Dean, seeing no objections to Donovan’s suggestions, and having helped to prepare a skiff for their departure, shrugged. Pointedly ignoring the fox and the woman who had once been attached to the little creature (no matter how adorable and bitey), he moved onto the skiff, barely managing to do it without stumbling. His new stature did not seem to afford him the same grace and leverage as the old, so his body-management techniques had to be revised. Or, at least, considered thoroughly while this new state persisted.<br/><br/>Wordless, his feelings on the matter clearly voiced, the lean young-looking man just glared out at the horizon and did his best not to look as irate as he really was and only managing to glower all the worse for it. Teenage angst, oh my.<br/><br/>***Elsewhere***<br/><br/>Back in Kulratha, Zozo and her master, the Vizier, stood together in the palatial space that was the Vizier’s audience chamber. Velvet pillows and sweet scents filled the space, and water flowed in neat little rivers around trays laden with gemstones, gold, and magical trinkets. Wealth and indulgence on proud display. Yet there were no women, nor were there any of the eunuchs who would attend the Vizier’s harem. This day, only Zozo, the Vizier, and one other were in attendance.<br/><br/>“A great shadow has been cast upon their traverse,” a raspy voice announced, the shimmering shape of a Shade-Djinn (a rather nasty sort of creature one would never want to make a wish with without preparing a suitable sacrifice). “They have crossed water – that is all I know.”<br/><br/>The Vizier glanced at Zozo and arched a brow. “There are three ports easily accessible on that ocean and a near-infinite number of places for them to crash. Given the size of the ship they stole, I think it is reasonable to assume that they either crashed or went somewhere close.”<br/><br/>Zozo, looking perturbed and sleek in her rather a-sexual wardrobe of tightly-wrapped robes and curled slippers, nodded curtly. “Yes, yes. I have spirits searching the shores and have found no crash landings as of yet. The chaos storm could have destroyed them, but I doubt it. I still sense my handiwork out there…somewhere.” Zozo’s dark amethyst eyes reflected a troubled state. She’d never known her most powerful spells or servants to fail, especially not at a task so apparently simple as to find her Aza and the charms around her neck.<br/><br/>“The solution is simple then,” the Vizier announced. “We shall send word to my allies and agents in each port and offer a sizeable reward for the capture of the runaways.”<br/><br/>“Capture, my lord?” Zozo asked, clearly confused.<br/><br/>Waving a hand toward a wide window, panes of gemstone magically imbued with transparency and durability glistening to reveal the smoking city beyond, the Vizier growled, “Alive. So I can torture them.” With nearly a quarter of his population laid low by the plague – a rather significant portion of them guards and elite servants – the Vizier now found himself in a unique position. He had wealth and power, but needed to go on a rather frenetic recruiting spree lest his lesser rivals take advantage of the situation. Of course, capturing and making an example of the escapees would help as well.<br/><br/>Zozo, grasping the situation, nodded, bowed politely, and said, “As you wish. I will see that the missives are sent to our agents and counting houses around the rim of the sea.” So saying, the stark sorceress turned on heel and stalked out of the room.<br/><br/>A few minutes later and the word was out, along with the sort of bounty to make a thousand mercenaries sharpen their swords.<br/>