A figure enwrapped in darkness stepped into Fahlnem's bar in Ilyenora. It was astonishingly tall, even while hunched over itself, and dark beady eyes peered out from behind its cowl. Fahlnem knew the creature to be a former servant of the malevolent gods known as the Keepers. The creature had failed the Keepers and was banished to that realm as a punishment, relegating his formerly limitless powers gifted by the Keepers to the basic task of delivering mail for every individual in the realm. The Mailman was completely forbidden from injuring anything in the realm and could not meddle in any local affairs.

The Mailman stepped over to the counter, unfolding a layer of his abyssal robes to unveil an elderly hand with unreasonably long digits and scaly, black-dyed skin. With that hand, he delivered a letter to Fahlnem, who took the letter and expressed gratitude with a smile and nod. The Mailman blinked into the in-between with a quiet popping noise, likely to deliver something to someone else. Fahlnem opened the un-sealed letter and read the contents therein: a warning from Ciron. The letter had just one sentence written in Elven script; 'If you're still in Ilyenora, don't be.' He hurried upstairs to Kali's room and showed her the letter. Fahlnem tilted the letter for Kali to read and glanced at her to gauge her expression. Nothing, as expected.

"I think Ciron's going to try to kill Argus. For real this time."

"Are you going to try to stop him?" Kali showed an expression of dread. He wasn't sure if it was because of worry aimed at him or Ciron.

"I'll wait at Argus' estate for him. I think I know where he'll try to get in."

Fahlnem awoke with a headache worse than when he lost consciousness. He was sure that his eyes were open, but he could only see pitch-black darkness shrouding his perception. He also recognized the feeling of being constricted by ropes in a chair. He resisted the urge to panic, calmly lifting his head and mentally retracing his steps in an attempt to determine why he was blind and sitting tied up in a moist room. Oh. Right. The club in my face. He now had a bump on both the front and rear of his head.

"Hello?" He was slightly annoyed. "Forgo? Pal?" He could hear someone striking something with another something, and a moment later he could see a dim beam of light shining into his eye, illuminating the exterior of a dark blindfold. So, not blind. Just kidnapped. Again. "Smart call with the blindfold, really, but I'm still not amused."

A voice spoke back at him from the darkness. "If you're referencing the Twelfth Spear, the Forgotten of Vows, he's not here. Thankfully." Fahlnem could feel the air around an incoming hand and instinctively flinched. The hand tore off his blindfold to reveal an abandoned aquarium, likely in the outskirts beyond the city walls or in the slums of the city proper.

"What's the point of blindfolding me if you're literally just going to take it off again when I wake up?" Fahlnem tilted his head, furrowing his brows. "Seems kinda-" The hand returned, this time with a slap. Nice.

"Let's keep this quick. You are Fahlnem, yes? The warlock?" A well-built woman, a Human, with pitch-colored, short hair stood before him. She looked angry, and his first thought was whether or not she got laid. She was looming over him, resting her palms on the arms of his chair. Her hands were manly, so he assumed she was the one that slapped him.

"Mage, not warlock. But yes, that's me. Master pyromancer and renowned owner of the Fiery Wench." He paused with a mock expression of remorse. "I would bow if I could." His expression quickly returned to a smug grin. He thought that it helped him gain control of situations like this, to act ever-charming and collected; cool-headed. "This is when you tell me your name as well. It's a two-way thing."

The woman with pitch-colored hair and man-hands stood up straight, allowing Fahlnem to smell something other than her for a moment. A crony lit another oil lamp, illuminating another fish tank that encompassed the entire left wall of the viewing chamber Fahlnem was being held in.

"Miranda Collar. I lead what remains of the Human rebellion here in Erumar. Your kind calls us Bluntears." She crossed her arms and held her tense expression.

"A pleasure, I'm sure. Look, Miranda, I've been beaten down and double-crossed enough this week that I-" She interrupted him.

"Don't care. You're a resource, and we're strikingly low on that right now. We already lost the body of a dead Pale Spear that we killed. Mages, especially, could help turn this around for us. We-" He returned the favor.

"Miranda, I already told Samael in the Maw that I'm not interested in joining your little Human orgy thing. For one, I don't do terrorism, and for two, I don't do heroics. You guys are either terrorists, which I find unlikely after how hateful and prejudiced the Magisterium has turned out to be, or you're actually fighting for a real cause that could genuinely help people."

"You met Samael already?" Miranda frowned. "That fuckwad should have brought you here. He knows how much we could use a proper mage right now." She pressed her thumb onto the furrow between her brows. "The rebellion could genuinely benefit from your involvement, Fahlnem. We heard about your escape from the Forgotten."

Fahlnem shook his head firmly and righteously. "Nuh-uh. Not interested. Just send me home, please."

"And where is home, Fahlnem?" Miranda rose her voice.

"Ibiriel. The realm I'm from. 's got two continents: Celitrem, and Ilyenora. Back there is where I wanna go, please. Better yet, send me to Quintaris, my other home realm. Either one works at this point."

"Well, Fahlnem," Miranda turned to a condescending and impatient tone of voice. "We can't help you. Only the Violet Crown can. But you," She got closer again, forcing her body weight onto the chair to make it tip back slightly. "you can help us. And in turn, you'll be helping yourself by getting closer to the Crown. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Fahlnem jogged through the town toward Argus' estate. He would cut through the thicket that sequestered the Elven village off from the rest of the continent, arriving at the rear of Argus' estate bordering the thicket. He slowed down slightly so as to not seem ridiculous if the matter turned out not to be urgent and slapped the back of Argus' marble shrine to Ereuvir, Argus' chosen Elven God of the Sun, on his way through the courtyard, as he often would. The workers of the estate had wandered off somewhere, which was a poor sign to Fahlnem. He slowed to a halt in front of Argus' front door, knocking a few times with no response before passing on to the estate entrance. While he waited for someone to open the door, he glanced up at the massive eloquent abode. He wasn't sure where Argus acquired his immense wealth and never asked. He knew an astonishingly small amount about the Elf.

The door opened to reveal Argus' lover, Jeola, an individual with cheetah-print skin and long hair with vibrant autumn color. "Hey, Fahlnem. I'm sorry to say that Argus' wounds from fighting the Keeper Champion flared up again, so no training today." Fahlnem knew Jeola to be a shy but kind man, but the two rarely spoke to each other.

"That's alright, Jeo. I just need to tell Argus something." Fahlnem hid his grief-enwrapped expression with his usual expression while at the Irythil estate; that of curiosity and bewilderment towards magic.

"Okay." Jeola smiled and gestured for Fahlnem to step inside. "He's resting in bed upstairs. He should be awake, so you can just go on up."

Fahlnem meandered up the gorgeous steps. Elven script wrapped elegantly around the faux-ivory railings, and a tasteful buffet table awaited Fahlnem underneath the large window adorning one wall of the first landing of the staircase. Once he reached the top, he passed down the hallway toward Argus' room, passing two Elven attendants that were cleaning. He didn't think to smile at them, at the time.

"Argus?" He knocked at his teacher's opened door as he passed through the door frame. Argus nodded at Fahlnem in acknowledgment of his presence, tying off a bandage that had been wrapped around his waist. "I think Ciron's going to try to kill you tonight. Or at least very soon."

"I mean, yeah, I wanna go home. But I don't exactly want to fight that top spearman again. Especially not in this state." Fahlnem chuckled awkwardly.

"We heard about your fight with Alabaster. You survived. You shouldn't have, but you did. And if you help us, we can heal you. Does it make sense to you? The concept of mutual benefitiality?"

"...That's not a real word, but I see what you're getting at. I wouldn't mind getting patched up, but I get the feeling you'll do that anyway." At that moment, a small contained blast erupted from his wrists, blowing away the ropes confining his hands behind the back of his chair. He aimed his arms down to his legs, erupting a pulse of more contained flame that burned away the rope holding his own legs to the legs of the chair, allowing him to stand up. Lightning spiraled around his arms, individual arcs dancing across the surface of his armor.

Several of Miranda's cronies readied knives to cut at ropes suspending chandeliers and hanging debris. If the ropes were cut, the items would slam into the glass of the aquarium to Fahlnem's left and assumedly wash him away. Miranda held a hand, backing away from Fahlnem slowly. "Your threats won't control us. We've been under a lifetime of tyranny from your kind; I know you're no different from them at your core," she hissed at him. He was feeling violent, but he wondered if it was worth it to fight them. Having two groups of enemies in Erumar doesn't sound great. He was also in a bartering mood, so he dispelled his lightning and put his hands in the air.

"How about this, Miranda; I'll help you for a little while, play hero or whatever, and you get me into the train station checkpoint. Assuming that's where the rest of my shit is. And then we'll have another conversation about a longer, more significant alliance." He slowly lowered his right hand, as his left was still in crumbles from the fight with the Fourteenth Spear, the Spine of Affliction. Miranda shook his hand with a nod after a few moments of consideration. "We can help you get your equipment back." Her cronies settled down.

"So, gimme the rundown. How can I help, Miranda?" Fahlnem smiled with beaming kindness. Miranda replied conversely with a serious frown.

"As I said, we had killed the Ninth Spear, the Constant of Fury, during her raid on one of our safe houses. We knew she was coming, so we trapped her in without her Rites and eliminated her. During the process of extracting the armor from her body for transport to separate safe houses, the new Pale Spear arrived and killed every rebel in the room."

"Which one is it?"

"The Twelfth. The Forgotten of Vows. He's been kicking our asses since he showed up, conducting strikes on our other safe houses, and having the Exarch's guardsmen pull people from their homes from interrogation. It's random entrapment to try and weed out the rebels, which doesn't work out for us because most Humans in the city are at least sympathetic to our cause." Wouldn't mind a rematch with Forgo.

Fahlnem gave Miranda a weak two-fingered salute and a charming grin. "Ready to serve, m'lady."