Fahlnem moaned audibly at the touch of his obsidian staff and holy marble rope dart. Desmond made a huff of disgust in response as Fahlnem reminisced about the acquisition of his marble armament.

Fahlnem stared across the fallen marble tree of Ardisia at the Dwarven gunsmith that he had slighted. Yurvik's face, although smothered in a beard befitting the stereotype, showed a mixed drink of expressions.

"Y'ain't leaving with'er marble, Fahlnem." Yurvik's mouth curled in disgust and anger as it opened once more in an attempt at spewing the Dwarven phrase of activation for his lightning-imbued ring.

With a wave of his hand, Fahlnem triggered the backdoor to the ring that he had enchanted for Yurvik, speaking an incantation of his own to release each of the charges held therein. Yurvik's body convulsed with electrical spasms, falling to his knees. Smoke billowed out from his ring finger as it melted away at the flesh for a few moments before Fahlnem reached out with his consciousness, bearing down on the excess of mana left in the ring to suck it in for himself before the rest of the ring's charge was expelled into Yurvik. After incapacitating the Dwarf but mercifully preventing his death, Fahlnem glanced over to see how Fairrin's duel with the tree golem was going.

"Need some help, pal? I just-" Fahlnem's boast was interrupted by a tackle from Allister, sending them both plummeting down the tree's knoll pedestal into a small enclosed space enwrapped in a thicket. Allister immediately gained the upper hand, having gotten on top of Fahlnem and successfully wrenching his staff away. He turned to launch it back to the top of the knoll with a grunt and Fahlnem sent a fist into the man's jaw. Allister grunted in pain, surely having been used to far worse even with his armor donned, before grabbing Fahlnem's collar. The two gave each other menacing stares, both ready to throw hands.

"The fuck is this all about, Fahlnem?"

"I just wanted some of the marble. It's not that hard." Fahlnem curled his knee slowly from underneath Allister.

"You understand that as an officer of Seaguard's militia, I can't let you go after this."

Fahlnem understood the direction that the conversation was going and used his Elven elasticity against the man, drawing his leg up underneath his assailant to kick Allister off of him. The two rose to their feet and Fahlnem stepped back against an outcropping of dirt that spurred out from the depths of the thicket surrounding them. Due to his proximity to Allister and the thicket surrounding them, Fahlnem understood that neither setting the whole thing on fire and burning both of them alive nor attempting to flee would be a valid option. He reached for a blunt stick below him and began to whack at Allister, eliciting huffs and curses with every hit at the man's guard.

Finally, Allister grabbed Fahlnem's club and tossed it aside, launching himself forward to grab at Fahlnem's collar. He swapped between socking Fahlnem in the jaw and sending jabs at his side in what quickly became a symmetric rhythm. Fahlnem braced himself against the dirt bulwark behind him, reaching around for anything to hit Allister with. He settled on a small blunt rock, reaching up to smack Allister in the face with it. He had no intention of killing the man or even permanently injuring him, but his pride and greed at the time demanded triumph. Allister lurched backward away from the incoming rock, sustaining a bloody graze on his chin that scraped away skin. He grabbed Fahlnem's wrist and maneuvered the rest of his arm into a lock before bringing his knee up onto Fahlnem's elbow, drawing out a disgusting cracking sound from his arm and a yell of agony from his mouth. He began pouring mana into his spare left hand as it gripped the soil behind him, and it started to glow yellow right as he started to get tired of the taste of blood in his mouth and the painful sensation running down his right arm. He sent his knee into Allister's gut and reached out with his burning hand to grab at Allister's face.

Allister screamed in agony for a few moments as Fahlnem leaned into him, pushing the two of them to the ground. Fahlnem let go of Allister's face after a moment, leaving behind a vile, bubbling patch of melting flesh. He dispelled the burning heat from his hand and formed it into a fist, sending it into Allister's forehead with one decisive punch. Allister rested his head on the disturbed soil they had been fighting on and the pyromancer rose to his feet. He felt tired and pyrrhic as he slowly crawled back up the hill to retrieve his staff, noticing Fairrin's declining struggle against the tree golem. It had overpowered him and was beating his body against the fallen tree, although he had exposed its core, the weak point, and its source of mana. Fahlnem began to rise to his feet and help before he saw Yurvik stirring on the ground, so he grabbed his staff, along with a chunk of blessed marble, and left.

The whole thing was pointless, really. Fairrin ended up being fine because of what was in his blood, but the law caught me and took my marble away after I had converted it to a staff. Thankfully, Yurvik was a gullible bastard, so he let me keep a smaller chunk of marble and ended up forgiving me anyway. He coiled up his marble rope dart, attaching it to his armor at the hip.

"Should get out of here now," Desmond muttered in a low tone, leaning on the doorway into the holding area and glancing down the hallway. "Bound to be another entrance for'm to breach."

"Surely so. You wanna set a trap for the fuckers? Ambush them?"

Desmond grunted and shook his head before gesturing to Fahlnem's recovered magical items. "Got yours. Don't have mine." He pushed himself off of the doorway and stepped out into the hallway. "Mission's done anyway. Both of ours."

"Sure, whatever." Fahlnem sighed in disappointment. "Still, we have to get out of here one way or another. Could blow back through the way I came in and hope that the blokes either left or split up between the two or more entrances."

Desmond gestured for Fahlnem to lead the way. He spun up a string of conversation with Desmond as he led him back the way he came.

"So, Desmond. What was this top-secret mission of yours that you failed?"

Desmond grunted in displeasure before replying. "Intel. Tried to get with the Exarch."

"What'd you find out?"

"Nothing."

"What, you got caught before you could learn anything? Anything at all? Not even, say, his favorite brewery or something?" Fahlnem began to chuckle condescendingly.

"No."

"Alright, well," Fahlnem wiped a tear from his eye that wasn't there. "I still have more questions for you, but I guess it can wait. You gonna be able to help out if we get in a fight on the way back to the spooky-ass aquarium?"

Desmond nodded in affirmation. They turned the corner to spot a couple of guardsmen. Fuck. Did I miss a room or something?

"You badasses been breeding or something?" Fahlnem reached for his rope dart.

The guardsmen froze. A prisoner and a kingdom-wide wanted warlock flaunting their way out of the jail room, towards the exit.

"Neither of you should be here. Put your hands up."

Desmond stood like a statue made of dirt while Fahlnem put his hands up and smiled in compliance. He positioned the end of his rope dart in his hand to face the guards before pushing a small explosion through his skin, projecting the rope dart into the crowd. He held onto the weapon further down on the rope, sending mana through the enchanted threads and detonating the tip. The three guardsmen barely had a moment to flinch before each one was sent onto their back, sustaining fatal wounds on various portions of their bodies. Fahlnem led Desmond through the pile, coiling up the rope and cleaning a bit of soot off of the tip of the weapon. He could hear one of the guards groaning behind him, so he charged a ball of sticky flames in his hand and sent it back into the pile of guards as a good measure as they continued down the hallway. Desmond gestured at the rope dart hanging from the pyromancer's hip, grunting inquisitively.

"Pretty handy, yeah?" Fahlnem chuckled in a boastful fashion. "The rope's fireproof and explosion proof, and the marble's almost indestructible. Got it from a God, actually."

Desmond nodded slowly. Fahlnem knew he understood how it was. They stepped back into the reception area he had first breached and heard shouting from down the hallway.

"Sounds like the place got lively all of a sudden." Fahlnem stepped over to the rubble blocking their exit. "See if you can't keep them busy for a second. Just a second."

Fahlnem knelt down and began applying solidified mana to the debris-filled doorway. He could hear screaming and gurgling from behind him. Choosing to keep the evidence of Desmond's magic a surprise, he stood and backed away. Oop. An audible crunch echoed down the hallway as Desmond joined Fahlnem to make their exit. The pyromancer flourished his obsidian staff and the debris blew open, sending only a few sharp pebbles their way while the rest was ejected out into the train station. Fahlnem could hear the stomping of two Pale Spears from inside the barracks while he and Desmond fled past the stunned Rites that had been watching the exit.

He chuckled, and the two made their escape.

Once Fahlnem and Desmond made it back to the aquarium safe house, Fahlnem led him inside. Miranda was waiting in the same waiting area that she had seen Fahlnem off in. She glanced up from whatever she was working on to show an expression of sincere relief upon seeing Desmond's emotionless visage. Fahlnem liked to think that she was just pretending to be busy before they got back.

"And not a scratch on either of you." She almost sounded giddy.

"Yep. Got my shit back, too. Almost time for me to jump ship back to my own realm."

Miranda gave Fahlnem a 'so-so' tilting of her hand while handing Desmond a pack with the other.

"What? What does that mean?" Fahlnem arched a brow and leaned on his staff.

"I get that you're skilled, Fahlnem," Miranda sighed while resting her hands on her hips. "But I really don't think you can just storm Ianann and take the Violet Crown. Assuming that's even what gives the identical creeps their abilities." She paused and added to her statement. "Assuming they're even the ones that brought you here."

Desmond separated himself from the conversation, pulling a number of awfully-smelling items from the pack, including a shamanistic staff of his own that appeared to be made entirely of cancerous flesh and porous ivory.

Fahlnem ignored his curiosity for a moment and continued. "What do you suppose I do then, Miranda? Obviously this city's shit, and you guys don't have any power outside of the Maw, so I can't even really rely on safe lodgings with you people."

"I can't tell you what your options are, Fahlnem. I hardly understand my own. But I could pay for your service as a mage like I do Desmond's."

"My service? You mean a hitman's fee, basically. That's what we both are to you. Hitmen. Because nobody else wants to join your dumbass cause to struggle against the administratum."

Miranda tore her glance from Desmond and faced the pyromancer with a gaze of damnation. "Listen, fucker." Fahlnem felt something move in his trousers.

"I'm literally just trying to fight for our right to exist here. You understand that, right? You're an arrogant, privileged, hick-faced fucker with pointy-ass ears that let you do whatever the hells you want." She thumbed at her chest before continuing. "I don't have pointy ears, Fahlnem." She thumbed at Desmond. "He doesn't have pointy ears either. Which means neither of us mean anything in this kingdom. Actually, less than that. We're supposed to shut the fuck up when an Elf is nearby and wear those condescending bands on our arms to tell other races to stay away because we're barbarians."

Miranda took a step back and sighed, running a hand through her pitch-colored hair. "Fuck."