Lauren
Erik Sucher and Sgt. Jax Brightwater
Holding Cells somewhere in Brindelle

"I didn't think you'd be that eager for round two." Jax's voice broke the silence that infected the bowels of his precinct, the point of his sword raising towards the humongous jail bird. A low, deep rumble was coming from Erik. Was it laughter?
"Brave words coming from such a small man." His voice was deep and strained, as if he were speaking through teeth that were as clenched as the giant fists that held debris of what once was this man's cage door as a pair of improvised clubs. Jax didn't answer, although he was dying to remind Erik of the kick that landed him in that cell in the first place. Jax bent his knees slightly, the practiced stance of his sword style resurfacing with the familiarity of a genuine Feyshorian sword in his hands, a style now practiced by only a few remaining souls. Erik retorted by hunkering down, as if he were a bull about to charge, a quiet growl in Erik's throat only driving the bestial points of his stance even further.
It was only another second before he charged, the twin pieces of rough iron lashing out with that ferocious power that can only be reached through a berserker's rage. Jax was impressed by the man's speed, being so taken aback that he actually had to step back from the first few attacks. It was true Erik's strength was epic, and yet the smaller knight managed to meet each one of his strikes with his own blade. His wrist flicked back and forth with each of his parries, seemingly moving with effortless ease despite the immense force behind each swing. The unrefined iron of the jail bars created sparks as they met with the tempered steel, minuscule shavings of metal freckled the cheeks and faces of the men locked in combat. The violent screeching cascaded against the walls of the empty stone building the precinct called its home.
Joseph
Cecilia Lyanah 
Just off the northern shore

Shaking her head, Cecilia began to walk backwards, returning herself to the study they found themselves in originally. She did her best to avoid gazing at the desk and focused on the passage they came through. "I can't do this. I have to leave." 

Her heart began to pace which was a rarity for the Shifter. She didn't get frightened often but magic and silver were two of her biggest fears. What made it worse was the fact that she was weakened by the jewels forced on her and her body ached, like she was a human who had done an intensive workout the previous day without stretching. "My sense of smell and my hearing is the same as a human right now. I wouldn't be able to tell if the Captain was coming so we should go before we get caught."
Leah
Ymara Charac
Just off the Northern Shore

Noticing the shifter's obvious discomfort, Ymara decided it was best to obey. "We we *Never* In here, got it?", she got out between clenched teeth, still holding out her trap detector. Once she reached the study where they'd started out, she flicked her wrist once again, causing the device to shrink back into her palm. Stuffing it back into her bag, Ymara straighened and patted down her clothes. "Just to make sure I didn't catch anything.", she murmured half to herself, half to Cecilia. 

"Soo, where to next? Are you feeling better?" Concern edged her voice. The pain was probably unlike anything she had experienced so far but she prided herself on being a pretty decent empath. "And what do we tell the Captain?"
Joseph
Cecilia Lyanah
Just off the Northern Shore

"As best as I can feel I guess." She replied with a light shrug of her shoulders. Her wounds were completely healed and she didn't have as bad hunger pains as she did earlier, so this was the probably the greatest she was going to feel until she became free. Cecilia stretched her fingers before cracking her knuckles, her eyes moving towards the human female she was able to tolerate. What were they to tell the Captain? She figured that was for Ymara to figure out. 

"Honestly? I could care less what you tell him but I *Promise* To keep this room between the two of us." She didn't want to risk having to suffer the Captain's wrath if he found out, the room had a hidden passage for a reason and she doubted he wanted anyone to witness what they had.
John
Salim's Deck Crew
Just off the northern Shore

There would be a clanking and a soft screeing from behind them and a flurry of curses, enough to make their ears bleed if they were in a cartoon. It was a puny haggard man, with lanky limbs and glass for teeth. Sharp, edged glass shards that seemed to be naturally growing from his mouth. It didn't seem to give him any speech impediments though. Atleast none were heard when he began talking and said in a whisper of a voice. 
"You shouldn't be here. The Captain won't like this. Need to tell the captain. Protect the Library," He said half to himself and half to them. "Out! Out and come with to Captain for punishment,"
Leah
Ymara Charac
Just off the Northern Shore

"Aaand there it is." Ymara commented dryly. Miraculously, she barely flinched at the appearance of the... Whatever it was. She attributed it to her lack of sleep and type of company. Letting her gaze travel up and down the newcomer, Ymara gripped her whip tighter, leather leaving imprints on her skin. Mentally, she ran a tally of her chances: fight in her hurt state? Not likely. At the same time, she didn't feel like running. Cowardice didn't become her. 

She turned to Cecilia, shrugging. "What do you suggest we do? I'll untie you at the last minute, if even. I hate deserters. And unless you can turn into a crowbar, I don't think your forms can help us out here."
Joseph
Cecilia Lyanah
Just off the northern shore

Looking towards the hideous looking troll thing before turning towards Ymara, Cecilia brought her hands in front of her as the bangles still burnt into her wrists. "I could easily kill him if you just takes these fuckers off. I don't need to shift fully, I can simply rip out his heart."

There was a bored tone in her voice laced with annoyance. The shifter wanted to quickly kill this man without any hassle, always finding murder the simplest solution. "This thing is going to tell the Captain. I wouldn't even be able to escape because it takes energy to fully shift and I'm fucking exhausted ."
John
Salims Deck Crew
Just off the Northern Shore

Pretty bold of you to assume he didn't speak common! He would give a small shriek of laughter before continuing in the same tone. "You? Kill me? Captain Mark my...*Skiyah*. No touch spirit," Once again there was some deep ass voodoo going on here. However he would flick a Long ass glass whip into his hand, all jagged and pointy ends, clearly meant to cause pain. In his other hand he would show fingernails, grown Long without maintenance and sharpened to a point. 

He would take a step back, circling with his back foot and grinning. Almost as if he wanted death. Which considering the ambience... Wouldn't be the weirdest thing happening here. A Long snake like tongue would flick out of his mouth, somehow avoiding getting cut before retracting back in.
Leah
Ymara Charac
Just off the Northern Shore

"Fine." Ymara grunted, moving closer to the shifter to get her out of her bangles, pressing down into both her palms with two fingers of each hand. The bangles fell to the floor with a dull thud. 
"Should I distract him or do you just want to...", she trailed off, making vague hand gestures in the process. 
She stepped back, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sytheon knows I need a break, fuck."

"I think I'll just tell him the truth. Well, most of it.", Ymara suddenly hid her right hand behind her back. "Let's dance, shall we?"
Joseph
Cecilia Lyanah
Just off North Shore

She could care less about whatever the man was doing as she did her best to drown him out. His screeching felt like nails to a chalk board and wanted it to end quickly, she was glad Ymara decided to free her. 

Her demeanour instantly changed when she no longer felt that agonising burn on her wrists. The shifter's eyes which were once brown were now glowing blue as a sadistic grin crawled onto her lips. A tingling sensation filled her finger tips, her nails then reformed into nail's which tips could easily slice into flesh. "Thankyou, but I won't need help and you don't heal quick so just stay back." 

A low snarl scratched at her throat before turning towards the man, observing his whip with an almost amused gaze. What she was forced to endure earlier would feel like nothing compared to the weapon held in her opponent's hands. "Play time." Without another second, Cecilia began to make her way closer to the man with one intention in mind.
John
Deck Hand
Just off the Northern Shore

The thing... It was unclear whether it could be called a man anymore cackled and slid around, climbing with it's sharp hand onto the books, very careful not to hurt the books. It would crack the whip, attempting to restrain her hands.

"Stomach. You. Enter," He said with a mad cackle, instanity gleaming in his eyes.
Joseph
Cecilia Lyanah
Just off the Northern Shore

Cecilia simply chuckled as she continued towards him. His whip had successfully wrapped around her hands but to her luck, they hadn't found themselves cutting into the scars made by the bangles. Using her strength, Cecilia felt the glass biting into her wrists but before it could reach her bone, the shifter managed to free herself. Instantly, the glass shattered from the pressure and her wrists began to heal, the flesh stitching itself together while blood poured from her wounds. "Now you've just annoyed me." 

Kneeling down, her fingers wrapped around one of the sticks they had used earlier to train. After she regained her composure, Cecilia split the stick into two by slamming it across her knee until she had two smaller sticks with pointed ends. Within a second, the shifter shot it out of her hands and threw one towards the whatever it was in hopes to pin it to the books or wall behind him.
Lauren
Erik Sucher and Sgt. Jax Brightwater
Holding Cells somewhere in Brindelle 

Erik's onslaught was relentless, and Jax was out of shape, although he'd never admit it. The constant barrage of blows brought on by this brute began battering Brightwaters beautiful blade. The knight took great care of the weapon gifted to him by the giggling midget, and it pained him to push his steel like this. Although the metal Erik wielded was nothing but cheap iron, Jax would be a fool to not recognize the incredible amount of strength put behind each blow, and the inevitable chips his sword would experience. The smaller man began to give ground to Erik, his front foot snaking back a step as the iron rods bit into the superior weapon. Jax was on the steps now, having been pushed back, his height becoming more comparable to the big man's. His only hope was to even their ground, knowing that even he couldn't keep up this defense forever.
Another step.
Both of his feet were on the stairs now.
Another.
Erik couldn't believe it!
One more.
Was he actually pushing Jax back?
Their eyes met through the flurry of blows. Jax only had to slightly raise his head to see the top of Erik's misshapen nose, a small smile creeping onto his lips.
Erik was laughing now, his big deep chortle echoing throughout the empty building as he felt his victory draw nearer, felt the man give way under his onslaught!
And then he felt warm.
The knight wasn't on the ground in front of him like Erik expected, in fact he couldn't see him at all. Erik was confused, he felt the man get pushed back, even felt him give way from one of his blows, but he wasn't on the ground like every other man who gave way to Erik's strength.
Jax was behind him, having slipped underneath his swing and circumventing on the wide staircase. A faint dripping sound was coming from the increasing pool of red beneath the Sergeant's blade.
*"You lumbering oaf."*
Erik heard Sophia's voice, followed by her laughter, before he sank to his knees.
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov 
Castle Black
The Northshore

"We're out. Again," Lord Aleksandr Romanov muttered, knocking over the crystal decanter with his goblet. A sad trickle of blood red wine dripped from the lip of the discarded vessel. The three Romanov siblings sat in the great hall. They ordered all guards and servants to leave them to themselves after they had the sconces lit and grand fireplace roaring. His younger brother, Sir Heath Romanov blew a steady stream of smoke from his mouth before waving a hand in Aleks' direction.
"Have the rest of mine. It's not doing shit for me, anyway. I am *Painfully* Sober," Heath said. He handed off his goblet to Aleks and settled back in his chair. Aleks grinned happily and toasted the air in Heath's direction, bleary eyed with a belly full of fine red. 
"I thank the gods you died every day. You've become a better man for it, and I a *Drunker* One," Aleks said. Queen Elsinore scoffed from her seat across from her brothers. 
"That's really not funny," She said, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a scrap of lace. 
"Which part? Me being undead or Aleks becoming a common drunk?" Heath asked, raising his brows.
"The part where the two of you are effectively driving our family name into the dirt," Elle snapped. Heath and Aleks blinked at her for two moments. 
"....Which part?" Aleks slurred. He and Heath exchanged a look before roaring with laughter. Heath gripped Aleks' shoulder and laughed into his back while Aleks began banging on the table with his fist repeatedly, tears streaming down his cheeks. It really was not nearly as funny as they seemed to find it and Elle was left reeling by their juvenile behavior. She shoved her chair back and stood abruptly.

"I'm not going to sit here any longer with you two if you do not stop *This instant*!" She yelled. They laughed harder as her face reddened. "*FINE*!" She reached over and swiped Aleks' wine goblet to the ground, spilling the last of alcohol available to him before whirling around and leaving the great hall in an angry huff.
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black, Northshore

He'd only been to Castle Black once, and he wasn't sure the protocol on arriving on the doorstep in the middle of the night in a panic, but he was kind of too little too late in that regard. He dismounted upon reaching the gates, and gave his name to the guards who were posted there. A boy claiming to be the Prince of Astoria and South Feyshore arriving alone in the middle of the night must have been a first, because both guards looked incredulous before escorting him to the main estate. 

He wasn't taken to Heath like he'd asked, but was instead held in a waiting room so at least he wasn't standing in the dark outside. The fire inside was on the verge of death, seeing as it was _well_ past any hours any sane visitor would have called upon the house, but he insisted. 

"I need to speak with Lord Heath Romanov, it's _important_."
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Black
The Northshore

The guards who manned the interior of the castle were alerted that there was a boy, claiming to be a prince, there to see Sir Heath Romanov. Two of them walked to the waiting room and looked the boy over with an air of snobbery that could only be achieved by Northshorians. 
The guards looked at the boy and laughed. "Astoria *And* And South Feyshore? Wowwwwww," The taller guard said with a scoff.
"You want to speak to *Lord* Heath Romanov?" The other laughed. "Boy, it is well past the acceptable hour to visit a member of the royal guard. He is surely asleep. Am I to wake him and tell him that a boy with ink stained hair came begging at the door for his company?" He picked at a chunk of Mikhail's hair and wrinkled his nose at the botch job. 
"Run along back home. We haven't the time for this foolishness," The taller said, guiding Mikhail to the door. "Gods, the full moon really does bring all the crazies to our steps."
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Wack, Northshore

His brow furrowed at the scoff, and Mikhail straightened a bit at the implication he was lying. Just as he'd never gone unrecognized, he'd also never had to _prove_ who he was before. 

"Yes, _'and'_, if you knew anything past your own fist you'd know Astoria and South Feyshore both belong to my mother, Queen Durkhan." He shot back, and when the other picked at a chunk of his hair the boy stiffened, ducking out of his reach as they started to try to guide him to the door. 

"You're making a mistake, I need to speak to Heath Romanov, I'll wake this whole castle if I have to!" He shouted, prepared to actually do it. Never once had he been a troublesome child, but he'd found himself doing a _lot_ of things that weren't common for him over the last month since returning home to Astoria. Waking up a castle seemed to just be the next logical step in his descent into madness.
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Black
The Northshore

"If you knew anything, you'd know that in Feyshore, Anyanka was nothing but a common *Whore*," The guard said. 
"That's not true, Jameson. She was actually quite good," The taller quipped. 
"You can try and wake the castle. But, fair warning, we'll break your teeth," Jameson said with an annoyed sigh.
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Hack, Northwhore

Heat flared in his cheeks, and his bad shoulder preemptively started to ache just at the way he clenched his fist at his side. Fighting wasn't his strong suit, and these men could and _would_ probably knock his teeth out, but he'd be meeting fist to fangs if they tried. 

The thought reminded him of why he was here, and his eyes darted to the door between them, running a quick scenario in his mind as to whether or not he thought he could dip between them and escape. 

In a wildly off-brand compromise, he reared back his fist, and landed it on the jawline of the one who had called his mother a whore. It connected, but didn't have the solid follow through that Lord Stafford would have wanted from a fifteen year old boy who had been training under him. He had enough time to blink, surprised himself that he'd thrown a punch before he bolted for the door, screaming for Heath.
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov 
Castle Black, ze northshore

Aleks cast a longing look to the spilled wine that was beginning to seep into the stone floor. 
"It's beneath you, mate," Heath said, patting Aleks' back and standing with a tired sigh. 
"What? Did you think I was planning to lap it up like a common mongrel?" Aleks asked, tipsy on his feet. Heath steadied him. 
"Yes," He replied bluntly. He turned his head towards the large mahogany doors, hearing the muffled shout of his name. He frowned and walked briskly out the door. Aleks lagged behind, confused and contemplating how undignified it truly was to lick wine from the floor. 
Heath walked into the dimly lit corridor, toward the sound of running and shouts. He quickened his pace as the sounds drew nearer. 
Suddenly, a young boy collided with him. 
"Wha—," Heath looked down in surprise and then back up at the two breathless guards that followed in tow. "*What is going on here*?" Heath asked Jameson directly with narrowed eyes. He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and moved him back to get a look at him. His eyes widened, instantly recognizing the boy with steely grey eyes and... Ruined hair. "Mikhail... What are you doing here? Has something happened?"
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black, Northshore

The Prince barely made it out into the hallway before the two guards took off after him. His mind was a mess of _'What in the seven hells are you doing!?_' and '_Why aren't you doing it faster?_'. He turned a corner, and skidded right into someone. The sturdy frame of Heath Romanov stood before him, and hands landed on his shoulders to move him back a step. 

Recognition flashed in the man's eyes however, and relief flooded over him. "Everything's happened." He breathed, and added. "I need to talk to you, you're the only person I could turn to, but these two," He turned, and spat the word at the guards like venom "_fuckers_ didn't believe who I was."