Official Story: Enter Sedorra

Desmond picked up the pace after practicing with bardsong enough he could execute some basic Spikes on himself without feeling sick. He still had no idea what direction he was travelling in, but he kept moving in the direction the moss was pointing until he encountered a road.

Roads are good. Roads lead to civilisation.

He'd managed to bag a couple of bunnies. Raw meat wasn't enjoyable fare, but it didn't make him feel sick. He supposed that was one good thing about his heritage. Instincts long shunned in polite society were coming in incredibly useful in the wilderness.

As Desmond passed through a section of road overshadowed by foliage, a voice rang out behind him.

"Hold, sir. Your money or your life!"

Desmond turned around slowly, hands in his coat pocket. One hand closed around his gun, and the other around his jigger.

A youth stood there with a crossbow trained on him. Desmond's pace quickened.

He's just a kid. He doesn't want to fire that thing. I've just got to calm him down...

Desmond hooked into the deep blue and began to hum softly, trying to make it sound like a nervous habit, as he started up accompaniment on his jigger at low volume. As he felt the energy build up he broke off humming.

"I've no money, son. I'm not from around these parts. I'm just an itinerant minstrel looking to make his way."

"Everybody's got something," grunted the kid. "I'll have it or I'll have your hide. Your choice."

The robber sounded doubtful. Devoid of confidence. Just the sort of mindset receptive to emotional manipulation. Carefully, ready to leap if it didn't work, Desmond tried to Spike the kid's lethargy.

The kid yelped in alarm and pulled the trigger. The Song made his movement just sluggish enough that the bolt missed Desmond, slicing open a gash in his cheek as it whizzed by.

Desmond touched his face in shock. As he looked at his own blood on his fingers, long-suppressed instincts surged to the fore as, for the first time in his life, Desmond went Feral.

Gun forgotten, Desmond leaped at the kid who was now laboriously trying to reload his crossbow. Snarling, he closed his fingers around the would-be robber's neck, squeezing with all his might. His fingertips tingled as buried instincts tried to extend claws that Desmond didn't have, claws that had been surgically removed during infancy for his own safety.

"Kn'thrak take you!" growled Desmond as he throttled the now-limp body of a boy of no more than sixteen. "You and all of your harakh-eating kin!"

Desmond had never killed a man before. In the back of his mind, the voice of reason wailed in dismay. It was like he'd lost control of his own body to a creature that reveled in blood.

But only for a short time. As the boy's corpse slid to the ground, the bloodlust faded and Desmond's mind returned to normal.

Holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek holy drek

Well, sort of normal.

Desmond knew his time was limited. He sure as drek didn't want to get caught by the swinging dicks hovering over a dead body while holding this much Brilliance. Quickly, he searched the lad's corpse and nicked a tiny bag of odd looking coins and some dried meat, and then headed back into the woods. He walked for about a half hour in the direction opposite the moss growth, then took a course perpendicular to it. He hoped that the moss would point out the way back to the road at a juncture far enough away from the boy's corpse that he wouldn't be associated with it when it was found.

Once he felt he was far enough away from the corpse, he slumped at the base of a tree, exhausted and shaking with reaction. He needed Brilliance more than ever. He took a tab and closed his eyes.

It wasn't until just before he fell asleep that Desmond thought to wonder why the boy from this world had looked and spoken perfect Nexan.

Blackie checked the straps which tethered his trade goods to the cargo chocobos and satisfied himself that the straps were definitely, definitely good and tight. Wherein the devils were them boyos?

His sellers were late, and the meeting had not happened. Were the doban a younger race or a younger man, he might have been more upset and more prone to running from fears of being found. After all, this was an off-the-books venture, and he knew less than jack about the two men his contact in Arna put him with in trade. Maybe they were the King's men, and he would have to be quick in response. Maybe they were arrested or dead, either situation being the same one to him, and he would never meet them again. Maybe they were plain late, with issues stemming from a botched or poorly-planned job, and he had to be patient and forgiving. All of these ideas crossed Blackie's mind while he checked, double-checked, and re-affirmed that his end of the deal was solid. A good deal is a good life, as his father always said.

Blackie's camp stood inside the Betheron Wylds, down a narrow and overgrown path which twisted in ways to leave even travelers of the path lost if they quit paying attention. He had marked it by dropping Mimett blossoms at points down it, so he was comfortable in thinking he did his part, and all he had to do was wait for the hammer to drop. The chocobos squawked, eager to move, but Blackie shushed the three of them and settled on a fallen log. He drew his axe and settled it happily in his lap. Confident in the caution he took, he reached into a pack to extract a notebook, a quill, and a vial of squid-ink, and began to sketch. He was ready for anything.

Azelin II
As if in a trance, Azelin stared up at the sky while tears trickled down his face. The steady stream of people that passed by him began to speed up, slowly at first but quickly reached the point that it looked like they were running. Azelin stumbled forward as a middle aged women slammed into him from behind, trance broken. As his speed began to return to normal, everyone around him began to slow down and anger swept him. Anger over someone walking into him, anger over letting his powers backfire but mainly anger over losing control of his emotions. He put away his kunai for while killing this person may have helped him with his stress, violence in public always ends badly. And keeping it in his hand would have made it too tempting.

"Oh! I'm sorry young Doban. Are you ok?" the women asked with a touch of conserns. Azelin rubbed his face with his sleeve and before turned to face her. She was a plump Hyu'Man women with a kind face and colourful dress which pooly hide her round figure. Azelin could only partially understand the women, it was like listening to an infant who has a very small vocabulary. "Where are your parent?"

"I'm not sure he's a Doban, Maggie". An equally plump and colourfully dressed women said, stepping closer to the boy for a better look."He looks weird". Azelin noted that her face and overall presence was far less kind than Maggies'.

"Of course he's a Doban, look at the ears. He does look very thin though and I'm not sure if I've ever seen one with light blue hair before. Maybe he's sick...?"

"Why do they keep refereeing to me as a Doban?" Azelin thought "I need to find out more about this place, but these two don't look like they're the sharpest blades in the armory". Hoping that they could understand him, he asks "Can you direct me towards a Yu'hon or maybe a Gau'hon?"

"Sorry dear, did you say Gahon? I'm not sure what that is?" Maggie replied, both of the ladies were looking a bit more confused.

"He doesn't even know the common tongue, just leave him" the other lady interjected.

"They don't know. The Hyu'mans do have a different word for it...what was it again". Maggie was just about to respond when the words came back to him and he cut in "I mean, can you direct me to a library or a bookstore?"

It took Maggie a few seconds to process what he said, she was clearly having the same issue when it came to understanding him. "Oh, I'm sorry but it's the Queens Festival so they'll both be closed right now. But I'll take you...whats that tavern were all those Doban go to called again?" The last part was directed at her friend.

"It's the Ceiling Cat. A disgustingly filthy place if you ask me".

"It's not that bad, we used to go all the ti-"

"And you remember how that ended" The less kind women cut in, her face twisting slightly as she remembered something.

"Oh Heather. That was a long time ago, you need to let things go" Heather didn't respond but before Maggie could add anything else onto the topic, Azelin coughed and brought her attention back to him. She reached out for him and his right hand instinctively darted for one of the Kunai's strapped to his leg, but he stopped himself when he couldn't detect any malice or evil intent. Just a kind smile. She placed a hand on his shoulder "I'm Maggie and this is Heather. What's your name little Doban?"

"Azelin" the boy responded.

"Nice to meet you Azelin" She spun him around as she replied and began to lead him down the street with a hand still on his shoulder. "The Ceiling Cat isn't too far from here. We're on our way to the King's Square, so we'll drop you off on the way".

"Ok" Azelin replied. He doubted whether he would gain any useful information from drunks in a tavern but it's worked in the past and was better than nothing.

Locke IV

Dawn broke in Sedorra, and Locke got up, completing his usual morning routine. But this was not going to be a usual day for Locke. This was the day he would set off, bound to Lucrecia. The city he swore he would never set foot in again.

It was about an hour later that he gave one last visit to Serrine's house. The mood in that house solemn. A sullen looking Alistair eating his morning porridge.

"So, it's that time then?" mused Serrine. "Don't worry about us. We'll be able to cope fine by ourselves. We have more than enough to last us.". She smiled, "I mean, we won't be feasting on luxurious roasted game, but somehow, I'll think we'll survive."

"What about him?" Locke nodded in the direction of Alistair. The boy now seemed content in watching porridge slop to his bowl from his spoon over and over.

"I'll have to find some sort of way to distract him. He really seemed to enjoy that hunting he did with you. Hanar knows some archery," she said. The boy scarcely looked up from his bowl, Locke noted.

Far from allaying his fears, the visit made Locke more nervous than ever.

The sun was still young when Locke set off. Serrine waved him goodbye, though Locke noticed the conspicuous absence of Alistair.

------ Some Time Later ------

The sun was beginning to set. Locke covered some serious ground using the O'Hare Highroad, the main artery connecting Lucrecia to the Farmlands. The journey was insufferably boring, however. Locke passed the time by counting the number of mile markers along the path.

It was now time to set up camp for the evening. Clearly, he thought to himself, it'd be foolish to set camp up on the path. The Highroad was mostly safe, but Locke knew the dangers of travelling.

Locke came prepared for the journey. He deftly constructed a pop-up tent, some way from the Highroad. This way, he would be away from most dangers, although Locke knew that even this was not ideal territory. The verdant Farmlands are mostly flat, giving a clear line of sight to would be thieves and bandits. Locke was relying on the cover of the rapidly approaching darkness to shield him.

The Lucrecian fireflies dazzled the fading sky, and Locke was just in awe of nature's bounty. This is why I left that wretched place, all those years ago, he thought. He gazed off into the landscape, totally in awe. If only I didn't slack off in painting classes, he chuckled to himself.

The sharp sound of a twig broke his daydreaming. Locke strained his ears as his eyes did their part, surveying the dim horizon for any signs of danger. *Crack*. There it was again. He could feel his blood pumping. He carefully loaded his pistols. Never thought I'd be using these things, he cursed to himself. He loathed to use them, a reminder of his royal past. He only kept them because of their practical use. It gave him the edge in a world where such technology is still in relative infancy. Pistols cocked, he waited.

The voice of a child softened the atmosphere. In an instant, he holstered his pistols. He knew who it was. Damn it!

"Why, ugh, why..." Alistair panted out. His cheeks were flush, like Rosebud tomatoes. "Why do you walk so fast!". He was doubled over, hands on knees, drawing for breath. When he finally rose, he had the most innocent smile on his face, like this was the most natural thing in the world, Locke thought to himself.

He was speechless. How did he let a child track him down? The O'Hare Highroad is mostly straight, but Locke was unsure whether to applaud or admonish Alistair for his endurance.

"Ali," Locke finally spoke. "Why have you followed me?". His voice shook. He could scarcely believe Alistair travelled by himself.

"Well, you see, I didn't want you to die. So I thought that I'd protect you. Look, I brought this along!" At that moment, Alistair gleefully unveiled his practise bow, complete with a set of rubber tipped arrows. Those arrows could hardly kill a fly, let alone a wild bear, Locke thought whilst shaking his head. Nonetheless, he appreciated the sentiment.

"That's... great. But Ali, You simply cannot come with me. I imagine Serrine is worried sick about you. I need to take you home." Locke tried to sound as gentle as he could manage. Alistair just looked disapprovingly at him.

"But it's fine. I wrote a note and everything," he responded back, defiantly putting his hands on his hips.

"I don't think a note is going to cut it, frankly. Do you know how dangerous it was, wandering off onto the Highroad for hours? It's dangerous enough for a grown man by himself, let alone a child." Locke's tone grew more serious.

"I managed just fine Locke!"

"That isn't the point, Ali!". Goddamn it Locke, you're arguing with a child. "Just listen, for a moment" Alistair just crossed his arms. Great, now, think of something. Nothing came to him. Alistair watched, eagerly anticipating his next action. Damn! Nothing's springing to mind.

"Um, is Locke still there?"

"Just hold on, I'm thinking". Locke appeared deep in thought. He furrowed his brow. Seconds later, a thought popped into his head. It was a risk, but Locke knew it was the only compromise he could think of.

"I'm taking you to Lucrecia, I've decided. Maybe now is the time you'll learn for yourself what being an adult is like. How rough it can be outside of our small village. It won't be easy. And if I tell you to do something, you will do as you are told, okay?"

The boy could barely contain his happiness. Locke forced a smile. While he appeared cheerful, inside, he was sick to his stomach. He was fearful that something would go wrong. His trip to Lucrecia already made him nervous. Now, he has another pile of worry heaped on to him.

Locke sighed, deeply.

- Ziad -
The Akim named Ziad had just recently arrived to the grand city-state of Lucrecia after traveling from his home at the Akimolm Desert from the far west of Sedorra. Despite looking weary in appearance from his long travel, he felt rejuvenated to finally reach his latest destination. He took in a very deep breath of air in a relaxing manner. Doing so attracted the attention of a nearby stranger. "First time in Lucrecia?"

Ziad smiled and responded back. "It's always the first time for me every visit."

"Well then, welcome back friend!" the stranger said jovially as he patted Ziad's back. "Just in time of the Queen's Festival!"

Oh it's the Queen's Festival already? Ziad smiled back. "Yes, of course." he said. "I will be staying for awhile for this festival. Thank you."

"Looking for a place to stay?" The stranger asked as he quickly retrieved a map from his jacket pocket. "There's a nearby inn where you can stay for a cheap price. I really recommend it!"

Ziad held his hand out to stop the stranger. "That would be unnecessary. I already have a place to stay. I thank you for trying to help out."

"Are you visiting a friend?"

"Not necessarily, but I would be lucky if I do end up meeting a friend."

"I like your view in life," the stranger said cheerfully. "It's been a pleasure friend. I'll see you later."

"Likewise."

~*~*~

- Radley -
Back on the Lost Soul currently docked at the beach with the loot and food that were stolen from the villagers, Radley and his crew were preparing to set sail back to the Deeps. The plan was to sail for the opposite end of the bay from their current location. The trip across would take at least a week long, and they have scavenged enough food from the locals to last that long while out on the Deeps.

The crew were all grouped together near a table in the main cabin of the small ship. Radley had laid out a map of Sedorra that one of his crew had stolen from the village. He pointed at the group of islands near at the northeastern corner of the map. "Alright mateys, it looks like our current location is here." He moved his finger westward from the islands all the way across the bay to the other side. "We set sail to the west until we reach land, if my calculations are correct, we will land just east of Lucrecia. This is a no-fail plan I have just thought up of! Any questions?"

One crew mate raised his hand in the air. "Aye! What should we do about the storms?"

"We've survived storms, so they should be of no concern to us!" Radley said confidently. "I say, bring 'em on!"

Another mate asked another question. "What if we run of food, Cap'n?"

"Ain't gunna happen."

"What if we get lost in the Deeps?"

"What are you? A scallywag?" Radley shouted as he slammed down on the table. "We're going out there and we're going to sail to the west. We have everything we need to make this successful."

He held up the map angrily. "We have this map for damn reason, don't we?" He later took out a compass from his pocket and tossed it to the crew mate that had asked about getting lost. "And this compass will make sure we're going to right direction! That's the two main things we will need for this. I better damn hope you all get it in yer thick skulls to not forget this. We set sail first thing in the morning."

"Where are they?" Camille sighed, she and Stissi practically flying over the fields, in hopes of a yellow or blue blur. The runaways couldn't have been so fast that they already made it into the forest, could they? Blue-feathered Bristles, perhaps, being Stissi's offspring, but Koko?

The field south of the Wylds were flat and quiet. Sometimes herds of plant-eating animals grazed here, the peaceful kinds that didn't stand out or make loud noises. So surely, two chocobos should not be hard to find.

What if I'm completely wrong? she wondered. What if they went east after all, or northeast to Lake Arna? To the lake itself or the mountains by it? I'd be spending Stissi's endurance for nothing.

"What if we went back?" Camille asked the chocobo. "It'd make more sense if—"

But Stissi sped up even faster, ignoring her except for the stubborn grunt that escaped her.

"Hey!" The breeder pulled at the reins, but Stissi, again, didn't listen. She seemed pretty intent on finding the younger birds. Camille wondered if there was some familial instinct involved; an intuition that only animal kin would understand. "Stissi!"

Without warning, Stissi rushed forth in an impatient burst of speed. Camille found herself falling backwards and crashing onto her back. Pain shot through her body, especially her back, but it didn't seem like anything was broken.

Beyond, she heard the shuffle of Stissi continuing without her, not once looking back.

“Stissi,” she groaned, forcing herself to sit up. She found the chocobo ahead, her distance steadily increasing. “Stissi!”

Nothing. Anger she did not recognize started to burn, firing every limb. Not only because of Stissi's disobedience, but from her current situation, the runaway chocobos, the pain in her body. She was tired. Tired. She wanted her old life back without the guilt, or a new one far away. She wanted something, but she wasn't about to get a thing at all with one bitch of a chocobo and a long journey ahead.

“PRESTISSIMA GET THE HELL BACK HERE!” she screeched.

That caught the chocobo's attention. She froze mid-run, in a tense way that indicated her unwillingness to obey.

Then, she bent down. Just like at the stables, just like all the times when they raced together. Whether she did it from routine or not, Camille couldn't tell, but a reluctant compliance was better than none.

Camille hitched a breath, bearing the pain—and cursing herself for not bringing any potions—and made her way to her. She mounted, a bit gingerly this time, and let Stissi start dashing across the field again. Both rider and chocobo were tense, but as quiet as the grazing animals around them.

Better this way, she thought, forcing older, happier, more loving memories away. We need to concentrate on Koko and Bristles.

- } { -

Camille finally burst through the fringes of the forest, re-familiarizing herself with its shade and sounds. Stissi slowed to a trot, veering rather expertly down one path without her rider's prompting.

“You already know,” Camille said, more questioningly than intended. She was stating the obvious, surely, but despite the number of times she has been in the Wylds, it still makes her ramble with nerves.

Stissi warked curtly.

Camille briefly looked up at the trees above her head, at the small peek of sunlight through the thick blanket of leaves. The Betheron Wylds, she thought with a sigh. The notorious Betheron Wylds.

Like every time she has gone in, and despite her expertise... she prayed for nothing troublesome while she was there.

Locke V

Locke and Alistair arrived to Lucrecia to the sounds of trumpets blaring. They traveled through the remainder of the O'Hare Highroad in the morning, and arrived to Lucrecia just past noon.

The main gate to the walled city of Lucrecia was open, though guards were an obvious fixture to keep order and peace: their pikes glistening in the sun.

"Wow, Locke have you seen some of the performers! They're incredible!" said an excited Alistair. They were walking through the Pilgrim's Passage, a long stretch of street which funneled people from the main gate through to the Royal Square, at the very heart of the city. Throughout, opportunistic performers played their part in creating a festival atmosphere, cheered on by both child and adult alike.

"They, truly are something aren't they?" said a coy sounding Locke as he observed a contortionist in quite the compromising pose. Locke could not share the boy's enthusiasm. He knew that for all the pageantry, there was a far sadder underbelly of this city. The far north of the city is where the slums are located. There are no guards there: what was the point of policing such people? These people could not enjoy the festival. Locke felt ashamed to be walking through. "Hey, Ali, over here!". Locke beckoned Alistair over to a side street, away from the main channel. The boy complied, gloomily, tearing himself away from a fire dancer.

"We can watch the shows later, okay? For now, we need to locate ourselves an inn". There was one inn he remembered from his past, The Carbuncle's Cave, which was purported to be rather good. They headed west, through the western wards and into the Sleeper's Corner, the unofficial name for the southwest of the city. It is known for the high concentration of inns, and is usually the first stop for the tired traveler. Even here, the sounds of the Queen's Festival were carried across the wind. Will I be able to sleep to this, thought Locke.
The inn was indeed still open, and Locke and Alistair entered into the reception.

"Ah, welcome, welcome! I trust you'll be needing two rooms?" spoke the overly positive owner, gleefully rubbing his together while grinning ear to ear. This guy needs to work on smiling less, thought Locke.

"Um, yes, two rooms, please. The sign outside said that children under ten could lodge for free, is that offer still on?" said Locke, motioning to the outdoor sign. Alistair's face could scarcely believe what Locke just said.

"Hey, wai-" was all Alistair could mumble before Locke put his hand over his mouth.

"Sorry about him, he's feeling quite poorly. You see, we were travelling a long distance. The boy gets quite impatient!". Locke chuckled to himself, trying to keep the charade going.

The owner looked on, slightly confused by the shenanigans going on in front of him. Scratching his head, he said "Well, yes, it is indeed. I take it you're asking because of this boy?".

"I am, yes" said Locke, over the muffled surprise coming from Alistair.

"Right..." The owner thought about it for a few seconds. "Well, so that will be two rooms, with one of the rooms free. The rate is 200 gil per night, is that alright with you?"

"Yes, yes, that is great. Fantastic, even! Thanks" said Locke, hastily.

"Good. Payment will be done after your last night. Here are your keys, you are number 03 and 04, just head upstairs. Thank you for your custom." The owner was still grinning as Locke and Alistair went up the stairs.

"And just WHAT was that all about Locke!" said an impressively upset Alistair. He was finally allowed to speak after entering room 03.

Locke shrugged. "Saving me some money, that's what. I'm impressed I managed to keep that going for so long".

"But, I'm not ten, I'm twelve!". Alistair was indignant.

"I know that! But if I said you were twelve, I'd be paying 400 gil per night. I'd be paying double. It's only a small lie. Stop worrying!" Locke reassured Alistair by patting him on the shoulder. "Why don't you go to your room and get acquainted with it? I need to go and freshen up, and so should you."

Alistair left the room, still shocked at Locke's dishonest behavior.

Azelin III


The trio walked down the busy street, the plump ladies casually chatting irritated Azelin. Maggies' hand was still on his shoulder, gently guiding him. This also irritated him but he ignored it although he would have preferred if she just gave him directions.


Azelin took in as much as he could, the Hyu'mans of his world were found everywhere, they embedded themselves into all other cultures but were never found in such numbers and did not have a city of their own like they seem to here. They lost their right to rule themselves after their rebellion at O'tomi and their eventual lose of the Fy'Lom war. They were always starting wars, always hungry for power. They knew they were physically and magically weaker than the other races and in a way, that made them far more cunning and far more dangerous than all of them. Maybe these Hyu'mans aren't as aggressive as their Vil'Deamon counterparts the boy thought.


He spotted a couple of short, pointed eared men who were loudly chatting and laughing. Doban, he presumed because at a glace or to the ignorant, they and the boy looked like they could be of the same race. But on closer inspection, all be it from afar and while walking past, the differences became more clear. The Doban were only a few inches taller than Azelin and their facial hair suggested they were both well out of their youths. And yet, they were a lot larger, sturdier and stronger looking than the boy or even the many Hyu'mans around them.


Only one of them was grey while all Yuzol were of varying shades of grey. Yuzol hair colour comes in shades of blue, reds, purples and green, never brown or orange but occassionally white. Azelin also felt that they were uglier than his own race, the features on their faces seemed more angular and sharp but it may have just been these two.


"Oh, there it is, The Ceiling Cat" Maggie said fondly "Just looking at it brings back memories". Azelin cleared his throat, she looked down at him "Sorry dear, you probably can't see past all these people" the plump lady bent down slightly and leaned towards him "If you walk straight ahead then you'll be walking through the doors in about twenty seconds" She pointed in the direction straight behind him, he glanced over his should but couldn't see it through the swarming crowds all around him.

"Big building, you can't miss it" Heather added, not even looking in the boys direction.


"While we'll be having a merry old time in the King's Square" she pointed in the direction that the majority of the crowd was moving in.


"Thanks for the help" Azelin said dryly, his own politeness irritated him as they haven't been particularly useful. The boy wasn't even sure what he would do once he got there, but his manner were beaten into him during his many years of training. His teachers insisted that being polite kept your allies friendly and your enemies fooled but the young assassin had never been on a mission were he had to put this to the test.


"It was no trouble. Would you like us to walk you to the door?" Maggie asked. Azelin could see Heather glaring at him from the corner of his eyes, she clearly thought that he had wasted enough of their time and did not want to be held up any longer. The boy has removed peoples eyes in the past for glaring at him like that but now is not the time for violence.


"No, that's ok. I'll be fine from here" He replied, turning in the direction of the Ceiling Cat Inn "Have a good night". Maggie gave him farewell in reply as he blended into the crowd.

Kris let her legs drift about in the water as her father checked the crab pot. Today had been a slow day. Their nets had barely caught anything, and quite a few of the pots had been empty. The weather had been welcoming though, and from here Naithe seemed to sparkle with all the reflecting light. Scenery was just about the only worthwhile thing on days like this, but good views didn't put food on the table.

"Maybe you should've taken the day off," Kris said.

"Aye, maybe I should have," her father responded. "I dare say you've got the run of things by now. Maybe I could help your mother with the sewing."

A hint of laughter disappeared as Kris heard the pot splash back into the water. Her father grunted. Another empty pot. Not the greatest haul. These spots were usually the best; Kris and her father had spent many years testing the waters around Naithe, and every fisherman in the village was careful not to overfish their greatest asset. Perhaps something was scaring them off.

"I'm sure your Ursus paws would easily master the intricacies," Kris teased. She swung her legs back into the boat and picked up an oar. "Call it a day?"

Her father sat beside her and picked up the other oar. "I'm heading back, whether you're ready or not."

As they rowed back towards the village, Kris looked out at the sunset. The sky faded from crimson to purple. It looked more like a painting, but it wasn't an unfamiliar sight. Naithe often saw beautiful sunsets and sunrises, the vibrant colours reflecting on the sea water. Legend was that the more striking the sunset, the more promising tomorrow would be. Kris hoped tomorrow would be more successful. Perhaps I should tell Father to stay home,​ she thought, stealing a glance at him. He looked... tired. The disappointment of today was getting to him, she could see it. Maybe a day off, a day to relax, would do him some good.

"What do you think we're eating?" her father asked.

She grinned. "Probably not fish."

http://blog.travelandleisureasia.com...nd-533x400.jpg

Jacques sat on the veranda in front of his house, swinging his legs off the side. The cool breeze nipped at the space between his boots and the bottom of his slacks. He loved this time of day. The sky was painted with unnatural candy colours. Hmm... candy... he thought. He was starving.

He had to wait for his dad for dinner, and he wasn't back from the water yet. Every day his dad has off work, he goes down to the coast and throws his line in the water. Jacques was thankful - his dad taking the day off meant that he didn't have to work either. He'd spent most of the afternoon whittling on the veranda, but now it was too dark to see.

Jacques watched two dark shapes, silhouetted by the sunset, walking back up towards the houses. 'Kris!' he called out, beaming, as soon as he recognised one of them. He put the offcut of wood he'd been carving and his small knife to one side, and jumped to his feet.

'My name is Cohen,' he said, smiling at the large bear. She could obviously understand him, and that was terribly exciting. 'It's great to meet you, Tala.' Cohen contemplated extending a hand to shake Tala's paw, but he wasn't sure how that would work so he decided against it.

Cohen wanted to ask so many questions, but he wasn't sure how to phrase them. Eventually he settled on, 'This might sound strange, but I don't know where I am. Could you tell me the name of this city?'

Tala frowned. 'We're in Lucrecia,' she said. When no recognition dawned on Cohen's face, she continued, 'In Sedorra.'

'Sedorra?'

'The name of our world, human!' Tala was growing impatient. She was a clever Ursus, and so if she was going to speak to a human she liked it if they were clever too; this man was obviously a little slow. 'How did you get here if you don't know where you are? And what are you wearing?' she snapped.

'When I woke up I was sitting on a bench here, but I was sure I fell asleep in my study at the university...' Cohen trailed off. 'I'm wearing the robes of the Order, the robes of a High Priest! Why does nobody here recognise them?'

'University? High Priest?' Tala asked. 'I didn't know the humans had universities or High Priests.'

'They do where I come from,' Cohen replied.

Tala's mood was beginning to shift from impatient to curious. 'You don't know what Sedorra is,' she pondered, 'so you must be from a different world.' The words sounded absurd, but as Tala regarded Cohen's strange outfit and thought on his obvious confusion about Lucrecia, Sedorra and the presence of Ursus in the city, she knew that it was true.

'I'm beginning to think you might be right,' Cohen replied.

There was a strange silence as the pair thought about the peculiar situation they had encountered, both curious to solve the mystery but neither knowing where to start. The silence broke when Cohen noticed a pair of strangers hovering nearby, one confident and smiling, the other shyly gazing at the ground.

'Are they looking at us?' Cohen asked Tala.

Derk slowly walked towards The Cornerstone Inn, steam still rising from his apron after a long day at his forge. As he walked he tossed a bright blue material from one hand to the other while humming to himself.

As he entered the Inn he removed his Night Eyes and breathed in deeply the lovely smells of ale and roasting meat. "Ahhh, nothing better after a hard days work then a good nights drink."

Derk sauntered up to the bar and dropped the blue material on the bar with a loud clunk. "Here's some cobalt for ya Ger, I'll have the usual, with a little extra pepper."

Gerhard sat on his stool, feet up on the bar. He'd already chased two of those filthy human scavengers off today, so he was in high spirits. The door opened and in walked one of his favourite customers: Derk Kizban. He was a raging alcoholic, which was good for Gerhard's coin purse, but he was a talented smith as well. They'd scrapped once or twice in the past -- ancient history now -- before Derk realised that the customer wasn't always right; Cornerstone belonged to Gerhard, and he wasn't afraid to enforce that.

Derk stopped and took a deep breath. "Ahhh, nothing better after a hard days work then a good nights drink."

As Derk approached, Gerhard swung his legs down and stood. Before Derk had even finished speaking, Gerhard was setting about getting his order.

"Here's some cobalt for ya Ger, I'll have the usual, with a little extra pepper," Derk said.

"Cobalt, eh? Nice find," Gerhard said as he handed Derk a large mug. He tossed the stone under his counter and went about fixing some meat for his customer. "Don't suppose you want change out of this?"

Derk grinned. "Put it on my tab."

Whether he took it now or later, Gerhard knew he'd pour enough ales this evening to cover that cobalt, maybe more. Tabs weren't common practice in the Cornerstone. Gerhard didn't like the idea. He liked to feel his money. He spent enough time roughing up the customers that did pay; he didn't want to chase down the ones that hadn't.

"So, how's that mine of yours going?" Gerhard asked. Success for Derk meant ale. Failure meant ale too, but with less upfront payment. Gerhard poured himself an ale and took a seat.

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- Ziad -
Ziad had been in Lucrecia for not very long, and yet he still found himself very out of place for an Akim. He was best use to the outdoorswhere there were not many roads to travel down, nor were there people to get in your way. He was not used to dealing with people himself, but he could adapt if he needed to. As he walked, he came across an Inn named the Carbuncle's Cave.

What a strange name. Ziad thought as he headed towards the Inn while adjusting his headscarf. Let me check it out.

Kris and her father had left the docks and were heading home when she heard a shout.

"Kris!" came the voice of Jacques.

"I'll meet you at home," her father said. Jacques was one to talk a person's ear off. He knew this could take a while and he didn't care to wait around in the dark. "Try not to be home late."

Kris jogged over to speak with Jacques.

"Good day?" he asked, beaming. Even in the dark, his brilliant white teeth seemed to shine. Too bad he had such a dorky grin.

Kris shrugged. "Not really. Fish weren't biting. Bit of a strange day."

"That's a shame," Jacques said. "I'm sure tomorrow will be better. Hey, did you happen to see my dad down by the docks? He's usually back by now."

Kris thought for a moment before shaking her head. "Maybe he went looking for a bite further along the coast. I don't think anybody had much luck today."

Jacques clutched his stomach and crouched. "But I'm so hungry!"

Kris laughed and patted him on the back. "Hang in there, kiddo. I'm sure he'll be back soon enough."

Jacques pouted which made her smile even wider.

"How about this," Kris said. "If he's not back in an hour and you're moments from death, you can come round and eat whatever we're having."

"And then we can go looking for him?"

"Your dad isn't missing, Jacques," Kris said. "Don't be so melodramatic!"

"Well I hope he comes back soon," he said. "I really am starving."

Kris adjusted her satchel. "Just remember: dirt is always an option. See you tomorrow, Jacques."

"Good night!" he said, watching her walk along the path to her house.

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