Fangs, Claws, Fur and Fear (closed.)

[Chamaeleon]

Spring 91st 512 A.V

Chamaeleon stood before the cages of the captured residents of the Spires, staring into the barred depths and glad to not be behind the wooden bars. Her harp, beaten and worn, sat at her feet. She wore her new cloak done up high on her body, but as she stood there she undid it and allowed it to pool at her feet. It released the waves of red, gold-brushed curls and allowed the milky white horns to refract the light of Syna. The very extreme tips of her hair was still brushed with blonde, and the ends of her horns were touched with a hint of green, but in all appearances, she was not the same Chamaeleon she had been when she was born.

She lifted her harp and circled around to a more cluttered area of the cages, where some of her own friends were guarding. She smiled at them but didn't say anything just yet. Instead, she moved to sit before the cages and placed the harp in front of her, strumming the strings experimentally and flinching at the off key sound. She wished she had bought a tuning fork when she purchased the harp, but it was too late for that now.

The Ethaefal began to play the harp slowly, plucking the strings in a somber melody that she soon urged into a quicker tempo. What she played was expirimental. She hadn't yet gotten the true hang of the instrument, so she did what she felt was right while she played.

The Ethaefal didn't tire quickly as she sat there in the short grass. She didn't know if her audience within the cages enjoyed what she played, but she hoped that it would at least lend them a small bit of comfort to be visited.

[Roka]

Roka strode through the camp with little thought to his destination. He needed a break from the constant chatter of nameless faces. It was odd to always be in the company of others, in continuous conversing and addressing of manners. He found it tiresome to always feel the needed to respond accordingly, especially when they held no real sway within him anyway. Those who did were elsewhere, and out of sight.

He gazed distantly at the surrounding area, reaching the cages of many who had become twisted versions of themselves and been locked away until they could recover. He was growled and hissed at as he passed, but gave them no reaction as their hands darted toward him in open fists, hoping to sink a claw into his unwavering golden eyes.

A sharp tune pricked at his sensitive ears and his amusement was captured. This clamor of sharp tones, to anyone else might hold little meaning, but to him it was a sound that made his chest rise and fall a little quicker and his eyes search for a pair of delicate fingers stroking the strings of a peculiar little instrument. His smile was immediate as he spotted the object of his search. A woman, who had begun to change so quickly before his very sights, but could not disguise the plains of her face or the depth of her eyes, he would not forget. He could not forget her, no matter how much she changed.

He approached quietly, the moment full of a not so distant memory. His hand reached for her delicate form, but could only bring himself close enough to allow his fingers to slide past her fiery curls with admiration. He came to her side not taking in the full sight of her just yet; his eyes looking to where her eyes were fixated. "What a familiar sight..." he hummed and then turned, with no patients left to behold the greeting of their eyes.”...you, I mean." he added. "I think I found you this way once before, but I still am not sure what you are doing playing to the ones in cages. A one woman band no less.” He joked a playful smile on his lips and leaning gesture that begged to reach forward and rest upon her.

[Airyn]

A stirring melody played through Airyn's head as she walked along, not quite sure where she was going. She started following the tune, dancing in every step and trying to contain herself from shifting into her wolf form. The music stopped and it left her with a sinking feeling, she had so enjoyed it and had wanted to see who was playing the harp so beautifully. It wasn't that the music was perfect, it was obvious that the instrument was badly in need of tuning, but there was an emotion that was carried in the music that made it so appealing.

The Kelvic girl was so in love with music that she could not contain herself when it was being played, always needing to find the source of where it originated. She had been wandering the entire world, searching for the origin of music. As she rounded another corner, she saw two figures near the cages. The girl holding the harp was constantly changing, an Etheafel no doubt. *She was the one playing the music* Airyn thought, taking a tentative step forward. That was when she remembered the other figure. She turned her gaze upon it to see it was male. She held no interest for him, he was not the one with the music.

Airyn approached quietly, not bothering to hear what was being said. It wasn't directed towards her, so it didn't matter. When she got near enough she stopped, tilting her head to one side as if to understand why they were here.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia spent another large portion of her time in patrolling the cages this day, the newest arrivals proving to be far trickier to contain than previously anticipated. There were Jamoura guards of course to help contain their feral brethren, however they could not in all places at once despite their best efforts. It had been the original reasoning behind hiring guards such as Zandelia in the first place, but with further arrivals and no influx of willing guards they were spread thin at best. So Zandelia found herself pulling double shifts whilst others were sleeping, trying to keep the wilds form overrunning the peaceful encampments with her own safety at risk. This had been proven to her before, with the escape of that mysterious man – a failing that still played upon her conscience and kept her looking over her shoulders regularly.

And then there is the ebb and flow of gossip, intrigue and information that passes through this accursed prison. At least that in itself pays me extra for my troubles she thought to herself as she was forced to produce her tonfa, jabbing it between the bars of a cage to subdue a feral that was damaging itself by flinging itself against the metal – a wolf Kelvic she thought, though she had no proof until it was fully docile.

“Something about the eyes…” she murmured as she finally walked away with a few scrapes and covered with sweat, the violence diminished and the animal curled up in defeat.

It was as her patrol took her towards the edge of the caged area that the lilting sounds of dulcet musical tones reached her ears, quiet at first but louder as she kept walking, the wind carrying the sound across the cold ground in ways that were more magical than the music itself. She observed as she passed by the last rows of recovering feral that the animals were not affected, however the Jamoura seemed to be slowed by the sounds, appeased perhaps as it brought back memories of a better time – a time when they enjoyed peace and plenty. She was not sure there was a connection between their newly found docility, or whether they were merely getting better, but she would have opted for the former is forced to state an opinion. She smiled to herself as she pushed her tonfa back into their places at her waist and finally exited the caged area and beheld a beautiful sight indeed.

“Beauty and music tames the beast…interesting” she sighed to herself as she stood still for a long while, listening to the tones and the way they thread together to form a melody she could not place but felt hauntingly familiar.

She noticed the woman had already garnered a small crowd, her music and figure all too enticing even to Zandelia, whom was mentally strong in her opinion. She looked upon her further, her feature plucking at her memory but taking its own sweet time about giving her the information it held within its clutches. It was then that she remembered her name and where she knew her from, both pleasant coincidences. She walked towards her slowly, taking her time and enjoying pacing in time with the harp’s wooing sounds.

“Chamaeleon, how kind of you to give us a musical rendition to ease our workings. The caged seem to like it at any rate, I can attest to that! Haven’t seen you around much the last few days,” she opened with, the music ending now and speech possible without committing sacrilege, “how are you finding your quarters? Comfortable I hope” she stood mere paces away now, hands upon her hips as she tried to stop her body from giving into it desires, the other woman’s body far to appealing to her senses.

[Creeper]

*Moderator Note: Airyn has received a moderator intervention, so simply skip over their post and continue on with you three. Several yards away from the melodious group, a rough group of humans and a Jamoura, four strong, discussing something hushedly. They had the standard look that was common since the mercenaries had begun arriving in The Spires. They all had weapons, scars, and rough demeanor. The Jamoura was keeping an eye out, constantly looking all around, as if sure someone was watching him. They quickly made their way over to Centroc's Supplies, and purchased several things, clearly getting ready to head into the fog. Zandelia would notice that their mannerisms were off from the typical mercenaries. They were not the confident, excited, yet cautious like many of the seasoned mercs. These people seemed to be plotting, running from the eyes of invisible watchers, and clearly had an ulterior motive in this woman's trained eyes. Her curiosity was clearly piqued and would keep bugging at her. She would want to question Centroc, who would only freely tell her that they were mercenaries. If she slipped him enough coin, and it would have to be a healthy amount, he would tell her that they all used to be from The Spires, but were Forgotten, whatever that meant. The group left the massive wagon and moved past the Cages, clearly looking to head into the forest. Roka's sharp ears would pick up a small snippet of conversation, "...those survivors within the Temple won't even see it coming..." This was followed by some chuckling, barely audible over the harp. Chamaeleon would look up into the sky, seeing Syna beginning to disappear. She'd never been particularly superstitious, but she could swear the stars were telling her that friends would be lost soon. She wouldn't notice the group right away, but the stars seemed to be telling her that she needed to go into the city. The group disappeared into the forest, heading for the city, the Jamoura constantly keeping a watchful eye out, but he could only see so far. Roka's nose would be able to follow them if they kept quiet and stayed a fair distance back. Eventually the rough group would disappear into the fog, and the Sunberthian group would stop, hesitant, unsure if they should follow.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia had been spending the majority of her time watching the beautiful Ethaefal delight and amuse with her strumming, in many ways here mere presence more commanding than the music itself. It was a soothing melody, apt for the occasion to be sure, however Zandelia could not help but admire the woman more than the creation of her talents. She was truly an enigma to her, as all Ethaefal ultimately were. They were the unsolved puzzle of her time she supposed, cast down at random and with no real place to go. They would seek to return to their holy grounds their entire lives she had heard it told, but not one of them had ever succeeded in living memory. She wondered what series of machinations it would take to thwart existence itself, relishing the foolish idea that she could affect such things upon the realms of Mizahar – her name forever remembered as the saviour of their kind.

Foolish, Zandelia, but then dreams are not meant to be. You’re growing soft woman, far too soft these days she thought to herself as she felt her attentions briefly pulled towards another attraction, one far less savoury.

Her observational techniques had been practised enough to notice things that were out of place almost naturally now, though she was well aware that the actual dissection and conclusiveness of her observations took more than a little amount of rumination to be considered approaching correct. What she held her gaze to now was a group of mercenaries, or so they seemed at first glance, and had she not flickered her gaze back a few more times in their progress towards Centroc’s wagon she would have never given them a second thought. However, the more that she looked at them, looked away and was nagged by her subconscious, the more she took further note of their appearances and activities. Curiosity was a powerful trigger to her senses, how3ever it was nothing compared to the sense of danger.

They look, for all the world, like a band of hunters, but they give me that feeling of impending dread that comes before a massacre. But why? she thought to herself slowly, mulling them raw data she was observing over in her mind, trying t unlock its secrets.

She kept her gaze hidden and flickering, her head not turning altogether too much as her peripheral vision gave way to true vision with their progress. She saw their battered forms, their scars and their sullen tread. It was then that a notion struck her that she suspected might be a key – of sorts. Caution. They were cautious within the camp, something not altogether noted of the Jamoura. Within the mists of the city it was commonplace, its dangers all too evident. Within the camp however, it seemed strange and unusual. It was almost as if they were not comfortable with being seen by their own kind, not to mention anyone else b the way their eye darted and searched for hidden stalkers. She tilted her head, acting as if she were listening to the music being played that had now become the backdrop to her musings.

They are Jamoura but do not act like Jamoura. They swagger rather than wander. They are scarred as if having spent a life in war rather than peace. If I doubted my eyes I’d say they were not Jamoura at all! she pondered to herself as she watched them purchase a large amount of supplies from the merchant and wander towards the misty distance.

She followed in their wake, careful to keep back and merely making her way towards Centroc herself as if she were another willing customer. She had suspected that Centroc knew more than he was letting on to anyone, but now she was sure of her suspicions. He was a merchant of course, but even the slyest of merchants would not deal with a brutish band of Jamoura hunters without some prior knowledge – and he was no fool at all. No, he knew something and she wished to discern his intelligence upon the matter. She wagered she would have to pay for it, in money or favours perhaps, but was more than willing to pay. If this miscreant band knew something then Zandelia wanted the inside lane upon their hammer-like thinking.

It was not too long before she was before Centroc, tongue ready for the negotiations and hping she would leave with good value for her time and resources.

[Chamaeleon]

The familiar cadence of a certain fox' voice brought a smile to Chamaeleon's lips. As she finished playing, she looked up at him and felt something in her clench, almost painfully. She gave him a playful smile as she relinquished her grasp upon the instrument, which sang lightly as it was relaxed.

"I'm under the belief that playing music will help them. Perhaps it will reassure them that the world is still the same outside of their cages, and that there is nothing wrong. These people need to hope for something, yes?" Since the unsettling fog that had clouded the city showed no signs of dispersing, they'd all probably need every bit of hope they could get, especially the natives.

In the background behind Roka, a fully naked woman walked by, her face fierce. Chamaeleon was amused by the sight, putting her guess on the woman's identity to be some kind of Kelvic. They were the only people comfortable in their skin. Admirable of them.

Her eyes strayed now to another member of her small little audience, and she grinned at the woman as well upon recognising her. The leader of the little motley crew that had set out from Sunberth, Zandelia. A pretty woman, nonetheless, and the look she gave Chamaeleon was interesting.

Her lips remained turned up in a smile as she looked down to examine her hands, diverting her gaze from both of these attractive peoples. She adored Roka, more than she should, and she respected Zandelia. She liked them both, but evidently, she favoured one.

"I've been busy, and most of my duties involve the Ward. Exhausting business, but I do what I can. This is my first opportunity for a break, and I thought I should visit with these poor souls." She felt she had to justify her absence to both of them. "I'm glad to see you both again." She didn't say the last half of the sentence she would have said if it had only been her and Roka. She kept that to herself, and began to rise to her feet.

The Ethaefal stretched as she rose, tilting her head back and arching her spine, hearing the crick crack of bones. She was amused by the sound and sensation, but her eyes found something in the few winking stars that dared show their faces before Syna set fully that caused the smile to slowly fade. She was unsettled by what the sky seemed to tell her in the stars and the space between. The stars looked so lonely, so far apart. They looked distant, almost lost from one another.

A weight of certainty pressed into her chest and she straightened out of her stretch to catch Zandelia's back as she strode away, towards Centroc. The Ethaefal didn't know what she had missed but she looked at Roka, with eyebrows raised, an unspoken question, and a glimmer of her former playful mood in her eyes.

[Creeper]

*Moderator's note: I'm skipping over Roka for this, if he decides to return, I can write him back in. Roka passed on the information to Chamaeleon, the snippet he had just heard. However, he was quickly pulled away by another member of the CE who needed him for some task. Cham would feel a sense of dread from this, "...those survivors within the Temple won't even see it coming..." There were survivors in the temple! And these men seemed to seek them harm. Centroc stepped out from his wagon, and approached the seeker of truths. He rubbed a single tan finger down the scar over her eye, "You want me to give up my customers? This sort of request doesn't come with ease, their money is as good as yours. You owe me, understand, no ifs, ands, or buts. When I contact, you respond. Now, with that good eye of yours, you need to examine those men closely. Very closely. I'm honestly surprised you haven't already... You should hurry though," He tilted his head in their direction, "It looks like they are departing, and your furry friend seems to be preoccupied." Without her noticing, he slipped a glass flask into one of her many pockets, cushioned by a wrap of cloth. He stepped back inside to his wagon, smiling as if he had just completed an amazing deal. The two women would have to hurry if they wanted to investigate. The men knew the forest well, but they weren't experts at watching their backs. They moved quickly covering the distance to the Fog and disappearing within, the women close behind. Within the Fog visibility was low, but Zandelia could make out the tracks in the soft earth. Chamaeleon didn't like being cut off from the skies, the connection with the stars severed, filling her with foreboding. If the stars could be cut off from their fallen friend, could she be cut off from hers? If Zandelia could follow the tracks, she would lead the pair until they heard laughing at the base of some trees. A breeze would allow Zandelia to see the Jamouran, towering, but acting a little clumsy, not like their brethren. They were pouring... some sort of liquid on the base of one of the massive trees that held up the city. Three were pouring, two were keeping watch, one with a sword at the ready, another with a nocked bow.

[Chamaeleon]

Chamaeleon was torn between following Roka and heading off with Zandelia when she went her own way. She was left alone, a heavy feeling of dread settling into the hollow of her chest. The words Roka had passed to her continued to bounce and rattle in her head, the instinct to investigate, to stop whatever was beginning, urging her to bolt after those people heading into the city. What were they planning? How were they going to do this? She turned to follow Zandelia, jogging to catch up and completely missing her exchange with Centroc, not that she really had much fondness for the man. He was many things but trustworthy wasn't necessarily one of his good points. "Those survivors in the Temple won't even see it coming..." The Ethaefal murmured to herself. As she caught up with Zandelia, Syna set below the horizon and with a shuddering glimmer across the expanse of her gilded skin she was grey, thin, frail, breakable. "Come on, Zandelia. We have to go now," she said, tugging at the woman's sleeve lightly but insistently. They headed off into the forest after the men, or at least Chamaeleon was certain that Zandelia was following her. She didn't have much chances to look back, so intent she was on following her 'prey', doing her beat to keep silent and within hearing distance, but she hoped she wasn't alone. She was well within the fog, her slight body close to the ground to minimize the possibility of being sighted, but she knew she wasn't assured success. She wasn't used to sneaking after people and more often than not stepped on twigs and scuffled in the dirt, but hopefully she would appear as nothing more than a shadow to the people. When they stopped, she approached a few more feet and lifted her head to get a view of what they were doing. She couldn't understand what pouring liquid on the tree would do to the people who took refuge in the temple. Her brow furrowed, the Symenestra looked around for another vantage point. Soon enough, Chamaeleon crouched behind a large rock further to the left of the group, given a clear view whenever she peered around the side. They were still pouring the liquid, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. There were several of them, one of her, and no Zandelia to be seen. It distressed her to be so alone, cut off from everyone and the sky itself, but she had to do something for the survivors in the temple, shouldn't she?