It was scary, for Amond, to continue the research he does under the eyes of that witch. His first encounter with her had not been a good one. In fact, he rather not think at all of the trauma she unleashed upon him. Looking back on it, he admits that his actions were foolish, emotional, and not at all rational. Unbecoming of someone who served under the ruthless and bloodthirsty regime known as Talin for so long. It seemed a waste to him, to do such a thing to his creation, his friend. Maybe that is why Makhai was ressureted. They never felt emotions, so they make the perfect killing machines. No need of fruitless humanity to slow down whatever goals this witch requires of them all. Whatever that was, he still does not know. It has been a month since he began his assignment, and now he feels as if disturbed by what he was doing. He was creating monsters, no way around it.

He was a necromancer. The practice itself was something looked down upon in his teachings. Not forbidden, but taboo. There was a good reason. The balance of life and death was a fragile thing, and any tip to unbalance it will have many unintended consequences. Despite being a rather intrinsic part of the dark arts, it has many regulations for men to follow while they pursue them. Torlak fears another Dark Isles incident, unleashing horrors not meant of this world. His specific specialty were spirits. They were everywhere, and nowhere. He has studied the concept, of aura taking up a sense of sentience and performing feats only living things are capable of. Spirits came in many forms. The most common are the undead. Banshees, ghosts, and specters. The result of the souls of a man or woman bound to this world by some outside force, usually mystical it seemed. They weren't truly the souls of victims of cruel deaths, more like fragments and memories, especially powerful ones, that are left behind when they are taken to the afterlife. Another variety was the free spirits. Beings that never had a physical body but instead forming out of either whim or through the random formation of a concept being given birth in the universe. Like wind spirits, mountain spirits and the plethora of nymphs. Either theory is probable, yet unproven. What he focused on these days was something in between.

Crafting familiars was seen as a rather dirty thing, even in necromancy. The process starts by finding a suitable soul. This soul can come from a variety of things, anything really. Anything that has life can be used in the process. For example, a wolf. The wolf is then brought to near death, but not quite. If the wolf is to die, his soul will simply transfer to the afterlife, leaving only a fragment behind. No, you want the entire thing for the process to be worthwhile. Too weak and the familiar will not be able to hold firm in this reality, constantly in existence between this reality and the realm of mere concepts. Once you do have a sample of their aura, place it within a suitable container. Gems and precious metals seem the most suitable for this task. This aura is the key, the major ingredient. If kept preserved, the soul can not pass on completely to the afterlife even if the host dies. Zoi must be harvested slowly into this container. As a creature dies, a lot of the aura is dispersed into its surroundings naturally. But once you collect enough, and the host finally dies, the next step can begin. The zoi you have collected is essentially the soul of whatever you have taken it from and can be used in conjunction with magic to give it sentience once more. Any element will do, but since he was a necromancer the dark art was suitable.

And there it is; a smoky, nearly translucent imitation of what the soul had once been. With each new creation he felt his senses grow. He could see through these creatures on will, know their exact location just by thought. They made for excellent shoes and scouts. Hard to destroy and harder to see if they dispersed their forms.

This is what he had been grueling over, throwing his efforts into. He sat in a large chamber, collecting zoi from a deer that they had brought in that evening. It was fresh, but he set it onto the metal table and brought a small crystal to set beside it. The crystal reacted to the dying mammal, its slow breathing growing slower from cuts along its body, its legs were broken and its spine most likely damaged as well. This will be the twentieth animal, and the last, he worked on today. The room stunk of decay from animals dying throughout the chamber. He had to apply a balm beneath his nose to keep the smells away. For what purpose? What reason? He does not know and he doubts he will till it is important. All he knows is that he has a deadline. And Familiars weren't the only thing he must worry about.

On the opposite side of the room, other mages that she had brought in were using sculpting instruments to work on giant humanoids. They were golem, magic not too far off from the necromantic practices of his own profession. This practice originated in Shi'Ased, however, they were mostly used for servants or workers it seemed. He could count on Talin to recognize the combative potential of such a creature. Imbuing sentience into objects was rarely new magic to him. It seemed a lot less grounded, and more ethereal, relying on more nebulous magic than he liked. The humanoids they crafter was disturbing to look at. They were humanoid, three times the size of a regular human, however. Their thick torso and limbs were leaking aura through several cracks. Arms too long and spindly, knife-like claws attached to each one. They were thickly made, thick legs, and barrel chests with a short neck. Their empty eye sockets were pools of green aura. and thin slits mimicked mouths. In the enter of their chest or stomach, a green core replicated the use of a soul, a thick ball of aura that gave the thing some small semblance of sentience. He didn't wish to see how such a thing would perform in battle. Their looks alone seemed enough to turn men on their heels to flee.

"Quite amazing, isn't it?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. He slowly turned to see one of those women walk into this chamber. Today she wore the face of a youth that could be from either Hath or the empire with that thick auburn hair and green eyes. As always beautiful, almost reminding him of some lost love he may have fancied in his youth. She wore a flowing white dress, almost thin enough to see the slender body beneath it. The dress seemed to almost thin into most at her feet. She walked a little awkwardly towards him, an unorthodox dance as she moved. Almost like she had some sort of metal pipe stuck in her bones. He knew this was merely an illusion they set up. These soulless servants of that witch. At first, Amond mistakenly thought of them as just that, servants. Tried to get them to tell him secrets. But he came to the realization that these were not human at all. No, not at all. These servants were merely puppets. Al that they can see and sense is also felt by the master. That had earned him yet another punishment.

He averted his gaze from her, trying to pour all his attention to his work, focusing on collecting zoi carefully. "It's work as work is. I have a lot to do, as you can see, so I'm better left alone."

The servant looked over the deer, its slowed breathing and its docile nature. "You should just kill it you know. This is just a waste of time keeping it alive."

No emotion, no sense of attention, only passing thought spoken.

"That would break the process," he said, watching as the crystal in his hand steadily grow brighter. "I'm assuming you're here to gather my progress then servant?"

She looked back at him, blank-faced and resigned. As if he reminded her a purpose she cared little to focus on. "My master wishes to know your progress indeed. If you don't mind of course."

He snorted. "I doubt she cares where my mind's at. I've done over a few hundred. The golem crafter over there managed to get about ten dozen prepared so far. I'll be a sorry snake but we're actually ahead of schedule. We'll have your little experiment up by the end of this month, my lady Hecate."

He spat that name, but the servant didn't seem to care. She paused for a moment, her eyes wondering as if listening to something. "Yes, very well then. Continue on your work then."

"That was what I was planning to do before you sauntered in here," he said in a low voice, though he guessed no matter how low he said it, she could here it. He might as well be standing in her ear as long as he was within a Talin stronghold. It frightened him on how connected her networks of information gathering was. If she was a mage trained in the Torlakian arts, she was simply beyond him in talent.

(X)

It was a decidedly crushing defeat, a despair that curled at Celia as the words were being spoke. She had been waiting eagerly for them to return, though she did not feel as apprehensive as when they visited Torlak. There were no restrictions on knights visiting this land. And at that, it was her homeland. As seedy and gritty as this place was, she knew Lyse would do a fine job avoiding trouble. He was always gifted in the art of persuasion and assessment. Though, she could not guess how his conversation with Lizbeth had been going. Lizbeth had expressed eagerness to meet Lyse and Massua in the past, needed to be reminded that the two visiting her was an invitation into the games that Hathan royalty often played. Lyse just entering her court, a knight with Hathan features and supposedly an ambassador, sat him sorely in their eyes for the time being. She would have been glad to see them return so that they could leave, and not come back for a while.

Even still, she found herself looking out over her city. She was well enough now, her wounds mostly healed and she could walk just fine. The curse of that pendant wasn't as bad today, only a dull pain in her arms now. The deck hands didn't take special note of her. She was just the ambassador's mother, as far as most of them are aware. though, she began to suspect that they could sense something was veiled before them, that they didn't have the whole picture in hand. Moxie and Blij was off the ship gathering supplies for the carpenters to finish repairs on the ship as they sailed. That left the cannon master in charge, mostly just sitting at the wheel looking over the deck with his pipe. Most jut lounged around, not really finding much to do. They had gotten all the supplies they would need from Torlak. The shipment they got was already picked up a while ago, the one marked with "T", and now they waited for the ambassadors and their captain to return. then they'll be on their last destination, hopefully. To Mount Kryn in Arkouda. hopefully all shall be well.

Then, suddenly, there was a earth rumbling boom! that shook the ground and rocked the boats. Immediately she looked over the rail to see where the explosion had come from, as well as all of the crew. Makyra, who had stayed in the crow's nest this entire time, dropped down beside her to peer in the same direction. The wind carried the viscous scent of gunpowder, lots of it, that had exploded not too far into the city. In fact, she could see the smoke billowing up now. She felt something heavy forming in her heart, a dread that she rarely gets, only comparable to that night they attacked her home killed her husband and kidnapped her child. It was happening again. That explosion had something to do with Lyse, she knows it. It must be a trap, something to lure them. Or they could be dead. she can't stay here, she can't leave him there to face the ambush.

Before she could make it to the gangplank, Makyra grabbed her arm, pleading in her eyes. "You are not well enough my lady."

She tried to break free from her grasp, but the fact that Makyra's grip held firm was more than proof of what she said. She looked solemnly back at the explosion, the bright flame illuminating the evening. then she looked back at Makyra.

"Save him."

"Yes, my lady."

She turned jumped the rail, landing on the docks and becoming a blur into the streets. It was hard to traverse with so many people running in that direction. She decided to instead move by rooftop. The low merchant shops were bunched up together. As she went she dawned her gauntlets, securing them as she scaled one of the last buildings to get a good vantage point. she prayed onto her ancestors that she wasn't too late. The entire street was covered with smoke. The thick screen was blocking any hope of catching scents, so she had to rely on zoi to see who was all there. See the glow of aura form. there were a lot of guards carrying large buckets of water, mechanical pumps that would shoot water from special pipes to put out he fire. People were streaming out the area, waving through the smoke coughing heavily. A woman wondered onto the street carrying her child. She spotted several people still in the smoke, battling one another in fact. She could barely make out the features of Edlund, Gray and Elena from their aura, their figures appearing as gradations of white and blue that battled these assassins. Assassins. She frantically searched for Lyse, he wasn't with the others. She searched all the way down the road. and then, she saw it.

Lyse being knocked into unconsciousness, being slung over the back of one of the assassins and being carried off into the shadows of the nearest buildings. The assassins began to disengage from Lyse's band and retreat along with them.

It can't be, she thought. How . . . why.

That was the only question she afforded herself before leaping into action, running as fast as she possibly could in their direction. Her expression became feral. The smell of Lyse's blood filled her with malice. These assassins were fast, but they were slowed down by the limp body they were carrying. Her claws were extended to their fullest as she ran along the building. The assassins sensed, her two dropping behind to get them off their trails. They weren't Makhai, but she had to be careful. Even if they were no Makhai they were still skilled fighters, enough to handle any normal fighter. She was not going to let these people get away with someone she dedicated her life protecting. She leapt from the building, morphing into her wolf form in mid air to crash into the two assassins. For a brief moment her body was encased in a soft light as she felt her bones shifted, skin molded into the hide of a wolf. Claws reached out to the assassins as all her senses sharpened. They carried a sword and a dagger, a defensive stance with both before them and square footing. They were only their to distract them. Which means, they wanted her to engage them as well. She didn't care about them. She was not going to let them get away with Lyse, not now. She landed just before them on all fours, snarling. Then, she bounded right over them. They won't have time to react and stop her, they were expecting her to fight. But they will give chase, and she'll have to deal with two of them on her tail while others were before her. Two more fell behind to fight her.

They were approaching a different section of the dock. This part was surprisingly empty, most likely being drawn to the commotion not far away. But those who remained saw as several men in shadows board a small vessel just large enough for all of them. They unhooked the sails and untied it from the docks, using a long paddle to set themselves into the water as quickly as they could. Then, they saw as one of them pulled out a crystal, setting it onto the mast as the wind caught the sail. Then another figure, a large silver wolf illuminating the space around it, a body limp in her jaws and claws dipping with blood. She dropped the last assassin sent after her onto the dock, searching eagerly for any sign of them. Makyra saw as the ship began to drift away, already thirty feet away from the docks now, and a strange mist slowly surrounding them that radiated some slimmer of light. She couldn't waste time. She got a running start, bounding across the docks and jumping off and leaping towards them. She could have made it, she could have easily gapped the distance. Her claws and teeth were once more extended to another of the assassin's that regarded her approach.

But then, she collided with something she could not see, like smacking into a solid metal wall. A flash of a sharp green light that repelled her surrounded the ship. That gem at the bow of the ship pulsed with energy as she fell into the frigid ocean. She came up only to see that the vessel was gone now. The mist had completely surrounded them, and their aura suddenly shimmered, and then disappeared into nothing. She shifted back into her human form, panting as she frantically searched for something, any sign of them. But they were gone. the night had swallowed them, and now they had gotten away. Another failure, another person she could not save.