#ghoa

[shaelstormchild]

Inspiration

The guards were now twice in number as when Brick and Shael had scouted the place. She wasn’t sure if either of them had been made or if it was Roen’s late visit that triggered the sudden need for increase in security, but no matter the reason, getting to Nabi had now become a much more difficult task.

Shael looked at the map that Luri had drawn for Ghoa, committing it to memory. If all went according to plan, Ghoa should be able to draw the guards to the east side, if she met Estrid on the balcony as they did before. The library, on the other hand, was on the opposite of the manse, near the theater. That would be where the Doctor would emerge from, along with Nabi if they were lucky. 

If they weren’t lucky, she would have to go in and retrieve the Xaela herself.

“A concealed door in the middle of one of the bookshelves.” The handmaiden hadn’t observed the mechanism herself, only that it opened a way down into a labyrinth of tunnels that eventually led to an underground laboratory. Probably under the theater somewhere, maybe even linked with the sewers. It would be convenient to do away with any waste material or bodies. Had they had enough time, exploration of the sewage tunnels may have revealed another way in or out.

But they had little time. Shael wasn’t about to let Nabi remain in that lab for another sun.

“About those new arrivals,” Brick’s words returned to her as she rubbed her brows. “Two of them will be familiar to you. The duskwight and the roegadyn from that lighthouse. Zurvine and Blauwaht, I believe.”

Shael wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or not. Saving Saltborn’s crew from the corrupted undead beneath the lighthouse had been a boon initially, with Fuller repaying the favor by giving her the address to the Doctor’s. But now that the other two were here to strengthen the security, could she trust them? 

Of course not. The idea was dismissed as soon as it came. She trusted no one outside of her own crew. To mistakenly let her guard down around those she had just met, whether they were grateful or not, could be deadly. And she knew better than that. 

She didn’t even know if she could believe this map either, since she knew nothing about this handmaiden. Listening in, she seemed demure and helpful enough, but why was she going through such lengths to help strangers, against the interests of the master of the house?

But it wasn’t like Shael had any choice. This map was the best lead they got to getting to Nabi, so she had to trust that it was legit. Ghoa was confident, at least, in Luri’s motivation for helping. It would have to do.

So then what was the plan? Shael had gone over various scenarios in her head, and none looked promising. The success hinged on so many different What Ifs, and one failure in the chain would endanger too many people that mattered to her.

Shael slid down against the wall, her gaze lowering to the Xaela in the room below her as Ghoa was starting to measure out the ingredients to put together the potion. The Mankhad didn’t have to say it out loud, but Shael spied it on the woman’s face; taking this potion was not without a huge risk. Ghoa was making herself the center of attention, heightening her powers to intimidate a ruthless man into a hostage exchange. It was possible that things could go very wrong for her.

Shael leaned her head back, a light thunk resounding against the wooden wall. Ghoa as a distraction on the inside. Brick with her turret to draw more guards on the outside. And she only had herself to try and get to Nabi. The odds were not in their favor.

“I'll leave it to you, then. Best to leave the making of a plan out of an impossible scenario to the woman who managed to explode a heavily guarded dais tucked under a mountain, no?" Was that false bravado or some kind of pep talk to try and bolster her confidence? Or was the Mankhad actually hopeful that this would all work out like the fighting pits? Sure, they had gone into a mountain full of hostiles, just the three of them, to save two within that were just as likely to get killed before getting out.

The odds weren’t so great then either. But they did all come out, didn’t they? Everyone was in on the crazy plan.

Everyone.

Shael continued to stare at the Mankhad, but her eyes widened behind her shades. The fighting pits, the Junghid, and the ruins... They had all come through, working together. Even the most impossible missions with the Resistance, when the team was synched together, they were able to pull off the impossible.

The odds were against her here, because Shael wasn’t playing all the pieces on the map. She wasn’t trusting everyone to do what they needed to. It was time that changed. For everyone’s sake.

Her hand rose to her ear, activating the pearl. 

“Saltborn. We need to talk. About Nabi.” Her jaw clenched. “Now.”

[khojin-arulaq]

we did it!!!!!!!!!

ft. @jaliqai-and-company

[sentryandco]

The Toll of Truths

A drop of blood spattered onto the dried marrow, a thick crimson trail left in its wake as it flowed down the length of the bleached bone.

Arasen squeezed his fist harder as he held it hovering above the ground, forcing more droplets of his lifeblood onto the carefully arranged stones and bones before him. The pain of the clean cut upon his palm barely registered in his mind, his focus solely upon the arcane patterns and symbols forming before him.

It was not an easy task to find a completely isolated area to perform the augury. Ever since their return to Hingashi, he had withdrawn from the company of others, save Batuhan who was insistent upon checking in on the Xaela. The fact that the rest of the group that had traveled to the ruins cared little on what Arasen did or where he went was no surprise. It was plainly clear that the three that were taken by Otsuyu were each struggling on their own to recover after the ordeal. And Nabi was too engrossed in Saltborn’s illness -- for the Confederate seemed to be in the worst state of them all -- to mind the affairs of her cousin.

And this suited Arasen just fine. He needed time to contemplate his next steps. He had thought that the ruins would bring him so much closer than it had to bring Nabi to his side. But his cousin seemed to be solely devoted to aiding in Saltborn’s recovery. Whatever it was that plagued the Confederate’s health, Nabi seemed to prioritize above her own well-being. He thought for certain that the growth of the mark upon her skin would have alarmed her, and that she would turn to him for answers. But it was all but forgotten in face of the hyur’s pain.

Arasen reached into the alter, a circular arrangement of white sand upon the ground encircled by a thin copper wire, his bloodied finger starting to trace lines and symbols upon the granular canvas. As the crimson smeared in between the formations of crystals, each rock started to emanate a subtle glow, as if awakened from a deep slumber. And with each additional illumination, the Xaela’s clear amber eyes began to shimmer.

Questions floated through his mind. Would killing the Confederate be the answer? It would be a difficult task, especially amidst the serenity and security of a place like Shirogane. But it was not impossible. But as his fingers became more coated with stained soil, the bloody patterns on the ground began to whisper to him. His answers laid elsewhere. Saltborn in peril as well as the suffering of the rest of her friends only seemed to motivate Nabi into further devoting herself in aiding them, rather than instilling fear and uncertainty in the Xaela.

The movement of his hand quickened with the next stroke, some white sand thrown into the air as Arasen’s tracing upon the earth became more frantic. He needed to know. He needed to see.

With another flick of the wrist, more flecks of his blood were scattered over more bones, and it was then that Arasen’s eyes flared bright for an instant. There he saw a scene he should not be privy to, except for his Sight. Saltborn was screaming at Nabi, trapping her against the wall. Arasen heard not the words. But the Confederate had a maddening look to his eyes as he spun and reached for a knife. Arasen was both horrified and enraptured at the scene. For an instant, he thought the pirate would do Nabi harm, but he turned the blade towards himself, about to plunge it into his arm. Arasen squinted, as he only saw a glimpse of the man’s flesh, but where once a metal gauntlet used to be, now his limb was dark and marred. Nabi bolted forward and screamed something, though no sound reached Arasen.

With another blink of the eyes, the vision faded, giving way to another. Ghoa and Batuhan were seated on a large rock, overlooking the ocean. She was handing him a small ring, and the woman’s features held both melancholy but also tenderness. The ease in both their forms as well as their proximity to each other, Arasen knew that the two had grown much closer since their first meeting. Despite the wistful pang that clutched at his chest, Arasen’s hand moved again to continue the tracing before him, the deep red diagram becoming more intricate and chaotic. Another flick of the wrist, and that vision too left him.

He needed more. He knew he had not yet found that one thread, that singular vision to guide him on what his next action should be. That glimpse of a possible path that could bring about the destiny he so longed for. His breaths were becoming heavier, more hungry, his limbs trembling from the strain. The Sight was both a great gift and a great curse. Its price was never an easy one.

Then he saw a crackle of yellow energy across the darkness. Arasen’s movement stopped, and even his breaths ceased for a moment, as another vision unfolded before him. The Xaela’s amber eyes widened, shimmering bright within the black paint that crossed his features. His pupils darted aimlessly, seeing and unseeing at the same time.

When the vision finally released him, Arasen gasped, tumbling forward, both hands clutching at the ground as he struggled to stay upright. He gulped for air and his entire body stumbled with weakness from both blood loss and what the Sight took from him. It was a cost he had paid many times before, but each toll seemed pricier than the last.

But he finally had an answer. How to proceed. If all went well, it would require no bloodshed -- only the sharing of truths.

After all, that was his sole purpose here: to achieve the ultimate truth of peace, and through that save countless lives.

Now he had a way to make Nabi realize it as well.

[karmicdestiny]

沉睡了千年的身體 從腐枝枯葉裡甦醒 是夜鶯淒涼的嘆息 解開咒語 遺忘的劍被誰封印 追隨著簫聲和馬蹄 找到你     Having been in a thousand-year slumber, someone awakens from decomposing branches and leaves.     It’s the nightingale’s sad sigh that releases the curse.     A forgotten, sealed sword chases after the sound of the flute and hoof beats…     and it led to you. 最光榮的犧牲 是英雄的宿命 揮刀的瞬間心卻在哭泣      The most honorable sacrifice is a hero’s destiny,…      …but the moment the sword swings, oh, how the heart weeps. |我 是否已經注定 這流離的宿命 我殘破的羽翼 直到你 是你讓我找回自己      Am I already destined…? …by the stars to this fate of wandering forever?      My broken, feathered wings… led me to you.      It was you who let me rediscover my true self.  生 是為了證明 愛 存在的痕跡 火 燃燒後更偉大的生命 殺 是為了歌頌 破滅前的壯麗 夜 是狼深邃眼睛 孤獨等待黎明      Life - is a trail to prove the existence of traces of love.      Fire - is life that is more meaningful after burning.      Killing - is to celebrate the grandeur before the moment of destruction.      Nightfall - is the soulful eye of the wolf who alone awaits the dawn.

[anchor-management]

😏 - Lying!

“As if you has any right to question me on lyin’, slag!” 

Anchor is shamelessly comfortable with lying/bluffing at the drop of the hat. He’ll pretty much say anything to manipulate a situation in his favor if odds seem to be stacking against him. This tends to work most cases because Anchor isn’t shy about voicing his opinions on matters or others normally, and people seem to believe him when he drops a fib in the mix; he’s quite good at half-truths. And he’ll just get insulted and pissed-off if no one believes him otherwise. 

Whether or not he’s successful or not depends on the person, I suppose; how well they know him and catching the tells.

answered: 🍻 😠 ✊ 😏ask meme nabbed from here!

[jadedresearcher]

Nidhogg

Remember this guy, coiled around the roots of the Trees like a creeper? Turns out it’s my fault. In my haste to defeat the Deacon of Madness, I demanded all Dolls give me their names like some kind of Fascist dictator, and ruthlessly suppressed or slaughtered those who failed to provide their identity to me.

While that did indeed turn back the tide of the forces of DQ0N and contain him to the less powerful form of ghoa, it also bred my own doom in the form of the rebellion of this featureless abomination of a Denizen. Did he fight me to gain Justice for all those killed? Or was he merely yet another thing to prey on them, gaining strength from my callousness? All I can say for sure is that he DEFINITELY isn’t going to be in TreeSim.

[shaelstormchild]

Prompt 18: Reticent

Shael slid down the wall she had been leaning on, the tension that had held her muscles ready for the last few bells finally wearing upon the woman. She set her gun down next to her and pushed up the magitek goggles to sit atop her forehead, a deep frown taking permanent residence upon her visage since the moment she had entered the manse.

She had to keep going over all that she knew in her head, else the devastating news that Ghoa had shared about Nabi’s whereabouts would provide too sharp a distraction. And if she allowed that to happen, Shael knew she would give into the temptation to storm out the door in an instant, unleashing her fury upon anyone she came across. Whether they were complicit or not.

And while there was an insidious voice inside her that whispered that it was indeed her true desire, Shael managed to stay put, her glare boring into the door across the room, turning her focus onto the next steps.

Ghoa only knew the rough layout of the place, and certainly not the location of the Doctor’s laboratory where Nabi was being kept. If what Shael suspected was true, and this Doctor was conducting all manner of experiments on living people, this facility couldn’t be on the main floor or even the manse proper. If he had a habit of keeping a person in a cage, the room had to be fortified and hidden so that such deeds would escape notice. After all, they were in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of Mist.

As Ghoa’s bedroom easily demonstrated, the normal quarters of the estate were visible and too easily accessible. This meant that the doctor’s workshop was elsewhere. It was possible that he hid it somewhere within the theater next to the manse. The building looked newer than the house itself, it could have been constructed within, or hidden below the structure. Or, since Mist had a deep winding sewer system below all the houses, there could be a basement or something deeper underground. And an old estate like this always had hidden passageways and doors.

There were too many unknown variables. And the more uncertain Shael became of her next steps, the more intrusive Ghoa’s earlier words became. He experiments upon her. She is being held caged.

Shael dug her fingers into the plush rug that spanned the entire room. She tore off a piece of the woven fiber, her own fingernail chipping at the edges from the harsh grip. But the pain made it easier for her to focus.

She couldn’t trust the handmaiden no matter what Ghoa’s impressions of her. But she was the best one to tap for the layout of the place, especially if the servant knew enough about how Nabi was being kept; she may have even been to the laboratory. Shael just might have to force herself to wait until the morning, when the maid delivers the items promised to Ghoa. If all things seem in order, then maybe they will trust her to outline a path to the laboratory.

Then of course, there was the matter of Ghoa’s own plan—of charging her own aether, to the brink of corruption level of instability, so that she could induce a fit in the Doctor’s sister. Ghoa was wagering that she could use either his sister as a bargaining chip for Nabi, or use her heightened aetheric abilities to unleash chaos upon the house, allowing Shael and Brick to do what they needed to do.

A risky bet, for sure, one that Shael would not have been in favor of, had the stakes not been so high. They didn’t have any other choice.

But they weren’t back in the fighting pits, where all that mattered was getting Nabi out alive, everyone else be damned. Back then, Shael would have easily left everyone else to their own fates. 

And now? Shael’s first priority was to get Nabi free—that was not in question. But it didn't end there. Just as she had left Anchor behind to keep him alive, she couldn’t leave Mankhad to fend for herself.

She just needed to figure out how to get all of them out alive.

[sentryandco]

Hands and Feet

Batuhan had never needed to read.

All the knowledge he had gained throughout his life had been from listening, observing, and practicing. Books were never something that held any worth to the warrior. He could discern more details from the tracks the creature left behind, or how an enemy fought or even held their weapon, more than any written words on parchment.

So when he was left with a pile of books at his feet to pass the time as he recovered, the Xaela had initially scoffed at the idea. But one could only spend so much time sulking by himself. The lost daughter -- Nabi, as he had finally gotten used to calling her -- often left the clinic for errands, and to attend to the stall she often spoke of in Kugane. Which suited Batuhan just fine; the idea of being attended to like some infirm weakling left him exceedingly uneasy.

But there was only so much he could do on his own to pass the time. The dumplings that Ghoa had brought briefly motivated him to try and use his almost-useless hands. He appreciated that Nabi did not hover around him when he was trying to eat or practice coordination with what still felt like gnarled roots attached to his wrists. He became frustrated quickly in her presence, the heat of humiliation burning away his patience.

But when left alone, Batuhan had tried many times to grab those dumplings. A few attempts he succeeded in bringing it almost to his mouth, only to drop it just short of his lips. Eventually hunger got the better of him and he held the round container by the wrists and brought the entire thing to his face to gulp down the contents. A sun later, he spotted an owl outside his window. It had caught a mouse, held dead within the grip of its talons, and was tearing into its dinner with its beak. Batuhan narrowed his eyes. Plenty of creatures lacked hands and yet were capable of hunting and feeding themselves. And while his hands lacked the strength, at least the rest of him was no longer withering away from the poison of the enhancement.

The Xaela scowled at the pile of books again. While its contents may be useless, the purpose of why Nabi had brought them for him were not lost on the warrior. He reached out with his bare feet, gripping at the binding with his toes. While they were not as coordinated in the fine movements, there was undeniable satisfaction in the strength he felt in his muscles there. The book wobbled in the uneven grip of his toes but he slowly lifted it and brought it onto the bed, setting it roughly in front of him. His lips twisted upwards in satisfaction. It was a mundane and insignificant feat, and yet it made him not feel so incapable.

A passing thought that Ghoa might give him ‘extra points for style’ made him snort quietly.

He squinted with concentration as he reached out with his bandaged hand, fingertips now exposed. He could feel the rugged edge of the cover as he ran his thumb along the side of it. His lips twisted as he turned his wrist and curled his fingers just enough to open the book. The words there were Hingan and entirely unfamiliar to him, but that didn’t matter. He could feel the light weight of the binding against his forefinger. He pressed the pad of his digit lightly and swiped across from right to left, turning the page. When the paper yielded and he was staring at the next set of foreign words, Batuhan smiled.

Batuhan had never read a book, but just looking at those lines made him exhale with a feeling of accomplishment. He continued to turn page after page, pausing when he came upon illustrations, taking time to trace it with a fingertip, savoring in the light sensation there. By the time he was finished, he was holding the book open with his left hand in the loose grip he had managed, while his right was flipping through and turning each leaf easier than before.

He reached out to grab the next book by the bedside with his feet again, this time managing a much steadier hold.

Anchor Saltborn, the champion of the pit, had challenged him to face him one day, as they never did in that ring. Despite Nabi’s reassurance and Ghoa’s encouragement, Batuhan still could not deny that in the back of his mind, there were dark shadows of doubt that he might never be able to fight at all -- never be able to grip his axe, never wield another weapon in his hands.

But now with Saltborn wondering out loud if he would ever be able to stand against him in a contest of martial prowess, the Xaela felt a strong determination take hold of him. Not only would he recover to return to the Kharlu to give Ghoa a chance at freedom, but someday be able to meet Saltborn’s challenge. He had always wondered how a match between them would have turned out.

Batuhan was reaching for his third book when the door opened. There was eagerness to his gaze as he turned to the entryway. He wanted to thank Nabi for the books, for he was negligent in showing any gratitude to the woman who saved his life and possibly proved Siban wrong. And if it was Ghoa with more dumplings, he was eager to try yet again to grip them, either hand or feet. And perhaps show her how far he had come.

But the Xaela’s eyes widened at the figure standing by the door.

It was neither of the auri females, but rather a taller and broader figure. A ring of bones clacked around his neck and the polished baubles hanging from his horns glistened in the light of the room. The golden eyes that looked back at him were well known to Batuhan, but unlike those of the lost daughter, these pair were sharper, like crystallized amber rather than sunlight. White teeth emerged between the lips that grew into a broad smile.

“The rumors of your illness have been greatly exaggerated,” Arasen Kharlu said, greeting him with an appreciative nod. “I am glad to see you well, clan brother.”