Sutoratosu

"No, no... he smells...like Rot. Carnage, blood, viscera... among other things...nothing like.... living Dragon flesh." She meant it truly, in all honesty the brawler smelled like some ungodly combination of alien substances and scents that just so happened to get drunk one evening and decide it was a good idea to begin engaging in a massive one night stand with each other... none of them very pleasant at all. "Quarter?" she continued, "... how? Dragons... and ordinary mortals- especially ordinary...human mortals... don't mingle well... weary of each other at best as acquaintances... two-faced to each other as friends, and... even worse as lovers..." She had no idea how she knew any of that, but the words seemed to just come of their own accord in her mind, right behind the dull throbb of the curse's fires. But it definitely felt the same as when the memories of the sapphire scales and water had emerged...

"Hm..." She was silent, for a little while. 500... a bit high, but... then again, if they went to any other stalls around here and tried to buy literally anything else, they'd probably see the same type of markups regardless. There truly was something going on, something worth knowing about; the signs were simply too strange to ignore. Regardless, after examining it a bit longer, Maya finally reached into her sleeve and retrieved a modest coin bag, putting it down right on the counter. 500... exactly the amount she had kept separate since the journey began for emergency supplies... but then again, with two heal orbs and a good deal more first aid provided by Samuel than she'd expected... perhaps it wasn't as necessary as she once thought. Besides, if anything this could serve to prevent the need for medical care at all, in certain situations. Not an investment she really thought she'd be making, but one that in the end, seemed justifiable to her. "what staff?" she said in confirmation of the terms, nodding before lowering her voice to the point where only she and the merchant could hear, even with the two standing right behind her, "what's going on around here that's got everyone so... on edge though?"

"The smart ones, still away..." A woman's voice suddenly called from somewhere near the ceiling. One who looked hard enough might've noticed the tell-tale glow of silver peaking through the dark however. In the time she'd been tracking the newcomer as he toured the place, his scent had began to feel more and more familiar, though why, Aurora was unable to place her finger on at first... until something resurfaced, something once dead and buried like everything else. The memory of scales, of water, shining blue like virgin sapphires. The memory of a giant, great and terrible, coiling about it's hoard and slumbering... "Dragon... why does a man... smell so much like a dragon, underneath?" From how the twin orbs of silver seemed to almost bore into Masaru's soul from the dark rafters, it became painfully obvious that the spider wasn't referring to Andre, unlike how everyone else had seemed to...

Cheryn The girl glanced around at the console banks filling the room, thinking for a moment... "One. It's a bit of a stretch though," even as she spoke, she approached the nearest one and began to examine the system and it's files... "They'd probably keep this kind of basic data in their HUDs, have it on hand for quick reference, buuuuut... who knows, maybe there's a chance that the one of the researchers was actually dumb enough to save a copy of the facility map or something on one of these..."

While the craftsman's back was turned, Maya tossed a quick glance to Ecquis and Dash both, before responding. Her eyes had made it loud and painfully clear; whatever she said, they should just play along with it... "No, actually..." she said without missing a beat. "I'm afraid I'm not. I'm from Greydale, off to the west. The bishop there, Mother Rosalynd, sent me on a mission of good will for the church, tending to the sick and elderly left behind during the draft." She almost wanted to vomit, felt the urge rise up in her stomach just from uttering the ungodly sentence alone, but she showed no sign, did not allow anything to break the facade. It... technically was not a lie. Years ago, it had been true, she really had been sent on a mission of Goodwill by Mother Rosalynd of Greydale, as had several other acolytes like her. The only difference, she'd never reported back. And had no intention of ever doing so either. But... dragging that bit of past back up right now was about the easiest explanation she'd thought of on the spot...

Tesla Moves Forward to F5, and stares coyly at Waddle Dee 6

Aurora simply watched from the darkness of the rafters, not saying anything, even when the Brawler called out about how she might've eaten the intruder's friends...which, she didn't. Hadn't even been back inside any longer than the other two, and this had been the only commotion she'd sensed and come to investigate. If anyone else was in the castle, they must've wandered into another part of it altogether, somewhere where she couldn't sense them. Either that or they were damn good at hiding. She kept her eyes on the blonde man, down far below, and the orc too. Searching for any sign of hostility, but not really finding it so far. Good, perhaps whoever the intruder was, he at least seemed to have more sense than literally half the entire group of the castle's inhabitants combined...

"Oh, like what?" Cadence asked. She couldn't really think of anything the Seamstress might've had in mind, as far as she could tell the job was more or less done. Still, she didn't question the rider's assessment too much. Not like she was the one actually examining it at the moment...

With nothing else really worth doing in the ungodly, dry heat of this town, Aurora returns to the castle, heading back towards her perch in the rafters of the Entry Hall

"But what else could it be going to...?" She trailed off, actually finding the vast myriad of possible answers that popped into her mind all too likely and too foreboding to dwell on. Instead, she simply shook her head "I... suppose you're right. Not like it's affecting us terribly much," "at the moment, at least..." then turning back to the Stave Stall, calling to the merchant as he toiled "Excuse me, ser? You wouldn't happen to still have anything available for sale, would you?"

Aurora continued staring at the mage for a time, still not quite sure about her newfound liberty from the curse, but not about to deny it either. As she opened her mouth again to respond however, she caught another scent nearby, turning her eyes to the other Outworlder waiting nearby. This one though... this one she indeed recognized, perhaps not his face specifically, but the complexion and general profile and features of his race was something she could not forget "....Orc..." despite how innocent her voice had sounded just moments before, it had all melted away as she growled the words in disdain, only loud enough for Marisa herself to hear. The vision and the knowledge she had experienced shortly after the Flesh Bag of a hundred wounds arrived flashed again through her mind: the hulking hoard standing alone, refusing the twin lights of reason and mutual benefit for the sake of some foolhardy pride, literally willing to all die to the humans before they'd ever agree to cooperate... and Aurora shook her head in disgust. Without another word, she slipped away, seeming to almost be swallowed as her form faded deeper into the darkness, leaving the Mage and the new arrival to themselves... but still watching, out of sight, out of mind.

Tesla Moves forward 1, putting her at F6

"Alright...." Cadence said, nodding. She hefted the coat up, it's weight still quite familiar but the difference in it's profile noticeable already as she slipped it on. Turning around with her arms outstretched, she looked to Rayne; there wasn't really any mirror in the room, truth be told. And going off the imagined guess of how it might look alone wasn't much. She had to give it to the seamstress though, the alteration had certainly made it a closer fit. "Well... how is it?"

The... shifting, as it were, was met with precisely the outcome the Squidman had warned off; the moment she tried to grab it, it had begun the retreat at her every touch, gather itself up at her command and then seemingly vanish, it's signature going cold within Aurora's body... almost as if the job had been an overwhelming success. It wasn't even two minutes later though, before the ruse fell apart completely, and the spell, almost like a wild animal, burst into existence again, it's energy flaring like a dying star but again restrained by the hyrdromancer's chains, the arcane constructs seeming to almost tighten around the mass as they strained to keep it in check. Eventually, again realizing it's teeth had been stolen, the spell ceased it's flaring might, going back to it's lurking state... The enchantment though... was another story. The Binding was powerful, yes, had fail safes against total failure, but as Squidman himself had proven, it was not without its vulnerabilities. The programming present in the Enchantment was just such a thing capable of cracking open and exploiting them... just as Ajax had done when he altered the parameters of the outlash effect, with this conflicting set of new orders trying to integrate themselves into the spell's structure, it was like a chaotic storm as it rebelled. Marisa would've doubtlessly found her concentration taxed, as she pressed on with the work. Likely would've felt like trying to wrestle a Dire Wolf who was snapping at one's throat, just using only their mind instead of their hands. Eventually however, they again retreated... against the sheer persistence of the second reprogramming they'd received since they'd been born within the spider, the flames conceded defeat. Aurora retreated from the woman, afterwards, backing up deeper into the alley way as a new feeling overtook her... like fire in her veins, the burning she'd once known in throat and mind... it was as if it had chosen the circulatory system instead, before it slowly faded and whatever the Witch had done seemed to take root. She growled a little, unsure of what to make of the situation, but opening her mouth regardless of her doubts. Just as always, the burn was there. But with it's target redirected to a far more extensive part of her, the pain felt far more like a mild annoyance now, compared to the unbridled torture it had once been. "Y.....y...you..." she said. The sound of her was... small...quiet... an upper mezzo. A complete juxtaposition from the beastial sounds and roars she was fully capable of producing. her tone rang with a strange type of cautious innocence, almost... like that of a child, as if matching the curiosity her eyes now glowed with "How... how....did you...?"

The air grew even hotter and oppressive than it was already wont to do in any desert climate, the moment the witch began her probing. There was a sense of malice, a unbridled, nigh overwhelming wave of aggression as the energy attempted to lash out and destroy the interloper but found itself neutered and fangless, instead retreating even further into the Spider. There it was, in her throat, a mass of blackened flame and primordial energy, like a cancer that could not be cut out. But there was yet more energy there as well, energy that was clearly not part of the curse's construction... energy like that of water, flowing, cool, tranquil... bound about the cursed mass of flame like chains of pure liquid, chaining it in place much like a rabid dog left to rave and foam at victims just out of reach. Every chain, it seemed, carried it's own unique energy signature, it's packet of thought accompanying the raw the intent of whatever sealing spell it was... Footnotes, Marisa likely would've realized. Most likely from the "Squidman" the Spider spoke of, he'd been the last one to ever truly poke into the magic as she had... and he'd doubtlessly been met with the same violent trap that had been laid for anyone seeking to tamper with it. Except when he had, it'd been fully active, and even further, the raw power of the attempted assault his spell had halted was far beyond anything Marisa would've likely felt before... unless the witch had a habit of pissing off Elder Gods and having them blast her with their full force. Easily capable of killing an unaware magus, and probably even one who suspected there might be a trap, just not one of this magnitude. Yet still... it seemed somehow... Squidman had mustered the power to restrain the attack measure. Examining the chains and their notes carefully though, Marisa might've been able to peice together a little of how he'd done it; force had not been met with raw force here. He had instead tampered with the very programming of that portion of the energy itself, tricked it into falling back upon itself, upon the mass of flame where it would simply regather harmlessly, before it ever actually manifested outward to strike a would be Samaritan trying to aid the spider. But the power of the curse was still nothing to be trifled with, even with as clever yet seemingly... simple as his solution to the out lash problem had been, the Illithid couldn't stress this enough. He had gone to trouble of including that warning in each and every Interruption chain he'd used to redirect it, obviously encase someone else ever took a crack at it and decided to undo his safeguard... and he had also added that anyone foolish enough to undo his safeguard, without properly setting up and testing one of their own first, deserved the fiery, ungodly death they would most likely suffer when the curse inevitably attempted to lash out again. Which, almost as if to prove his point, it did. Another wave of aggression and malice similar to what she had felt pressing on her mind before came, and was again redirected by it's tampered programming, looping backwards and instead targeting the mass of flames itself, where it was soon reabsorbed like a glass being poured into a lake. The notes went even further though. His findings.... from what he'd uncovered, the Curse was at once a binding ritual, and a form of tracking, both spells noted to be extremely likely from Divine Origin, so much so that the Illithid had been certain. The Binding Ritual was centered around the throat, the larynx and vocal cords, as well as the parts of the mind governing speech. When the cords would try to move, or that portion of brain flare up, the Flames immediately would assault it, burn it with thier fury, but yet for all the malice behind it, it seemed this Curse wasn't meant to actually kill, only deter. The damage it would've logically caused each time it did this, was non-existant. On paper, her vocal cords and speech centers were fully functional, it was just that whenever she tried to use them, the Flame would administer a dosage of pain so great that it would immediately prompt even the most resilient of beings to stop, out of a sheer desire for mercy from the suffering. Rather than dish out a set amount though, it seemed the fires analyzed the pain thresholds of their individual victim, and would simply push it's own output a bit above that threshold, keeping it at that steady, unbearable level until the transgressive action was ceased. The squidman closes his footnotes with little more than a final assessment of the spell- Parts of it could be disabled, as he'd proven, with varying degrees of permanence depending on the methods used to do so, his own sealing being an example of one of the more successful ones- it had lasted a full three years. Trying to disable the curse as whole however, completely get rid of it, seemed impossible, at least with the power available to a mere mortal, it had a nasty habit of swallowing itself up, making the caster think it was gone, and then when they least expected it, lashed out and attempted to kill them, he'd found the programming for that energy sub-routine while erecting the chains and taken the initiative to also seal it up... the lashing out part at least. Doing all this had taken it's toll in both energy and fatigue, and he'd felt it best to prioritize the things that would actively try to kill someone helping the spider. It seemed to him, the only possible methods to eliminate it truly, was to get the one who had invoked the divine curse upon her to beseech for it to be removed, or to find another Deity who might have the strength and knowledge to forcefully undo everything that had been woven... he lists a few names of potential Deities to seek out, all of them are completely foreign to Marisa, but one of them, "Wodan" has a note next to his: Power faded and divided enough as it is. Could barely spare enough to help me further analyze the structure beyond what I could sense alone back at Dour. Perhaps if he'd been in his prime, it would've been a different story. As he is now however, he advised seeking out another, for he was not willing to take the power he'd granted his knights, and with it their ability to defend themselves and their cause, away just to solve one person's curse. Understandable. But still slightly frustrating...for I fear he may well be the only one who of the Damned Gods who would offer up what aid he could give in the first place so readily as he did. This may well be a very long journey... most of them pulled their presences out of the Underdark after the war... or retreated so far into it's depths that pursuing them would be suicide. Except for Dour, there was nothing left and no worship to reap anymore. Finding any of them now will likely require... a trip to the surface world.

"Squidman... he surpassed the likes of... even the best human scholars... just as... any Illithid would. Yet even then... he could only ever manage... to dull the fires for a while... made their heat... bearable enough... to ignore. Pushed it back for a time, but... it always... came back in the end." The hodgepodge of voices halted however, as a sense of curiosity overcame the spider at what the woman had said earlier, stealing her attention away from the current line of thought. Seeming to have grown comfortable enough in the shade, the hood pulled back to finally reveal her face as she cocked her head, studying the woman. With it's high cheeks, nigh-elven points to her ears, and Ivory Skin and hair like polished platinum with just the slightest trace of gold to it, all set around those twin pricks of silver burning away in the darkness, her's looked about as close to the opposite of a dark elf as a face could really get. "What is a... 'Drider'? A type of animal? Can... it be eaten?"

"It's... getting rather odd, isn't it?" Maya finally asked what had been prodding her mind for a while now, as the three of them watched the man work. She glanced back down the street towards the many other merchants they'd passed... "This many craftsmen and shops, yet nearly all of them seem sold out or close to it, regardless what they actually specialize in... it would be a little ridiculous to think the tourism around here could flow that strong. You ever see anything like this before, Ecquis?"

"My name...Aurora... my name is lost... to me. Other's knew it, others told me it... but it did not... feel as though... it was mine... anymore. Felt... like Aurora... was someone... better... stronger. Someone... who's voice was not silenced, like... a belligerent dog, sealed by the black flame... within the mind, and without. Burns... Strangles...like... a collar. Like food... it is... safer to scavenge those of others... keeps the...flame at... bay. Keeps it... oblivious... to our talking...can't hurt me... if it does not know...can't sense me, if... the tongues I speak with... are not mine. Squidman tried... many times... to break it... always failed, said it was... too great for mere mortals... to undo. Wolf Girl tried too... in a way...dragged me everywhere... searching for help, but never... quite finding it as... she hoped. Human soldiers and mages though... trying to kill us...at every turn... did not make her search... any easier."

Aurora stared at the woman blankly "Mage... if you'd given me a reason, I... wouldn't be this... civil. The human mages before you... always did. Got in our way... or hunted... us down... made things... harder for us, spited us at every possible turn. They always...made themselves targets first... I'm just the one who hit them, when they... least expected it. And besides... the White One, she forbade it... said... I couldn't... hunt... the other fleshbags... the other.... Out...worlders. Have to subsist only... on lesser prey around them, what can be... scavenged or taken. Said nothing... about locals though... but taking locals... means more effort, more energy... have to fight them first, poison them, kill them... can get dangerous. Not the one's I'm used to, don't know what type of fire or ice... they might have. Or worse. No, no... easier to just... stick to nabbing their food... when they aren't looking. Less effort, less risk... guaranteed reward...saves energy... for when it's needed..."

"Mage..." unlike the previous statement though, this one came across with a mix of emotions, more of them negative than good. "Mage... you remind me...of them, sure enough. Mages... always...caused problems, headaches, made things... harder. Always... made sure to take them first... by surprise, before... they conjured fire and ice." with that said though, the spider's attention seemed to trail off, before she looked back towards the castle in the distance. "More, though... there were... many more in the... fortress... where... did they go? I cannot... smell them here, like you, and the other two..."

"Thank you... you... don't know how much it really means... to both of us...if he were here right now..." "Maybe you're right... maybe we may cross paths again. But I doubt it, the estate has been his home for... decades, at least, and so long as my grandfather is alive, I doubt Smitty would ever have reason to leave...hell, even if grandad were to go first, he'd probably leave explicit orders to leave him be in his will. But no... the reason I doubt I'll see him again is simple; I'm not going back, that place, it isn't my home anymore... I've made my decision. I cannot abide by their ways anymore, their hypocrisy, their blind faith, and after... after...what she did to him...after what she tried to do to me..." She stopped, turning her back as she looked out of the cabin's sole port, fistbone white as her nails dug bleeding little trenches into her palm, already being healed by the anima no sooner than they'd been inflicted. There was a subtle change, but an unmistakable one in the air, the temperature had definitely risen by a couple degrees, and kept rising as she shook. After a moment or though, she took a breath in effort to center herself, and with it the heat seemed to drop off again... "I can't do it." She finally admitted. "I know I wouldn't be able to go back there. I don't want to go back there, ever again. As much as I might miss Smitty, or... at least two of my big sisters, if I go back there, then what? After what's happened, I'd never be able to carry on like it was all the same, hell, I fucking hated how it was to begin with... What happened to father was... it was unforgivable, inconceivable to me up till then... but... after thinking about it, after... just hearing him again, it made me realize a lot of things...things I need to learn. Things I needed to change. So... I've cast off my house's name, refuse to live under it anymore or let it define me. My home now lies on my back and in my heart- Smitty's final gift to protect me in battle, and my Father's name and memory to guide me where my household has so utterly failed... my father, and Smitty... they were always the only ones I needed... the ones that I really trusted. So who knows, even if I don't see Smitty in the flesh again, maybe... maybe this will be enough." With that said, she turned back away from the sight of the sea, turning back to Rayne. "How is.... it coming along though? You seem to be making a lot of headway..."

The spider stared at her blankly for a moment, silver eyes still shinning. It had been hard to see at a distance, but so close, the Mage could've easily seen their lack of focus, the thousand yard gaze that that not see her, but instead seemed to see through her, through the crowds, through the very sands of the world, yet devoid of any true spark, just... blank. Before long however, the spider had an answer, retreating back into the shadows now that the ritual was said and done. Just as with eon, her words were not her own, but instead a patch work of the countless echoes of time she'd heard before, each voice seemingly picked apart from whatever context it had once been part of. "Who are you? Who brought us here...? To this... place of fire and wind... this place where the light burns hot, and cats walk like men...?"

"Huh- oh, him... you mean Smitty? He's..." "somebody that I used to know. He's was given sanctuary by my grandad a few decades ago, he's basically a friend of the family... well maybe 'friend' puts his role too lightly, at this point he's kinda like... a kooky old uncle I guess." Cadence sighed, shaking her head "I'm probably never gonna see him again, after this mess... but yeah, he's a master smith in his own right, would never tell me how or where he learned the stuff, or how he actually did any of it, neither would my grandsire, infact it was hard enough just getting the fact that Smitty had saved him back when they were both young men. He... I've seen him work, a lot of times, I'm probably the only one he'd ever let watch, come to think of it. There was... something about how he worked the forge, how he handled the ore and the slag, like they were apart of his own self. Infact, just calling him a Master Smith is probably an insult, there's a lot more to it than that; the old coot has done things with metal and fire, that I can't even begin to describe. Whatever he does though, it's almost like... look, let's just say Metalwroking wasn't just some job or hobby to him, it was... it was almost like a ritual, as best I can describe it... something sacred. Usually he's a bit... eh, eccentric, not quite playing with a full deck at times, but whenever he goes to the forge, it all melted away... he was like a different man, someone who knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it, even if no one else did... or maybe... maybe that was really how Smitty always was. The rest of my family, they've thought he's been going senile for as long as I can recall, always looked at him with pity, but I don't know... after seeing that duality to him, how at just a moments notice, he could take the reigns and handle himself like some archaic old god of his craft, I think that deep down, he isn't really crazy... I think that there's always been some method to his madness... guess that's why I'm the only one he ever really let watch him. I'm the only one who really seemed to get it." She paused, taking another sigh as she felt something wet dribbling down her cheeks. For a moment, as she wiped her eyes, she was more than a little glad that the Tailor had her back to her working on the coat... She missed the old coot more than she even realized, she guessed. But when he'd been the one and only person around that whole household she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt she could always count on, regardless what it was, well... it wasn't surprising. He'd been the closest thing to a rock she'd ever really had, she couldn't even say that about father... the man had tried yes, come close at times, but never as close as smitty. "He uh..." she continued, haltingly "it was always... amazing to see. When I was younger, he'd always offer to let me watch him whenever he found me sad... and just... seeing him work, it always seemed to get my mind off whatever it was bothering me. He'd start chanting as he stocked the flames and hammered the metal, and the Forge itself just... flowed and breathed like a living creature, burned with too many colors for me to describe... and the metal he processed with it, it almost seemed to mold itself under the blows of his hammer, like... like it knew what he needed from it, what it's purpose was to be. It was like... he didn't just work that forge, he worked with it. Every part of it. The Fire, the wind from the bellows, the earth present in the ore, the water he used to cool that ore, the anvil he shaped it on, even his own hammer and tongs. He wouldn't stop just because the forging process was done though, no, Smitty has work ethic the likes of which I've never seen anywhere else, he'd keep the ritual trance going the entire time, no matter what part of the process he was in- forging the parts, constructing the individual components, honing an edge like constructing the hilt or honing the edge on the grind stone... even as he installed each and every iron plate into that coat you see before you. What you're seeing is his heart and soul, poured into every bit of metal in that coat, making sure each and every one is placed exactly where it needs to be to do it's job, and accepting nothing less. That coat infront of you... it's more than just a coat. It's the physical manifestation of one friends desire to protect the other from harm, the only way he really knew how. And I'd be lying if I said I'd have made it even this far, without his gift. Through that coat, Smitty's saved my life more times than I can count, stopped or mitigated injuries that would've been fatal otherwise. It might weigh me down yeah, enough that I... can't really even move at my natural speed, but in the end... I guess that says something in and off itself. Every fight I get into, every time I lock blades with some goon, the extra weight is Smitty, standing there beside me, watching my back... in his own unique way."

"That's... quite the story between you two." It was certainly interesting, she had to admit. Perhaps it was true, what they said about Pegasi, even if Beau seemed to break the mold at first glance. It all honesty, she'd just thought it all a bunch of romanticized exaggeration about certain traits... but then again, it was easy to, when one grew up with so few around and the only real sources of information on them being old books from the church archives... "You know though... they say Pegasi can sense a pure heart, that they're drawn to it almost like moths to a flame. Maybe... that's why he risked his own self to save you that day. Maybe the contrast of what your soul was like and that of the bandits was so great, he could sense the coming struggle from miles away. Perhaps he saw in you something that he hadn't in anyone else up till then, something that let him know he could trust you, enough that he was even willing to die for you... deep down, he might've felt you were a kindred soul, someone else who was also a bit lost and out of their element, someone who might understand him for who he is and what he had been through. Or maybe it was just a fated encounter, plotted out long before any of it, and you really were destined to end up a Peg Knight instead of a guild master." Alright, even she cringed a bit at the last one. All things considered, it was a bit hypocritical to go attributing things to "Destiny" or "Fate", what with both the infernal concepts being equally as stifling and rigid forces. Still though, she meant it, that pegasus had probably done what he did for at least one of those reasons, as far as she could tell. And it certainly explained why he was still a bit... on guard around anyone but Rayne... well, that and having been chopped up a bit in the course of saving her. "Anyway... regardless why he did it, I'd say you two certainly make a good match... working together as a team, you've probably taken down more of the goons we've dealt so far with than any of the rest of us... or something close to it." She refrained, of course, from mentioning the part about how she was near certain that before the day was even out, they'd have to go and put down a few more though... wouldn't really be conducive to the mood of the room if she went mentioning the inevitability of their struggles against greedy sacks of shit and rabble.

"Poachers, huh? Well, that would certainly explain a lot..." she stayed where she was, for the most part. Now that it was over, she actually felt herself calming down... Not much, but at least the tension that'd been building in her muscles was beginning to fade, however slowly. It wasn't a pleasant sensation, feeling like you were a wound up spring. Infact, it was just one of the many reasons she hated close-quarters combat... but at least on the battlefield, where there actually were threats, the instinctive response could serve a purpose: forcing her to pay attention, be vigilant both in body and mind, help her survive. But when there were no more threats, when the killing fields went silent and the fires of conflict dimmed back into mere embers... that was always the point when what had, for even a short time, been beneficial, been useful even, just reverted right back into being a problem. Cadence stared at a few of the Tailor's supplies, as the Rider worked. She wasn't much one to look over the shoulder, but there was something else Rayne had mentioned "Uh.... hey, Rayne, What exactly did he save you from though? If you don't mind..."