The Mages Tower of Babel used to belong to a noble, and some of the chambers still reflect that. There are still lighter spots on the walls of that attest to the current one having been a trophy room, with the trophies now removed. They were probably disturbing anyway. For now it serves as a game room of sorts, holding tables with built-in k'tinza and k'trinzhai boards, ones for dice games and some other foreign looking ones - but right now the action is at the card table.

Rostre leads Alptraum into the room. She's wearing something that almost certainly was made for an Eeee, given how little it covers her chest. Already seated at the table are Cyprian, the Jupani Air Mage "Gusty" and a Rhian mare wearing an evening gown and a small crown on her head. There's a tea service set out as well, and the mare has a small glass bell hanging from a cord around her neck.

"Victims," Alptraum jokes. He almost goes for a chair, but then remembers ... naga, they don't use them. "She invited me," he notes and points to Rostre.

"You aren't gonna haul the loser off to Hell I hope!" Gusty says jovially. "We've only got tea. For that I'd want something stronger."

"Depends, does my bed count as Hell?" Alptraum jokes with a grin. "Kidding, I'm not that weird. Usually."

The mare arches an eyebrow, and then extends a gloved hand bent down at the wrist as if expecting Alptraum to kiss it. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Barsunala," she says in a noble tone - or at least what might expect a noble to sound like.

Alptraum takes the gloved hand and does indeed kiss it at the end of a bow. He also then licks the back of it, because ... well, he's weird and does weird stuff. Does he need a reason?

The woman blinks in surprise at the link, but recovers quickly. "Welcome to our humble table," she says. The gloved hand also has a ring on it representing the Sphere of Chaos. Old school - colored braids are the current popular style, after all.

"Don't let Princess distract you," Rostre says to Alptraum as she coils up at her favored spot on the floor, and pats the chair next to her. Gusty starts humming.. either deliberately or unconsciously. "No magic or miracles are allowed in the game," Cyprian announces as he produces a deck of Babelite Tarot.

Alptraum settles into the chair and leans back a little. "How about curses?" he joke. "A game that goes bad often has a lot of cursing, after all..."

"We appreciate civility," Princess notes, using the "royal we" of course, before casting a disapproving glance at Rostre's mostly bared bosoms. Of course she thinks of them as bosoms, where Gusty probably has a cruder term in mind. It isn't clear what Cyprian things about scaled breasts though, as he shuffles the deck. "Are you familiar with the game, Alptraum?" he asks, since he's sitting between the Mind Mage and Rostre. "The suits are different, but the trumps and the rest are the same."

"I'm familiar with a lot of different card games. If I'm not, I'll pick it up as we go," Alptraum offers as he looks over. "If you prefer, I can sit out the first hand and watch and learn."

"And forgive me, bout your shuffling of cards isn't very inspiring, or terrifying. Both are good skills to have when playing cards," Alptraum notes and grins at Cyprian.

Cyprian pauses in his shuffle, and offers the deck to Alptraum instead. "I'm curious as to what amounts to a terrifying shuffle," he notes.

Alptraum takes the deck in just one hand, and manages to split it into three sections with just that hand, then actually interweave them together, all without touching the table or dropping the cards. "The kind that makes you realize you're about to be fleeced by a master," he explains, as he does the split and interleave with his fingers three more times. How his fingers can even move that well and fast is sorta spooky. "Now, shuffling can be about showmanship too," he adds as he brings his other hand into it, which means he's splitting six ways at a time, then interleaving. This is followed up with drawing out the deck up his left arm, with each card carefully balanced out along his forearm. A swipe of his hand over it and he flips all the cards in a waving roll, then collects them back up. That's when splitting and sort of snap juggling the cards begin, using slight bends to snap the cards upward in the air, split to a random point in the deck, and catch it on the way down. Soon the cards are sort of dancing in the air, and in the last flourish ... half the deck is airborn and he manages to swipe them all gracefully out of the air in a sweep of his hand ... then offers the deck back. "Like so," he ends with.

"Thank you for not using your feet as well," Cyprian says, but does have a bit of a smirk. Rostre actually claps her hands at the performance. "I'm glad we don't play for money," Gusty notes. The Princess doesn't seem to have anything to say - or else can't think of a properly royal way to say it.

"I'd need to be standing or flying to include my feet, "Alptraum quips right back. "Wings are fun if you want to get a nice wave of cards rolling about, but I'd probably whap someone in here."

"You could hang from.. oh, they perches were removed," Gusty notes, looking up at the barren walls as Cyprian deals out 18 cards to the four players so Alptraum can see how the game is played. Princess, to Cyprian's right goes first, laying down the Duke of Knives to start. Gusty follows with the Ace, and so forth as they play out the suit. Gusty closes it by playing a trump: The White Lady, depicting Inala.

"That's Gusty's favorite card," Rostre asides to Alptraum as the Jupani rakes in the cards. He then starts things off again with the Lady of Grubs, and the next hand begins.

"I don't think he could survive a night with her," Alptraum comments to Rostre. "Or a day ... or even a few minutes.."

It doesn't take many hands before someone leads with a trump card, making for the highest value hand of the game. After there are only a few odd cards left, which hardly matter. Rostre cackles as she's the winner of the round, and Princess is the one with the lowest point count. "Do it!" Rostre demands, and the mare rings her glass bell. A moment later a Zerda in fancy butler livery enters. "Mage Rostre is the winner, Jove," Princess informs the man.

"She's a Chaos Mage," is Cyprian's whispered reply. The Zerda doesn't bat an eye, and rolls up the jacket sleeve of his right arm while Rostre practically bounces.. and then opens her mouth wide so the man can stick his forearm down her throat. For any other species, this would trigger a gag reflex, but his arm is just the right size to fit down Rostre's gullet so he can.. well, it looks like he's manipulating something, which has the Naga looking blissful.

Alptraum arches a brow. "What exactly is he doing?" he finally has to ask. "What is it people win at this game?"

"The stakes are usually that the lowest scoring player has to do something for the highest scorer," Cyprian notes. "Jove there is of a smaller stature, and so can stimulate Rostre's.. I'm not sure what it does, to be honest. Nagas don't taste things, they depend on the squirming of their food to impart something akin to flavor. I'm sure Jove's arm is delicious."

"So, each have something they have others do for them, then?" Alptraum explains back, just to be sure. "Is this some sort of Mage's 'spin the bottle'?" he has to ask while fighting the urge to giggle.

"That's enough, Jove," Princess notes after a minute or so. "Go wash up now. And bring some tea cakes afterwards, would you?"

The Zerda's arm makes a soft 'pop' sound as he pulls it free of Rostre's throat. "As you wish, Your Highness," the man says, and gives a little bow before leaving.

"I must say, I've seen a lot of things, but that's the first time I've seen someone do that," Alptraum has to admit.

"It'ssss only dissturbing if you do it to yourssself," Rostre insists, as Princess gathers up the cards. "Will I be dealing you in for this round, Lord Barsunala?" she asks cordially, as if her butler didn't just jam his arm down one of the other players' throat.

"I ... guess?" Alptraum admits. "What are the rules around what someone has to do for you?"

"Rules? I suppose it depends on the difference in scores now," Princess says, and looks to Gusty. "That is, now that we don't indulge in drinking games instead."

"Hem," Gusty clears his throat. "It really depends on what the winner thinks they can get away with, within reason.. and keeping it under a few minutes."

"So, humor me. What have been some of the requests? Could I, for example, ask Princess here sing 'I'm a Little Barmaid With a Short Skirt?'" Alptraum asks.

"Only if Jove can accompany me on his mandolin," Princess says. "I'm usually the one that is asked to sing something," Cyprian admits.

"Mostly though we trade small magical favors," Gusty says, and then just grins at Alptraum's suggestion. "That depends on the loser of course."

"Gusty prefersss to have Princesss or I resst our chessts on hiss head," Rostre notes.

"We do have to work together, so things generally do not get too awkward," Cyprian adds.. just before Princess sort of smears the cards all over the table in as random a manner as possible, and sort of pushes them into five piles.. with three cards left over.

"You don't work with me," Alptraum points out, "Does that make me a huge target?"

"Many mages sing," Cyprian claims. "When you have to maintain chants for hours, it is best to have a way of exercising your vocal chords."

Alptraum also collects his cards and looks at them, while also shuffling them around because, well, he likes order in his cards.

Perhaps fortuitously, Alptraum holds the Death trump, depicting Sunala wearing tattered clothing (to go with her wings) and leaning on a scythe. There's also the Gypsy (or the Thief), which is remarkably close to how his friend Hexen dresses.

Alptraum looks at his cards, then at Princess. "Are you sure you aren't using magic?" he asks her suspiciously.

"Well, with all those sharp bits, I'd be a bit suspicious of it as well," the mare replies, referring of course to Alptraum right hand.

As the hand plays out, fortune turns against Rostre, as she has the lowest score while Alptraum has the highest.. although Cyprian had the next lowest score and Gusty nearly matched Alptraum.

During this round, Jove returned with a fresh kettle of hot water and an assortment of tea cakes (some of which had bugs in them). He prepares the tea as Rostre realizes her doom.

Alptraum blinks. "So .. does this mean I get to ask Rostre to d something?" he inquires, "I ... hrm. I'm not sure what I would ask her to do. Can I ask Rostre to do something to one of you?"

"That would run up against the 'we have to work together' issue," Princess says. "Besides, Naga can't snog. You need proper lips for that."

"Not so," Alptraum remarks, then demonstrates. "Rostre, snog me", he decides, then takes hold of her, leans her back, and actually does snog her. With tongue. Awkward be damned; he's proving a point here!

Rostre reciprocates.. and wraps her tongue around Alptraum's head in the process. The dip also exposes her a bit, which causes Gusty to wolf-whistle.

Alptraum is committed, even with head-tongue. But, he does at least cap it at about three minutes. When it ends, he remarks to Princess, "See? She can snog."

"Well, that only proves that you can snog," the mare claims. "She was the snoggee, since you leaned her back."

"The Princess can be a stickler about protocol," Gusty notes, and gathers up the cards. He actually shuffles them several times, and has the Princess cut them before he deals them out.

"Boring," Alptraum laments. "Just have some fun, you people make a morgue seem happy."

Jove serves Alptraum some tea and a bug-cake. "What's wrong with morgues?" Rostre asks. "Back at the Palace, we'd have plenty of fun in the morgue. Respectful fun of course. No drinking the embalming fluids."

Alptraum eyes the bug cake for a moment. The bat then picks it up and uses the shadow to eat it. "I'm a vampire," he explains. "If I ate it normally, the game would end early in a mess."

Alptraum gets Inala and Zakaro this time (the latter being 'The Sorceress') along with The Tower (of Babel). "My, that certainly avoids having to deal with crumbs though," Princess notes. "Can you taste it when you do that?"

This round seems to involve sacrificing a lot of cards. Rostre and Cyprian lead, while the others cluster at the bottom, with Princess being the low scorer to Rostre's high score once again.

"Opera," the relatively deep-voiced Eeee replies. "Do you sing?" he asks, as Rostre cackles again.

"Though, I've also heard you seduce humans," Alptraum notes to Cyprian. "As for what I play? Several things, but mostly a recorder or flute, as they transport easily."

Rostre considers her request, tail-tip lashing. "Swap clothes with me," the Naga suggests.

Princess stares at the Naga for a bit, and asks, "This is because of the soap incident, isn't it?"

"Maaaaaybe," the reptile says, and gets things started by removing her single item of clothing and tossing it towards the mare. "You can keep your crown though."

"Ah, the soap incident," Cyprian says and nods his head. Gusty is just pounding the back of his chair with his wagging tail, since Princess stands up honors the request. It's amazing, but the gown and gloves actually fit Rostre pretty well. Although the gloves are pushing it, since Princess has one less digit on each hand. For her part, the mare just wraps Rostre's top around her throat like a scarf. The Naga gathers the cards a bit awkwardly due to the ill-fitting gloves though. "Can you shuffle for me, Alptraum?" she finally requests.

"She turned all of my candless into sssoap," Rostre explains to Alptraum as she pushes the cards towards him. "I thought a ghost was blowing them out."

"You didn't deny the human seduction," Alptraum comments to Cyprian as he takes the card deck. This time the sorting is done all on the table, which involves alt of flipping-over waves of cards and amazingly quick splits. And somehow he has to now and then even extract cards from Rostre's cleavage, nevermind no one ever saw them go in there in the first place. The explanation of the soap incident makes him snort. "Well, I would wax poetic about your candles, but they couldn't hold a flame to the actual prank," he quips.

"Huh, candles?" Gusty asks, snapping out of trance. Princess's royal orbs are bigger than Rostre's scaly ones after all. And she's gotten crumbs on them from one of the little cakes. Rostre checks the front of the borrowed gown, just to make sure Princess didn't add a cleavage pocket big enough to store cards in.

"It wasn't a prank," Princess claims. "These things just happen. Spontaneous soapification. I'm sure there is precedent. And it did help mask the usual odors of Rostre's laboratory."

"There are worse smells than her laboratory," Alptraum notes to Princess. "Perhaps I should take you on a tour of Magog's Realm."

Rostre deals out the cards after Alptraum finishes. She may be getting used to the gloves now. This time Alptraum gets Death again, along with The Knight (Rephath), Insanity (Blakat) and The Maiden (Barada, in a frilly dress). It's possible these cards weren't made in Babel.

"Her body wouldn't have to," Alptraum points out, then grumbles, "And you're ignoring me."

"Why no Eeee?" Alptraum asks Cyprian, "You're far better looking than I am, and more famous." He doesn't play any trump to start, but he does play one of the Harlot cards; it looks disturbingly like Mave, spreading her legs.

Cyprian plays in suit, and notes, "Perhaps I haven't met the right Eeee. Or I worry that it would compromise my position."

Princess plays her card, and seems to be adjusting herself in a fidgety manner. "Jove, some support please?" she asks, and the dutiful fennec stands behind her chair and reaches around to hold her breasts out the way.

"I'n sure Gusty would help you with those," Alptraum has to remark, noticing the slightly drooling Jupani.

"This is Babel," Cyprian says. "There would be daughters of nobles, or high placed officials likely thrown at me for bragging rights. So.. Eeee girls are problematical."

"He needs to handle his cards," Princess says. "Besides, he blew a frigid breeze up my dress once, just to see things perk."

"It would depend on station, to ensure one could not unduly influence the other," Cyprian notes. "Trust is hard to find. I don't know what people would even make of me playing cards."

"They would probably think 'I wonder if he's reading minds'," Alptraum points out, then blinks. "Wait, you'd actually consider a guy?" He seems rather surprised by this, really.

"The situation for such consideration hasn't really come up before," Cyprian notes. "I am creepy after all. Although we all have our quirks at this table."

"You aren't creepy at all. I'm the Son of Death, and I dally with the Sisters. That's creepy," Alptraum points out. "Also, rather traumatic."

"I've driven a man insane, and was lauded a hero for it," Cyprian says, shaking his head and playing a trump. "We are all people that would not fit well in the regular world."

"You come from a family of wealthy ranchersss," Rostre points out. "Of courssse you would do fine."

Alptraum pats Cyprian's shoulder. "Okay, serious moment; you've done what was necessary and you try to help people. You deserve a title of hero more than many who have it," he notes, then plays a trump on top of Cyprian's trump. "You'd feel better to have some people who are close to you."

The round ends with Alptraum on top.. and Cyprian on the bottom. Perhaps the Mind Mage was distracted.

Alptraum stares at the score, then Cyprian. "Well ... huh," he admits, left ear splayed out to the side.

"A song then?" Cyprian asks. "I'm afraid I do not dance or know tricks, unless you want to switch outfits as well.."

"Sure, a song," Alptraum admits. "Probably less embarrassing than telling you to snog me."

Cyprian has a sip of tea, then stands and turns to look down at Alptraum. He then sings "The Ballad of Dronnel" where the ancient hero beseeches Sunala to return his fallen companion/lover Salecen to life after he was felled in battle, and vows to sacrifice his enemies to her as payment.

Alptraum actually listens, and doesn't tease him at all while he's singing. "Wow," he says at the end, surprised. "You are a good singer; that was worth hearing. Thank you. And now I feel bad for teasing you."

"I'm good with rattlesss and bell-drum," Rostre notes. "We could form a musical troupe. For fun."

The others push their cards towards Alptraum. And then watch expectantly for the shuffle.

Alptraum laughs and moves onto shuffling; which this time is a lot more like juggling, and then intermixing the split deck while one third is in the air. Somehow, he doesn't drop any. Then he somehow manages to slit, select the top card, and flick it at one of the people at the table and get it to bounce off them, which he then catches it in another part of the deck. Then it's onto dealing, and for the guys, it's fairly straightforward dealing. For the girls, though, he somehow manages to toss the card just right to get it to slide into their cleavage, until their boobs are holding their card hands. "Do you ever get lonely?" he asks Cyprian after dealing and while he's sorting his cards. "I do; all the expectations and needs of my position, so to speak."

Jove helpfully squeezes Princess's boobs closer together so the cards don't spill.

"Of course I do now, but when I was younger I sought out isolation," Cyprian says as he sorts his hand. "My affinity for Mind Magic manifested before I'd even been tested for the talent. My head was full of so much noise, I never knew which inner voice was my own."

Cyprian leads with the Knave of Grubs, which depicts an Eeee carrying a bucket. The grubs are probably in the bucket. He doesn't look very well off compared to the other suits.

"I was harassed by ghosts and the undead, so ... I can understand the complications you must have gone through," Alptraum says, "Sometimes you just want peace and a change to pretend to be somewhat normal." He follows Cyprian's card with the knight of Grubs, though how a knight would joust from the back of a giant grub is anyone's guess.

"Were you raised on Mt. Sunala, Lord Barsunala?" Princess asks.. and lets Jove take a break from being her hand-bra, since his arms were starting to shake from the effort.

"Sylvania, in seclusion, so that those that would try to use me couldn't," Alptraum notes, "Can't you tell from my accent? Or have I managed to finally hide most of it?"

"I'm not familiar with Sylvania to recognize the accent," Princess admits. "I thought it was simply a vampire accent."

"I hope to visssit there," Rostre says, playing her trump. "It seemsss made for Ssspirit Mages. Musst be plenty of work there."

"You would probably find places like the Well of Souls rather interesting to investigate," Alptraum comments. "Though you would need to also be accepting of many there that are supernatural in their own right. Most can be quite charming and pleasant. Of course, some will try to eat you. So, discretion is a good skill to have."

"I've never had anything try to eat me before," Rostre notes. "Naga are usssually the biggesst oness. We do the eating. Well, not eating people. I knew a man sssso big he could sswallow a Rugh'rat though."

"You're tiny compared to some creatures I've met and had tea with," Alptraum notes and continues the play.

"What isss the biggesst you've met with then?" Rostre asks, while Gusty still seems to be measuring things in his mind, until Princess nudges him to play a card.

"A dragon that could fill a banquet hall," Alptraum explains, while his right foot idly rubs against Cyprian's shin. Accidentally, of course.

"A dragon? A real one, not jusst a big Naga with wingsss?" Rostre asks, leaning over suddenly so that her snout is practically in Alptraum's face. Cyprian smirks at the reaction. "Is it the silver one?" he asks.. and brushes back accidentally?

Alptraum's toes curl a little around Cyprian's calf in surprise. "No, not the silver one, a steel gray one, and very nasty. He's my prisoner now, though," Alptraum says as he has to lean back.

So Rostre leans forward more. She's got extra neck to spare after all. "Here in Babel?" she presses.

Alptraum leans even more back. "Not quite," Alptraum says, "Soul prison is the best description. A world containing the souls of many dead immortal beings and creatures."

"So Hell?" Gusty asks, before looking at his empty teacup. "Anyplace full of dragons would have to be, right?"

"A place for restless spirits, I think," Cyprian adds in. "Rostre, back off a bit please? He's squeezing my calf a bit hard.."

"Erk! Sorry!" Alptraum lets go, then falls over backwards! "I thought it was a table leg," he lies just before he lands on his back, hard!

Rostre follows, and Alptraum is pinned for a moment before she shifts her weight. "Oopsss.. you have been holding out on me, keeping dragonss," she chides Alptraum once she gets back up.

"Tch," Princess clucks. "Really Rostre, he's a demigod you know. Show some decorum."

Alptraum gets back up. "I contain and guard many dangerous creatures. It's bard of my duty," he says. "How is it holding out on you? Why do you even care?"

"You should show your decorums more often, Princess," Gusty teases. "At least I can stand up," the mare counters. "Can you?" she challenges the Jupani.

"This is why we only have tea anymore," Cyprian says apologetically to Alptraum.

Alptraum sighs, then suddenly gets upright through a wave of shadow and tendrils, then he dusts himself off and retracts the shadow back into himself. Possibly the show was to break things from degrading too much further. "Actually, this is my fault. I probably shouldn't be here; I tend to cause problems more often than not," he says.

After all the shenanigans, the one person who wasn't overly distracted comes out ahead: Princess. But Alptraum beats out Gusty for bottom place.

"Doom," Alptraum laments and rubs his face. "So ... right. I have to do something."

The mare says, "Your 'shadow' is physical.. you lifted yourself up with it. Is it physical to others as well?"

"That's all?" Alptraum asks, then holds up his right hand and extrudes a long shadow tentacle from it. He holds that out to Princess.

So Princess takes the tip of the tentacle in her hand, leaning down a bit.. and licks the back of it. "Hmm.. no Chaos.. Life, Spirit, Shadow of course.. something else I can't identify.." she mutters.

"You licked my glove," Princess points out, and then.. lips the tentacle. But Rhian lips are their most sensitive parts, supposedly, with their hands and feet being rather numb. She also squeezes on it to see how resilient it is.

It's sort of like squeezing warm, thick, rubber, and petting velvet. It's also making Alptraum make odd faces as she violates it in different ways. "Is she always like this?" she asks Cyprian.

"I've never let her feel me," Cyprian admits. Gusty is getting a bit squirmy from watching though.

Using her other hand now, Princess grabs on and tugs on the tentacle to see if Alptraum gets pulled along with it or not.

Alptraum does until he catches himself and lets more out instead! "Hey!" he complains.

"What do you feel through it?" Princess asks. "Is it as sensitive as your fingertips? Wait.. are Eeee fingertips sensitive?"

"I can feel pressure, heat, hold. Not as well as my fingers, but some," Alptraum explains. "Pain too, but that requires specific things I will not divulge."

The mare rubs the tentacle between her breasts.. less to see what it does to Alptraum than to feel if it's warm or cool. "Warm. Why would it be warm?" she wonders.

"Because it is alive and part of me? Sort of?" Alptraum says as his ears splay out. "Why don't you take Gusty here and rub his ... pink shadow."

"I just absorb it. It breaks down organic stuff if I want it to. I could devour a person too, but I won't," Alptraum explains.

"So, a warm black amoeba," Princess says, and tries to waggle the tentacle back and forth. Meanwhile, Rostre taps Gusty on the shoulder and whispers to him, "Come on, I'll be nice to you."

The tentacle waggles rather like a giant lewd lollipop. "I was respected, once," Alptraum mutters to Cyprian.

"Rhian hands really aren't made for that sort of thing, Alptraum," Cyprian notes. Rostre still has Princess's gown on when she sneaks off with Gusty though. Jove notes this. "Shall I fetch your bathrobe, Your Highness?"

"Mages appreciate respect, so long as they're the ones receiving it," Cyprian notes.

"Made for what?" Alptraum asks, looking confused. "Are you sure you were just drinking tea? You're not making much sense..." He even leans in to sniff at Cyprian's breath.

"Made for being gentle against sensitive pink shadows," Cyprian explains. His breath smells minty.

Alptraum stays close. "She can rub with other parts, though," he claims as he leans even a little more, right up to the point his lips brush Cyprian's because he's distracted by the mare playing with one of his dongles. Then he blinks and goes up straight! "Erk, sorry about that," he babbles and waves his hands for a moment. "I ... think I need a walk to clear my head..."

"A walk? We're in a tower," Cyprian points out, non-plussed. "If I press this against a parchment, will it make a copy of the lettering?" Princess asks, still fiddling with the tentacle.

"You ... you have stairs, I can just walk up and down," Alptraum claims as he shakes his head a few times. "I feel funky, sorry ... and no, it's not going to copy stuff, it's not a toy."

"There's a balcony with a good view close by, you can pace a bit there," Cyprian offers. "Follow me."

"That works!" Alptraum agrees, and extracts the shadow from the nosy mare! "We'll be back in a bit. It was nice to meet you, and your boobs, too," Alptraum claims as he makes his escape with Cyprian!

Mages Tower Balcony
The biggest distinction between a balcony and a landing in Babel is the degree of fortification. This is definitely a balcony, since it has a run if spikes to prevent anyone from just flying in or out. The runes and odd candles that have been added hint that the mages have augmented things as well.

There's a tingle as Alptraum follows Cyprian onto the balcony - a sign that Shadow Magic is being used here, probably to prevent spying, eavesdropping.. or targeting. It does provide a nice view of the city, with the low evening sun turning the city skyline into an orange rimmed silhouette.

"There's a big window in my office that I sometimes like to look out of, but the view here is better, and it feels less like brooding," Cyprian notes.

"Do you brood?" Alptraum has to ask as he goes to, then leans on, the rail and looks out over the city. "You're the hero of the city, loved and adored by all ... and probably are even a character in some romance novels by now."

"Mind Mages brood," Cyprian claims. "Especially Eeee Mind Mages. It's how we meditate and look dark and mysterious. I suppose the Barsunala doesn't brood?"

"Do you want to be all dark and mysterious?" Alptraum asks as he glances over. "I do, but I deal with a lot of the underbelly of the city, and often wonder if our people have any real value to the world, given how low we can sink."

"Being dark and mysterious helps with the job," Cyprian claims. "Nobody should be able to tell what a Mind Mage is thinking, but always worried that the Mage knows what they are thinking. Especially in Babel. In the outside world, they say 'Knowledge is Power', but in Babel it's truer to claim that Knowledge is Fear."

"Eh, I can tell what you're feeling if I want, which is about as good as what you're thinking. It lets me judge possibilities of what you might do," Alptraum notes, "So ... I'm not exactly afraid of you. There is as much information in what a person doesn't say, than what they do. The way you stand, ear position, scent, heart rate, repetitive twitching. Every action, or the lack thereof, tells a story. Lessons from a thief and gambler."

"Assuming you can trust that the one being observed isn't playing the same game," Cyprian notes. "I suspect the Yodhbarada and Yodhinala have both mastered deceptive body language skills, but I've never tried to confirm it. Another good reason to make people worried - they'll be less attentive to such details."

"And that's why being able to read emotions on top help. As for your suspicions, I can confirm them. I've seen a Yodhinala do that directly. Only the Gods know why I didn't gut her at the time," Alptraum grumbles. "I'm too kind-hearted for my own good."

"Or just not the gutting type?" Cyprian suggests, showing confidence in the shadow shield by actually turning his back on the city. "You don't strike me as one prone to murder."

"No, I'm not," Alptraum agrees. "I tend to want to believe that most people have something redeeming in them. Dagh, I believe the Sisters do, and that's probably slightly insane. But, they are shaped by the people that believe in them, so ... they can be reshaped to a degree, if the people can. Or, I'm just an idiot trying to to play chicken with a windmill."

"Manipulating the gods is a time-honored tradition everywhere," Cyprian claims. "Granted, it's usually to manipulate the follows. This is the first I've heard of manipulating the followers to manipulate the gods. But it's probably more stable in the long term. It's how Babel used to be, supposedly."

"Until Amenlichli decided to mess with the Sabbaoth and give him the 'secret' to eternal life, and all that. That happened, it's not just a story. The knowledge of how to extend life the way they did came from Aztepa," Alptraum comments. "It's amazing that one place has scarred every place on the world in one way or another. There's even a city not too far from here founded by her followers. It's Barren now, for the most part; just a place of death."

"An entire city?" Cyprian asks, actually showing surprise. "It must be well hidden. I've never been entirely clear one what Amenlichtli's goals are. There must be something she gets out turning others or spreading her influence."

"An entire city. It's actually in the old records in Babel, just buried well. You don't want to go there, you wouldn't live long. It requires special conditions to even enter it for a short time. And other than a giant undead former Babel battleship, there's not much to see," Alptraum explains and chuckles, "Plus, it makes Yodhgorphat smell like lovely flowers."

"So, an open-grave necropolis?" Cyprian asks. "I can't imagine the undead founding anything though. Isn't decay more their style?"

"It's ... more like death arrested at at a point. A place unchanging. I talked to a head that was something like three thousand years old I ... think. Used to be her 'right hand' or something of that status. Then he pissed her off somehow, I think," Alptraum tries to explain, then sighs. "Sorry, I deal with really odd stuff. I talk to detached heads, and demons, on a regular basis. I'm terrible at being normal, or having a normal conversation."

"You fit right in with most Mages then," Cyprian notes. "You should write it all down. Do you keep a journal?"

"No, I collect weirdos," Alptraum laughs, "And I'm only slightly joking at that. And to demonstrate, he taps his right hand, pronounces, "Front and center, My Secretary!" Then he tries to pull Kaira out of his hand.

This takes a moment, but Kaira does appear.. dressed as a rather severe secretary. She's got her mane in a bun, and is wearing half-moon glasses. "Time to schedule your next milking appointment already?" she asks.

"Aaand she's snarky and rude," Alptraum remarks with a sigh to Cyprian. "Want to spank her?"

"I take it you're consulting the Mages?" Kaira asks Alptraum. "Where's the doctor?"

"Which doctor? And no, not witchdoctor, Which doctor to whom do you refer?" Alptraum has to ask. To Cyprian, he explains, "She's not quite a familiar. She's a sentient spell created by a being from another world, and acts as a prison warden. Also, a friend, even if she thinks me a stupid being."

"The monstrous one?" Kaira prompts, just in case there are more monstrous doctors that Alptraum hasn't told her about yet.

"That ... doesn't help. I can think of three off the top of my head," Alptraum points out.

"So, do you mean the red naga, the black naga with boobs, or the demented squished Eeee?" Alptraum adds.

"Ah, the squished Eee!" Alptruam declares. "In transit. This is just to see what exactly he did to people's minds. Plus, I suck at talking to people, so I brought you out to save me."

"Oh?" Kaira asks, and turns to Cyprian. "Has he been brooding at you? You're pretty tall for Eeee, aren't you?"

"He could be a star in every Eeee romance novel written. In fact, he could model covers for extra cash," Alptraum comments.

"Because Alptraum collects them," Kaira answers, then nudges Alptraum. "See, this is easy."

"She appears in the same form her creator had. So I can only assume her creator was a pompous dragon with a huge ego," Alptraum says with a grin.

"I don't think she was that pompous," Kaira claims. "I, however, am quite humble and helpful. I don't even burn the coffee."

"What is the relationship between this creature and your right hand?" Cyprian asks, curious. "She didn't burn it, did she?"

"Helpful, yes. Humble ... ah no," Alptraum points out. "No, they're actually part of a dagger, which became part of the dagger after I sucked his soul and her, into said dagger. Then I tried to capture a weapon of Amenlichli, and that is what messed up my hand."

"That sounds like it would make a good fairy tale," Cyprian notes. "The Sylvanian variety."

"Which is where it happened! So ... appropriate," Alptraum agrees. "That was back when I wanted to destroy the world."

"Now you really want to turn it into a fairy tale. I fell in love. Granted with probably the second-most scary woman in the world, but I did," Alptraum admits. "She has such presence in a room that you would be saying Yes Ma'am to her every request."

Cyprian arches an eyebrow at the description. "What request had you saying yes ma'am to her, if I may ask?"

"She never asked me to do anything, actually. We just talked ... and I learned weren't so different, outside of her being highly educated and a noble, and I being a road-educated country bumpkin. But both of us had family obligations, and hers both made her miserable and lonely often. I just wanted to change that, I guess. I offered everything I did, she never asked me or forced me. But I gave her a future, which she didn't have before." He pauses there and his ears splay. "Then she sent me here to deal with my demons," he adds.

"And a former member of the Promethean Society, whatever that was," Alptraum adds.

"I didn't realize you had demons here, but then I suppose that's part of being Babelite," Cyprian says, and looks like he's about to go into Brooding Bat Stance but stops himself. "So, a dragonish spirit, a Sphynx.. what other weirdos have you collected?"

"A world-destroying, soul-eating dragon. A demon that turns people inside out if they break a vow," Alptraum ticks off, "A map possessed by a really annoying human. A Yodhinala with an ego that puts a dragon to shame..."

"Or right, there's Roogi the Yodhblakat, Phalgaea the Yodhgorphat," Alptraum adds, "Snow and Snowcora, which you've met..."

"So they do exist then," Cyprian says. "I don't feel that Lamurians should count. What was it like?"

"They were that way because the woman I fell for ... cursed them for invading her lands. I did say she was scary. They were ... pretty miserable. Also tormenting a small family of Sylvanian Eeee," Alptraum explains

"Vampires, you mean?" Cyprian asks for clarification. "Why would werewolves care about a family of Eeee?"

"They were desperate, and wanted to die. Gallesians. Well, were. She also turned some into pigs. But .... the gallesians did lure her husband away and decapitate him on a pretense of something else ... so I can appreciate her anger towards them," Alptraum clarifies.

"She's a Life Mage?" Cyprian asks. "But curses are Chaos, and probably some Spirit. Still, physical transformation is not simple. It sounds as if there is a deeper link between you and she."

"We have similar bindings, yes," Alptraum notes, "Which is why I am ... compatible with her in certain ways."

"So you are compatible in a way that nobody else can be," Cyprian suggests. "Fated."

"Anyway, it was in knowing her, that I began seeing the world in different ways. Also, in understanding people's actions better, and that helped me come to terms with a lot of things, and let go of others," Alptraum explains as he resumes leaning on the rail some. "It gave me more context in understanding myself, why I am here, and what happened around me. Even the war in Babel, and how some people can make certain choices without concern for others. It is possible to love someone to the point of being willing to sacrifice everything."

"Which, incidentally, is why I worry about you a little. You need someone you can trust and spend time with," Alptraum adds, "You stay in the tower, and you do brood. It's easy to get lost in your own head, and go into dark places."

"Being able to let go of things has never been much of a virtue in this city," Cyprian says. "Not many of us leave the Tower since the anti-mage riots. I can hardly just go out and interact informally with people.. I never really did that before I became the Avenger. I'd also worry about someone recognizing me from when I spent time in Inala's Carnival."

"Oh, like I am not recognized? I go out anyway sometimes because I need to. I need to feel normal from time to time, to have the strength to deal with the abnormal," Alptraum explains and reaches over to tap Cyprian's nose. "Plus, you're handsome, and you should spend some time dealing with physical wants too, otherwise they get repressed ... and you go to places like the Temple of Inala. Well, used to that's done now."

"You are the people's demigod," Cyprian notes. "I wouldn't know which groups to mingle with, or where."

"I also think I got second place at the Look Like the Barsunala contest in a bar once," Alptraum remarks dryly.

"So ... forget unicorns, want to boink the lizard?" Alptraum asks and thumbs towards Kaira. "Sure, she chafes some, but it can be fun..."

"Hey, you shouldn't tempt your friends like that," Kaira chides. "He might want to settle down some day, so it wouldn't be fair to ruin all other women for him like that."

"The silver one was enough of a tease," Cyprian notes. "I've also survived Rostre's none-to-subtle suggestions. 'An alignment of Mind and Spirit is essential to good health' she claimed."

"I survived the suggestions, I did not respond to them," Cyprian notes. "We Mages are a small community here, and only a few form the 'mostly permanent' core."

"What I was getting at before," Kaira notes, after a bit of a glare at Alptraum, "is that Alptraum here has access to an entire world of beings that have no idea who you are, nor would care anyway."

"She's really not that bad, you know. Awkward sure, but she usually means well," Alptraum points out. "She's trying to make friends."

"A Naga Spirit Mage trying to make friends is very out of the ordinary," Cyprian notes. "Mind and Spirit are known for being a bit stand-offish."

"So are those who are part of Death," Alptraum points out. "But I try anyway. Poorly, at times, but I do. I am by all definitions a supernatural monster."

"I'm at least polite I suppose and don't force her to be naked all the time and be tethered by a collar and chain to me," Alptraum adds and grins at Kaira.

"Death is supposed to be friendly and intimate," Cyprian claims. "Nothing save birth really compares." He then looks between Alptraum and Kaira, and asks, "So, only part of the time? I can't tell if you good friends or siblings."

"You don't chain the dragon," Kaira notes. "But I don't know what dark elves get up to. They'd probably be into that sort of thing."

"Those I don't like I'm indifferent to," Alptraum comments. "Friends I either tease, sleep with, or both."

"And that I entirely blame on Babel," Alptraum adds. "I've done things I never thought I would."

"You also don't strike me as one who's led a sheltered life," Cyprian notes. "Mages tend to forget that such activities exist at times. Most do find a balance between work and life, but that shifts far more to the work side the higher one goes up the ranks. It takes a great amount of focus after all."

"There's living, and there is existing. Which do you do?" Alptraum asks Cyprian, honestly. "When it is your time to pass, will you be able to say you've had a life well lived?"

"I've had a life lived as a Mage," Cyprian admits. "That is no longer as prestigious as it once was. Being an icon of revenge is a low point, however much I wanted it to happen in that moment. But channeling all of that anger.. I don't know if I'm actually recovered yet."

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Kaira asks.. seemingly to both of them. She also has taken out a steno pad and is licking the tip of a pencil as if ready to take notes.

"I felt it too, you know," Alptraum notes, then actually perches himself on the rail. "Okay, I'm going to be all official now," he says, then clears his throat. He looks right at Cyprian, and says, "Justify your existence." His voice even takes on a hollow tone to it, at that.

"You brought a man here today whose mind had been manipulated - his past, his name, his very identity twisted or suppressed," Cyprian says. "This is a world were such things can be done to people. I became what I am to undo them, to protect against such acts.. and even to punish those who perform them. That is my justification. It is not a very personal one, but when dealing with such things maintaining detachment is critical. And that can spread to all other areas of my life, I admit. But I do think it is worth the price."

"And how does that make you feel, when you look in the mirror?" Alptraum inquires next. "Ultimately, I am not the person you have to justify yourself to. It is to yourself, which is by far a much harsher critic. If you have regrets for things you did not do, then to be blunt, you've failed to live. You can be all that you have said ... but you can also be more. Why aren't you?"

"Is it because you are comfortable in your role? You know the answers? You know what you can do?" Alptraum prods, gently, "Whereas now things outside of it are unknown, where you could make a mistake. So, it's simply safer to just be Cyprian the Avenger. Instead of Cyprian the friend, the father, the grandfather, who was also an honored mage, and once the Avenger himself?"

Cyprian turns to gaze out at the darkening city, where lights are starting to appear. "I see myself as a monk," he finally says. "A life of devotion requires sacrifices. I can be proud of the strength I gain from those sacrifices.. I am proud of them. I can convince myself that I serve a higher calling. But there are always doubts, as in everything. Especially when actual work is rare. And the Avenger traps me here. It is like an obligation to Babel. To not abandon her. Eventually, things will go back to normal for the Guild in Babel. I'll take on an apprentice, perhaps adopt someone. Reachable goals, for when such things become possible."

"Welcome to how I feel every day too," Alptraum notes, "Trapped by what you are and at times wishing for what you can't have right now. I'm going to be a father, you see. That was my gift to Rosalind, giving her a family and a future. She had her lands and powers, forced upon her when her father died. She had to sacrifice everything for her people to keep them safe. All her dreams, her desires to continue to learn at the University gone in a moment. When I met her, she could smile, but it was always a little hollow. That's what changed me; meeting her. I was injured pretty badly helping her, too, and had she chosen someone else instead of me ... I would have helped them be with her. You aren't the first I've met that has felt lost and trapped by this place. I feel trapped because I can do what needs to be done. But, that may cost me my life. I may never hold my children. I may never hear their laughs, cries, or growing up. It's not easy, it's hard, and I know how much it can hurt. But I'm willing to sacrifice myself if need be, to save my people here ... and the family I may never get to know. Please, I'm asking this as a friend, not the Barsunala ... don't die alone. Share your life with someone. You've earned that right, Avenger. Cyprian. Singer."

"No wonder you all brood," Kaira interrupts. "Mortals shouldn't be so broody, it'll age you prematurely. When Tulani gets back with the villain, you should take her and Cyprian to that nightclub, Alptraum. Nobody will pester them there, more than the friendly sort of pestering."

"And you won't wear a chair on your head and sing 'Sit on my head and let me elevate you?" Alptraum asks Kaira.

"Any chair that fits on my head wouldn't be comfortable to sit in," Kaira claims, crossing her arms. "You both need to surround yourself with boisterous, partying rats. And well-to-do Eeee. Maybe some chinchillas. Do you have chinchillas here? They're like upscale hamsters. Softer than bunnies. In any case, you need to sink into a pile of soft, happy things is what I'm saying."

"Then why do you always claim dragons are best? You are not soft," Alptraum points out, and even flicks her snoot.

"Being best isn't the same as being what you need right now," Kaira claims. "You owe Tulani some downtime too. Let her be the one to make you loosen up."

"Tulani is a sailor," Alptraum asides to Cyprian in the sort of tone that imples they have the plague.

"She's young and bouncy and probably very good at drinking games and off-color songs then," Kaira says. "So she'll get along with.. uh.. the rats, probably. Rats like that sort of thing, don't they?"

"Skreeks, Eeee.. too many onomatopoeia-based names if you ask me," Kaira grumbles.

"You're squeaky and flappy, so should be happy, because it rhymes," the dragon insists. Unassailable logic, that.

"Hey, dragon isn't exactly a positive term, so everyone has it tough. Except for the Bobs," Kaira claims.

"Too long," Alptraum points out. "Anyway, so to shorten my long rambling, you need other people in your life that don't treat you like 'The Avenger'. Ooooo," he says and wiggles his fingers, then grabs Cyprian and snogs him right on the balcony! "You need people in your life that treat you like a friend," he says when he lets go. "You know, the people that try to embarrass, tease, and otherwise torment you." He grins.

"Other than my coworkers you mean?" Cyprian asks, and.. doesn't smooch back, but also doesn't wipe his mouth or anything. "I used to visit the Temple of Inala back when.. back before. There were very nice gardens there."

"Actually, I know someone who might be a good friend for you. Other than me," Alptraum says and taps Cyprian on the nose again. "Bara."

"As one from a species notorious for being antisocial and hermit-like, I think you should go out and party. Bara is the dragon-lady, isn't she? And not like I'm a dragon lady," Kaira says.

"She is fairly well connected, I am given to understand," Cyprian says. "I have not met her, but she's been at government social functions that I've also been invited to."

"Bara is a former Yodhninala, who now spends her days making a place safe for people. She's a bit aloof, but it's also understandable why. She's another that is alone in a crowd. I'm not suggesting her for carnal pleasures or anything like that. It's more ... she's someone who can understand you, I think," Alptraum notes.

"Hmmm, she certainly wouldn't be considered inappropriate for me to associate with, given her focus on social welfare," Cyprian says.

"Are you kidding? Of course I do," Alptraum notes. "But that's easy to fix, disguise!"

"I wanted to not like her, when I first met her. She was so cold," Alptraum admits, "But she's deeper than that, it's her defense from the things she endured. I respect her a great deal."

"A disguise?" Cyprian asks. With his unusual deep voice, and being very tall for an Eeee.

"A disguise," Alptraum claims, "Or, I could just ask her if she'd like to meet with you and arrange something."

"That's why you take Tulani with you," Kaira explains. "She's a good distraction. Exotic and all that. I'd go, but there's such a thing as too distracting."

"I don't like dealing with a lot of attention out here in reality," Kaira notes. "The more people see me the more energy it takes to maintain a presence."

"And it will always end up with, 'Oh Barsunala, pull a dragon out of your hat again' or something," Kaira adds. "Yes, your energy. I'm high-maintenance."

Kaira sticks her tongue out, and claims, "Everyone knows you're only supposed to pull statistics out of your butt, or monkeys. Or chocolate butternuts."

"Right, so, I think we're all done brooding here," Alptraum says and claps his hands together. "Shall we all go back in? You probably have some elves to spank ... and we should check on the patient."

"If you don't need my insightful wisdom any further, I will go and file things," Kaira says.

"Boring. Grab one of the elves and paddle her in-between filing, at least," Alptraum insists

"She seems amusing to have around," Cyprian says, and heads for the door. "Banter is not a skill most Mages acquire."

"The ridiculous moments help in dealing with the serious ones," Alptraum notes as he follows. "Some day I'll lose her, when her task and reason for existence is complete. We all know Death comes for us all eventually. But .. with her it's more something always there. And when she's gone, she's gone. She has no soul to guide on. I know I pick on her a little, but for the time she has I want her to feel like a person and not just a created thing."

"Spirit Mages are forbidden from created sapient spirits," Cyprian notes as they return to the tower interior and head towards the infirmary level. "Though I imagine most have been tempted. Except, perhaps, the Nagai ones."

"It's a cruel thing to do to a creation you know will have a limited lifespan," Alptraum notes, "I can understand why that rule is there. I understand most of your rules about magic, truth be told. Though I can't work magic like a mage, and I always worry the guild as a whole would see me as an abomination. And I don't know if this is true or not, but on some level, I suspect I work magic more like how it was in times forgotten, before Nala and the Council tried to ... do things and messed it all up."

"The Spheres of Magic are just constructs," Cyprian says as they reach the recovery ward. "They are useful for teaching though. And I'm uncertain if what you do is necessarily tied to what we consider to be magic."

"Part of it is, part of it isn't," Alptraum notes and shrugs a little. "Understand ... I've talked to Nala before. I've walked in her wake, and the others. I've seen the end of continents. I saw the rise of Aztepa, and the fall of the Savanite Empire of long ago. Not in person, mind, but in their echos. I guess ... I've walked a bit in eternity and have seen it from the outside. It's hard to really explain. What is today is not what was. Time has shifted the truth of it all."

"Truth is a fluid thing, as is history," Cyprian claims, and a Skeek nurse greets them and starts leading them to one of the rooms.

The room they're brought to is fairly good sized. It isn't clear what it was originally, but at the moment it's a rather cozy little bedroom. The oil lamp has a shade on it with embroidered patterns, and the end table has a lace doily. The chairs look like they came from a fancy dining set, and there's even a music-box (but it's not running at the moment). So seeing the young Cervani buck secured to the bed by his antlers is odd. Mr. Velvet is sitting up, with pillows behind him and a duvet covering him from his chest down, although his hooves poke out enough to show that he's bound at the ankles as well. His hands aren't visible, but since he isn't trying to undo the straps holding his antlers to the headboard it's probably safe to assume their restrained as well.

A Skeek Life Mage is looking through an odd device into one of his ears when the two Eeee arrive. The last time Alptraum saw Mage Trilby, it was her birthday and she was dressed in armor fighting Akwavi pirates in a dreamscape. She does turn to see who has arrived, and even winks at Alptraum. "Here to gently check on the patient, I hope?" she asks. Velvet just stares with dilated pupils at the Eeee.

"And here I was wanting to use the wing screws," Alptraum laments as he puts the back of his hand to his forehead. "You are as cruel to me as you are to akwavi pirates."

"Let's.. not mention the pirates right now," Trilby notes, and gestures to Mr. Velvet. "Good news! He seems lucid and hasn't tried to kill himself or anyone else," the Skeek says. "His nose is dry, no abdominal distress and only a little speaking in tongues - but it could have been Bosch, since it sounded a bit like gargling."

"Ja," the buck replies, and nervously licks his nose. "Vo ist.. vere am I? Vere ist mein vater?" he then asks.

"Well ... why don't you tell us what you last remember?" Alptraum suggests. To Trilby, he asks, "Do you have any water he can drink? I think that is what he wants."

"I'll get some, and see if I can find a salt lick," Trilby says, and squeezes past the two men. "If he starts foaming at the mouth, scream really loud."

Alptraum pinches Trilby's butt as she passes. "We will do so," Alptraum agrees, then squats down so he's not looming over the ceravni so much.

"Luft.. Air Ship," the buck pronounces with forced clarity. "Alarms. We were unter.. below deck. Then, everything is tumbling. I.. that ist all."

"What is your name? What did you do on the ship?" Alptraum asks next. "And do you remember anything after that, like ... deflowering a unicorn?"

"Adalric," the buck replies. "Son of Albrecht Hemstone. Ve vere passengers, heading to ze Free City. I next remember vaking here, tied up. I do not feel as battered as I remember getting during ze crash. Have I been treated? I can't move. Vat do you mean.. remove flour from corn?"

"You sexed an Aeonian," Alptraum clarifies. "You don't remember anything from the ship, to here? That's a little odd," He glances to Cyprian and asks, "Isn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Cyprian notes. "It is difficult to erase or suppress memories for long periods, since the personality will always be picking at any threads it finds. However, employing a pre-made overlay can solve that issue. The brain will try to reinforce the false identity rather than abandon it when it runs into dead-ends in the memory."

"The memories of his captivity should still be there, just disconnected from his original identity," Cyprian concludes.

"Does this mean he won't remember any of it? Of what he did?" Alptraum asks, "Or ... he now has a split personality?"

"The overlay is gone," Cyprian claims. "The associated memories could be reconnected with a common link. The crash seems to be the transition point, so that is common to both, with the overlay not recalling much from before it, and the original not yet recalling anything afterwards."

"This.. sounds very worrying," Adalric notes, before Trilby returns with a flagon of water. "Is it safe to free one of his hands?" the Skeek asks the men.

Turning back to Adalric, Alptraum asks, "What was your job before the ship? Did you have any specific skills? Could you describe people you remember from your ship? Or the name of your ship?" Then he turns and nods to Trilby, saying, "He can be untied. I don't think he wants to hurt anyone.

While Trilby undoes one of the hidden wrist restraints, Adalric replies, "I am an apprentice to my father. Uh, I am a.. ledger-checker? Accountant. I remember Captain Strakker, but that was our captain when we left Chronotopia. The final leg was a ship out of.. the packy.. the ocean port. It was a name I could not pronounce. My father called it the Squeak Toy in jest. Crew was Eeee, but one big Vartan also. He looked at me like.. he wanted a bite."

"Hmmm, I suppose that could have been Razor. Did you talk to him at all?" Alptraum has to ask. "Did your father hire this ship last minute?"

"Passage all handled by agent in Free City," Adalric says. "I avoid Vartan, did not catch name. He was big, brown feathers, white chest with black spots on it. Did not wear shirt." It does match the description of Razor or Stitch - but without mention of a neck scare, it more closely matches Razor.

"Razor," Alptraum remarks to Cyprian. Now Alptraum asks Adalric, "Do you remember the name of the agent in the free city?"

"No, my father handled all of that," the buck notes, and takes some sips from the flagon once Trilby has his hand free. "My father was sent to look for irregularities in shipping manifests. It was to be a surprise inspection, and they did not trust locals to be honest."

"I don't think you should have trusted the agent, either. He sold you out to a pirate crew," Alptraum explains a bit gently. "Can you describe your father? I don't know if he was one we brought back."

"He is like me, but I am told I favor my mutter," Adalric says. "Taller, wider of horn. Are Cervani common here? We are not in Free City?" He's starting to sound a bit panicky.

"You're in Babel," Alptraum tries to explain, then pats Adalric's leg. "You've been a prisoner for months, working for pirates and worse. Nothing bad, just ground crew ... but work you did."

"I do not understand," the buck says, the water-flagon shaking a bit until Trilby takes it away. "Who are you people?" A young Chronotopian leaving this homeland for the first time might not know how to identify mages, since Chronotopia has a rather harsh stance on magic use.

"I'm Alptraum, and this is Cyprian," Alptraum explains. "And the tiny person is Trilby the magnificent. We're ... dealing with a pirate problem." He leaves off the bit about mages and demi-gods.

"I cannot have been a captive, I.. the accident only just happened," Adalric says, looking a little glazed. He seems to be talking to himself more than the others. "Where is my father?" he repeats. "Terrible things happen in Babel. Their army has turned to piracy."

"It happened months ago. We've only just unlocked your memories," Alptraum explains, softly ... and also tries to use the aura abilities to make the room feel calmer, somehow. Like scaring the dragons away? Being in a mother's hug? "Can you describe your father?"

Adalric begins giving a description, but some of it doesn't translate well or may only be of use to other Cervani, dealing with subtle details about ears and nostrils and legs and tail. But he does describe the number of points on his antlers (along with jargon that probably describes the shape of them). But that one data point matches up with Mr. Sprocket. Apparently there is a way of quantizing musk as well, but no indication that it there was a hereditary similarity.

"We .... might have your father too. He currently thinks his name is Mr. Sprocket. Perhaps we should see to him next. Now, I can't make any promises it is your father, please understand that," Alptraum says. "But, I'm hopeful."

"The way you broke it up is not how it sounds when you say it all at once," Trilby points out.

Alptraum tries switching to speaking in Sylvanian to see if it 'helps' any with him, "Right now, you just need to rest. We're here to help you. Please trust us, okay?"

"How hard should we try to recover his memories of captivity?" Cyprian asks Alptraum.

The buck's ears perk up at a more familiar language. "You are Nordikan?" he asks Alptraum. Sylvanian isn't as guttural as Bosch, but Adalric is understandable at least.

"I wouldn't try at all until we know if we have his father or not. Having his father here would probably help them both remain calm," Alptraum points out. "He needs a stabilizing force."

"True," Cyprian agrees. "Recovering their original memories is the main goal. Using something familiar to jog the captivity ones loose can wait until we are certain there are no other traps hidden."

"Sylvanian," Alptraum replies to the buck. "So, we're almost countrymen. I know how terrifying it is to be in such an alien place, and alone. I just hope you believe we want to help you. Would it help if you wrote your mother a letter? We can try to get it sent. She's probably worried."

"I would like to write, yes," Adalric says. Then gets an odd look. "Did you say I had.. relations.. with an Aeonian?"

"And I have forgotten?" the boy asks, looking stricken. "My friends will never believe if I cannot give details. How.. how do you know though? Am I one of many who have suffered this memory loss?"

"I didn't know there were female Aeonians," Trilby admits. "But.. if they wore loose clothing.."

"Because I met the Aeonian? And yes, you are one of many that have lost their memories," Alptraum explains, to Trilby he notes, "Of course there are females. They're just rare."

"How many?" Adalric asks. "Where were we? Was the Aeonian holding us prisoner?" the buck rambles.

"One woman, no she was a prisoner too, you were in a mountain," Alptraum ticks off as he rubs his forehead a little.

Alptraum has to think a bit and tick off on his fingers. "About two dozen," he answers, "Give or take."

"Are they here as well?" Adalric asks. And then with wider eyes, he adds, "Am I your prisoner now?"

"You're our patient, not our prisoner," Alptraum says, "And when you're well, we'll be hopefully getting you all home. Or, do you want to be my prisoner?" Alptraum adds that last bit with a joking sort of tone and even a brow wiggle.

The buck is silent for a bit. "That will depend on if I am better off as such," Adalric admits. "I would have to tally up the credits and debits to know for certain."

"What is a boy toy and a demi-god?" the Chronotopian asks. They not-quite-worship the concept of Order after all.

"You would be a harem boy for canoodling with the child of a God," Alptraum tries to explain.

The buck still looks confused. "Gods have children?" he asks, probably latching onto the one phrase he recognizes.

"Some do," Alptraum says, then sighs and shakes his head. "It was a bad joke. Any way, I think you should get some rest."

"I'll make him more comfortable," the Life Mage notes. Hopefully in a way that doesn't involve casting spells in front of him.

"Chronotopians are not known for having senses of humor," Cyprian notes once they're back outside of the room.

Alptraum tweaks Trilby's nose on the way out. "You need to relax more," he notes as he departs, then shrugs a bit at Cyprian. "Humor is my coping mechanism."

"I imagine they have saws for that in Chronotopia," Cyprian says, completely deadpan. "When will you be turning the Royal Mage over to us?" he then asks.

"Soon. I need to extract them for judgment, after all. Well, sort of judgment. Mostly I want to scare them into telling me everything. Which means .. I have to be all spooky and creepy," Alptraum tries to explain. "I know, not far off from my normal."

"What do you expect to get out of them?" Cyprian asks, steering Alptraum towards a different area of the tower. More apprentices seem to be about, so it may be near the cafeteria or a dormitory.

Alptraum follows. "How many there actually are, and what they want in the city that they've taken this risk," he explains as he wraps his wings around himself a little like a cape. "We don't know if these are the only three mages, or if there are more. My gut tells me more."

"If they are merged as you say, it is not the sort of thing that could be self-performed," Cyprian, walking right past a surprised look Alcmenai - Rostre's apprentice - to turn up a narrow staircase. These may have been the servants (or rather, slaves) quarters at one time.

"Well, yes, but we don't know when it was done, or it could have been some sort of failsafe spell cast and bound to something to activate on the advent of their fall," Alptraum points out. "But most likely there are still others active ... and it worries me they're working for Amenlichli now. Well, they were before, just not so brazenly. So, something they want must be of great value to her."

"And they have the means - assuming access to a surgeon - of impersonating people in a way undetectable to a cursory magic check," Cyprian says, opening what looks like a closet door that opens into a dark room. "At least, in theory. Only the Royal Mages were allowed to examine the Sabaoth, and they managed to overlook him being slowly poisoned."

"Possibly intentionally. They may have planned to replace him, after all," Alptraum points out. "And where are we going?"

The room sounds cluttered, but eventually Cyprian gets one of the lamps going. It looks like a private study. Very private, since the other doorway is bricked in. It has two overstuffed chairs (well, as overstuffed as practical while allowing for wings) and one of those standing globes that probably hides bottles of liquor. Much of the rest as been stripped bare, with patches on the walls showing were bookcases probably once stood. "This is one of the little forgotten places lost in the tower renovation. It's a good place to get hide without leaving the tower." He opens the globe, and indeed there are bottles and glasses in it.

"Ah, a place to simply be," Alptraum says as he looks about, trying to get both a sound mapping, as well as a feel for the place, and what privacy it provides. "Back, well, in the old country of mine, we used to use old ruins and burn-outs for places to just rest. Nothing as pleasant as this, admittedly. Anyway, do you hide often?"

"Not just me," Cyprian says, and sits down in one of the old chairs. "The local Guildmaster showed it to me, before he retired. And yes, in here.. I'm not an administrator or the Avenger or anything. What do you drink? I'm not sure what some of these bottles contain."

"Anything, as long as it isn't deadly," Alptraum admits as he goes over to look and .. smell, then ends up sitting in the other chair. "So, what were your parents' like?" he asks.

"Would you believe me if I told you they were circus clowns?" Cyprian asks. "Because they weren't. My maternal grandmother was Sylvanian. My father was part of a minor house. They were not anyone special, and I hadn't showed the signs of magical aptitude I would probably be some minor functionary. They did not live to see me become the Avenger, although they were in part responsible for it."

"Did they die in the attack, then? As for your parents ... it actually wouldn't surprise me. The Eeee that raised me, and I think of as my parents, were basically circus performers. The ones that made me were ... well, a srinala, so a living corpse, and a donor. And then a whole lot of magic provided by the Yodhsunala," Alptraum notes. "I'm a bit ... broken thanks to that magic. I shouldn't even really exist, but here I am."

"That must have caused some controversy among the Yodh, although it seems you were kept secret until you were an adult," Cyprian notes, picking a bottle that has something orange in it. "And yes, my parents were caught in the Boomer. I think I've had this one before - it does not taste overly medicinal." He pours two glasses, and hands one to Alptraum. "Is the circus life an adventurous one?"

"It's a mix of fun, combined with a whole lot of cold and wet nights, running scared, and wondering if you'll live until dawn. At least it was for me," Alptraum says as he takes the glass and salutes slightly with it, then sniffs it. "Well, they actually took a child meant for sacrifice and made him look like me. That poor soul was left in Babel, so no one ever knew I had been taken away. So, he grew up a proper and true Babelite; to one day be the Sabbaoth's new body. He's right now having to be the pet of a crazy khatta in Rephidim."

"I couldn't imagine if that is the best outcome or not for him," Cyprian says. "I don't imagine I had a fun childhood, even in the center of Babel. Fun is anathema to mastering Mind Magic.. aside from the inevitable pranks. I imagine you got up to mischief as well. Just with more.. flair?"

"All the time. It's amazing I survived it all, intact. I've been on the receiving end of a few torch and pitchfork brigades in my youth," Alptraum chuckles, then actually dares to take a sip from the glass. "As well as many failed attempts to spy on the dancers when they undressed, and the pots and pans that followed that."

"I hadn't thought of dancers," Cyprian admits. "You generally wouldn't try to spy on a fellow Mage.. but there were the retainers. As soon as we could sneak out to Mt. Inala though.. we learned it was impossible to make work."

"Ever been with a Yodhinala?" Alptraum has to ask. "I have. They're ... not that inspiring, honestly. There's no real passion in them; it's just a job and that sort of ruins everything for me."

"Yes, when I was still young enough to be awed by the Temple, and didn't have to make the pilgrimage because my master had been called there for work," Cyprian says. "Not working for the Yodhinala, but for a patron that thought he had been given the wrong sister for his household."

"I honestly do not remember," Cyprian admits. "I was mesmerized by the identical - to my eye - twins. The Guild Hall was much more sheltered than the rest of Babel of course, and I had never seen girls my own age naked before."

"Ah yes, the young see the surface and not the person. I was guilty of that back then too. But now if the person doesn't have a good personality ... I have zero interest regardless of how they loog. Anyway, did you know any Barinala? I've ... not met many and I have no idea what they're like. The one I did meet was an ex one, and horrible, liked to hurt women," Alptraum notes.

"Their were male guards, but I do not know if they were true barinala," Cyprian says, swirling his drink before tasting it. "Having actual barinala stand around holding pikes would be like having Yodhinala stand around being living statues. Although I think some of them did just that. Inala has always been my favorite of the Kindly Ones, admittedly. In hindsight, it is likely because it was easier to visit Her temple and it was always clean and smelled nice. So, who was the first girl you saw in the all together?"

"Well, by sneaking ... One of the Radovah sisters. Khatta dancers and .... whew. They knew how to get men going," Alptraum admits and coughs softly. "As for Eeee. Discounting the one that raised me as my mother ... it would have been, er, Barada. Then later, Inala."

"I can imagine Inala would be happy to knowingly show herself," Cyprian agrees. "Barada.. seems to me she'd be more of the teasing type. Did the Khatta girl know you were peeping?"

"I'm sure they did at times, yes," Alptraum admits. "As for Barada, she found out where I was, and wanted to meet me. So, she pretended to be a magical fairy princess, or somesuch. It was ... weird. Most women I know are weird."

"Whereas all female Mages are perfectly normal," Cyprian claims, again quite deadpan. "What are the chances of me sitting in on your interrogations of the Royal Mage spirits?" he then asks.

"I could be talked into it, I suppose," Alptraum muses and swirls his glass. "What's in it for me?"

"Someone to pretend to take whichever side you don't want to," Cyprian claims. "The Avenger could be there to support or declaim a Royal Mage.. but mainly I would be able to interpret any magical information they provided. Or suggest lines of questioning to follow up on them. I'm very curious about the methods used to brainwash so many on presumably short notice. I suspect artifacts are involved, and if so I'd like to know as much as possible about them and the danger they pose. Not to mention the more practical concerns of how to more easily treat all these men."

"Foo, that's so practical. No one ever offers me their soul or body in trade for things," Alptraum laments, then finishes off his glass. "But I can't really refuse your request, anyway. I want you to trust me, so ... you're in. You'll have to sleep, though, and ... let down some of your guards so I can hook you into dreamspace."

"Ah, yes, my armor," Cyprian notes. "Does it apply only to me personally, or to the location I'm in as well?"

"I think just you personally, but I'd have to try to know for certain on that. I'm not familiar with your magic at all, so I don't really know how what I do interacts with it," Alptraum admits. "In other words, I've never tried to contact you any other way than this. It seemed ... disrespectful to do so. Plus, I'm not sure if you would trust me much if I paraded in and out of your dreams on a whim."

"Controlling my dreams was one of the things I needed to learn," Cyprian admits. "Not Dream Magic, but lucid dreaming. A means of taming my subconscious. Which means I have rather dull dreams. I don't think I'd be taken by surprise if someone interesting showed up, but I'd know it was from outside."

"So, if I brought in a harem to torment you, you'd realize it was from the outside then," Alptraum notes. "Good to know," he adds before refilling his glass.

"How would a harem torment me?" Cyprian has to ask. At least the liquor is mild - or else Alptraum and Cyprian's Sylvanian heritages make them hardier than the typical Babelite. More likely it's just that 'hard' drinks weren't proper for the noble classes.

"I have no idea, admittedly. Tie you down and tickle you, maybe," Alptraum says and shrugs a little. "I do plan on being extra creepy in this interrogation; just a fair warning. I may involve the Sisters too .. perhaps. I'm not sure about that; they can be wildcards in a controlled hand."

"I imagine you are going to threaten them with some horrible fate then?" Cyprian asks. "Some sort of hell?"

"Several sorts, most likely. Magog's hell, at first. It's a pretty horrible place, I have to admit," Alptraum admits. "And the smell, ugh."

"I hadn't heard of it before Sunala's sentencing of those.. ignobles," Cyprian admits. "It sounds old. Magog must one of those minor gods?"

"One of the many, yes. A giant maggot. Really, you're better off not knowing much about it," Alptraum admits.

"So that I'll be surprised?" Cyprian asks. "I'm guessing she isn't the goddess of tickling by harem girls."

"Do you really want to meet her?" Alptraum has to ask. "She eats people as punishment, for eternity."

"Well, I'd settle for knowing what to expect if I find myself in hell," Cyprian notes.

"Being buggered by demons, eaten daily, digested, then reborn, giving birth to maggots, and on, and on," Alptraum ticks off on his fingers. "None of it is particulatly pleasant in any way; though her demons enjoy the buggering part."

"I can see how that would be less desirable than eventually being granted oblivion through Sunala," Cyprian agrees. "I hope the Royal Mages are familiar with it. Or is a special tour going to be given?"

"If they aren't a tour can be arranged, yes. By myself or one of her demons," Alptraum says. "Unless you want to be the tour guide...?"

"I think your position as Barsunala is more appropriate for providing them a taste of the potential punishment," Cyprian graciously accedes.

Alptraum slides out of his seat and into Cyprian's lap. "Awww, you say such the sweetest things," he coos, being a little goofy.

"Hmm, I've drunk any of this with someone else, so this might be normal," Cyprian says. "Is this part of the tickling thing? Will the rest of the harem be showing up soon? Or.. should we try the green drink.."

Alptraum sticks out his tongue, and goes back to his chair. "You're no fun," he complains, "But ... the green drink it is!"