Oblitus Magia: Verse 1 - Fateful Encounter in the City of Fools

[bruceleegreyhulk]

"If I've got buck teeth, then yours must look like they've been kicked in by a horse." Morgen was momentarily taken aback by her own words, but began to relax when she realized she was just going back to the way she had always been: Combative and self-aggrandizing. She'd been awfully uptight the past day or so, and that sudden blow to the noggin must have rattled her brain around a little -- maybe not so much in a good way, one doesn't normally talk down to their doctor when their personal wellbeing is at stake. But, at least in some regard, she felt herself again; now, if only she could remove that encounter with Alice from her mind...

She felt around for her pocket mirror and snapped it open again, checking on her teeth while vaguely positioning the mirror so that Horo couldn't see what exactly she was doing. Despite her playful retort, the doctor's comment had made her uncomfortably self-conscious of her appearance. By the looks of it, she wasn't the only thing that'd been damaged. The reflective glass was fractured, creating a thick arcing line roughly across the center, and another, thinner line that branched off near the top. The y-shaped crack in the glass returned three separate but identical images of her face in different capacities. Just her luck. She'll have to replace this busted piece of junk later.

Instead of throwing it away she put it back in her pocket, for some reason. In the meantime, she lied down proper as she was instructed and watched the man across from her impressively hold a conversation with himself.

Jacob looks at the girl across from him and then at Horo." Doc uniform that the bastard who killed my wife wore was quite bizarre," Jacob said. Jacob then describes to Horo what the uniform of the man who killed his wife looked like. Jacob's description of the uniform that the man who killed his wife wore.

Has it as being a 19th-century brown military greatcoat with a 19th-century military cap, 19th-century military boots, and a red sash. Pretty much Jacob's description of the uniform the man who killed his wife wore. Matches that of a 19th-century military uniform.

Jacob looks back at the girl across from him and then back at Horo." Doc, The bastard who killed my wife, he had a unique accent. He had a strange way of saying things," Jacob said.

[MrSandman]

Though Matthias could tell Mulvric was zoning out, there was still one more thing left to do, "One more question. I don't suppose that you've managed to collect any books or artifacts that might interest a history buff such as myself? En seemed to believe that you might have some things of interest."

"History? Can't say I've got much....but I do have books. Yer interested in reading em?" Mulvric smiled. "Well, as long as you don't take em out of the library I don't got an issue. Base floor of the control tower, second room on the left. Worked on making it comfy enough for a good book"

A couple of hours passed, then another.

Then, once he was as close to used to the suppression field - or at least its current strength - as he would get, Lucifer finally decided to take a look around the ship - mostly to see if he could find the supposed setup they were making for the memory extraction, but also to get a general feel for the ship's construction - old and new.

"Hello!" En cheerful voice came over the speakers just above Lucifer as he was moving through the halls. "Glad to see you up and about mister Radiare. Is there anything I can help you with?"

[MrSandman]

Jacob looks at the girl across from him and then at Horo." Doc uniform that the bastard who killed my wife wore was quite bizarre," Jacob said. Jacob then describes to Horo what the uniform of the man who killed his wife looked like. Jacob's description of the uniform that the man who killed his wife wore.

Has it as being a 19th-century brown military greatcoat with a 19th-century military cap, 19th-century military boots, and a red sash. Pretty much Jacob's description of the uniform the man who killed his wife wore. Matches that of a 19th-century military uniform.

Jacob looks back at the girl across from him and then back at Horo." Doc, The bastard who killed my wife, he had a unique accent. He had a strange way of saying things," Jacob said.

"......Oy.....rest yer jabs fer a moment an luk at me. Du i luk like sum sorta gumshae hot arse detectin type?" Horo raised her arms out and did a mini twirl. "No? Wil den......i gota sugestion fer ya...yer betta off gobbin yer stori to sumwun lik dat rader den yer docta. Oi coudnt giv taw shaks ov'ma muddas tail ovr wut ye fams killa was werin....an i cuddin elp ye ifa did.....so urry up an tek yer pil befure ai havta get yer a suposatory."

"If I've got buck teeth, then yours must look like they've been kicked in by a horse." Morgen was momentarily taken aback by her own words, but began to relax when she realized she was just going back to the way she had always been: Combative and self-aggrandizing. She'd been awfully uptight the past day or so, and that sudden blow to the noggin must have rattled her brain around a little -- maybe not so much in a good way, one doesn't normally talk down to their doctor when their personal wellbeing is at stake. But, at least in some regard, she felt herself again; now, if only she could remove that encounter with Alice from her mind...

She felt around for her pocket mirror and snapped it open again, checking on her teeth while vaguely positioning the mirror so that Horo couldn't see what exactly she was doing. Despite her playful retort, the doctor's comment had made her uncomfortably self-conscious of her appearance. By the looks of it, she wasn't the only thing that'd been damaged. The reflective glass was fractured, creating a thick arcing line roughly across the center, and another, thinner line that branched off near the top. The y-shaped crack in the glass returned three separate but identical images of her face in different capacities. Just her luck. She'll have to replace this busted piece of junk later.

Instead of throwing it away she put it back in her pocket, for some reason. In the meantime, she lied down proper as she was instructed and watched the man across from her impressively hold a conversation with himself.

"unly ting kic'd bai e hors in ere is ye sense'o humar." Horo chuckled. "Now den....lets see...."

Pulling out her suppies, Horo proceeded to apply some nasty burning paste to some of Morgans bigger cuts and wounds. The girl couldn't be certain what was in it...but a few moments of burning was followed by a much more pleasant soothing sensation, even on the larger stab wounds she had inflicted earlier.

"Aye, ol'cureal mad frum the frut'o de earth. Ol famely fermula....mind de sting, jus bernin de infectin out an soothin de skin....alsa nums teh pan abit" Horo took out her needle, reached behind her back and with a soft tug produced a small string of brown hair and proceeded to stich the gash in her forehead shut before applying more of the paste.

Finally, she moved to the elbow, applying paste around it while changing any bandage that had already been set before wrapping it tight. "Tri nut'ta muv it fer the nex cuple hurs...an ye shud be fin."

[Tami]

"History? Can't say I've got much....but I do have books. Yer interested in reading em?" Mulvric smiled. "Well, as long as you don't take em out of the library I don't got an issue. Base floor of the control tower, second room on the left. Worked on making it comfy enough for a good book"

"Thank you, it's been a while since I've had a chance to visit a library of any kind. On my honor, I promise not to abscond with any of them." Matthias then headed out of the food preparation area and down towards the library. He knew he wouldn't have much time to actually read many of them, but at the very least he was curious as to what he might find there.

[bruceleegreyhulk]

"......Oy.....rest yer jabs fer a moment an luk at me. Du i luk like sum sorta gumshae hot arse detectin type?" Horo raised her arms out and did a mini twirl. "No? Wil den......i gota sugestion fer ya...yer betta off gobbin yer stori to sumwun lik dat rader den yer docta. Oi coudnt giv taw shaks ov'ma muddas tail ovr wut ye fams killa was werin....an i cuddin elp ye ifa did.....so urry up an tek yer pil befure ai havta get yer a suposatory."



"unly ting kic'd bai e hors in ere is ye sense'o humar." Horo chuckled. "Now den....lets see...."

Pulling out her suppies, Horo proceeded to apply some nasty burning paste to some of Morgans bigger cuts and wounds. The girl couldn't be certain what was in it...but a few moments of burning was followed by a much more pleasant soothing sensation, even on the larger stab wounds she had inflicted earlier.

"Aye, ol'cureal mad frum the frut'o de earth. Ol famely fermula....mind de sting, jus bernin de infectin out an soothin de skin....alsa nums teh pan abit" Horo took out her needle, reached behind her back and with a soft tug produced a small string of brown hair and proceeded to stich the gash in her forehead shut before applying more of the paste.

Finally, she moved to the elbow, applying paste around it while changing any bandage that had already been set before wrapping it tight. "Tri nut'ta muv it fer the nex cuple hurs...an ye shud be fin."

" I already took the damn pill and, do I look like a person who gives dame if you give dame or not? Besides, I already know a person who can help me, Lucifer. He told me that there's a way to gain access to my repressed memories," Jacob said.

" It involves faith that En has what's required for me to be able to see my memories once they've been encoded. And faith that Lucifer can access and encode my repressed memories. Oh, and for your information, my doctor was my fucking wife, and she's dead, and my daughters are in the hands of the Adminstratum," Jacob said.

Rhea uses the broken shards of glass on the floor to write a message. Which reads, Hello My name is Rhea, and I'm this beastman's spirit animal. Tell me, does this ship have a library, and does it have lore on beastman, specifically werewolves?

[grampagen]

BGM: Bizet - Chanson du Toréador

"Not gonna look a gift chicken in the beak." Mulvric answered. "Maybe something about a several thousand ton metal coffin held up by a bunch of rocks, duck tape and dreams makes em think this place isn't worth it....could also just be the way they are. All sorts of strange beliefs come out of the wildlings."

Glancing over her shoulder, Mulvric said nothing and simply watched her work.

Matthias also glanced over at what Kinu was doing. Cooking was not in his skill set, except for basic campfire cooking which he did rarely. The process seemed messy and a lot of work, though this isn't the first time he's observed someone preparing a meal from scratch.

It was curious and fascinating to see how she cooked, one part primitive, one part with the skill of many restaurant chefs he had encountered.

It was about this time the both of them noticed a particularly sharp, metallic smell, the source of which was shortly revealed when she plucked the five birds from the sink. within, blood pooled so thickly in a pot that - but for the crimson film trailing on the edges - one could very well mistake it for ink.

"Fuh-fuh-fuh..." Where the blood pooled the darkest, the more it caught the light, like staring directly into the eye of the Maker. "So y'think they fear what they don't understand, yeah?"

Clamping a lid on the bloody cauldon, Kinu then hoised the birds over to the stove. With heads dangling topsy-turvy and dried to drips, one by one Kinu doused them in the scalding hot water on the stove.

"If it was only that, I find that hard to believe. They go places noone else will, after all. Suppose there's only one way to find out."

By the claws of their feet, Kinu would stand therem swishing each bird for good minute before plopping their sopping carcasses into the sink.

Why was the Fox hounding these chickens anyway? Don't seem any different to me.

Then his attention switched with her next question, "Survival out here in the wilds breeds traditions based on superstitions. I have traveled to many ancient sites. In those times I have never encountered natives, tribesmen, or any evidence that they had visited those sites. The rare times I have seen a native, it was from a distance. Even when they saw me there, they never approached."

"Until now I have never considered why this was the case, only that I was grateful for it. Perhaps there are some sites that they do visit, but so far I haven't seen that happen."

"Hah? Why would you wait for a Wildman to approach you if you're in their territory?"

Curling her fingers, she plucked out clumps of feathers, tossing them into a soggy pile at the edge of the sink.

"You see him, that means that he can see you, too. And so can a bunch of others waiting on...a word, or a noise."

One chicken plucked clean, she slapped it on the counter.

"Let that happen it's, already too late. Always waiting and watching for something new to stab then chew on...and maybe in that order..."

Her train of thought was broken by the sound of sawing, leading her to whip her head around, tracing the smell of fresh, crackling bread loaves in the kitchen behind her.

Blinking, Kinu looked at the cooks handlong their designated breadknives, then back at the one she held in her hand. Splaying out each shining, bald bird, she shrugged and picked up the toothy blade and pricked the tip into one bird's gut.

[Tami]

BGM: Bizet - Chanson du Toréador

It was about this time the both of them noticed a particularly sharp, metallic smell, the source of which was shortly revealed when she plucked the five birds from the sink. within, blood pooled so thickly in a pot that - but for the crimson film trailing on the edges - one could very well mistake it for ink.

"Fuh-fuh-fuh..." Where the blood pooled the darkest, the more it caught the light, like staring directly into the eye of the Maker. "So y'think they fear what they don't understand, yeah?"

Clamping a lid on the bloody cauldon, Kinu then hoised the birds over to the stove. With heads dangling topsy-turvy and dried to drips, one by one Kinu doused them in the scalding hot water on the stove.

"If it was only that, I find that hard to believe. They go places noone else will, after all. Suppose there's only one way to find out."

By the claws of their feet, Kinu would stand therem swishing each bird for good minute before plopping their sopping carcasses into the sink.

Why was the Fox hounding these chickens anyway? Don't seem any different to me.



"Hah? Why would you wait for a Wildman to approach you if you're in their territory?"

Curling her fingers, she plucked out clumps of feathers, tossing them into a soggy pile at the edge of the sink.

"You see him, that means that he can see you, too. And so can a bunch of others waiting on...a word, or a noise."

One chicken plucked clean, she slapped it on the counter.

"Let that happen it's, already too late. Always waiting and watching for something new to stab then chew on...and maybe in that order..."

Her train of thought was broken by the sound of sawing, leading her to whip her head around, tracing the smell of fresh, crackling bread loaves in the kitchen behind her.

Blinking, Kinu looked at the cooks handlong their designated breadknives, then back at the one she held in her hand. Splaying out each shining, bald bird, she shrugged and picked up the toothy blade and pricked the tip into one bird's gut.

OOC: Prior to his leaving for the library

IC: Matthias' confidence was unshaken, "Every living being gives off an energy signature. Usually, it's harder to pick one out when they are in a crowd but out here..." he made a hand gesture, like a sweeping motion only more compact, "It is rare to see anyone, for there to be anyone for miles around. When I sensed anyone coming, I usually take cover if I can. If I can't, I lower my presence so as to be less noticeable. Once when I was younger, I was digging through a site in search of artifacts. I was so intent on what I was doing, that I didn't catch the scent of the native before he caught mine. I froze in place, waiting and watching, ready to make a run for it. But he never approached. It was as if there was an invisible barrier that kept him out, or at least that is how I perceived it at the time."

"Something similar happened a year later, and again they saw me but moved away. After that, I made sure to avoid them as much as possible. In time I learned where it was safe to go, and where it wasn't."

[Sub-Zero MKA]

There were no weapons nearby that Xia could identify, and nothing that could serve as a projectile.....although, there was a compartment near the training controls that seemed to contain several vials of the magic fluid Mulvric had been making for Arx.

Observation soon made it apparent that whatever was attacking her was not moving between locations, but rather seems to be appearing and vanishing at will. Only a small shake of the foliage and the glint of something gave her any indication a blast was about to be fired...but once she could spot them, it was only a matter of swiftly dodging out of the way.

....counterattacking however, would be difficult......and Xia couldn't even be sure what was being requested of her for this training.

There didn't appear to be any other gun things, but there also wasn't anything for her to attack it from a distance. The distance between her and the gun wasn't so great that she felt she had enough time to block or dodge while closing in on foot. She was fast enough, but the things timing was random. ****. **** it. Just have to go. Sword in one hand and sheath in the other, she dashed forward toward the gun.

I wonder. She still had zero idea what the hell this exercise was supposed to accomplish. She wasn't even sure if destroying this stupid thing was a part of the criteria. If it wasn't, it wasn't really her loss. It was whoever built this stupid place without any instructions. Everyone knew that training programs needed instructions, otherwise she was just going to be flailing around like an idiot.

"Let this be a lesson," she muttered as she made up her mind. Everything was getting destroyed before she was done.

[grampagen]

OOC: Prior to his leaving for the library

IC: Matthias' confidence was unshaken, "Every living being gives off an energy signature. Usually, it's harder to pick one out when they are in a crowd but out here..." he made a hand gesture, like a sweeping motion only more compact, "It is rare to see anyone, for there to be anyone for miles around. When I sensed anyone coming, I usually take cover if I can. If I can't, I lower my presence so as to be less noticeable. Once when I was younger, I was digging through a site in search of artifacts. I was so intent on what I was doing, that I didn't catch the scent of the native before he caught mine. I froze in place, waiting and watching, ready to make a run for it. But he never approached. It was as if there was an invisible barrier that kept him out, or at least that is how I perceived it at the time."

"Something similar happened a year later, and again they saw me but moved away. After that, I made sure to avoid them as much as possible. In time I learned where it was safe to go, and where it wasn't."

As Saint spoke, Kinu's attention seemed to be more focused on poking at a chicken's lower abdomen with the tip of her knife.

"Artifacts, huh," she said, "So you were lookin' for stuff to bring back were ya?"

Then she sawed through it, eviscerating the fowl, then tore out its spilled guts and collected its entrails - unlaid eggs and all - into a bowl. Flicking her hands into the sink, she moved on to the next.

"How far beyond the wards was it, then, if you were still confident you could return to...'civilization?'"

BGM: Bizet - Argonaise

"You should see when they want something. Like, starving. That's when they'll really go for it," she said, plucking through choice bits of offal, "Suppose that's how you can tell they're still human? I could almost respect it. Almost."

Shoulder of the wings, rotation of the thighs. The toothy blade cracked through skin and ligaments, and with a single motion Kinu pulled the bare bones out of the flesh.

"I once pursued an old mastadon for two days, that's about a week's worth of meat in the Northlands, yeah? Big bodies, enormous appetites, so they get tired real easy if you don't let 'em sit still."

Bones picked clean from the meat, she tossed the bare skeletons into a pot to boil, and the five floppy fowl freshly deboned and disemboweled in a large casserole. She then set another saucepan on the stove.

"When I finally brought the beast down, just as the sun set, that's when the Wildlings showed up. They eat like us, walk like us, sometimes they even talk like they still know words, but they ain't got much more in mind than what's behind or ahead of 'em. And this time, they had torches, rocks, sharp sticks, and home turf. And there I was, standin' in front of 'em with fresh meat...."

Fishing the chicken blood out where she'd laid it, it had congealed while they spoke, and when Kinu overturned it, the fluid peeled from the bottom of the vessel like a morbid jelly before she fell it into the bubbling water.

"...so I bust their spines, and that was that, fuh fuh fuh..."

Dabbing her hands on a dishrag, Kinu then began uncapping random spice jars, and cautiously sniffing at them. Nope. Nope. Too orange. Too green.

"The point being, Mulvy? You'd be better off showin' them who's boss, before they try and take everything from you. In my experience, that's the only language they understand."

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

After a brief nap atop her pile of pilfered trinkets, Arx rolled onto the floor and scratched her horn idly as she yawned; and as she blinked away the haze of sleep she realized that for the first time in awhile she wasn't checking to make sure there wasn't some kinda trouble coming her way.

"Could get used to this, yea..."

Now, what was she gonna do about people coming into her new nest?

Killing them wouldn't work. They'd probably kick her out and man, that'd be a hassle... then again she'd heard something about the Wildmen; and those fuckers ate magic-infused meat. Were probably real tasty. Before she knew it, Arx was salivating; spittle dripping onto the metallic floor and sizzling.

Maybe a little murder wasn't a bad idea.

Or she could just leave.

... Nah.

"Hey En." Arx called out. "How's a Dragon supposed to secure her uh. What's this place called?" She had a pretty good idea that the little AI thing could hear her; other members of the 'crew' or whatsit had spoken and she'd appeared to respond. If not, well. She was just gonna make a tripwire bomb.

[Melon God]

"unly ting kic'd bai e hors in ere is ye sense'o humar." Horo chuckled. "Now den....lets see...."

Pulling out her suppies, Horo proceeded to apply some nasty burning paste to some of Morgans bigger cuts and wounds. The girl couldn't be certain what was in it...but a few moments of burning was followed by a much more pleasant soothing sensation, even on the larger stab wounds she had inflicted earlier.

"Aye, ol'cureal mad frum the frut'o de earth. Ol famely fermula....mind de sting, jus bernin de infectin out an soothin de skin....alsa nums teh pan abit" Horo took out her needle, reached behind her back and with a soft tug produced a small string of brown hair and proceeded to stich the gash in her forehead shut before applying more of the paste.

Finally, she moved to the elbow, applying paste around it while changing any bandage that had already been set before wrapping it tight. "Tri nut'ta muv it fer the nex cuple hurs...an ye shud be fin."

Morgen quietly nodded. Her debt was growing again. A mountain of favors to people she could never repay in a lifetime; her soul felt heavier than before, but at the same time, she felt strangely slighted -- not by the doctor, or the lizard, or anyone else... but by the world. Somewhere along the line, and she didn't know where, someone had put into her head the idea that she invoked all of her own misfortune. Misfortunes she wanted to believe were outside of her control, leaving her with a series of mental debts that split her in two between indemnification and liberation of the self: Did she owe everything? Or nothing?

She thanked Horo and took her leave, roaming the hall drawn to a sound. These were not aimless ponderings, but careful steps toward an ultimatum. One day she would be given a choice to betray EN to save herself, and she had better hope that by then, she knew which road she walked. For better or for worse.

There didn't appear to be any other gun things, but there also wasn't anything for her to attack it from a distance. The distance between her and the gun wasn't so great that she felt she had enough time to block or dodge while closing in on foot. She was fast enough, but the things timing was random. ****. **** it. Just have to go. Sword in one hand and sheath in the other, she dashed forward toward the gun.

I wonder. She still had zero idea what the hell this exercise was supposed to accomplish. She wasn't even sure if destroying this stupid thing was a part of the criteria. If it wasn't, it wasn't really her loss. It was whoever built this stupid place without any instructions. Everyone knew that training programs needed instructions, otherwise she was just going to be flailing around like an idiot.

"Let this be a lesson," she muttered as she made up her mind. Everything was getting destroyed before she was done.

Morgen peeked into the combat chamber, watching Xia from outside.

"Someone's been busy, hm? Don't suppose you'd mind sharing." The disheveled, bandaged up woman looked in no condition to be joining the martial artist in training, especially not with the doctor's note of caution, but she was feeling rather restless. There was too much on her mind, and giving herself something productive to do would ease some of that tension. Besides, one good arm was all she really needed.

[The Chou Lives]

During all this time noting the kitchen action mostly, the smell of chicken blood was of no bother as he spoke.

“ Could help cook, clean or whatever.” He did his own home cooked meals, reading over everything.

[Tami]

As Saint spoke, Kinu's attention seemed to be more focused on poking at a chicken's lower abdomen with the tip of her knife.

"Artifacts, huh," she said, "So you were lookin' for stuff to bring back were ya?"

Then she sawed through it, eviscerating the fowl, then tore out its spilled guts and collected its entrails - unlaid eggs and all - into a bowl. Flicking her hands into the sink, she moved on to the next.

"How far beyond the wards was it, then, if you were still confident you could return to...'civilization?'"

BGM: Bizet - Argonaise

"You should see when they want something. Like, starving. That's when they'll really go for it," she said, plucking through choice bits of offal, "Suppose that's how you can tell they're still human? I could almost respect it. Almost."

Shoulder of the wings, rotation of the thighs. The toothy blade cracked through skin and ligaments, and with a single motion Kinu pulled the bare bones out of the flesh.

"I once pursued an old mastadon for two days, that's about a week's worth of meat in the Northlands, yeah? Big bodies, enormous appetites, so they get tired real easy if you don't let 'em sit still."

Bones picked clean from the meat, she tossed the bare skeletons into a pot to boil, and the five floppy fowl freshly deboned and disemboweled in a large casserole. She then set another saucepan on the stove.

"When I finally brought the beast down, just as the sun set, that's when the Wildlings showed up. They eat like us, walk like us, sometimes they even talk like they still know words, but they ain't got much more in mind than what's behind or ahead of 'em. And this time, they had torches, rocks, sharp sticks, and home turf. And there I was, standin' in front of 'em with fresh meat...."

Fishing the chicken blood out where she'd laid it, it had congealed while they spoke, and when Kinu overturned it, the fluid peeled from the bottom of the vessel like a morbid jelly before she fell it into the bubbling water.

"...so I bust their spines, and that was that, fuh fuh fuh..."

Dabbing her hands on a dishrag, Kinu then began uncapping random spice jars, and cautiously sniffing at them. Nope. Nope. Too orange. Too green.

"The point being, Mulvy? You'd be better off showin' them who's boss, before they try and take everything from you. In my experience, that's the only language they understand."

Matthias had then decided that he had told her enough, and perhaps that she had told him too much. "I will let you go back to your cooking. If you like, we can finish this conversation after dinner."

With that, he turned and headed out, making his way to Mulvric's library. As he walked he considered what she had said, mulling it over, unsure what to make of it.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

Morgen peeked into the combat chamber, watching Xia from outside.

"Someone's been busy, hm? Don't suppose you'd mind sharing." The disheveled, bandaged up woman looked in no condition to be joining the martial artist in training, especially not with the doctor's note of caution, but she was feeling rather restless. There was too much on her mind, and giving herself something productive to do would ease some of that tension. Besides, one good arm was all she really needed.

A familiar voice caught her attention and completely fucked with her rhythm. Damn it. She veered to the side and pressed herself against the wall.

A quick glance revealed that it was Money Bags who wanted in on the action. To be honest, the kid looked like her ribs would snap in half if a breeze hit her. A scrawny shrimp of a woman, she would only get in Xia's way. All common sense pointed to her telling her to **** off and find a bed to sleep in.

"Knock yourself out." She pointed her sword in the gun thing's direction. "There's a gun thing over there that disappears random and shoots. Don't get hit." She couldn't tell her anything other than that. She supposed that despite her better judgment, Money Bags needed to learn how to fight while injured. Besides, she looked like she had some stress to relieve. It must have been so hard not being waited on hand and foot by indentured servants who had nothing better to do than to see to her every whim. Xia would be stressed too, if she had to make her own sandwiches and pour her own water.

Oh, and the concussion probably had something to do with it.

[bruceleegreyhulk]

Rhea looks at her message on the ground. ( I know this fox lady does care about what the killer of Jacob's wife was wearing, But what Jacob said about his wife's killer rattle me. I have never seen Jacob's wife's killer, yet maybe because his wife's soul is a part of me, the very description of his wife's killer, the red eyes, white hair, bizarre uniform, unique accent, and the strange way of saying things fills me with dread,) Rhea thought.

( That's not it, my entire being was filled with dread at the description Jacob's wife's killer,) Rhea thought.