Closed Welcome Home

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira fit the key into the lock, twisted, and pushed. The door opened with a creak to reveal the gloom inside, unlit and cold, with a stirring of dust and stale air. Moonlight shone in behind them, carving tall shadows lined in silver across the floor. The first floor was huge, three times larger than their entire cottage and twice as tall, lined with art and fine, mismatched furniture under a thin layer of dust. The open kitchen gleamed dully with expensive metal works and spider webs. It was grand, but after being abandoned for seasons it the place felt unloved and cold. Madeira's heart broke to think this was where the end of their long, impossible journey had taken them.

Allister, it seemed, had a different impression. He deposited his burdens and swept towards her with glee shining between his bloody teeth. Sinking low, with rough sailors hands as gentle as can be, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head upon her breast. “You kept your promise, love", his voice was all adoration and happiness as he spoke of a promise made in the bedroom of a very different manor nearly a year before. “You promised me a home just for us and you’ve done it!”

Love and victory rushed through the bond, delighting in how far they had come and what met them on the other side. Madeira brushed his hair with soft fingers and smiled. In the tide of his joy she swore she could see what he saw in this abandoned place. She saw space and potential, with their warmth spilling over to infect every centimetre of this house. This was a place to raise a family and care for those they loved, a place she could implement magic into the very roots of the manor and he could finally know peace. Through his eyes this house felt like home.

He asked what he could do, did she want rest, food, pampering? She watched the purple swelling of his brow where it met her body and knew he needed tending much more than she needed service. But the Kelvic wanted to help her, and she suspected he would feel better if he did. She came to a quick solution and kissed his upturned face.

"A bath would be wonderful, if you joined me." What a pleasure that would be, to scrub the salt and stink from their skin and to sink into precious fresh water. And if she could get Allister naked and to hold still, she could clean and examine his wounds as best she could. Tomorrow they would find a medical facility, but tonight all he had was her. Yet tonight, if she were gentle, and he was strong enough, perhaps there were other ways she could show him just how much she appreciated him and all he had done to get them here. "There's bound to be a bathing room here somewhere. Find it and draw us a bath, while I settle everyone down."

The chicken was still a ruffled, anxious ball of feathers in her wicker basket, the cat still sunk low and snoozing in her hood, and the tiger was still stuffed in the great chest. Little Emma was excitedly exploring their new house with great interest, and she looked like a proper ghost as her form flickered and blinked in the dark corners of the abandoned structure. Kneeling, Madeira lifted the sleepy Spooks from her cloak and the confused chicken from its basket. The cat roused itself just enough to waddle dazedly away and plonk itself on the floor in a patch of moonlight from a dusty window. The chicken meanwhile clucked nervously and stayed by Madeira's feet, her long neck craning around to find Jomi. It saddened the Spiritist that she had no proper place for them to be comfortable, but she did her best. Rustling up some bowls from the kitchen she cleaned them with the front of her skirts and set out food for both them and a nest of blankets for the chicken. With the flint and steel at the bottom of her bag and the stack of bone dry logs crawling with spiders in the kitchen she even managed to make a little fire in the ashes of the great big hearth.

"Emma!" she shouted as she finally detangled the tiger head from its prison of linen and leather. The ghost blinked to her side at once, all wide-eyed with sleepless wonder. "I need you to watch over everyone tonight, kitten. No wandering off. And... stay down here. Can you do that for me?" If Madeira got her way she wouldn't want Emma anywhere near the upper floors. To remember the fiasco aboard the ship still brought an embarrassed flush to her cheeks.

"Yah", the girl nodded, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. "Did you know there is a basement?"

"No, I haven't seen it yet. We'll have plenty of time to explore tomorrow."

"There's also a big workshop! With tool and stuff hanging-"

Madeira laughed and ruffled the girl's curly hair. "Tomorrow, sweetheart. We'll be here a long time, there's no rush."

Only once she had hung up Raj over the hearth, and made sure everyone was okay in this strange new place, did she finally ascend the spiralling iron staircase to the second floor. The stairs rattled slightly, announcing her every step. At least the black iron felt sturdy under her feet, she reasoned, stepping off on the second floor landing. The round hallway had no windows, and the scones were unlit. But she could see a sliver of golden light and a curl of steam rising from under one of the doors, and with that found her way to the bathroom.

WC: 965

x

[Allister]

Allister needed very little beyond his simple instructions. The fingers that brushed his hair felt like the dreams that had saved him as a younger kelvic. When the fists were flying and the boots were accurate, the frightened slave would curl into a ball -be it of hyena or man- and close his eyes. There, in the black cloud while thunderous blows raged in a storm of anger and pain, the simple mind of a naive child would float high above himself and into a world where nothing could harm him. Nothing could steal the warmth of the sun or the relaxing babble of a stream. Flowers bloomed sweet perfumes and trees rustled bright foliage in the warm breezes that filled that place. The tornados of violence could not fly those skies and it was always a ball of light that caressed the brindled locks.

Blinded, Allister never could see the face responsible for his joy. Perhaps it was supposed to be that way, for now, the tired skin wrinkled at the corners of her icy blue stare as blonde hair without its usual luster fell in small curls at her temples. The bun was a mess but it all moved in such a way that the hyena felt tears stinging his eyes. Inside the bond, he felt her acceptance and her pride. Truly remarkable, this kind of love is, and there is no place in the entire realm of existence that the kelvic would rather be than in a position of service to his Madeira, the only treasure Allister had ever known to be worth the fight.

“Yes, I can do that.” Slowly, regrettably, but softly, the rough hands slid from her frame as he stood to his full height. He bend forward and brushed her forehead with his salty lips which still held the grain of the sea in their wrinkles. Allister took several steps back and put himself in the center of the room. He closed his eyes and lifted his nose. The musty aromas all blended together; each room a different shade of stale. The black pools of certainty sprung wide and the man moved as if unhindered by the hard masses of abused flesh that filled his side. He slipped from his duster and gingerly folded it into a rectangle which found a perfect place on the floor next to a covered sitting chair. The bonded turned to face the one to whom he pledged every ounce of his being and watched her as he undid his belt, stepped from his boots and then slid out of his granadile pants. “Do not overexert yourself, lady.” His brow furrowed and cast a strange shadow about his eyes as a seriousness very uncharacteristic of the hyena slid along the base of the bond. “If anything is needed and your breath grows short then I shall do it.” There was authority in his words much the same as that night on the boat when she had shattered her iron beads. That night, Allister found a piece of himself that was not subject to her whims and desires. It was beyond those things because that piece of his soul was in line with her needs and would do whatever it took to see them fulfilled -even if it meant disobeying the goddess.

His orders given, Allister became a beam of light that left behind the pointed ears and bristled mane of his wild canine form. He lifted his nose this time and caught scent of the subtle variances that wafted from room to room. He paced about and then hustled into the kitchen. There was a dampness to this room but as he entered, he quickly realized it was not from water that this strange, almost mildew smell, originated. Several cabinets were full of pots and pans and other dishes that looks as though they’d not been cleaned properly before being stored. The scavenger made a mental note about this and jogged back into the great room. Everywhere was dust. Everything was old and the faded scents were harder to track than something fresh. Allister exhausted every room on the first floor but ignored the basement. He did linger a while in the workshop but it was only a mix of fear of wonder that held him. So much was as the blacksmith’s cellar in that room.

With a shiver, the kelvic retreated once more to the main entry room and then bolted up the stairs with all the awkward prowess that he’d come to embrace. It’s spiral was too tight for his gusto and there were two instances where a slipped pad screeched as dull black claws offended the treads. The great clamour of the kelvic finally reached the second story and he vanished from sight of those below. His nostrils flared as the unmistakable smell of scale. In Kenash, the buildup was always left behind after heavy rains, high tides or floods and the former slave would never be rid of its memory. In the midst of a hand of cards that were doorways, the hound put his snout to the floor and and inhaled from beneath each crevice until he had found the one that he desired. A second flash of light and he was on his hands and knees as a man.

Allister stood, lifted the handle and then slipped inside the dark room. He froze for a moment and closed his eyes for several ticks. When he reopened them, he was able to use the filtered melancholy of the moon’s weak beams to determine that he was in the right place. A large copper basin twinkled softly beneath its varnish and it shadowed a pump with a small stove upon which sat a bucket. The kevlic had to think; never a good idea, however, he had a job to do.

The pale man had seen pumps used before and understood the need for a bucket but he was perplexed by the small wood burner for a good while. Without moving, without speaking, the black orbs simply burned into the structure as he applied all of his resources to solve this part of the equation. Allister had been a slave, true, but he was not a house slave. He never cooked a meal nor made a bed. He petched the guests for money that he would never see. Songs were sung to allure more flies into his web- a spun trap where he was also a prisoner. The white skin, paid in full, was a canvas sold to drunken artists for a practice pad. These skills had no place in the home of Lady Craven… well, all but one and that should go without saying.

In the midst of all of these inadequacies swimming about behind his ‘damaged’ skull, Allister had an epiphany. Movements were fluid as he drew water from the pump. It was nearly seized from lack of use but he used his entire body, now rife with muscles to churn the handle up and down. Arms flexed, back strained and core bound all upon the firm foundation of legs emboldened by months spent in the rigging of a great sailing vessel. He felt sweat upon his brow and fire in his veins as the aches or repetitive strokes set the fibers of his body ablaze. It took nearly ten chimes before the water trickled from the orangish mouth of the spicket. Once it did, however, the raunchy giggle that bubbled from his thin lips was unavoidable just like the icy water that began to run. It took only a few more powerful strokes to fill the bucket but when he stopped, the water did not. It kept coming and began to run over. Allister panicked.

“You broke it, arse hat.” He muttered to himself. He dumped the bucket, partially on the floor, but mostly into the tub then put it back under the faucet. It filled up another third before the flow was reduced to drips. Allister was now paralyzed to act. Madeira would know what to do but then he would just be living up to his potential- Useless. Angry at himself, he flailed an arm against his bruise, thick like spilled wine along his ribs. The blow made him yelp but he masked the bond with his pride at figuring out the pump but -oy- that side was starting to make him woozy.

Next thing was to figure out how to start the kindling inside the belly of the stove. Some of it was wet but Allister could smell how dry it was from such a duration. A worried face looked left and right, along shelves and even moved some of the cobwebs away from various objects of no importance. It was in his moment of defeat when he saw them- a flint rod and a steel pick with teeth filed along one side. “Think jackhole…” he coached himself. Holding a piece in each hand, he began all forms of abuse between the two to try and get some kind of reaction. Chimes flew by as he failed over and over again. Finally, a long stroke with the pick along the rod drew tiny orange embers from the tool. “Ha HA!” With a feverish rate, he began to shower the tinder with sparks until one small piece caught. The blaze was so quick that the tiny splinter turned to ash before it caught anything else around it.

Allister fumed but he tried more. He used his hand to rearrange the wood so it was more interconnected then went about shaving the flint rod into the stove’s hold where smoke wisped up from the damp spots and small flashes ran up this piece and down another while the fire refused to ignite. “For the love of petching petches, BURN!” he cried. Suddenly, the pile of firewood took and tongues of fire spread from all sides inside the iron grate. The kelvic fell backwards and sighed. He was tense from his efforts, stressed from the mental fortitude and elated that he’d actually done it. He hopped up and began to cycle water from the pump and into the big copper tub. He overflowed it a few more times but nothing serious and there was a pile of wood chopped into small pieces against the outer wall which allowed him to keep the fire burning.

Allister had spent nearly a bell setting this up but he had done it. Exhausted, in horrible pain from twisting to dump the buckets and crank the pump, the kelvic stared at the tub with its steaming water level down about a foot from the rim. A wicked grin split his face and the wound on his head announced its presence by fighting the expression with its swollen tissue. The hyena moved more slowly to the door and over to the railing to shout down to the first floor. “I did it, dearest! I have a bath ready for you.” He clutched at the railing and doubled over in a coughing fit that left flecks of blood on his lips and the railing but he maintained despite the urge to vomit as the spasms raked his already busted form. Allister would wait at the top of the stairs with a whisper on his lips. “I did it for you. All for you.”

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira stepped into the bathing room that Allister had prepared and a pleased smile pulled at the corners of her dry lips. It was just as neglected as the rest of the house, but the crackling golden light from the small fireplace was spilling warmth across the hardwood floor and glinting merrily off the burnished copper tub and tall vanity mirror. Steam was wafting ghost-like from the water, tangling with Leth's light through the large frosted window until it shone like silver.

The Kelvic bond was bubbling with his pride at having completed his task, and Madeira met it with her own pleasure and gratitude. But these things were always best spoken aloud, too.

"Thank you, this looks wonderful."

She dared not light the wall scones in the dark, lest she set the some hidden cottony spider webs aflame and burn their new house down. So she had to make do with moon and firelight as she turned around and took her bondmates hands to lead him backwards into the brightest patch of light. Already naked from his shift, she had an uninterrupted view of his entire body and the motley of green and purple his side had become. A swollen brow was swelling his eye shut, and a split lip was leaking blood from the corner of his mouth. She flinched to see the damage up close, and her mouth was dry with fearful thoughts of internal bleeding and concussion. Well, he made it all the way here looking like that, she reasoned. If it were deadly would it not have shown by now? Her lack of any medical knowledge was a huge gap in her education, and now she felt the full brunt of the consequences.

Perhaps its best he not sleep, she thought wildly. You shouldn't sleep with a head injury, right?

"By the gods, I'll kill him. Rotsam. Whoever he thinks he is", the little pregnant woman puffed up with rage as she gently took the kelvic's head in her hands and tilted it forward and back, checking for neck injuries. "How dare he touch you. Touch Emma. Here, get in."

Holding one hand and the small of his back, she prompted Allister to step over the high rim of the tub and sink into the soothing hot waters. Thankfully the last owners had not seen fit to take all their possessions with them, and in the vanity Madeira found a washcloth and a tin with a square of fresh, scented soap. Rolling up her sleeves, she soaked and lathered her hands before running them through his dirty, blood smeared hair. Too angry to speak, a silence lapsed as she lathered and rinsed, checking fruitlessly for scalp injuries as she washed violence and sea from his hair.

Once he was clean her hand dipped into the waters, caressing his bruised side from shoulder to hip. She didn't know what she was looking for, what this bump or that hollow meant to a proper healer, but she knew his body. She had long ago memorized the shape of it under her hands, and this was not the same. Beneath the surface she could feel a kind of fluid puffiness that could be swelling or a broken rib or something worse. A familiar feeling of helplessness was scratching at the back of her throat and poking needles into the back of her eyes, but she refused to cry. She was suppose to be the clever one who knew all the answers. She was suppose to be the shield to his sword. He did everything to protect them today, so why couldn't she do the same?

Jomi was right, anger felt better than despair. She let the helplessness simmer down into something more manageable. But she had to be careful with this broken creature. She didn't let this rage extend to the fingers that brushed delicately over his swollen eye.

Shaking water from her hands she straightened and threaded the long row of buttons down the front of her dress until it fell from her hips to pool on the floor. Undergarments went next, until she was standing naked and unashamed over him. She might have been self conscious in front of someone else, her body warped as it was in the second trimester of her pregnancy. Red forks of lightning were starting to crawl across the distended curve of her belly, her widening hips felt disjointed and cumbersome, and her small breasts were heavy and raw, but in their bond she could still feel his worship. She could be old and twisted and grey and he would still call her beautiful, though he would never live to see it. The thought twisted like a knife in her belly.

With a commanding wave of her hand she prompted him to make room for her, and she stepped gingerly into the warm waters. The tub was big enough for both of them, but just barely. Water sloshed over the sides as she sat between his ankles, back against the warm copper and feet resting on his thighs. The luxury of bathing in hot, fresh water nearly melted her right there, but she had a job to do.

Madeira pulled herself towards him on her knees until she straddled his thighs. And with careful hands and fragrant soap she washed him clean. There was a kind of single minded determination to her as she cared for him as best as she could in the limits that she had. If he tried to move her or help in any way she would slap his hands aside, the hot blaze in her blue eyes never lifting from the body under her hands. She washed every inch of him, but it was only when she reached the fork in his legs that any of the heat in her eyes showed in her hands. Her movements changed, and quite apart from teasing a rise out of him, her fingers demanded it. Deftly she curled both her hands around him and stroked in the way she knew he liked, and rested her forehead on his good shoulder. Her breath warm on his sweet-smelling throat, she finally broke her silence to tell him how grateful she was, how good and strong and wonderful he could be. Her voice was a low hum through her chest, her thighs tight to hold him down, and her hands steady and soft and demanding all at the same as she tried to get him there as gently as his broken body would allow.

x

[Allister]

Allister was the ever attentive servant to his mistress. Madeira never demanded anything of him in words or through the bond. It was not her way to rely upon anyone for any reason -most of the time, it wasn’t necessary. However, the kelvic relished the thought of being useful to the spiritist. He craved it. Such was the rush of an addict to chase the thrill. In this grey area between obsession and sustenance, the hyena absorbed all of her givings and words. The kindness he took from the blue-eyed goddess erased the pain in his side and face even as she fussed over the wounds.

Fresh and aggravated, the one on his side danced in a pain that made the lanky fellow woozy but the sheer presence of Madeira gave him strength enough to stand through the nonsense which told him that collapse was an acceptable option now that they had reached their new home. Useless, indeed. Allister shivered beneath the gentleness of the bony hands that inspected him. The blonde woman who ruled his dreams was always delicate in plying the injuries which plagued the kelvic. When the anger touched her, his heart jumped and the blood began to heave through his veins. The sudden shift from joyous, satisfied and warm to the cold violence which had permeated him in the square made the brindled head pitch forward. Only her words kept him from toppling over onto the floor. Madeira declared she would kill the man who had sought to trap Emma. He was freakishly strong, even more so than the giant blue masters of Riverfall. That didn’t bother Allister. He had felt the skin of the man tear under his ivories. Surely a keen blade would drain his lifeblood just like anyone else.

“Better me than you.” The black eyes penetrated the dusky circumstance of the upstairs room to find the icy pools of his beloved. Spectral hands and bony fingers took pains to carefully run down along her arms until he found her dainty digits and allowed the woman to ease him into the water. It’s warmth and the steam gave him pause and the kelvic languished before sinking into the bath completely. Water lapped at his chin as he allowed her to fawn over him and gingerly scour his damaged body for any severe injuries that might need a healer. Normally, Allister longed to hear Madeira’s voice but he was grateful for the silence as she focused on his needs. Only when he noticed the self-doubt and helplessness in her did the kelvic take hold of the hands which cared for him once more.

The hyena raised Madeira’s hands to a place in front of his face so that his gaze would look over their embrace and into her eyes. This moment would hinder time until the two skies met. Night’s black mystery and day’s blue clarity clashed in the steam above the water. Allister kissed her fingers one at a time while he maintained the intense eye contact. When he was finished, he leaned forward to reveal that one had completely swollen shut as a smile fit awkwardly on his swollen face. Fingers found her jaw and tickled at the taut line of skin from her worried expression. “This was his fault...not yours.” Allister sank back against the tub wall. “You’re too good to me.”

He abruptly stopped talking when she began to disrobe. The former slave had seen more than his fair share of nakedness in his life but the anticipation of what was to come stirred him at his core. Madeira was a creature of myth to the young mind but a thing of legend to his soul. The slow process of buttons and layers of clothes teased him into a frenzy. The Craven woman wouldn’t need the bond to tell her of the thoughts and feelings that she inspired for his shallow breathing and the expression of eager delight spoke volumes on their own.

Needing no such instruction, Allister made room for the flame that shaped his life. Every curve, every shadow and every mark on every piece of her entire body was committed to memory over and over again. She looked different now than she did on the ship that first night when he had been allowed to exercise his urges to satisfy Madeira but it meant no less now than it had then. In truth, each visit to the holy shrine of her concupiscence was dealt with an ever-increasing reverence. She was his temple and it was a sacred thing to pray. Still, this instance was not the same. She swatted his hands away and asserted herself as a presence of nurturing grace with a stern persistence to attend to him.

When the bathing was finished, the next aspect of their night had taken Allister to a place he would never refuse. Worked up from the hot water, his naked love and her incessant machinations left the kelvic very little road to travel on his way up the mountain. The performer would often employ his endurance to please Madeira but the words she murmured against his neck spoke of gratitude and her appreciation for him. There was nothing so sweet as the feeling of her eyelashes as they flicked pearls of moisture along his collarbone. The sensation took him to a place where he could simply allow the sentiments of her hands and body to elevate his pleasure. The bond swelled with love and amazement as his body responded in kind.

Whatever sand passed through the unseen hourglass was not known to him nor was it a concern as Madeira enticed him higher along the path. The kelvic belonged to the spiritist- mind, spirit, and body. Like a true instrument of the gods, he came at her beckon. An explosion of the bond rivaled his physical release as he dove from the cliff in a leap of faith. Small spasms racked his frame as he danced like a broken puppet on a string held by the only one he could love. For it was only she who could command his love. Exhausted yet unhindered by a desire to sleep, strong arms and calloused hands drew the lady against him with all of the might he still possessed.

From the breath of her lips upon his neck to the muscles of her thighs as they clamped down over his own, Allister trembled in her shadow. He was greedy and foolish and always craved more. In his slowly growing wisdom, he pleaded for her to make use of him but he simply clung to her as if letting go would cause him to drown. “My goddess, let me serve you.” He shivered and dug his fingertips into the plump of her bottom with one hand and the small of her back with the other. The kelvic didn’t care what the task may be only that one be given. The hyena was alive against her perfection and he did not fear his flaws. Allister sought only to redeem himself of his shortcomings by being the opposite of the thing he had been told was his purpose by his former master.

Useful.

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira held him through his climax as the reflection of Leth atop the water shivered. His breath was warm across her collar as she kissed the ridge of his brow, the tip of each ear and finally his lips. He tasted of blood and sex, and his side of the bond was alive with pleasure and devotion and sparks of pain. Her hands traced up his abdomen, feeling the flutter of aftershocks in the muscles of his chest before finally resting protectively, possessively, atop his shoulders.

Her poor monster. The father of her child and the other half of her soul. She wanted to leave him in this blissful state and take him to rest, but the sight of him shaking to pieces under her hands had woken a fire low in her belly. She gasped as his nails bit deep into her ass and pulled her close. The contact did awful things to her fraying resolve, but his words were what destroyed it.

“My goddess," he begged with his black eyes reflecting gold from the flames of the hearth, "let me serve you.”

"Ah", she groaned "Yes, with everything you are. Oh gods." Removing one of his hands from behind her she raised herself to her knees and pressed it into the warm ache between her legs. The determined, contained fury with which she serviced him was redirecting itself. Just for a moment, for a small piece of time, she was going to use what they were building between them to wall off everything else. Wrath and lust and love was going to be the cocoon they lived in for these few stolen bells.

It was nearly daybreak before sleep finally found them in the bedroom atop the third floor. It must have followed the path they left, from the sloshed half-full tub cooling in the dark bathing room, to the wet imprint of Madeira's back on the second story wallpaper, the scuff of knees and elbows in the dust of the landing, and finally to the tangle of limbs in the enormous canopied bed. It crept up on them, slid warm and heavy over their exhausted bodies. Madeira fought it, wanting to linger a moment longer in the pleasant looseness of her limbs and the breathing of her partner.

But when she could fight it no longer she laid her cheek on her bonded's chest and sighed. Their first day in Lhavit did not go as she had expected. Within twelve hours of leaving that damned ship they had travelled up a mountain, made their first enemy and their first fight, bought a mansion and christened it. She didn't know what to think of this city they had no choice but to raise their family in. But If they had to plant their new life in this unmoving mountain soil they would.

Her arms wrapped around her beloved and caressed the molted bruises across his ribs, and the pleasant heat in her turned cold. This was their home now. And god save whoever tried to take it from them again.

x

[Madeira Dusk]

Grades Awarded!

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request!

Madeira Craven

Skills

• Leadership: 5xp
• Rhetoric: 2xp
• Negotiation: 2xp
• Persuasion: 2xp
• Spiritism: 1xp
• Intimidation: 3xp
• Politics: 1xp
• Logic: 2xp
• Hypnotism: 1xp
• Caretaking: 3xp
• Seduction: 2xp

Lores

• Location: Cosmo Center
• Youchi: secretary of the Cosmo Center
• Allister: wants to read and write
• Leadership: making life decisions
• Spiritism: a failed summon
• Rotsam: Spiritist of Lhavit
• Politics: making enemies of powerful figures
• Location: Infinity Manor

Awards & Retribution
+Item gained
+Trait recieved
-Injury
-Mizas spent

Notes
Notes here.

Allister

Skills

• Endurance: 5xp
• Bodybuilding: 4xp
• Observation: 5xp
• Singing: 1xp
• Dance: 1xp
• Seduction: 4xp
• Projection: 1xp
• Intimidation: 3xp
• Weapon- Razors: 1xp
• Unarmed Combat: 1xp
• Rhetoric: 2xp
• Leaderhip: 1xp
• Tracking: 1xp
• Logic: 2xp

Lores

• Endurance: the efforts of a beast of burden
• Emma: an asset to the family
• Location: the Cosmo Center
• Seduction: the predatory approach
• Dance: emoting
• Youchi: tastes like fear and fruit
• Rotsam: spiritist of Lhavit
• Intimidation: wordless threats
• Madeira: kept her promise
• Location: Infinity Manor
• Leadership: the voice of authority
• Tracking: following a scent
• Lore of how to start a fire

Awards & Retribution
+Item gained
+Trait recieved
-Injury
-Mizas spent

Notes
This thread was awesome to write with you. With you as a storyteller everything moves so quick and there is never a boring moment. Keep being amazing. <3