, to quell the frightful man's hatred. He sighed deeply, and would speak not a word to interrupt her, and yet in the moment that she spoke the *Very last sentence* Of her explanation, hostility returned in a heartbeat.

He would have killed her for those words then and there, were she not to have spoken each sentence prior without a spec of intent to harm in her soul. 
_ _

*```fix
"𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎, 𝚢' 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗' 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚍."```*

***V***Aazva grumbled bitterly in his words, his tone rough, and yet without that austere, scouring wrath that was present formerly. In the few moments that he waited to listen to the artificer, the elder would cool slightly in his rage, retracting from such a point of rage that he could physically lash out at any moment, to one more of a simple bitterness; he disdained the outsider for what she had done, but would not take any sort of rash physical action in response. His piercing gaze softened, his eyes squinted, and he continued in his watch of Tabby, albeit at a relatively relaxed scope.

He could not let that *Final statement* Slip, however. Tabby spoke, and, even without intent to lie, her mind and *Soul,* The essence deep within her, would testify against such. The deepest impressions in her spirit and memory that recalled the event would clash against the words that flowed forth from her mouth, regardless of whether or not she spoke in intent to give a false testimony; a portion of her mind recalled the event, and disagreed with the remaining constituents that formed the whole image of her testimony — her soul, heart, body, and the words, themselves. This *Clash,* This *Disagreement* In her mind and memory, was what was revealed to the all-seeing, golden eyes of ***V***Aazva. The subtlest fissure within her testimony would be amplified sevenhundred-fold within his golden sight, even if she, herself, was unaware that it existed.

 Not only this, but the elder, himself, was familiar with the type of person that the Eclipse Knight, Otaaraa, was.
_ _

```fix
"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝'-𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗' 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝙾𝚝𝚊𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗?"
"𝙳'-𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍, -𝚞𝚑? 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛'𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚝𝚑'-𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚎?"

"𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚎. '𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝-'𝚗-𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗' 𝚜𝚘."```

***V***Aazva clasped tight his outstretched right hand, as if restraining himself from further breaking out in anger.

```fix
"𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎'𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎-'𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚝' 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛."```

The golden gaze peering from beyond his mask began to calm, quieting to such a point that it was only ever-so-slightly short from dying out, entirely. Either due to him deciding that the interrogation had concluded, or due to some sort of time-limitation on how long the spell could be actively maintained, it seemed that he would use the soul-scrying eyes from which his title was derived.

Still, he had come to a conclusion.

*```fix
"𝙱𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝙻𝚞𝚗𝚊 '𝚗 𝚂𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠."```*

...He spoke, his tone of utter sincerity. There was no verdict more fitting. His fingers cracked slightly, as he longed to extend them forth, and to crush her throat where she stood.
_ _

```fix
"𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚝'-𝚓𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎-𝚢' 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑."```

His eyes and tone sombered, and he withdrew his extended hand, averting his gaze from the one to whom his anger was directed.
There was an era where he would have followed up on that verdict, within that very moment.
Once, he was a man—a man who thought himself righteous and just enough to take the lives of others, to be an *Executioner,* And some sort of quixotic guardian of holiness.

Those days are long past, now, and so he must relent.


```fix
"𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍."
"'𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚜."```

The elder's words were akin to those of a prayer — or, more precisely, a *Curse.* He, despite his appearances, was one who wholly followed the religious order of the *Arue* At one point in his life; their mantras and their beliefs were still burned deep into his soul. He, himself, having seen and boarded the *Ark* Alongside the dietous entity that was the `Taae Cheit Ezer`, was a man whose eyes were opened to the *Beyond.* That very same *Beyond* That he closely followed to — the aspects of the cosmos, of the Moon and Sun called Luna and Sol, and the Eclipse — he would make his judge.
_ _

It was hard to forego the justice which he wished to enact by his own hands, but between him and the divine, it was clear who possessed *Absolute* Justice.

```fix
"𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚢'-𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚕𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝' 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍."

"𝚂𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑-'𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠 '𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝙺𝚞𝚎𝚔𝚊𝚝, 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗-𝚗'-𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎."```


***```fix
"𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫."```***
Jennifer
When Vaazva outstretched his hand to her neck, he felt no loss of vitality.

And, in that very moment that he grasps her neck, Vaazva loses sight of her soul reading, *As if it never existed to begin with.* A soulless being now stood before the man who could see it all, and it was refusing to budge even the slightest detail. In a flash of electricity — not from the feline herself, evidently — the amulet under her armor begins to glow, revealing its presence to the immortal. Despite the inability to tell what exactly just happened, a single name runs through the mind of those in the room.

**"Master's Amulet."**

Tabby's body, acting on its own with absolutely zero input from the person in charge, extends her gauntlet hand — **Chnk** — a solid metal disc flying and skidding to the ground. In the very next instant after Vaazva finishes his speech, he finds himself face to face with a hulking creature, black stones decorating its ornate body. In that moment, instinctually, Tabby apparently cast *Mending*, her eyes widening as she does it, allowing another glimpse back into her soul for the man. *She did not mean to do this in the slightest.* 

In the same amount of speed that the man grasped her throat, he now finds an entirely soulless construct has **Lifted him off of his feet by his neck, and slammed him like a sack of potatoes into the nearby wall**, caring not for the wellbeing of the person who **Dared to attack the amulet**. The stones around the being's neck, to any experienced adventurer in the Forgotten Realms would be revealed as the legendary gemstone *Chardalyn*, an incredibly powerful magic-neutralizing agent. No amount of magical energy would save Vaazva from being torn limb-to-limb for daring to attack the wearer of the necklace.

_ _
Pinning him against the wall, the construct slams its free fist into the man's masked face, knowing full well that *Abjuration* Or faux *Divinity* Would be a non-issue to the absolute laying down of the law that was about to ensue.

The cat, on the other hand, shakes her head, snapping out of whatever had just occurred. "Wwwwhat...?" Her soul comes fully back into the playing field, revealing to the Divination at play in the man's eyes that she had gone unconscious for a few seconds, another entity taking over entirely and guiding her actions to this outcome — *Protecting her at all cost.*

Yes, the suddenly-appearing entity is Tabby's **Shield Guardian**, assigned to protect her amulet—and by extension, her— by any means necessary. Seeing this entity manifest, Tabby is able to draw her own conclusion, unsheathing her dagger and mentally willing her Steel Defender to join the fray from upstairs. From where Vaazva is pinned against the wall, he can hear the booming steps of the other golem slamming through the bar; being considerate enough to not let the wood splinters from such an event hit the sleeping Taaraa, of course. This Defender is truly a gentlemen of the highest degree, and slam its body through the door, heading to the basement where it prepares to additionally lay a smackdown on the man who just tried to choke out the master. However, should any of the kind staff members try to stop its advance forward, they would promptly find themselves in a pile on the ground as the robot dedicates itself to the task

". .. Well, isn't this an unfortunate situation for you to be in..." The artificer remarks, no remains of kindness or neutrality to be found in her voice as she slides her dagger across her finger, examining the intricacies that would bring about his end. "I have no idea what just happened, but, I think I'm okay with this. Unless you have any choice words you want to rescind, of course."

_ _
Like Vaazva did with the cat, the **Shield Guardian** Tightens its incredibly strong fingers around the man's windpipe, a layer of dense *Abjuration* Swelling from the crystals should he attempt to use his raw strength to get out of this *Predicament* He now found himself in. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the Defender turn the corner and crack its knuckles, as if sunconsciously, the cat still took notes on what exactly transpired. In her voice is no lie, however. No, this was the work of some *""Higher power""* Entirely from the spellcaster's point-of-view.

"Now, tell me... Easy way, or hard way?" A very simple, yet foreboding question to be sure.
Ann
In the moment that her soul vanished, in the moment that the atmosphere shifted, in the moment that the disc extended, and in the moment that a new *Threat* Was about to manifest, there was no amount of rust or age that could cause his extraordinarily-honed senses to slow or waver. He *Saw it, felt it, heard it* — a *Threat.* The enemy before him was going to attack. In the position of vantage that he was placed in, his fingers would tremble, his body, within the single heartbeat that her gauntlet deployed the disc, would rumble with an almost purely-autonomous self-defense instinct that would drive him to kill her in a single instant. Her soul had disappeared from his sight, and some sort of trickery was afoot; in the following moments, she could attempt to shift into combat, and bring about an end to his life. To protect himself...

***Did he have any other choice?***

...Before the disc had even contacted the ground, before even a sixteenth of a second passed, the impulsive instinct that pulsed throughout his body would suggest that his fingers claw *Inwards.* His muscular structure, while degraded over many years of idleness, had not lost its beastly edge; it craved to work in tandem with his eyes and instinct, and to exert itself to the utmost of his ability. Years upon years of training, decades upon decades of service, as the Tribunal's Eye of Providence — the leader of the Order of the Left Hand — would not only *Allow him* To bring about an end to her life, but would *Demand him to.* His fundamental nature, and his very body, demanded that he kill her, *Here, and now.*

***`CRACK`***

*But he would not.*
_ _

As his glistening eyes settled upon the soaring form of the disc, and as he witnessed the technological manifestation of the Shield-Guardian appear before his very eyes, he, with the whole of his conscience, withheld his hand from taking Tabby's life where she stood. His fingers cracked with the stress of suppression, and his teeth clenched harsh as he refrained from regressing to that bloodthirsty persona he desperately fettered away so many years ago.

*There is a new threat before his golden eyes, and indeed, the one who he spared would continue to escalate the situation; to pounce upon the moment of weakness that he showed.*

...This failure, still, proved his strength of will.
*He had other choices.*
He did not have to **Kill** Outsiders as he did before.
He was free from those old bonds of bloodlust...

...But, still...

***Did he judge correctly?***

***V***Aazva's body, in that moment of hesitation, was allowed to slam against the wall. In either the clutching of his throat or in the brutal impact that pressed him against the solid surface, he would not choke nor flinch, and instead would rest his right hand upon the metallic surface of the technological monstrosity that clutched him. His eyes, while not detached from the world *Here and now,* Were concerned with things other than *Just* His immediate surroundings.

*`You outsiders are all the same.`*
_ _

His golden eyes settled on the artificer as she spoke, hazed, and lacking of the intensity of the arcane that they once possessed. It was apparent, now, that he had employed them to the limit of their capacity; the spell that manifested the all-seeing gold of his irises had run its course, and thus would require a considerable period of time to renew in strength. Even still, by the virtues of both his base nature and his mastery of the golden Eclipse Prayers, his eyes would remain continuous in a form of enhanced sight, gleaming with hateful intent at the outsider whose nature shifted before his very eyes.

*`In all my years...`*
*`I should have learned already.`*
*`Ambition corrupts absolutely.`*

***V***Aazva sneered. In his mind, there rushed many-dozens of thoughts that coursed at an amplified pace, each compounding upon one another in an infinitely-accelerating succession of logic that could only be enabled by such a mind that was worthy of the title *Archiregistrar.* Each component, each threat, each ability, and each event that had been shown and had occurred up until this point hastily passed through his lens of focus, coordinating themselves into complex reticulations of brilliant strategy — battle-knowledge, extreme intelligence, and elder wisdom being the mediums through which they were organized. As he was being threatened for his very life, he did not show fear nor panic, and instead *Calculated.* He formulated, in milliseconds, what to do, what to prioritize, and why...
_ _

...And even within these dozens of simultaneous lines of logic, not a single instance revolved about the saving of his own life, or the taking of Tabby's.

***`Reizaa, Rueq, Taaraa, and Trezue...`***
*`Those four are still upstairs.`*
*`In the best-case scenario, I eliminate the threat before the collateral damage of combat spreads upstairs.`*
*`In the worst-case scenarios, they are either taken as hostages, or killed in the crossfire of our combat.`*

***`I won't risk anything.`***
_ _

Whether or not she could detect it, would, nonetheless, be irrelevant, were she to be incapable of *Dodging* It. 

A normal human pushed to their physical limits and trained in martial arts would be capable of replicating such an attack in a fashion that it would effortlessly ground all but the strongest and most robust of creatures. Such a strong, diagonal axe-kick would, in a traditional battle, send one into a state of shock, likely forcing them to their knees. ***V***Aazva, were he to be a normal person, would, in this strike, likely forcefully push her off-balance, if not crush her to the ground, entirely.

***V***Aazva was not a normal person.

Rather, the force of his kick
***Was more akin to that of a beast's.***

The bone-splintering downwards force, were it to collide with its target whatsoever — or, hell, if she were to instantaneously manifest a *Shield forged of iron* And block with it — would nonetheless impart such tremendous momentum into her body that it would likely *Break bone,* Sending her body tumbling into a brutal downwards motion, likely forcing her into a daze for moments on-end.

To *Crush* And to *Disable,* Even if temporarily, was all he was aiming for, in the end.

As the downwards-swing of the axe kick concluded, be it by her miraculously dodging or by his strike forcefully connecting as he intended it to, the shroud of darkness that covered ***V***Aazva would momentarily depart. He would not miss a beat, however — before allowing either of the technological monstrosities or even Tabby herself to take reaction to his sudden repositioning, the man, in the moment that his foot touched the ground following the axe-kick, would break into *Full sprint.* His course was set toward and beyond the Steel Defender — towards the *Exit.* 
_ _

Bolstered by such speed and dexterity that he, empowered by borderline transcendent heritage, would evade all but the sharpest of eyes, the man broke into an instantaneous full-sprint-dash of 49.4 km/h towards the stairs. His posture was set low, and his footwork was bolstered by his immaculate precision and excellent eyesight. He twisted and weaved beyond the Defender, his body in a state of nigh-intangibility as he eluded all touch and interaction with anything that might block his way. Physically, he was unmatchable, and magically, he was made as though he *Was not even there.* The likes of either the Defender or the Guardian, likely lacking the precision, dexterity, speed, and intellect that he possessed, would be incapable of outmaneuvering him, even if they were two in number.

Before one could blink, he had already made his way into the stairwell. The room was small enough to allow him to traverse it in but a single instance, and so he began his ascent. He fled, not out of fear for his own life, but out of a *Need* To defend those upstairs.

***`I'll negate all risks.`***

Three seconds had not yet passed, and Vaazva had already made his way to the top of the stairs, into the main lobby of the bar. His golden eyes scanned carefully, ensuring that each of the four were accounted for, and were maintained in relative wellbeing. With a sigh of relief, yet still the nature of haste in his breath, the man turned to the door behind himself, **Slamming it shut,** Before following-up by **Kicking and shattering its lower hinge.** It would do little to prevent the door from simply being kicked down, yet would serve as a slight delay to those who would attempt to open the door traditionally.

Still in life-or-death tempo, he yelled out:

***```fix
"𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚊! 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚁𝚞𝚎𝚚 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍-𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!"```***
Arthur
The woman would find alarm in the Boss's sudden appearance upstairs. Her irises of rosewood fluttered in shock as she blinked rapidly, the man appearing before her very eyes with a posture of shock and adrenaline. It looked as though he were fighting for his very life!—*And yet, she expected this much.*

Worry had already taken its onset as she first laid eyes on the... Strange machination upstairs, its eyes set focused on Taaraa, and even moreso as it began to descend. ***V***Aazva's sudden appearance and warning was only a confirmation of her suspicions. Without further a word needed to be said, *She understood.* For she, in her many years working alongside the Boss, had grown attuned and trusting of his nature. He would *Never* Make a false judgment.

*"Come, dear, let's make haste."*

She turned swiftly to Rueq, at her side, grasping her by the right hand. With just as much swiftness as the Boss warned her, she made haste towards the front door, opening it and rushing out with her peer in-tow.
John
```diff
+ "Hey—𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵!! I'm still on break! Where are we going—?!"```

She struggled as Reizaa gripped her arm. She was in the middle of taking a long inhale from the pipe when ***V***Aazva arrived, and suddenly being dragged up and off the chair, onto her feet, and out of the door, would come with quite some alarm. Rueq initially resisted Reizaa's dragging... But such efforts would be futile. Reizaa had far much more strength than her delicate frame could justify. 

Her eyes of a foresty green darted with alarm about the bar as she was escorted out. Her feet dragged, and yet, as she met gazes with the Boss, she would swiftly come to an understanding. Rueq, though much more detached from interpersonal relations within the bar's work environment, still wholly respected the elder that led it. With a deep breath in, she would let go of the pipe, and walk alongside Reizaa, departing in haste from the bar.
Ann
Half. He had only gone *Halfway.* There were still *Two more* That needed to be removed from the bar, and both were in a state of haze. Taaraa was all but in a coma; she was so fastly asleep that even his frightful yell was not enough to wake her. And, opposite to Taaraa herself, was Trezue — a man so feeble and weak that he could hardly muster consciousness at any given time, let alone stand and run on his own two feet. He was the type to break bones following the slightest of falls... Neither he, nor Taaraa, could flee of their own accord.

*Still, he needed to protect them. The outsider had proven herself a threat, and there may very well be more of her ilk within the Watch.*

There was nothing that could be done about it. Dashing to Trezue, he grasped him by the collar, before hoisting him up and over his right shoulder, with a slight protest—
Lisa
*`"ʷᵃʰʰᵃᵃʰʰʰᵘʰ"`*
A quiet breath of dazed alarm raised from his weak lungs.
Ann
—but he would not falter. With Trezue in tow, he dashed and jumped over the bar counter, hoisting up the unconscious-impromptu-fill-in-barkeep, Taaraa, in likewise manner. With her on his left, and Trezue on his right, **The elder dashed for the front door, rushing from the midst of the *Merrymans'* In record time.** To catch up with him would be all but entirely impossible.
Jennifer
In the darkness, Tabby finds herself falling to her knee - slammed from behind even at the best attempt of her Defender's deflection; an illusory darkness seems to be the only veil capable of hiding Vaazva from their keen & programmed senses, yet one among the group of three does not falter even in the midst of all this kerfuffle.

**The Shield Guardian has blindsight**, so although Vaazva makes his escape, he finds himself proven correct that a barricade so painfully amateur as a *Broken door hinge* Is quite easy to fool indeed, the Guardian simply pressing its full weight into the door and causing it to forcefully move, snapping off the other hinge as the horrifying creature causes it to swing wildly into the wall, revealing itself very swiftly to the people Vaazva desperately wanted to keep alive. Not that they were part of the task, anyways. The Guardian, knowing that its amulet was in tact and kept safe by the other robot, does not give chase over the counter, but it does walk through it like the Steel Defender did when it was attempting to get down the stairs, watching the man abscond without a care in the world. That is not its intended purpose.

The cat, in a mere few seconds, has fallen to the ground, her footing being pushed out from under her by the Defender as it shoves her out of the way of the attack. Who said that it had to actually make contact with the target for the reaction to be taken? Even though Vaazva's kick evade's Tabby's feline reflexes, it does not dodge the *Programming* Of the bot, whose only purpose is to defend the master at all cost.

And so, reeling from the sudden explosion of action that just occurred, Tabby finds herself at a loss. Seems like every in this damned Ark has some sort of fancy trick. No matter. Tabby will not let such a disgustingly depraved human live in this world, as per the decree of her deity,