Apotheosis: Shadows of a Bright Republic (IC)

[Mormarth]

Dorothea Ionescu
Midday
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

"You do seem to be exhibiting some symptoms common to severe mental illness. Are you, perhaps, suffering from divergences in your cognition, resulting in a complete or partial inability to understand metaphor or other turns of phrase? It seems to be common among people who use this 'internet' thing."

She folded her arms, frowning, "Honestly, so many unhealthy people in this country, thinking you can just pop parts of your body off and slap a bit of metal onto yourself like some horse-fucked cossack. 'Oh I'll just replace it', like you can just cut out bits of yourself that was given unto you by The One on a whim. I understand the nature of prosthetics or things like that, but just ignoring your own body..."

She waved a hand at the shuffling man in the hood, "It breeds all manner of anxieties! This fellow here can't even speak up to go to the bath! It's three doors down on the right, by the way. Make sure to drink more water, your eyes are a bit sunken."

Dorothea paused for a moment, then frowned, "Oh, I've gone off on a bit of a trail, my apologies. But I'll lay out something more pertinent to our situation here: What exactly are we going to do? As I mentioned, I came here to this land to look for a certain man, while I am doing so, I practice my trade. However, now that this, whatever it is, is bound to me, I am faced with more difficulties."

A hand raised, palm up, "For instance, the rise in public consciousness about 'parasite gods', perhaps I am overstepping, but I feel that this is linked to the recent, hm, awakening, of several days past, and a few weeks prior. So, therefore, it is likely of paramount importance to remain beneath notice, at least, however, until you have enough power that you feel we may act against the weight of a nation."

Another pause, "Personally, the moment That Man's trail leads me elsewhere, I am not likely to remain long, training a few prospective students to a standard I feel appropriate and then setting out, and it would likely be easier to escape notice in, say, Vissio or the Raktines, but I fully understand that others may not share that."

She turns to gaze over at the retreating gentleman, frowning at his mention of 'foreigners'.

"There's no shame in retreating if you don't have any investment, or fear consequences, after all. Not everyone has grown accustomed to losing all they have gained."

[Bloble]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Volcania

"Meh. Four outta six ain't bad."

Volcania loses interest in the two men instantly. She no longer even looks their way, as if they no longer exist and aren't worth acknowledging. Those two might return. Perhaps she'll find herself busting them out of prison soon. Or Astra will track them down. Doesn't really matter.

"Was gonna say a buncha stuff about how we should team up and use these powers to go after our goals. Y'know, find that guy you're out for, maybe put a stop to that slave trade going on just next door... but Gab's right. Downstairs is way more fun than here. Boring stuff can wait."

She grins.

"The owner owes me a favour. You can put everything on his tab."

Then she remembers, and pauses.

"Wait. Tang, you been recording this?"

[Eru Erufu]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Tang, however, looks readily unnerved by the two retreating men. Far from his usual happy-go-lucky attitude, the man pats his sword, addressing the two retreating men. "Halt!" He calls as authoritatively as a mortal can towards a pair of demigods. "Gemenr, neither of them showed any sign of powers, right? Nothin' me and me mortal senses missed? Cause if that's so, I might be smellin' me two rats."

To call both of them out just like that? And so boldly to boot! Does this mortal have a death wish?

"Recordin'? I ain't been recordin' nuthin, gemenr. But maybe these two have!"

[Bloble]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Volcania

She laughs.

"Hope so! I can respect a guy with enough balls to walk right into a gathering of folks like us with a wire up his shirt! Far better than a wimp!"

Not the least bit perturbed by the revelation.

"Just don't get yourself killed now, bro. Who knows what the shrimp is hiding under that cloak?"

[Plue]

Ad Astra
Noonish
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Do we really have to go downstairs into that mess again? The commotion taking a background seat to her internal complaints.

"Oh, no not him, or them. Cornelius Tullius, really don't worry about it... worry about his desktop instead, wow, people live like that? That's a lot of icons."

Pointing in the general direction of the computer as she kicks her legs.

"I mean, unless it's a problem they think that you like strawberry shortcake as your favorite cake?"

"More importantly, can't we have drinks and snacks brought up here instead? It stinks down there, it's dirty, loud, and it stinks."

[Eru Erufu]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

"No need, gemenr." Tang suddenly grins, undoing his sheathe and allowing his sword to fall to the ground. Throwing his arms wide, the soldier-turned-gladiator-turned-refugee called out to Markus. "I'm beginnin' to think you ain't no rat. Just a chicken." Tang clucks his tongue in a crude mimicry of said animal. "You scared? I bet Mr. Suit there is too, so yer in good company at least, righ'? Or do y'really think ya have better things to do than help gemenr beat th' shit outta slavers and gangbangers? Cause if ya do, I gotta beat some sense into that demigod noggin' o' yours, buddy." He throws out a hand, making a beckoning gesture towards both Markus and Paul. "So, whose ass I'm kickin' first?"

[MssrNeko]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Paul Copperbell

"Recordin'? I ain't been recordin' nuthin, gemenr. But maybe these two have!"

Paul was aghast. His limit nearly reached. All of the stress and turmoil boiling like a kettle sitting on a stove.

Ten years. For ten years Paul had kept his head down and lived this monotonous life.

"A rat," Paul hissed out with his hand on the doorknob. "You, I, you think I'm some rat?"

Ten years. Paul walked on this treadmill life shoved onto him in an effort to keep living.

"What. Do you think I just eat cheese or garbage?" Paul raises his voice as his vision turns red. "Oh! Look at Paul 'The Rat' he's here because he's bugged with fleas. Yeah, fleas because he eats garbage!"

"Some of us like to eat fucking garbage, asshole, because it beats being dead!"

Ten years. Paul has seen what lies beyond the cage and it scares him.

EFFORT COMMITTED

Paul's stares daggers at the foreign fighter sitting there behind the table. The salaryman's face struggles with its calm facade as Tang's facial features melt away in Paul's mind. Paul's headache rumbles as his face cracks under the stress. The world swims and Tang's face changes with the conference room. His muscled form fattens and his wild fashion turns to civilized silks and gold. The fat man smiles with malice as Paul's face turns red.

"Sorry, Paulie. Someone needs to take the rap for this one."

MIRACLE ENACTED

Ten years.

"Y-you fat fuck," Paul sputters with venom to the confusion of the room. "I step out of line and you think you own me?"

Paul's grip twists the brass of the doorknob as his headache slowly splits open. Ten years of pent up emotion tear at his head as he glares at the ghost sitting in Tang's chair.

"I am not your Sun-damned RA---" Paul begins as the emotional dam bursts.

GIFT APPROPRIATED
GIFT ACTIVATED

Spoiler:

Door of Light.

Spider. In the Tree.

Listens closely. Listens deeply.

Shadows close. Shadows near.

Smiling Spider. Warful Shadows.

Door blocked. Shadows.

Danger.

TIME END

Paul rachets back to the conference room like a bullet to the head. His knee sore and head pulsing in pain as he had fallen down from the sudden burst of God power. Rage and anger melts into fear and uncertainty from the vision. Sweat drenches his brow as he struggles to compose himself, understanding the shallows of the sea of shit they could all be in.

Paul releases his hand on the now-warped doorknob and stumbles back.

"C-company," he whispers fearfully to the room. He motions at the conference room door and to the possible things behind it.

----------
Effort Committed: 2

[Elyrin]

Gabrielle Monet
March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown


Huh. Gabrielle thought, watching this Tang guy threatening two alleged demigods. Is he betting they're not the real deal, or is he actually expecting to take them? Interesting guy.

Well, any suspicions Gabby herself might have had towards Larry were quickly dispelled when he did... whatever that was. He saw or felt something, for sure. She might never know the specifics, but she had an inkling, at least.

"Ah? Some sort of vision? Maybe... a revelation?" And a revelation of danger, no less. What luck. "No need to worry, Mister Paul. Just stay behind me - hell, stay right there if it makes you feel at ease. I'll keep you safe." Gabrielle practically leapt from her chair, leaving behind her bag and hoodie as she strode past the terrified salaryman, cracking her knuckles in anticipation.

What'll it be, I wonder? Couldn't be asshole drunks. Random thugs, real gangsters, an SRD hit squad? Think of the possibilities, Gabby!

"Hey, Volcania. You seem like a gal who likes to party. Wanna dance?" Taking position at one side of the doorway, just in case, Gabrielle jerked her head towards the door and the mysterious dangers that - hopefully - lied in wait outside, before turning her attention towards the other guy trying to sneak out. "How 'bout you, blondie? Still haven't shown your hand yet. If there's, like, 50 guys waiting for us downstairs, which side are you helping? Or would you rather stay here with Paulie?"

[BladeOfEden]

Markus Braun
March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

"There's no shame in retreating if you don't have any investment, or fear consequences, after all. Not everyone has grown accustomed to losing all they have gained."

Was that a threat?

As he made his way to the door, the young man watched the young woman with the sword.

…No.

She simply must be one of those people who guilt-trips others into doing what she wants.

The absolute worst kind of woman.

Halt! Gemenr, neither of them showed any sign of powers, right? Nothin' me and me mortal senses missed? Cause if that's so, I might be smellin' me two rats.

The young man sighed quietly. So this was their play.

Hope so! I can respect a guy with enough balls to walk right into a gathering of folks like us with a wire up his shirt! Far better than a wimp! Just don't get yourself killed now, bro. Who knows what the shrimp is hiding under that cloak?

Shrimp.

What an annoying person.

He was only 19. It’s not like he had stopped growing.

No need, gemenr. I'm beginnin' to think you ain't no rat. Just a chicken. You scared? I bet Mr. Suit there is too, so yer in good company at least, righ'? Or do y'really think ya have better things to do than help gemenr beat th' shit outta slavers and gangbangers? Cause if ya do, I gotta beat some sense into that demigod noggin' o' yours, buddy. So, whose ass I'm kickin' first?

Markus’ eyes flicked over to the man.

That smile.

He had seen it before.

The bandits from the mountains would wear them when they attempted to coerce villagers into assisting them.

Such men considered themselves heroes.

But in truth, they were little more than terrorists, utilizing vigilante justice in an attempt to quench their thirst for revenge against some aristocrat who had wronged them in the past.

However, they always lacked the means to do so. So, instead, they took whatever they believed they needed for their quest from others.

Help us, or die.

Suddenly, the other man who was making his way to the door fell to the ground.

…What just happened?

C-company

Markus scanned the faces in the room. They all seemed to be readying themselves for something.

Were they looking to defend themselves?

Perhaps.

Were they about to snare their prey?

…that seemed just as likely.

No need to worry, Mister Paul. Just stay behind me - hell, stay right there if it makes you feel at ease. I'll keep you safe. Hey, Volcania. You seem like a gal who likes to party. Wanna dance? How 'bout you, blondie? Still haven't shown your hand yet. If there's, like, 50 guys waiting for us downstairs, which side are you helping? Or would you rather stay here with Paulie?

This one seemed like a kind enough person.

But…

“That depends on why they are here.”

His voice was soft and quiet, very different from that of the cityfolk.

“All of you: please stay here. I shall see what this is about. But be warned. If this is a ploy to prey on the unwary, I will not allow it to succeed.”

He then turned away, and cautiously opened the door.

[Bloble]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Volcania

"Oho."

The sight before her is entertaining indeed. Who thought an average-looking guy like that could have so much anger in him?

"Keep your sword drawn, Tang. Sounds like white collar's found something more fun to cut up. Publius' bro might've sold us out."

Yes, it's good that they're not wimps after all. Perhaps they're the real deal. This may be a chance to see just how far it goes.

Leaning against the wall are a pair of crude, black iron axes, out of place in any civilized republic. Volcania lifts them up, hefting them over her shoulders as she prepares to fight whatever it is that Paul witnessed.

"I'll back you up, Gab. City's too damn peaceful. After the little hero gives it a shot, of course."

[Mormarth]

Dorothea Ionescu
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

The tension in the room escalated sharply, washing over Dorothea like morning dew off a duck's feathers, she frowned sharply at the panicked looking older fellow, crossing briskly to him.

"Sir, are you alright?" She hesitated for a brief moment, before lifting a hand and placing the back of it gingerly across his forehead, "Dizziness, nausea? Any pain? You looked a bit," She paused, "Strained."

Her eyes gazed almost through him for a moment, letting a confluence of gained skill and gained power rush together, murmuring softly to herself under her breath.

"Don't push yourself so hard, have a seat, keep your head elevated and breath slowly, in and out through your mouth," She advised sharply.

She turned towards the door, "That's doctor's orders, if you're late to a meeting I'll write you a note."

A glance over the shoulder, "Just take it easy, I'll be back with some water."

Then back forward, "Move your ass, tummy trouble, 'fore I move it myself, I don't give a rat's ass about your attitude problem or your savior complex."

[Plue]

Ad Astra
Noonish
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Astra visibly panics as the suited old guy does... something?

'Aaaaaaa -- It wasn't supposed to happen like this, how did they find us?!?'

Nothing weird in terms of devices, nothing that would be unusual for a civilian or any odd clusters moving around.

'An unexpected luddite attack? Is it just a coincidence?'

"Just take it easy, I'll be back with some water."

An offhand thought drops a metal cube at the feet of Dorothea, a cup rattling in a small alcove as water starts to stream from a small tube, condensation beading up on the outside of the cup as the cold water fills it.

Looking over those from outside the republic that she wasn't able to get as much information on. Perhaps it was someone that had followed one of them here? Why couldn't everyone have all their information easily access able online, it would make everything so much easier.

Senses scrambling all the while as she tries to scrape any information from outside that she can to figure out better who the problem is.

"W-we don't want to make attention for ourselves yet!" Astra squeaks out as the redhead in particular looks ready to do some damage, "I can bar the door and we can find another way out?" Looking around the conference room to see what that might be. The walls of this place didn't look particularly fortified at the very least.

[Eru Erufu]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Dorothy, Volcania, Gabby, Markus

From beyond the conference room door the acrid scent of booze, body odor, and expired meats wafts in. Enough to curdle the sensitive noses of one such as Astra and Gabrielle, but certainly not Volcania or Dorothy. For them, this might as well be the scent of a shitty second home or a tumultuous relationship with an old flame. Even if the names and people are different, these types of places are the same no matter the culture or technological sophistication.

Making their way down the stairs from the second floor to the first, they encounter almost no resistance save for a drunkard heading back to his room. Running into Volcania, any snarky quip dies on the drunk's lips as he actually sees the mountain of a woman. Muttering an apology, he vanishes to the upstairs.



The first floor is much the same as before: a writhing mass of bodies dancing to the electronic beat cover the floor, sailors toasting their comrades as they sing shanties, and older gentlemen with cheap suits and cheaper whores nursing glasses of whiskey. Publius is, surprisingly for Volcania, enjoying himself tonight: the thirty-something Akeh man is decked out head to toe in glowsticks as he DJ's the gathering. A rare but usually rowdy experience, and he seems so into it that he doesn't even notice the bipedal natural disaster and her companions enter the floor. Cornelius's sour mug is visible behind the bulletproof glass window of the office, staring at a computer screen hidden from their view. Dorothy isn't sure, but she THINKS she can see him mouthing something about cake.

As for shady characters, there are a few. A group of Ren and Sea Ren men sit huddled around a table near the back nursing sake glasses and looking rather dour. Additionally, one of the older gentlemen at the bar is wearing a suit with the emblem of the SRD upon it as he drunkenly downs another beer, the whore beside him eagerly coaxing the man along.

What will our heroes do?

---

The Upstairs Conference Room
Paul, Astra

Another freshly soaked towel is lowered onto Paul's head, Tang's callused hands moving with practiced efficiency. "I wish the doc woulda stayed up here, but... eh, whatever you have can't be too different from heat stroke, righ'?" The Ren barks out a laugh. "So like, I'm not too sure what's goin' on righ' now, I ain't too smart, ya see, but all of ya better not fuck with gemenr. Or I'll kick yer ass. Figure you super parasite gods could prolly squash me like a bug, but hey! Maybe I can stub yer toe on th' way out."

Giving a grim laugh, he suddenly turns more serious. "You two needta get yer head in the game, though. Gemenr thinks it's important for ya to stick together. She won't force ya, but I've been around the boss long enough to know when she right. An' she right."

Paul is entirely fine, his current condition comparable to pulling a muscle: were his body more used to handling stress like Volcania, he would have no issues whatsoever at the moment. But the overworked, underslept body of an office worker? He's lucky he didn't pass out from the shock after not 'stretching' his divine energies first.

"Figure I could prolly teach ya a thing or two 'bout bein' more useful to gemenr and the rest of yer.." he wrinkles his nose. "Pantheon. Whaddaya say?"

[Elyrin]

Gabrielle Monet
March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Aww.

Nothing. Gabby had been hoping the club goers had been cleared out by some sort of black ops hit squad, but no. It was business as usual.

"You know, after that dramatic reaction from Paulie, I was kind if expecting... literally anything." Gabrielle whispered - well, it was pretty close to normal speaking volume to get through the background noise - to Volcania, presumably the one with some idea what to do next. "You know this guy we might be dealing with, yeah? Is he the type of guy to have goons just in case there's a problem, or do you think they're just waiting in some signal?"

[Mormarth]

Dorothea Ionescu
March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

She swept her gaze around the raucous ground floor, settling the strap around her shoulder steadily, the Akeh man gyrating around the source of the music, bedazzled in lights, and the other man, her intuition whispers to her, lets her eyes focus on the words he mumbles.

'Cake'?

Something stirs in her mind.

"I mean, unless it's a problem they think that you like strawberry shortcake as your favorite cake?"

Hm.

She jerks her chin at the office, eyes still sweeping for threats, "The man in the office, he might be the recorder. Volcania," She murmurs to the big woman, raising up on her tippy-toes, "Do you know him?"

Her eyes sweep across one of the men at the bar, a hiss coming from her throat, it may be nothing, but...

"Special Resources is here, at the bar. He doesn't look as if he's hunting, merely whetting his thirst, but it might be best for caution."

[Plue]

Ad Astra
Noonish
March 11, 1000 AS (After Shattering)
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown


Bracing for immanent violence Astra opens one eye as she hears nothing besides the apparently normal loud noise wafting unpleasantly upstairs. Or at least not hearing anything like fights sound like on the vids.

Reluctantly getting out of her chair she crouches down next to the old man in the suit, "Where's the ninja's you saw? I'm not hearing any building shattering kabooms."

"Figure I could prolly teach ya a thing or two 'bout bein' more useful to gemenr and the rest of yer.." he wrinkles his nose. "Pantheon. Whaddaya say?"

"Hey! I'm very useful, just not at punching people stuff." She glares in his general direction as she lets her mind roam the internet. Calling her useless will he? Lets see how much he likes using the internet... "Who do you think found you all?" She thrusts the mostly full cup of cold water at Paul for emphasis on her usefulness.

"We can't stay on the island without being found for long. Everything we do will be another data point for them to find us." Fingers curling into tight fists as she leaves crescents in her palms. Everyone so focused on the small scale, on the little things that they gladly blind themselves to the bigger picture. Completely ignoring that there was no way a normal human could see what she does, how the information flows in a network, every device a possible trap and at the same time resource to be used.

"When we leave do you think that a small band will be enough to save the world? The infrastructure we need will be what I make, and the old guy... He's well, he's kinda worn out you know? But he's got the systematic knowledge for running an economy of scale."

[Bloble]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Volcania

"Office guy's Cornelius. He's the brother of the madman out there on the dance floor, Publius, who got us this place 'cus he owes me a million. If he bugged our room, he's a good start. I'm fine with whatever, but no killing or maiming, yeah?"

Volcania seems right at home on the dance floor. It's not the sort of raucous party she's used to, but it's celebration all the same.

"As for those toughs over there... they're lookin' mighty sour to be in a tavern, dont'cha think? Might be Wu-Shen types, pissed their boss has a price on their head. I can see 'em getting rowdy once there's more ale than blood in their sorry heads."

Rubbing her chin in thought, the large woman ponders a moment and shrugs.

"Wanna bully Cornelius a bit? Maybe by the time we're done that girl'll have dragged off the SRD guy for some fun in the back. Then we'll be able to really let loose."

[Elyrin]

Gabrielle Monet
March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

Killing and maiming? Where did you get that idea?

Gabrielle frowned. Maybe the doctor had a huge-ass sword, but she was still a doctor, right? And blondie seemed a non-violent sort, relatively speaking. The only one of the four who had done anything suspect was...

...oh. Probably from me. Good job, Gabby. She sighed.

"I'm pretty sure killing goes against the Merciful Hand's creed. Snd some people need to learn a lesson, sure, but maiming seems kinda much too." Was this guy even actively planning anything, or just preparing for trouble? She had no idea. "Maybe this Cornelius dude is just concerned the lady named volcano is having a business meeting in his club. A few strong words would be enough of a lesson for that, I think. If he does have something nefarious planned, well, we can think of something."

[BladeOfEden]

Markus Braun
March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown

As soon as he opened the door, Markus was hit by an explosion of loud electronic music.

It was way too loud for him. The thumping of the bass in his body made him feel ill.

Move your ass, tummy trouble, 'fore I move it myself, I don't give a rat's ass about your attitude problem or your savior complex.

...Tummy Trouble?

Well, she wasn't too far off.

Maybe she really was a doctor after all.

Markus quickly moved off to the side, out of the woman's way.

"I, um, my apologies," Markus mumbled quietly, giving a slight bow before turning away from the door and making his way down the hall.

A number of women poured out of the room. The one with the sword. The one who had nearly set the table on fire. The one who had stopped her.

They didn't seem to interested in him anymore.

Thank goodness.

He made his way over to a small alcove with a balcony overlooking the lower floor.

There were plenty of city-folk drinking and dancing along to the horrible noise, but not much else, as far as he could see.

Still...

Keeping an eye on the women who had made their way downstairs, he leaned against the wall, his head throbbing painfully to the beat of the so-called music.

If they wanted to pick a fight with whatever the salaryman seemed to have seen, that was no issue of his.

Hopefully since he was no longer with them, he wouldn't get dragged into it.

Then again...

What was this all about anyway?

Clearly, the people in the room had had something they were keeping an eye out for. The red-haired woman had tried to start something when she set the table alight, and another woman had responded by putting it out.

A test.

They must have been looking to recruit him for something.

Judging by the red-haired woman's words, he had took them for vigilantes.

But there was more to them than that.

They had all shown some sort of strange power, except for perhaps the rather rude man that seemed chummy with the red-haired woman.

Ah.

That must be it.

Somehow, they must have learned about what had happened with the injured man in the alley near Ellesmere Gardens.

That's why they had chosen him.

Still... every person in that room seemed far more impressive than he was. He couldn't set stuff on fire. He couldn't conjure things out of thin air. He couldn't teleport. He couldn't predict an ambush. And, he certainly didn't have the nerve to pick fights with random strangers.

If they expected him to be helpful in taking revenge on those they considered evil, they would surely be disappointed.

[Eru Erufu]

March 11, 1000 AS
Around Noon
Tullii Taverna, Harbortown
Dorothy, Volcania, Gabby, Markus

The door to the office is unlocked, and once the four of them open it to march inside Cornelius's eyes bulge as he sees them and rushes to close tabs on the computer. "I thought you were upstairs-" he catches himself, panicked expression quickly mellowing into his usual sour one. "Office is off limits, Pompeii. Gonna have to ask you to leave." He says with a grunt. "You and your..." his eyes briefly dance over Dorothy, lingering on Gabrielle, and then narrowing at Markus. "Pick up a girl scout troop or something? You and the Quack Doc must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel."

Out of the corner of their eyes, they can see the SRD man being led upstairs by the woman, drunkenly stumbling all the while. The Wu-Shen types still don't seem to have noticed Volcania and the others, still dourly sipping at their drinks.

---

Paul, Astra

"Leavin'?" Tang actually barks a laugh. "If ya wanna make yer lives a million times harder, sure. Leave. But take an Arcemite's word for it: the mainland ain't no place for you. Harbortown makes ya uncomfortable, right? This shithole ain't got nothin' on the worst slums of the Aventine or the darkest crags of the Reach. Yer useful here for sure, what with your techno-wizard magic, but there ain't no telliephones on the mainland or BrightNets to hack." Leaning against the wall after making sure Paul is taken care of, he takes out three cigarettes, offering one to Astra, one to Paul, and placing the last between his lips. "You know how to handle a basilisk attack? Keep from bein' a ghoul's midnight snack? They even teach you about Uncreated in yer fancy schools?"