The Garden

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."

Bipedal Rosa couldn't get off the ground on her own, so she sat hugging her knees against her small chest and closed her eyes, until the world stopped spinning around her. When disoriented, she couldn't even shift properly. The fire-creature and white-haired man with the magic object talked behind her, introducing themselves.

Her nostrils flared and adrenaline rose when she smelled a new blast of smoke. The air crackled and she pulled away further. Again the fire dissipated, this time faster than before, and strange screeching, popping noises sounded. Noises like an elder trying to shift positions, but for some reason louder and creakier. Were they really all right? She chanced a look over her shoulder and noticed the fire-creature shaking hands with the white-haired wizard. It looked safe, and her vertigo finally passed. Slowly the werecat got to her own two feet, but she still kept her distance from the fire-creature. "I'm Rosa Gerzon." She called out to the pair, but did not reach out her own hand. Fire and magic and her do not mix." Yes, she was stuck her for however long it takes, so yes it was fair for her to actually have names even if she never saw them again. It did not mean she was any happier with the arrangement.

Wayland suddenly appeared to repress the symptoms that might indicate he was something other than human. The glow in his eyes had disappeared and the trail of smoke had been diluted to something that could be passed off as a light trick if Ivan hadn't been aware of it's existence prior. His hand was warm, considerably above the line where doctors would chalk fever up as a symptom. But as Ivan innately read the flow of energy he found out that the rabbit hole went a lot deeper than just a warm hand. Restrained flows of heat coming from deeper, not within the hand or at least as far as he could tell thanks to the tissue muddying his reading, most likely to prevent him from accidentally burning someone at a touch. Wayland mentioned being from Earth, Ivan assumed he meant Earth as in a place and not as in the ground beneath their feet. "I can't say that I've ever heard of Earth, unless of course you mean the ground. On that note, I am from Thylysium, though I doubt it would sound familiar to you either." He then swiftly added with a bit of a hushed tone: "I'm sorry for accidentally invading on your privacy, but you don't need to hold back that heat within you, at least towards me, I'm quite well equipped to dissipate it without any harm.

Ivan then turned his attention to a somewhat distant voice introducing herself to them. It appeared she feared something, not reaching out her hand and keeping a rather inconveniently large distance from the two, neither did she reach out her hand. But perhaps this was normal social behavior where she came from, after all getting up close and reaching out a hand was seen as highly offensive in some tribes. Whatever the reason was she was keeping her distance and getting close to her probably wasn't going to be the best of ideas if they were to stay on friendly terms. "Well then, sir Wayland and miss Gerzon, it is a pleasure meeting the both of you." He said keeping the both of them in his field of view.

Volga looked around and saw a sign on a door in knot-work reading her name in the old tongue. The door was heavy and wooded with thick metal bands riveted to it and a heavy iron knocker high and centered on it. The lock was a simple bulky mechanism with a heavy iron curved bar acting as a handle above the large gaping keyhole. The tall warrior walked toward it with her new companion in arm and Bøddel on her back. She walked at a deliberate pace as she passed three other comrades having uneasy introductions with one another before finally stopping in front of the door. At closer inspection more knot-work as well as many thick green leafy vines decorated the wooded door. Upon grabbing the bar to pull open the door a green aura shone from it and into her hand as she stepped inside. The room was far colder than the green fields outside of it and was adorned with many small reminders of home. From the wood framed bed with its heavy fur blankets to the wall of hooks holding a large red and black vertically striped banner with a white crow in the center of it as well as a round shield bearing the same symbol and colors on the next wall. A small cauldron with wood burning inside of it sat at the center of the room with a small skylight above it that seemed to lead to nowhere at all. Other than a tanning rack, a table, some benches, chairs, pottery, and cookware there was little else than a ladder leading into a small loft. Volga set Kira back onto her feet and looked about in awe "...It's as if I never left...but something's missing...Something's not right here...but what?".

The rather awkward introduction was over as well as the craziness of what she supposed was some kind of festival, but she had no idea what the occasion to celebrate was. She nodded her head politely to the white-haired wizard when he acknowledged her. She also looked up to the red-haired giant carrying a smaller red-haired person(?) as she passed and shivered a little. Something about her troubled the young werecat, but she didn't understand what. She growled under her breath in greater frustration, but before losing her cool, she bowed out. "If you'll excuse me..." she rumbled gently with another nod of her head and retreated, dodging around Ivan and Wayland. She honestly would have preferred to stay outside, but she had no idea what was inside or outside in this strange place. Would she ever understand?

Even though she didn't quite trust it, she tapped a door that felt like leather bearing felinid script of her name. To humans it would look like nothing more than strange claw patterns, but she understood it and expected other felinids to also. As she pulled the door back, a slight grin crossed her face. It smelled like home! "Manuel! Alonzo!" She meowed her brothers' names, but they didn't answer. "Manuel? Alonzo?" Where were they? She stepped in further to investigate. The light was dim. Okay, so it was nighttime. Maybe they were asleep. As she moved deeper inside, she found a single bed and an oil lantern on the table beside it. One bed? Above the bed was a shelf with a statue of Queen Bast. Oh! It was her room in the temple. Manuel and Alonzo weren't there. She sighed and knelt facing the statue to pray.

Void/Lag

Waylands chuckles as Ivan asks if he meant the ground. "Earth, terrible name for a planet I know," Grinning he chuckles spilling soot from his maw. "Might as well have called it dirt." Shaking his head he continues. Already feeling like he was in a better mood since talking to this man. He wasn't sure why but he felt like an old friend he was seeing after many years apart.

"You're right though. I can't say I've heard of your home either." Wayland leans in as Ivan whispers his apology in a hushed tone, waving him off he chuckles at the irony of someone apologizing to 'him' for invading his provacy. "Don't worry about it. I probably know more about most people I've seen than they'd like me too." Not giving any sort of explanation of his ability to perceive history through objects he carries on. Popping his backs as he goes, the sound not unlike two metals pipes dully clanging together.

"It's habit at this point to keep myself restrained. Don't worry about it, though, I'll remember that in the future." He offers a grin for the consideration but plows on regardless. He was beginning to feel tired again. What he didn't say was that people like him, people with abilities were hunted for years in his world. Concealing ones abilities was instinct since that war.

Nodding at Volga as she walks past, Kira in her arms. Wayland can't help but laugh at the poor girl, she couldn't hold her drink it seemed.

Taking a step back and away from Ivan as the cat girl comes into view, Wayland observes the woman as she introduces herself. Looking for something, some item that would allow him to get a read on her he comes up cold. Making him grin. A challenge. Nodding his head he thinks of how to introduce himself. Getting his opening when Ivan speaks.

"It is an honor, I look forward to saving existence with you both." Before they could get to much on though, the girl darts past them. Moving off to her room with little fanfare. Wayland can only shrug to himself, looking once more to the sky. He supposed it was getting on into the night. Casting an apologetic glance at Ivan he nods.

"Perhaps we could continue this conversation in the future? Possibly even get our fellow zeroe together and introduce ourselves properly." He grins silently at his own little pet name for himself and the other newly summoned folks.

"It's been hectic since that first battle and doesn't look to be slowing down anytime soon. But we should probably know the people we'll be fighting next to." Offering his hand for a final shake, Wayland turns and makes his way to one of the unclaimed rooms.

The door to his room was nothing special. Not in his mind. Solid steel, pitted with rust, the dull red of the rust bleeding into the frame from many years of disrepair. Never the less he smiles softly as he sees it. Home sweet home. He thinks. Reaching for the non-descript gray knob. He enters solemnly. "I'm home," He mutters silently as he always did. He didn't expect a reply. He never did, not even back home. They were all dead and gone now.

The room was nothing. Like the door, it matched the heart of its occupant. A long metal table against one wall stacked with weaponry and bars of various metal, a large steel framed bed solitary against the other wall made to almost militaristic neatness. He stood between them staring at the far wall, something stirring in him. It was a mirror of his safe house back home. But now, since all this had started it didn't feel like it was wholly his anymore. The hammer in his soul provided no comfort as he lay down that night in the alien/familiar bed.

Anima

She took in Volga's words as the captain started to depart to her own door. "Good health to you as well Volga." She bid her farewell as she exited through her door.

Many people were all retiring to their respective doors to all finally get some well deserved rest and she was in much need of that. Not far off her door stood, her name marking it clearly. As everyone else was leaving she did not wish to linger behind so she approached her door and entered.

Inside the room was a fairly accurate facsimile of the tower, the home she was only recently taken from. Seeing as the memory of such place was still fresh in her mind she noticed details that were off. The absence of books and alchemy equipment was one such detail which was omitted. The old cobblestone walls all looked precisely as she remembered them, the red and gold trim carpet just as faded as the last time she saw it. The vat which she was created in still stood, encompassing an entire side of the room with it's considerable size. Many cords and tubes were still hooked up into the large metallic base which supported the vat and controlled the substances within. At the center of a panel set right in the face of the alchemical device was an octagonal socket.

She noticed that the socket was empty, the energy that previously gave the water inside it's divine warmth absent. It was disappointing but such comfort was an unnecessary luxury for her. What was important was that the shrine she had built just under the window facing out towards the lands beyond was still there. When she looked outside the land was almost the same as before yet there was also something off about the green plains beyond the tower. The forest was silent, no birds nor insects could be heard. While sunlight poured in from above it didn't feel real. The whole world this room was set in was designed to look and seem real but was not real all the same, merely props designed to mimic her home.

It was disappointing that she hadn't actually come back to her warm and lively home but this was good enough for her. She might of been worn both physically and emotionally from the conflict which had transpired earlier but there was a more pressing matter to attend to. Approaching the shrine she set her tentacles and sank down into her lower form, mimicking the prayer position she had learned from her books. She begun to pray to the sun, thanking it for protecting her and all others from the darkness and asking to again bring them to dawn so that they may flourish in it's radiance once more. While things like water and rest were important to her nothing was of greater importance than remembering to give the sun it's reverence.

It seemed Rose was a bit short of attention, and a bit jumpy at that. Something about those two red heads seemed to have ticked her off, perhaps it was just the last drop combined with how cautiously she had acted towards them and any happening prior, but it had set something in motion in her. She excused herself and made off to her room.

It also seemed the hectic nature of the day had caught up with Wayland, Ivan gladly took the offered hand for a final shake as Wayland uttered words that almost appeared like an echo of his thoughts bouncing back at him. "That sounds like an excellent idea. After we've had a chance to let the day sink in and get a bit of rest of course." Ivan replied.

As Wayland went off to his room Ivan picked the lantern up, instantly rekindling the pale green flame inside, and walked to his respective room. The dark wood of the door relaying what the inside looked like, and the fragrance of the plants embracing him as he opened the door. He put the lantern down next to the door where it lay leaning against the wall, dark and inanimate. Ivan sat down at the desk hoping to find parchment and ink in one of the drawers, unfortunately there was neither to be found. A bit odd in terms of priorities, the room has a small indoor garden, but no parchment or ink in the scribes desk. Ah, plants... He was going out to get water for tea, well at this point he felt too tired to put in the effort to brew a pot, it'd have to wait until tomorrow. Perhaps he should check the workshop for parchment and ink tomorrow too, then at least he could document his findings on the lantern.

Ivan sat down on the edge of his bed giving a short prayer to each of the four gods, before he lay down on the bed recollecting his thoughts as he tried to find some rest while trying to ignore the uncanny feeling of the room that was almost, but not entirely the same. He didn't know what felt more unnerving the fact that it had been copied so well, or that it was just off enough for him to notice.

Kira retired to her room with Volga, the stress of the day had worn her out, however, she could still think of more intriguing things to do with her new attractive companion, and would set about making such things a reality.

So many things had happened, a future was set before she couldn't change, and she knew the cost. If River knew everything he'd get in the way she knew that much, but things had to happen this way, they all knew the cost. It was going to be a long month, and she was looking forward to testing the 'assets' of recruits like Volga and Charmeine. Although she too would enjoy 'playing' with Wayland, in a scientific manner, he was a forge and she was a metal type of gal after all, although she figured asking "Can I play with your body?" Would come with all sorts of interesting conversations. Tinkering was where she would be, Tinkering, Sparring and the Bedroom where what called to her. For now an attractive viking and a warm bed called her name, and she was going to answer.

---

Vin stood beside River as he usually did, clapping his hands to send the plane into the dark of night. Those who stayed to look after the recruits would be training too, amongst themselves and the recruits. Lazarus would open himself as a target and sparring opponent to those who needed one such as Rosa and Allan, River would appeal to Volga and Charmeine in teaching them the guttural and radiant styles of angel and demon combat routines, his ice playing second fiddle, regardless of Charmeine's complaints of his racial status. Dominic would assist those who wished to Tinker, dolling out resources and knowledge from his pool of artifacts, partnered with Nero who would duplicate himself in order to spread between the groups, utilizing an intuitive form of hive mind to fill the role of his fellow guild mates when they were occupied elsewhere and cataloging information from those absent to fill needed roles. Luka would sit at the centre of it all, a well of magical energies and stamina restoring aura's that would make her ideal for training, she was a pool of innate magical knowledge, everything down to her blood cursed with the purest of necrotic magic, glyphs surrounding her purified the energy into a form that would aid in the recovery and strength of all while she battled her own inner demons. Vin himself would be leaving with the rest.

Deep into the training River would open his door to those who were interested, an "excursion" to a battlefield of old on the menu, offering the recruits a first look at the strength of the nameless, and the power a lord required.

Rosa retained some of her old routines for the sake of familiarity, yet her presence in this Garden stirred up more of her wilder traits and whims. As time went by, fixture on old routines troubled her. This dissatisfaction didn't stop her from committing her concerns and fears and questions into prayers to her Mother at the beginning and end of each day, and sometimes she found the passion she once held filtering into those prayers. She remained in a foreign place full to bursting with magicians; but somehow this place made her feel more alive than anywhere she'd been in the years since she made her acolyte pledge in the temple.

Even stranger she found herself spending time with some of these magicians. Poring over books in the library or over either of their desks with Ivan. The werecat didn't always agree with or fully understand his philosophies, but she found herself enjoying his presence more often than disliking it.

On the other hand, she couldn't stand certain members of the group and argued with them, but the arguments rarely came to blows. Besides she had more than enough opportunity to work her powerful muscles and natural weapons. It was both unnecessary and unlikely to be good for them as a group to have any infighting, but she never declined a challenge or friendly spar when presented either by their teachers or other newbies. Only two things gave her difficulty: keeping up with Lazarus' speed -even the forty to fifty miles per hour (64-80 Kph) she was capable of lagged behind him- and keeping friendly spars friendly. For the passion and wild spirit stirring inside her often let her forget it wasn't yet a battle to the death.

The day River opened his door and seemed to be simply waiting for something, she approached him and asked, "Is something happening?"