The Garden

Volga looked down at her companion and although reluctant to drink further gave the same idiotic smile at the mention of 'training' and then a more natural smile at her new title. She opened her mouth to respond but instead raised an eyebrow at the mention of the unusually frilly Valkyrie (Volga's death was almost a hundred years before the introduction of Christianity by missionaries in the mid 7th century)from the initial meeting of the new guild members. She also remembered the tales and songs of the affairs certain Valkyries would have with human warriors and returned to her idiotic grin and nodded agreeably to Kira's suggestion. She then allowed herself to be lead along by Kira while trying to step quietly and crouch low to match her companion's stealth to lesser success wholly and willingly anticipant to Kira's little flight of mischief.

Allan

Lots of stuff happened. None of it really worth noting.

Before he started considered the possibility of trying to punch holes through reality in order to escape this seemingly never ending frat party the midget hopped up on the big black box and started laying down what was going on. Finally, an explanation as to what's going on.

And so he listened. His scowl couldn't possibly grow any more pronounced so his face simply settled for furrowing his eyebrows as Vinn continued on with his spiel. Remember when I said it couldn't possibly get any worse? It's too late to take that back isn't it? He waited until Vinn was finished speaking before giving a heavy sigh of annoyance. He walked forward, stepping out from the faceless crowd and into view to say his part.


"Right, I have a question. What's the point?" He folded his arms across his chest as he continued. "What I mean is why are we even doing the tournaments in the first place? I get that we wanna keep the lords in check so they don't get off this hunk of rock but where do these competitions fall into place? Are we just doing them so the lords don't get anything? Is this just some game of tug of war for resources?"

All questions he needed to ask. Given his purpose it was important to know exactly what it is he's even fighting to accomplish. He just wants off-worlders to stay off his world regardless of where their from. Heaven, Hell, The Garden and anywhere else, anyone and everyone who wasn't native to his earth were well invited to scram. After the amount of damage the two sides had done to humanity in general he was not well disposed to the idea of other things entering the fray.

Finally, this was exactly what Ivan needed. An explanation, vital information, perhaps more than he strictly needed, but with his appetite for knowledge awakened by this information it felt lacking, left him wanting more. Like everything so far, every shred of information and every experience, it just led to an ever increasing maze of intertwined questions. How much power would you need to accrue to get that reading of 1, and how does it scale upwards? How did that box even know who and what to read... Oh, how temped he was to try and take it apart, make it reveal it's secrets to him. Who were these lords Vinn mentioned and how strong are they? But no matter how many questions came up in his mind, there was a faint feeling in the deepest part of his mind that kept telling him that it did not matter, that all would reveal itself in due time, and that there were more pressing matters at hand. It was quite a disturbing feeling as it went against the very nature of his self to not pursue knowledge wherever it presented itself, made even more disturbing by the fact that he almost didn't notice it's existence as it hid in his sub-conscious.

In a sense however that feeling was correct as there indeed was a more immediate matter at hand. No matter how that box calculated it, he still needed to get that reading, otherwise this vault of knowledge right within his grasp could very well lock shut in his face, and he only had one month to achieve it. If at all possible, he not only should prevent being shut out of this vault, but also consolidate his standing in the future by aiming as high as he could.

Then his thoughts were disrupted by a voice from the crowd, who for the most part voice some very reasonable concerns about the necessity of a tournament. Personally Ivan wasn't quite thrilled by the prospect of a tournament either. Especially since by the sound of it, it would consist of multiple one versus one duels. He had combat training and experience, though a bit light on said experience as he'd been kept busy with work in the labs for the most part, but a duel style was completely foreign terrain for him. He could hoard as much power as he wanted and his lack of experience could still end up being fatal.

Keeping some of his attention on what Vinn's response to this cry for answers would be Ivan looked at the doors that Vinn in his usual fashion had made appear. They were labeled, a lot of names, some of which he was sure he had seen on some of the lazul cards, presumably this meant they were personal rooms. It didn't take long for him to spot the door with his name on it and what appeared to be commonly shared rooms, most notably the workshop. Hopefully it had the tools he'd need to create his own, if not that could become quite the time sink. Not exactly an appealing prospect, however one way or another he, like any other, needed the tools of his trade to do anything significant. As he felt quite similar to how an archer without a bow must feel.

Still waiting for an answer from Vinn he walked off to the door that had his name. Not sure if sound would carry through into the room beyond that door he decided to just lean on it for now whilst he awaited the answer.

This'll do, Elena thought, carefully watching each movement her 'dance' partner made and acting accordingly. Punches, kicks, parries alike were all countered quickly and gracefully - Lazarus seemed to forget that they weren't exactly sparring because his movements became faster and faster exponentially as time progressed.

"I hope you're watching where you're swinging," Elena grinned, barely dodging a strike that missed her head by a heartbeat even with the split-second assistance of her water-augmented movement. "You maintain this pace and I'm not going to be able to keep up." Time for a change of pace of her own. A glistening torrent of water both swirled around and between them at random intervals, but with a gliding smoothness that made it seem natural. It was fast enough to pack a punch, should he actually get hit by it, but that probably wasn't very likely - still, it was a spectacle to watch from an outsider's perspective. She stepped it up a notch while she was at it, stomping the ground to blast a small ring of water geysers around them, appearing quickly but sequentially. That one was just for aesthetic, but it seemed fitting.

Vinn
Vinn knew the question was coming, but he still wasn't entirely sure about the answer himself. So he settled on giving the best one he could "It's how we decide who will fight the lords in the end, and how The Garden throws around its rewards. It has its own vassals just as The Lords do, what makes them scary is their ability to alter Games at will. A game is a divine contract not just a competition, it makes us fight and grow stronger, and in the end the top guild and their allies will stand alone against The Lords. Every other guild in The Garden will be needed just to defend from the Vassals and their minions who are nothing to sneeze at, as I understand it took three of you and Blitz to temporarily disable KH4 when he was a Vassal, and a low one at that. In short, its the best system we have to decide our leader, doll out resources, earn The Gardens boons and challenge The Lords on their own turf before they build up their assault." Vinn ranted, spouting his lengthy drivel as nonchalantly as he could.

It was hard to explain something he barely understood himself, The Garden was a mysterious entity, and although everything he said he was true. He couldn't help but feel the most honest answer was 'because that's how it wants it to be'. In the end they hadn't much choice in the matter anyway, millenia of prep couldn't be swapped, not only that but The Garden wouldn't allow it.

"Before you ask, no I'm not a Vassal, one of the Vassals summoned you all here, for a hefty price I've heard. As for your supervising buddies, they'll be Nero, Laz, Dom, Luka and Riv, you'll be stuck with us for the foreseeable future so now might be a good time to make some buddies." He commented, tipping his head in a motion that might have been meant to be a tip of his hat, had he not a reason to keep his hat so firmly in place.

---

Lazarus
Lazarus slowly calmed down his dance, surprised the Naval Officer kept her composure and continued the dance despite all that was occuring, he grinned again and decided he definitely liked this girl, the addition of the water was a nice touch and its use surprised him. Eventually he halted entirely, spinning out of her reach and raising his leg directly skyward before slamming it down, a small pulse of bloody liquid bursting in a ring to reflect her own ring of geysers.

"You continue to surprise and impress, I look forward to seeing you in the fields of battle. Keep me in mind if you ever want a sparring partner for real, or if you just want someone to drink with." He said with a grin, nodding his head towards Vinn as he listed off the supervisors "It seems we'll be in close company regardless." he commented.

---

"That's an idea I can get behind," Elena responded, watching Lazarus momentarily begin to settle down before putting distance between them and releasing a crimson nova. Immediately recognizing it as a liquid, she quickly made hand movements to disperse and redirect it, though she only succeeded at the dispersion part. "That was blood, wasn't it?" she asked. Though the answer to the question seemed fairly obvious enough, she was first able to tell in the instance that she partially manipulated the substance rather than through observation. She could control her own blood well enough, but when it came to the blood of others, she found her ability to exert force on it rather lacking and has subsequently discarded its use. This much was evident by her display of just barely being able to divert a low-pressure wave with a small volume instead of swirling it around her, as was her intention. Other liquids usually had the same treatment, or were even more difficulty control - either that, or not at all. "You do know that belongs in your body, right?" she added jokingly.

Allan

He was quite well prepared to not be happy with the answer he had asked for and not in vain as he listened to Vinn's little spiel. The more he spoke the more Allan disliked the very thought of it. The Garden, these games and especially the idea of being signed on a divine contract were all bitter pills he was now being handed. He wouldn't of gone through with this but unfortunately as the old adage goes he has to swallow.

After all the lords needed to be stopped right? But in order to stop them they needed to appease the Garden by going through it's little games. It was a big puppet show and much like a hand-puppet he definitely did feel as though something had metaphorically shoved it's hand somewhere uncomfortable and was moving him, and the rest of the newcomers for that matter, about as it pleased.

"Riiight, best system... What a load of crap." He muttered as he turned and started on his way to his door.
Someone should tell that vassal he should get his money back 'cause he sure as hell paid way too much to wind up bagging me of all things. He thought to himself as he walked up to the door with his name on it. Coming to a standstill in front of his door he looked it up and down, sizing it up.


After a moment of thoughtful calculation he threw a powerful kick at the door, his foot slamming into the flat surface with a loud wham. The force of the hit produced a large rush of displaced air, the sound of his supernaturally strong blow echoing outwards. If it weren't for his socks and pants observers would be able to see his foot now a shade of light sky blue and glowing brightly like a neon sign. Still, despite the force behind the kick the only thing that moved was the air. It seemed magic doors weren't going to be victim to his angst today.

"Bloody hell." He swore under his breath as he took his foot off and opened the door by it's handle as it's maker intended. With his back to the party he stepped in and shut the door behind him, happy just to be out of there.

Despite the somewhat playful tilt of the strange Neko Tom's ears, Rosa pulled back. She gave a coughing grunt and tipped her head slightly more towards Wayland on the ground in a questioning gesture, but she remained guarded, especially with the evil death-monster still around. Unfortunately, the monster's presence made it difficult for her to pay attention to Vinn's monologue.

Evil monster must Die! Hmmf! Stinky humans and weird Neko were in her way. Sometimes her dual nature was a pain. There were no more expanding death rings, but she hadn't won her bloody fight yet. Too many people were between her and her prey! Too many people she couldn't eat. A weird little furball was above her and talking. The biped understood that the furball was of some importance, but the cat didn't care. The cat still wanted to fight and kill. Rosa gave a rumbling growl, a warning. Nobody moved and the furball was still talking. Finally, Finally, her other form's thought processes broke through!

Wait! What's this about contracts and lords and vassals? She shook back into her bipedal form to use the advantages of human speech. "I don't remember signing any contract. Who or what are these lords and vassals? If they're so bad and this Garden is supposedly so smart, why can't it just kick them out itself? Why do you need us?"

She realized a little too late that it might not be in her best interest to argue with not only her boss, but the whatsit that saved her life at least once.

Charmeine

The young seraph took a seat in her room, pulling off her gloves and folding them neatly beside her. She ran a hand through her hair, letting out a groan as the fatigue was finally setting in. There was some sort of commotion going on outside, one that she could barely understand. It was a speech of some sorts, to which she listened to gingerly. It was an explanation on why they were here, why they were fighting. The whitette found herself seemingly... careless. She used to be so focused on her home, but now it seemed nothing mattered but sleep right now. That, and her own well being.

Charmeine picked up her head as she heard a sound, flickering her eyes and scanning the room before her. She suddenly felt tense, slowly getting to her feet and twiddling her thumbs. "... A... Anima?" She called weakly, wondering if it were her slime friend. However, no answer would come to her. This would only make the princess even more jumpy, feeling behind her desperately for her weapon.

---

Vinn
Vinn winced as Allan made his dramatic exit, readjusting his wobbling hat "Well...someones a bit cranky....as for signing contracts, maybe contract was the wrong word...The Garden makes a big fancy scroll with all the rules on it for each individual game as its made, and the participants agree to abide by them and The Garden sets the stage!....so to speak. Kicking them out kind of defeats the purpose of the reality converging anomaly that keeps them trapped here instead of reaving across existence. This place apparently used to just be a meeting point for each world, but then the lords came and well...now its a battlefield, and it takes everything The Garden has to keep it all in check. " He paused and pondered his options for a moment.

"No they have to be dealt with for good, and its up to existence to deal with its own problems. The Vassals are...well on nobodies side, they run the high end games and punish corrupt guilds, The Lords Vassals are either mind-controlled or corrupt inhabitants filled with portions of the lords power, they work on their behalf and can bend the rules of games a bit. Lords are....powerful, pure evil, the classics of your average reality ending creatures, they may look like a human, they may be a giant winged monster, they're all different. Whether you believe it or not or trust the system, we need you, and otherwise we can say goodbye to life in advance."

Vinn nodded at the doors and it looked like his eyes smiled "For now, welcome to a new home!" He chimed happily.

---

Lazarus
Lazarus smiled at Elena's comment and began re-wrapping himself up in bandages starting with his hands "That's true, but when your supply is infinite and your need few, you learn to adapt. I have no shortage of bandages either, the biggest struggle is keeping the blood in check, adrenaline control and all that." He joked, almost halfway up his arm with the bandages.

"Water may not be my thing, but liquids and biology in general? I would be happy to oblige with helping you play with that. " He offered, grinning again and letting a 'spark' of blood dance across his skin.

---

Kira
"Ssshhh~ Lets just...when I open this flap lets introduce ourselves and pretend that a hug is the greatest sign of respect for our people and then...then we can get a reaaalll close look, and whenever we see her from now we can just...take a lookie." Kira whispered to Volga drunkenly, counting down on her hands, 5...4...3...2...7...1! Kira dramatically flipped the tent flap up and strolled in, coughing awkwardly as she entered, taking a deeep breath and lining up a little trick she'd learned as a slave at parties.

"I'm sorry if we startled you madame, my names Kira, me and my companion simply wanted to greet you and extend our admiration for you in the previous battle with a show of respect from our people, and invite you to rest and train with us while we're together in this world, there are rooms just outside with our names on them which we would be honoured to escort you to if you wish to retire." Kira said with a low bow, trying to put as respectful a tone in her voice as she could manage, being able to manipulate fine metals was a blessing when it came to finding a way to temporarily keep alcohol at bay, and a neat trick to boot. She held a thumbs up discretely behind her back to Volga and waited for her to follow along. If they were stuck here then they might as well enjoy it as much as possible after all.

---

Volga listened intently to Kira's prank through a drunken haze as she followed her in both listening and movement. She nodded to Kira grasping most of what she had said and watched the silent countdown with an all too familiar unease at the expectation of a need for improvisation. She watched Kira stroll into the tent dramatically before trying to do the same and struggling with the low entrance and fighting with the flap and ending up stumbling in instead of making an entrance. She listened enviously at the clarity of Kira's voice and her resistance to alcohol before noticing the thumbs-up. Taking this as a go-ahead, she moved with a here-goes-something type of motivation before hugging and lifting the frilly valkyrie "Greetings and well-wishings to you new and honored comrade!!".

Anima

She paid careful attention to what was said and done. She took to listening to the words of Vinn, making sure to note everything that was said. The nature of their task was a worrying one but as she recalled it was the job of those under the tutelage of the sun's ways to combat the darkness and protect others from it's clutches. It made a lot of sense the purpose behind their solemn but nonetheless necessary duty to undertake the continued entrapment of these lords he described. Her duty was to protect those that these lords threatened from harm, a commitment she took quite seriously.

After all the excitement from Vinn's announcement started to dwindle she looked about to see her new friend was not in sight. Alas, her mind had completely forgotten the previous task they had tackled. I was showing Princess Charmeine to this tent! Oh Sun forgive such forgetfulness. She momentarily admonished herself before hearing some talking within the tent itself. She could of sworn she heard Charmeine mention her name before a couple other voices pitched in.

A tad surprised by the sudden influx of company right behind her back she turned and re-entered the tent to be graced with a rather surprising scene. A large and clearly inebriated warrior woman had picked princess Charmeine up while a younger elven looking girl looked on. At once a combination of confusion and surprise composed Anima's current expression as she tried to figure out just what exactly was going on. "I-is everything alright Princess Charmeine?"

Charmeine

The seraph grasped her weapon tightly in her hand, gritting her teeth and pointing it to the entrance of the tent. She placed her index finger on the trigger, slowly pulled back and...

Another warrior-- two -- popped in.

Charmeine's eyes widened, jerking her arm back as her weapon went off. However, she was able to absorb the arrow's energy before it would hit the ceiling. It was much like the sound of popping a balloon. The princess stumbled back a few steps, taking in a sharp breath as she lowered her arm. She took a few moments to study the elf before her.

The first thing she'd notice is Kira's hair. Charmeine's eyes flickered, then narrowed. What a peculiar color. Her whole kingdom was white, blue, and maybe even yellow. But things like red? Orange? Yes, they existed, but for hair? Huh. The whitette's gaze trailed down her body, only listening to half the words Kira babbled about. Her armor was dirty, and made of cheap material. However, her gloves seemed well crafted with the finest of metals. Charmeine slowly placed her weapon down on a side table.

"Training?" She asked, her eyebrows perking with interest. A good challenge here and there was heavenly. But was that really required? She is the Daughter of Seraphiel, almighty! However, the whitette was both entertained and flattered that the Elven woman would invite her to tag along. "... Well, normally it's not my traditional wa-"
Charmeine was interrupted when the second warrior stepped forward. Another lass with red hair, but only one color this time. She was tall and slim. Her eyes had a beautiful emerald sheen, and had features of a tribal woman. The seraph was insulted that she had already come so close, finding herself jump back as she extended her arms. Charmeine was never touched. Even as a baby, rarely was she ever held by her guardians. It was seen as pointless, therefore it was not done. The princess let out a helpless squeal as she had suddenly become airborn, kicking her legs furiously. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME?! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD IF YOU DON'T PUT ME DOWN!!" Charmeine snarled.

Just then, the powerful healer from before walked into the scene. She looked to her quickly, her expression becoming relived. "Anima!" She exclaimed, "G-Get her off of me!!"

The answers Vinn gave were.... Unsatisfactory to a certain degree, but would have to do for now. Ivan opened the door he had been leaning on whilst listening to Vinn. Immediately he was met by a plethora of familiar smells, burning candle wax, ink, parchment and a colorful mix of herbal and flower scents. As he entered he noticed how dark the entire room was, only dimly lit by a few candles spread through the room and the dark wood that dominated the room didn't do the room any favors in brightening it up. The only places that were decently lit were a scribes desk and the trays with plants in the furthest corner of the room. Ivan walked to the bed squeezed into one of the other corners footboard facing the door. He sat down on the bed with a sigh. Today had been quite a busy day so far, and it seemed it was far from over, too much to do before he could even consider sleeping. He took a few moments to think over the events thus far, and the flood of information that had crashed down on him.

Having taken in most of what had happened thus far and let it settle for a bit, he stood up again, left his room and head for the workshop. There was little time for dilly dallying, he needed to get to the point where he could get a reading out of that box, but even if that was possible for him as he was now, he'd need something however minor to be able to fight with any form of competence.

Entering the workshop Ivan found some tools he could use for his own handiwork. Though it was only a set of tools for cutting and setting gems, it was all he needed. He grabbed some iron and sand, not exactly the best choices for what he wanted, but even if he wanted to use better materials it would require more T-energy to infuse and work than he had available. He took the materials and the set of tools to one of the workbenches. First things first, he needed to make the base. He grabbed some of the iron and heated it to a forge-able temperature, making sure to redirect the heat spilling from the iron back into the iron.

With some audible protests of the metal Ivan applied force, turning the chunk of iron into a hexagonal prism. The protests continued as the sides of the prism narrowed down into six beams, one on each corner, revealing the hollow inside. With a snapping sound he then bend each of the beams outward along the length creating a sharp bend halfway down the length of the beams. Finally the flat hexagonal top and bottom were shaped, bend outwards from the middle, giving the entire figure the shape of a hexagonal bipyramid, about the size of a human head. He then grabbed some more of the iron and formed that into a ring large enough to be used as a handle and attached it to the top.

With the base completed, now it was time for the real magic. Slowly across the entire base indentations appeared, forming slots for gems to be set in. Then came the task of making the gems. He restructured the sand with a dash of iron to reform into crystals of citrine, the rough crystals that were formed then required to be cut to the right shapes and sizes. That's where the tools came into play, and Ivan cut the rough crystals into the very intricate patterns of runic symbols, making sure not to cut the crystals that could fracture the crystal. Afterwards he set each and every of the gems in their intended location, carefully making minute adjustments to ensure the direction and orientation of the gem was perfect.

To finalize the piece only a few more steps would be needed. He heated the apex of the downward facing pyramid and cut it off the rest of the piece. Using the iron and the remainder of the sand he formed an hexagonal pyramid of greenish black obsidian, and slotted that back where the apex had been cut out. Now it was time to finalize everything, turn this decorative piece into something with function. Using the last bit of T-energy stored in the crystals he had produced after the battle, he infused all the runic shaped gems and the obsidian apex at the bottom. The citrine crystals dull sheen became brighter and cleaner as if all minute impurities had vanished from the crystal, and the obsidian green sheen became stronger, but at the same time a lot darker.

Ivan grabbed the artifact by the ring at the top and a pale green flame appeared in the center of the bipyramid. He then spun the lantern around and looked at the runes, taking the time to carefully read and confirm he hadn't made any mistakes. "Heart of flame, heart of winter, Pale light in the darkness, Hear my legends, Speak my name, For I am Fen Fire." The runes read. It all seemed to correct, not that Ivan had enough power left to fix any mistakes right now. Satisfied with his creation he left the workshop with it in hand.

Volga lifted the whitette up by the sides as one would a small child with about the same level of effort. She looked up at her, at first waiting for her to finish her sentence and then in utter confusion at her sudden irritability. She turned her head side ways as she heard her plea to someone else in the tent for release. Volga found this to be mildly absurd as she would readily place the strange creature that could no longer be confused as a valkyrie back on the ground if only asked properly. However, the woman chose to instead kick and scream as a child would. Unaware of the cultural differences, Volga saw this as the behavior characteristic of a spoiled noble's spoiled child. She then turned to see the slime standing in the door and catch the odd phrasing of the spoiled noble's daughter. She caught this as so absurd that she turned to reply in genuine confusion "I am not on you...". She thought of this for a moment and smiled for a brief second before snapping back to reality and adding "If this is how you act towards the simple embraced of a comrade then I doubt be able to handle someone on top of you". The whitett's behavior and lack good sportsmanship had ruined the novelty of the prank so Volga ultimately set her back down and released her near offended at being spoken to so impersonally by a comrade. She turned and walked back to Kira picking her up instead "My head aches and I wish to retire to my room...". Her voice was weary from more than just simple insult as bittersweet memories of fallen comrades of impeccable humor and sportsmanship came back to her faded and came back less detailed.

Rosa grumbled under her breath, though she didn't make a scene like a certain other pugilistic person, Human of course. Allan's little fit only confirmed that she was better than these humans. She still didn't understand what the furball was talking about, and it appeared neither would she get a clearer answer. The only thing that she could comprehend in the entire spiel was pure evil. Pure evil like that death-monster. She shuddered against the creepy bug feeling again, though by now that monster had been banished, hopefully, back to where it came from. Still her claws itched to make the killing blow. Even though she reverted back to her original form, the claws hadn't retracted. Closing her hands into fists, she forced the claws back. They can't function when her hands are closed.

Because she couldn't get a better answer, she gave up and turned back to the plains, or where she thought the plains were. "Oh! For crying out loud! How the hell am I supposed fight ANY evil monsters if you keep changing the landscape on me?!"

Anima

Things went quickly out of control, a hectic mess really.

"Anima! G-Get her off of me!!"

She heard the princess plead as she was held aloft by the large warrior. Anima was never any good at handling stressful situations and this was a problem that demanded decisive diplomacy. Immediately she started to feel flustered as she tried to come up with something that would resolve the conflict without upsetting anyone. "Ah, uah... M-miss, If uh, I mean, could you?-"

She couldn't get a word in before the large woman spoke, cutting her off before setting Charmeine down. While Anima was happy that she did so and rather expediently at that she was also worried as to how this newcomer was feeling.

While Anima was poor at deciphering social cues given her sheltered lifestyle she could tell that the larger woman was not particularly happy given her tone and expression. She mentioned something about a headache too.
Perhaps that might be the problem! I could help!


"Miss" She spoke to the woman who was starting on her way out of the tent with her smaller friend in tow. "If it would be of any help to you I could mend whatever might be ailing you. I, I overheard that you mentioned your head, t-that it had an ache." She confessed her intentions to the newcomer. She hoped that with any luck she might be able to make amends between the princess and the foreigner. Regardless of it's odds of success she had to try.

Volga was at an end with her patience and in wanting of either respite or combat as she walked through the threshold holding Kira in one arm and her head in her off hand. Boddel lay sheathed strapped to her pack as she passed the slime taking a brief thought to count her as the one the whitette had called to. She stopped at the sound of the being's voice uncertain of what to make of it "If it would be of any help to you I could mend whatever might be ailing you. I, I overheard that you mentioned your head, t-that it had an ache." . The voice was child-like to her ear and reminded her of more fading faces and names muddled in her state. She stared at the being for a moment of confusion before recognizing her as the lone healer at the top of the hill from their recent battle. She acknowledged her as a comrade in that moment and smiled at her humbleness "I am not ailed young healer. Unfortunately for myself, this is not that kind of pain". She reached out to the slime without hesitation and introduced herself formally "I am Volga Argonar, Captain of The Flight of the White Crow. It is good to know you young comrade". Her tone was forceful but not harsh and she spoke with a smile "What do wish me to call you?".

Ivan walked from the workshop back to the party for some water, hard work makes one thirsty after all, and he really could use a cup of his own brew. Maybe he should invite Anima and Charmeine to join him for a cup too, that is if he could even find them in this chaos. Scanning through the party he however couldn't see them, however Ivan did notice something else.

The man from the battle, the one with the affinity for metal, he still lay there after his escapades. From this distance Ivan could not see exactly what this man was doing, but it didn't sit right with him that the man had been there all this time seemingly without moving an inch. Ivan decided it would be best if someone took a moment to check up on him, however nobody else seemed to have shared that standpoint, thus the task would fall on him.

Ivan approached the man only to find him blankly staring into the sky. As if he was conscious yet not, but certainly not dead as he still appeared to be breathing, something Ivan hadn't see either the dead or the undead do. "Good sir, are you awake? Can you hear me?" He asked as he came within talking distance of the man.

If Wayland were to notice the lantern Ivan carried with him, finding it to be names 'Heart of Fenn Fire'. Carrying the legacy of the cold winter and the flame deep within.

Rosa actually did notice that the humanoid creature on the ground hadn't moved, but because he smelled like fire, she didn't want to get close. She was quite happy to let the white-haired stranger deal with fire-man.

The object white-hair man carried though pushed her away further. A damnable magic object! The magic of the object was not as strong as whatever magic warped the landscape, as far as she could tell, but she did NOT like it. The only reason she actually remained near River, who is also a damnable magician, is that he's the only familiar thing in the entire world right now. A bloody Neko magician! Maybe that's why he has such weird fur.

She took one step away and glanced over the rows of doors, but closed her eyes again and sat on the ground holding her head. Too much magic in one day disoriented her. Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Even the evil death monster was magic. What the hell is she supposed to do here?

"Why me of all people? Why does Mother or this garden whatever want me here now?" She whispered, but as she only moved back one step, she may still be heard. She didn't understand what Vinn said earlier, about the Garden and games, but she did understand and actually WANT to destroy the evil monsters. The cause to destroy evil and explore a whole new world stirred a fire in her blood that she thought she forgot, but there was so much magic around it was crippling her. She growled under her breath and dug her claws in the ground next to her, "I won't be defeated!" Despite her disorientation, she attempted to push herself up.

Anima

"I am not ailed young healer. Unfortunately for myself, this is not that kind of pain. I am Volga Argonar, Captain of The Flight of the White Crow. It is good to know you young comrade. What do wish me to call you?"

Anima was mildly confused as towards her talk of pain however that was quickly glossed over as introduction were made. With her hand outstretched to her it seemed to her that she wanted to shake hands so she daintily took the hand with her soft, sticky tentacle.

"I am Anima Lumen. It is an honor to meet you, esteemed captain."

She lowered her head and frame as a bow of respect to who she assumed was the leader of a fleet of ships as the title would indicate. Given the difference of customs she wasn't entirely sure how to behave before this high ranking naval officer so she maintained a suitably humble station. Still the woman's demeanor was more relaxed than that of the princess's so there was some comfort in that regard. She waited until it seemed appropriate to withdraw her tentacle.

"If I may be of any service to you I would be pleased to assist if it is at all possible."

---

Allan

Bloody magic.

Pretty much the most appropriate words to summarize his feelings towards his new holdings. It wasn't that it was exceptionally flashy or magical, no, it was quite the opposite. It was a facsimile of a ratty New York apartment with no small details left untouched. Faded wallpaper partially torn from the walls, tiles in the bathroom old and chipped, lights all dim and prone to flickers, pretty much nothing was left out. In one of the corners on a pile of wooden packing slates was a television set that was about ten years out of date. Over in the middle of the room facing the television was an upside-down cardboard box serving as a coffee table and an old brown couch covered in stains and frayed at some of the corners. Hanging from a hook set in the ceiling over in an open portion of the room was a rather plain punching bag.

Casually strolling over to the couch he picked up the remote and hit the power button. Static. It seems whatever furnished his room couldn't of been bothered to of sprung for a decent connection. He couldn't pick up a single channel from Earth. With a disgruntled grunt he shut the noise box back down and moved over to the punching bag. He looked the bag up and down, sizing it up with a couple casual jabs. Nothing about this punching bag was different from most standard bags he's hit in the past back before he was busy being used as a human punching bag himself.

Without turning on his divine strength he laid into the sand bag, hitting it hard and fast as he ran down his personal list of moves. He had built up a decent sweat from the exercise as he finished his routine. With the bag still swinging upon a hook hanging from the ceiling Allan walked back over to the couch and just dropped down on a cushion, draping his arms across the back as he looked up and dwelled on it all. Despite it all being quite obvious that something must of been mucking about his brain in order to have pulled a room this close to his apartment out something about the traditional New York apartment atmosphere helped him relax, a reprieve from all the nonsense.

"A way to make that box read me a one huh..." I'll be damned if I somehow pull that off.

He didn't know how long he lay there. Minutes, hours, years, millennia? It didn't matter. Time was inconsequential. All that mattered was the beat. The tempo. The meeting of hammer and anvil at the core of his being. He was struggling with it. Why is it wrong? Is it wrong at all? Unable to comprehend the changes, unable to grasp them. Static, white noise. The hammer misses its mark. The weapons scream, keening in agony. A thousand, thousand calls of why? Why wont you reach out to us? But he couldn't hear them. They were beyond his grasp, somewhere he - just. couldn't. Quite. Reach... Frustrating beyond measure. The laughter from the dark was strangely silent. Both the evil that set him afire with rage and the laughter like a bell that set him alight in another way entirely.

He can almost grasp the memory when it's ripped away and his mind falls again into the disjointed turmoil that it had been since he'd confronted that faceless monster. Fire roars in his soul in response to the memory of THAT being. But he didn't know, why? Why were there so many familiar strangers? Who are they? Who am I? He truly didn't know anymore. The tempo changes, the sound of the hammers beat changing in time with the flow of his thoughts. The weapons and their wielders changing along with it. WHO AM I!?

The answer. The question. Wayland Smith. Always the same. No matter how many times it was posed it always came back. We are Wayland Smith. I am Wayland Smith. Over and over a thousand different ways of saying it, in a hundred different tongues. He felt like retching. Such was the ringing in his head. The voices too much too soon. Leave me be. He wanted to cry, let me be me!

The sigh was almost a physical thing. Ringing with such disappointment he could almost taste it. The difference was so great he could feel his soul groan as the presence receded. Only now could he see the damage. Fire scorched by fire, swords destroyed, their wielders graves marked by the slag of what was once their weapon. He felt scorched. Warped. The fire from before was beyond him.

For now... The thought is like a whisper but he feels it. Knows it as heat rises for a moment in his heart. Something lurked just beyond sight, just waiting to be let back in. And it was angry.

Shaking his head. For he could do that now. Did he always have a body? Wasn't he a sword? Yes, yes he was. But he was more. Clenching his fist with the wonder of a child he blinks. Staring up into the sky. And comes back to reality all at once as if being born. I am alive.

"Good sir, are you awake? Can you hear me?" A voice? Someone is speaking to me? Leaning forward with a groan his joints protest with metallic scraping and popping. Turning to face the one addressing him as he stands. Wayland freezes. Head slowly cocking to the side in an oddly animalistic way, his eyes glowing slightly as they rake across the other mans form assessing him.

"Have we met?" He asks, his voice coming out in a strange warbling lilt, smoke curling from between his teeth. "No," He decides. "I don't think I've met you." That felt both wrong and correct at the same time. Odd.

"I am Anima Lumen. It is an honor to meet you, esteemed captain."

Volga smiled as she shook and released the tentacle "There is no need to be so formal with me, comrade. We should never be unfamiliar to those we are forced to trust our lives to". She gave a displeased glance at the tent before returning her attention to the slime with a much lighter demeanor. Her mood seemed to switch near automatically as her attention shifted. Always focusing on the present moment and never dwelling was always a discipline she had trouble mastering but to the untrained eye she was a master. Stoic to a t with a trained temperament and pinpoint focus. These were values her mother had instilled to her that allowed her the patience and the strength of will to command.

"If I may be of any service to you I would be pleased to assist if it is at all possible."

Volga couldn't help but smile at this...well she assumed her to be a young girl. She straightened at this comment to give weight to her words as she quoted her father "Stay mindful of your comrades and wary of their choices. That is what makes for a good leader as well as a good friend and a good comrade". She'd made that quote countless times to different effects to the point where it had become synonymous with her name. She then relaxed her posture and looked down at the girl "We will surely be of assistance to one another at another time. Good health to you, comrade". She gave a nod and departed to what she assumed were her quarters with Kira in arm.

The man, Wayland as he seemed to recall, perhaps from he had read the name from his lazul card. He moved in reaction to what Ivan had said. At the very least he wasn't dead, neither did he seem hurt. However the metallic sound of his joints, the glow in his eyes and the smoke rising from his mouth as he spoke made Ivan wonder if the man had been alive at all, perhaps he was a construct, but those as far as he knew didn't exhibit the ability to mend metal to their will. The man had asked whether they knew each other, quickly coming to the conclusion that they didn't. "We may have seen glimpses of one another earlier today, but I don't believe we've had a chance to introduce ourselves to one another."

Ivan put down the lantern the obsidian point driving itself into the earth, the flame quickly decreasing in size before disappearing into nothingness the moment he let go of the handle. He then held out a hand half meant to help Wayland up and half for introductions. "I suppose this is as good a moment for introductions as any, I'm Ivan Witherbane. And you good sir?"

Still reeling from his ordeal Wayland is slow to respond his eyes drifting around as if seeing the place again for the first time. Breathing out slowly he sighs. Something he dully notes he's been doing far too much lately. Pulling himself to his full height he shakes it off. The only way left was forward. He was far too far down the rabbit hole for regrets. Noticing the smoke from his maw he takes count of himself. Quickly reigning himself in. The light fleeing his eyes, the smoke from his mouth not quite stopping but slowing to the point it could be misconstrued as a trick of the eye. He nods at the man - Ivan with a grin.

"Wayland Smith," He says simply. Taking the other mans hand firmly. Careful to keep his skin to its lowest temperature. It would still feel like touching something that had lay out in the sun for too long. But at least it wouldn't cook him. Adding as an afterthought a moment later.

"From Earth. If that means anything to you."