---

Ivelda finally took notice of him, and in a burst of excitement, Tyann stood taller. Pride bloomed in his chest as she commended his command over the War-Drake, regardless of the fact that she most certainly could have commanded a true dragon with ease! He had no doubt, there was absolutely no question.

His attention wavered as he turned his gaze towards Raiden, blinking owlishly as the Huntsman took his leave. That arm was looking worse and worse… Hm. Nothing Tyann could really do about it. He knew how to treat beasts, and even some very basic suture work and malady treatment for men and women, but nothing like Asher. That one, oh that one, could treat people as if he knew the miraculous cures to every malady! … It was a shame that Tyann found his charismatic charm more grating than enjoyable. Not for want of trying, as Tyann did appreciate him, but all the same.

He took care of people though, and the Beast Master appreciated that more than he could express.

Oh! Raiden mentioned a gift. Tyann grunted a quick ‘hold on’, patting Korgan on the shoulder with a silver clawed hand as he walked away, focused entirely on the possibly deadly beast that was brought to him.
He first had the drake sequestered away in its pen, reminded himself that Korgan would need an instruction manual of sorts for the damn thing— Oh. Speaking of which.

His legs carried him back to Korgan as if he were in a trance, his mind so occupied with the pride and joy he felt at being recognized by Ivelda, the simple praise she had given him, that he behaved unusually. He spoke plainly to Korgan, his voice muted and eerily calm. “The beast is in its stable. Third row, second from the far wall. It’s name is Netorugal, it is male, and it will only heed your, or my, command. It is smart. Do not think of it as a pet, it is an ally— a companion— not something that will not think on its own,” Tyann paused to assure that Korgan heard him, before continuing. “Let it swim beside your vessel while you are not in the midst of battle, it will keep up, or simply cling on underneath. It has a whistle in its stable. Blow into it, and it will come. … Oh. Do not FUCKING feed it spider-meat, it will not digest it, and will thusly perish. … Please take good care of it.”

With that, Tyann nodded, slapped Korgan on the shoulder with a quiet laugh, and walked off to retrieve his gift from Claw-Breaker’s saddle bag.


“OH ABSOLUTELY F—” The subsequent curses were swallowed up by the panicked cacophony of horse, hound, and boar. In Tyann’s hands was the Nexu cub, his clawed fingers holding the creature by its quilled scruff. The quills were yet to harden, and though the little beast tried its hardest to claw at Tyann’s arms, it simply could not reach.
His temper kept attempting to spike, and though he wanted to be furious, he tamped it down as best he could. A long sigh burst out from Tyann, his brows furrowed as he stared into the face of the Nexu.

Thoughts scattered about in his head as he considered his next move. He appreciated the gift, of course! But… Where would he keep something like this? This would require time! And dangerous effort at that! Not to mention that he would most likely have to take care of this himself! … Or was that the hubris talking?
Tyann grumbled again, clearing his throat and making an odd rumbling-purring-huff like noise. The nose of his mask pressed against the cub as he made the noise, the mewling beast slowly quieting and instead beginning to call for food. A quiet caterwaul that Tyann recognized well from most carnivores. Damn.

The Beast-Master huffed a sigh as he turned on his heel and meandered his way towards the outskirts of the palace grounds. The cub still held cautiously by its scruff. Raw food was probably best for it, and if Raiden was to be believed, it was old enough for it… Damn. Damn!

Jemma held the portion of meat in her hands as if it were a chalice, blinking owlishly at Sairyn before pausing and turning to raise a thoroughly confused eyebrow at the lawyer man who had strode in.
The, er, 'illustrious' Pendleton Dullard. Hm. Jemma wasn't entirely too sure how she felt about the man, on top of his rather... Obtrusive personality. His voice was filtered out, along with Sairyn's as she focused again on the 'snack' that 'The Scientist' offered her.

It was cold, but... Warm? It wasn't old. At most maybe 40 minutes? But the way Sairyn and Yue were behaving... Older? Interesting. There was also something underneath it, something she couldn't really put a phalange on. Oh well.

Ink pulsed at the back of Jemma's skull as an eye swelled into view, horrifically obvious and almost comically large. It blinked and watched the group as Jemma turned about and let herself consume the meat from the leg.
Ink pulsed along the fractal-bolts of contact that spread from her flesh to the dead meat. Once, twice, three times. Then the meat turned black as Jemma spread herself to as much of it as was possible- and then consumed it all.

The bone fell to the floor...

And the world faded to black nothingness, as J-3 made a screech that drowned out almost any noise made near it. Her- Its'- Their- The form of 'Jemma' exploded into a sphere of roiling ink. At first the sphere was larger than even Alex, and swallowed up everything nearby.
A solid portion of Sairyn's feet, and parts of his kneecaps were just close enough to be caught in the horizon of the sphere, before it began to shrink.
Light crackled within the bubble of fluid, a blue spark traveling from some point deep within to the surface that faced the world.
Another spark, another cracking length of blue-white light that scoured its' way up and out from the 'center' of the bubble of ink. Then, there was a deafening crack and boom, as a bolt of lightning lanced out from the sphere. It moved far slower than lightning ought, as if time were slowed around the bolt of electricity.
The branch of voltaic cacophony came into contact with the floor not but five feet away from the sphere, and abruptly sped up.
Another screech, mixed with the buzzing-hum-crack of lightning searing across tile and then electronic equipment, deafened the lab.

The roiling ball of ink and (now) lightning shrank even further down, condensing around a floating sphere no more than three feet in diameter. It was an orb of pitch, as if one had taken the darkest shadow and pressed it into shape and being. Lightning and ink alike swirled around the orb, and it did not shrink any further.
The scream continued, though it grew quieter as two more bolts of crackling energy surged through the air and struck Alex and yet more lab equipment alike. There was no rhyme, no reason, no order or pattern to discern from the apparent transformation, nothing to explain it, as another crackling bolt slammed into a light-fixture above. One seared its blinding path just above Yue's head, filling the air with the noxious stench of ozone.

---

Jemma's thoughts were scattered and disoriented. She was aware of a force, and a sensation, and a knowing of a {RULE}. She would be this way for... A long time, or at least, for a time that she could not calculate. And she had been this way before, years ago, or was it months? ... Time was off, was misunderstood by the mind that propelled Jemma along. All in all, it didn't make a difference. She was here, in this way and there was no stopping it, no changing it, and she would be this way until the {TIME} was gone. The space flickered with crackling bolts of lightning, subsumed by the stench of ozone, the way one's body aches after a time spent out in the most violent of thunderstorms, and the taste of a nine-volt battery on the tongue.

And it was here, that Her voice found J-3 yet again.

It was the hissing spit that really drew Iz’Hana’s focus; his head rolling upward in a languid, almost bored sort of fashion. His eyes narrowed on reflex as the Drow woman was shoved in with him, and he twitched as if to move towards her when she spat on the dwarf.

“Inbau aturr ulu l’maerch, gorra’h.” Hissed the woman, her words driving Iz’Hana’s eyebrows high. His body twitched as if to move forward, to protect this… This kindred, this one like him, like so many others. But no.

No instead, he sat calmly, holding his breath and his body as still as the grave. As still as an animal watching for an opening. The guards held one eye on him, one on the woman, and one on the now raging dwarf.

He got no such opening. They left, and locked him in with someone… Interesting.

His focus turned to the woman as he stood to his full height, his arms creaking the entire way up. His eyes, far darker than hers, locked on the woman’s form as she curled away.
The trill she gave before she did though…

Iz’Hana returned the trill, a deeper, somewhat guttural thing, with an inflection on the end as well.
Then his hands moved, one coming up and resting over his eye, the palm facing out towards the woman.
Then they both came down, facing up towards the ceiling, as close to under his ribs as he could get them.
Then he repeated. Over and over until the woman looked, and responded.

The boredom faded quickly for Iz’Hana, and instead, exhilarated focus overtook him. He dared not speak, dared not to breathe until he was sure that she was what he thought she might be.

A comrade.

Two emotions warred in J-3 for a moment, though, Guy Manshape’s face remained impartial and blank for perhaps a moment too long… All the same, ‘he’ blinked and took a moment to respond.

The fact that the hair didn’t really affect the rat-man beyond giving him some mild discomfort was… Frustrating to J-3, but at the same time; the fact that they were NOW moving where they needed to was deeply appreciated.

“Yeah… Gravechills. Right. … This way to the meat house. You stay outside with her when we go. Don’t want you to try and steal from me or anything, y’hear?”

And then they were off, Guy Manshape not even sparing a glance back at The Blonde One. She would just have to trust him, and the rat creature would have to trust her not to commit horrible acts of violence! Either way, J-3 led them both back into the thoroughfare, sticking to side paths and alleys, much the way that Rat had.
Then, after picking a relatively random spot, J-3 turned and held up a hand for them both to stop.

They were in the alley of some three story building, perhaps a bar? Or a housing unit of some sort? It didn’t matter. He spoke quietly, crouching down and letting the ink in his body pulse against the bones of his legs. Changes, swift and hidden, took place below the flesh.
“Stay here. I keep my supplies on the roof. I’ll return in a moment.”

His shins abruptly became aglow, sparkling with blue and green bio-luminescent light. Then, without further ado, he leapt up and into the air. The rush of wind against his ears was exhilarating, and the gentle ‘kl-thmp’ of his heels touching rooftop was equally cherished.
He moved out of sight, taking only a half-a-heartbeat to yank on his left arm, and then his left leg. He made no sound. Eerily silent the entire time.
Ink swirled, and where the bleeding stumps used to be, new limbs took up residence.

Then came the brief process of ripping, tearing, and mashing the limbs into somewhat unrecognizable hunks of meat. Ink again whirled, and in his hands swiftly formed a ‘backpack’ of leather.
Back to the ground did J-3 return, legs flashing and dimly glowing with bioluminescence.

“Ready to go.”

Kaor jumped, blinking away her surprise before gently nudging a group of people away from her path with a massive paw. Her head twisted upwards and back, one paw taking the offered food without pause while the other began reaching into a satchel at her hip.
“Delightful! Thank you little gecko.” She called up to the weight on her shoulder. Her attention shifted to the mutt, the clawed paw in the satchel coming out and giving the hound some love.

She had been people watching, observing the crowds of Poyo with a friendly smile. There were some who were too terrified of her to even hold her gaze, regardless of any cheer or benevolence she put forth.
Others had watched her right back, or even approached with good cheer and kindness to them.
Like the huntsman who, just the other day, pointed Kaor and the friendly weight on her shoulder in the proper direction of one of their marks. He had been nice. For a bit.

Then he had taken too much interest in why her traveling companion didn’t speak, why she “moved her hands all funny like,”
He had been introduced to a smile that would have curdled the blood of gods, if it could be so.
But it could not, so instead he ran with the coin Kaor had given him for his charitable assistance!
All’s well that ended without bloody noses!
That’s what she thought at least.

The second thing to grab her gaze was the sight of a woman dealing with her pickpocket issues. In the few days that she and ‘her little gecko’ had been in Poyo, she had seen so many new sights. It had been months- MONTHS- since she had taken a proper bath. Poyo was, of course, maybe not the place to find such a luxury, but the fact that she was able to eat meat not skewered by her own spear was amazing.
It didn’t help that Kaor loved festival foods.
Oh! What a rambling thought; right. Woman with a pickpocket.

The beast-woman prepared herself to move, letting the drumming of her heart send her muscles into decisive action. She opened her mouth, lifting a hand as if to reach out and touch the woman in question, even if she was far and away.
Then she came to a stop as she watched the woman pay for both the boy, and herself.

Hm!

The third thing to draw her attention was a small clamoring commotion. Ice-blue eyes shifted away from people in the crowd, away from people in the thoroughfare, and towards the Golden Peach Inn.
People were stopping, gathering even to gaze upon… something! And that something was apparently amusing enough to draw laughter. Laughter tinged with spite and a lack of empathy. Interesting!
Then she saw it, and even if she WANTED to resist the urge to wiggle her shoulder for the wonderous trickster who perched upon it, she couldn’t. Her laughter was a strange thing; bell-like and gentle… Even if her face scrunched up into a hilariously ugly grin with the sound.
“Xanth! Oh! Hehe! Sweet gecko look, some poor bastard is out and about with his pants down! And gagged no less! I wonder what he was up to, yes?” She laughed up to her sticky fingered partner.
“Oh! That reminds me, where shall we stay tonight oh lovely Gecko? Perhaps the inn ahead? I feel like being under a roof tonight, if we could be so lucky!”