Back along the route taken from the Mages Tower to the The Laughing Chibix, Alptraum remembers passing an alley that particular symbol painted on the corner: the tree, symbol of Rinala. So there may be an under-plaza clinic that way.

"Yeah, they'd love to see me," Alptraum remarks when he spots the symbol. He already spent some time pulling on his fingers in case it required to be realigned, but even he knows either he's going to have to use the shadow to really fix it, or he needs actual medical care. The throbbing isn't crippling, but it is distracting. So, he decides to check out where the symbol leads.

The alleys under the plaza aren't laid out in any rational manner, with some following bridges that have had walls or other structures added to them. But Alptraum gets to the spot where he saw the symbol, and heads down that curving alley. It was likely a former plaza that got built up more during the construction of Cenesta Plaza above it.

Alptraum starts listening and trying to feel out any sort of auras nearby to see if he can locate a clinic, if any. Not like they would welcome him in, of all people. Not if they're the more paranoid ones, anyway.

There are definitely people at the unseen end of the alley, around the curve. At least a dozen, and half of those showing colors of stress.

And so, Alptraum heads that way. "Hello," he calls out, just in case. He doesn't want to be shot turning a corner.

The alley ends at the outer-wall of a support tower. A crude doorway has been cut out from what was originally a window, blocked on the other side by a heavy curtain. A standing lantern is set to one side, to help illuminate the symbol of Rinala, and on the other stands a burly blue-feathered Vartan, while two Skreeks lean against one wall of the alley with a stretcher leaned up next to them. One Skreek is apparently napping upright while the other is smoking a hand-rolled cigarette that smells strongly of herbs. "You hurt?" the Vartan calls out. "Can you walk?"

"I can walk fine, I just think I broke my hand is all," Alptraum says as he continues to approach. "It's nothing critical, but I should have it checked. If things are too bust, I can go elsewhere."

The Vartan's gaze goes straight to the swollen hand, and he reaches into the window to pull the curtain aside while asking, "Anyone else hurt?"

"Just me," Alptraum says as he continues onward and if not stopped, steps through the makeshift doorway.

The curtain closes behind him as Alptraum enters. The smell of incense is strong, but doesn't quite manage to cover the scent of blood. A pair of middle-aged Eeee in rubber aprons are carrying a pot of steaming water from one section of the area to another deeper in. Most of the space is broken up by folding dividers and lit by candles and lanterns. An acolyte approaches, and smiles to Alptraum in a friendly way. She's probably around Tulani's age. "Are you injured or in pain anywhere other than your hand?" she asks, while gesturing to a nearby chair.

"Oh, plenty of injuries and pain over the years, but the only one of concern at the moment is my hand," Alptraum answers as she heads to the gestured chair and then settles himself down into it. "It's the swollen hand, the left one. My right hand is fine, even if it looks worse."

The acolyte pulls up what was once a fancy end table, and drapes a clean cloth over it. "Please rest it here," she says, grabbing a crude nearby stool with her foot and pulling it over so she can sit on it.

Alptraum lifts his left arm and sets his hand upon the old table. "If there are more important patients, please see to them first," he requests. "This was my fault."

"Everyone is being seen to," the acolyte assures, "Do not fret." She begins feeling over Alptraum's fingers and wrist, and asks, "Can you rotate your wrist at all?"

Alptraum rolls his wrist some in answer to that question. "Yes, I can move my wrist and fingers, but it is not pleasant to do so," he answers, though wincing while doing so.

"That is good," the acolyte says, and slips her own hand under Alptraum's, and places her other atop it to sandwich the injury. Then she closes her eyes and begins to softly sing a prayer. "Merciful Rinala, Generous Rinala. Please steal away the pain and suffering of your beloved child. Help him to heal so that he may continue to enrich the lives around him in your honor." After repeating this several times, the pain begins to ease and leave behind numbness. The swelling remains, it just doesn't hurt as much.

On some level, Alptraum is surprised that even works on him. Given who he is and who he's tied to, and the long history between the 'facets' of the Goddess, anything Rinala-based working on him just seems ... odd. His brow arches up as the pain lessens; though the numbing is concerning; is that just the first part? "I'm ... surprised that works at all on me," he finally admits.

"You are tied to Rinala," the acolyte claims after she finishes the prayer. "Some of Her flows through you and your deeds." Then she starts probing the injury further before the swelling worsens. "We need to bring down the swelling before the bones can be splinted. Please wait here and try not to move the hand."

"Then you do know who I am," Alptraum comments, eyes flicking between his hand and to the acolyte. The probing makes him twitch some, but he does manage to keep his hand quite still on the table.

"Of course I do," the acolyte says with a smile. "You're a patient," she then insists, before getting up and heading deeper into the clinic.

That comments makes Alptraum laugh. "I guess no one would even consider I might come in for help, then," he admits to the room.

That gets an unusual reaction. From around the edge of nearby divider, a little head appears. It's made of cloth, with little button eyes above somewhat shapeless muzzle, and circles of cloth pinched together where they connect to the head for ears. A little stubby arm appears and waves briefly before it all gets pulled back behind the divider.

"Oh," Alptraum says as he looks at the divider now. "Hello over there. I didn't know there was someone else over there, it's quiet," he admits. "I'm Alptraum, by the way."

"The rat men.." Cedra starts to say, then the doll head vanishes as the acolyte returns carrying a bowl. She sets the bowl on the table, and Alptraum can see it's full of water, rags.. and ice?

"The rat men...?" Alptraum prompts, trying to get Cedra to say more. The bowl of ice gets his attention and his brow arches again. "You employ a water mage?" he actually asks. Making ice is not a miracle that he knows of, after all.

"We get supplied," the acolyte notes, taking one of the cold-soaked cloths from the bowl and laying it over Alptraum's hand. "I don't know from where, only that we get what we need nowadays." The cold gets through the numbness slightly. "Were you talking to the doll?"

"Well, the child attached to the puppet, yes," Alptraum answers and shrugs a little. "Are they okay?"

"She's fine, but won't talk if you're looking at her," the acolyte says as she layers the other rags on the swelling. "Was brought in yesterday with an older Eeee woman who was found collapsed from exhaustion. The Skreeks brought them in, but I don't know where they picked them up from."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why won't she talk to you if you look at her?" Alptraum asks. He keeps looking towards the divider and not so much at his own hand at the moment. "What about the woman she was with?"

"She hasn't really woken up long enough to say anything," the acolyte notes. "We have a feeding tube in her and are giving her broth so far. We generally don't ask our patients about where they're from or how they became injured or sick. Old habits. Used to only get people that'd been stabbed, beaten or where sick with food poisoning."

"Well, understandable. It is not as if your sect was welcome in any way. Best to remain anonymous on both ends. But .. times have changed some, I think. And she may have family looking for her," Alptraum says.

"The Skreeks might know, but they're not that found of authority figures," the acolyte says. "Maybe talking to the doll will help. But don't move this hand."

"Since when am I an authority figure?" Alptraum has to ask. "Cedra," Alptraum calls out, "Were you found with your mother?"

"Wait until I leave," the acolyte says, and winks. "The doll is shy." Once the acolyte has left, the doll head reappears and bobs side-to-side (or up and down from Alptraum's perspective). It may mean a head shake. Or a nod.

"Please say yes or no? I don't now if you're meaning yes or no," Alptraum admits.

The voice is quiet for a moment more. "Aunty.." Cedra says uncertainly. "I'm sister."

Alptraum is quiet for a bit. "Has your mother passed?" he asks next, though he does so in a quieter, hopefully more gentle, tone.

"Passed what?" the voice asks. The doll is not good at portraying confusion though.

Well, that answers that, unfortunately. "Can you tell me where you are from?" Alptraum asks. "I understand if the answer is no."

Stream? Alptraum doesn't remember any streams. "You are from Babel, right?" he asks.

"Aunty brought me," Cedra explains. "She is everyone's Aunty. Don't you know her?"

"She's really tired," Cedra claims. "We had to stop on the hill, and she fell asleep and wouldn't wake up, so I cried and the clouds came, and the cloud keeper said to wait, and then the rat men came carrying a bed.." Cedra is starting to get more upset the longer she talks, as there are a lot of sniffles interrupting her.

"Do you need a hug?" Alptraum asks. "I can't come over there at the moment, but if you came over here, I could hug you."

"No, not at all. I'm just taking a break from some difficult things," Alptraum answers. "And questioning if I've done anything good at all."

"This clinic? I saw the sign and followed it. Came from the plaza," Alptraum answers.

The doll vanishes again when there are moans coming from deeper in the clinic, although they don't last long. Then the acolyte is back to check on Alptraum's hand. The swelling has gone down a bit. "I'm going to splint your fingers and wrist, if that's alright?" she asks him.

"It's fine," Alptraum agrees, attention shifting back to the acolyte. "The woman that brought the child in, what are her chances?" he asks.

"She's old, but isn't injured," the acolyte says. "Her wing shoulders were stiff though, so probably tried to fly too far." Eeee are known for speed and maneuverability, but not distance flying, after all.

"That doesn't really answer my question," Alptraum points out. "Babel Eeee aren't really built for distance flying."

"She just needs rest and nutrition," the acolyte says as she checks on Alptraum's fingers again now that the swelling is down. "We're taking care of the child when she lets us, now that she's stopped hiding under the cot all the time."

"No, I think she's probably from a rural area," the acolyte says as she starts tying some finger-splints in place.

"then why did they come here? The rural areas would generally be safer," Alptraum points out.

"There are lots of little hamlets to the north. That's most of Ashdod after all," the acolyte notes. "Or possibly near the Saskanar border, if I had to guess. Mountain country, a bit more isolated. She's only about three years old, I think. So not likely to know much."

Alptraum sighs. "Raiders then. Or disease," he says, "I doubt her home still exists, if an old woman risked everything to come here."

"I'm going to prepare the casting plaster," the acolyte says. "Just hold still a few minutes more please."

"Casting won't be necessary. I'll have the bones knitted by evening," Alptraum admits, "Sorry. Save it for those that need it more. Just make sure they're immobile enough for a few hours."

"I'll trust you on that," the acolyte says, and starts to wrap bandages around the hand and fingers to reinforce the splints.

"I'm the Barsunala," Alptraum says, and shrugs, "I figured you already knew that. It's not like I tried to hide it."

"I know, but I assumed you wanted privacy about that," the acolyte says. "You were injured, and that's more important than who you are to us."

"I'm surprised you would even treat me," Alptraum admits and shrugs with his right shoulder. "I did that to my hand in anger at being betrayed. All I've done for this city hasn't really amounted to much, ultimately."

"I've treated men who went out and got into fights again, or were killed, or do the same to others," the acolyte says. "We don't turn anyone away, and it doesn't matter how they came to us. I know I made a difference when they were under my care though. It's a small thing, I suppose. But I'm not a demigod."

"And it doesn't matter if we're 'sanctioned' by the Yodhsunala now either," she adds. "When I was risking my life for it, it was still just as important as it is now."

"You were sanctioned by me long before that. I protected several of your sect over the years. If I could have done more, I would have," Alptraum comments and looks back towards the divider.

"Well, it's ultimately your choice who you help," the acolyte says, standing up. "And what you expect in return, if anything. Your hand should be immobilized enough now." She also glances at the divider, but the doll is hiding.

"Thank you for calling me an asshole," Alptraum remarks, and stands, "For expecting things might change. I'll stop wasting your time."

"I didn't say any such thing, Barsunala," the acolyte says. "Just that you decide what you want. We all decide that. We all decide whether what we do is worthwhile. And we act on that, based on what we want."

"You made it quite clear that my hope people would actually change, and working with them to try and change them, still gives me no reason to be upset it hasn't," Alptraum says. "So it is, in essence, what you said. I have no right to expect people to change, no matter how much I've sacrificed or endured to help them personally. Not even when I've made it clear I expected things to change for it."

"I told you why I do what I do," the acolyte says. "I'm not a Kindly One. When we call on them, there is understanding that we are expected to repay them somehow. You're a Kindly One, so you should have your expectations met as well, shouldn't you?"

"Rinala expects me to serve people without question or judgment," the acolyte explains.

"Should I? I haven't yet. None of you have any idea the Hells I've endured trying to fix this city. To change things. To give it hope for an actual future. I could have just let this city burn. The General and Amenlichli would have taken this place had I not intervened. You'd all have been zombies, or worse. And what do I find? The people I saved, those I thought would be better, that were being better, were doing exactly the same things I had been fighting against. The things I endured hells for to save them from. All I did was save one monster from another, both equally bad. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? How utterly stupid I feel right now?" Alptraum says, and almost punches the wall again.

"I can't know," the acolyte says, taking a step back. "I don't know who you're talking about. Is there anything I can do to help you? That's... all I can offer. I'm not a god or a government, I just try to keep people alive."

"I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm sure there are more important things she needs to be dealing with than me. I'm also probably scaring the poor child on the other side of this divider. That is another thing i am truly sorry for," Alptraum says. "Cadra, I know you can hear me, and I'm sorry. For everything. For scaring you. For your Aunty being hurt. For not being able to give you the world you deserve. You shouldn't have to grow up like this, afraid, lost, and alone. I tried. I really did. I couldn't do it. I'm sorry."

"Barsunala," a much older voice croaks from the other side of the divider. The acolyte immediately hurries towards it.

The acolyte has the old woman sitting up, and is trying to get the feeding tube out while the crone tries to swat her away. "Not now," she croaks at the acolyte. There's no sign of Cedra, so she may be under the cot. "Leave us be for a moment!" she insists.

"I'm not here for you, nor will I take you. You have a child depending on you. There are already too many orphans. I'm not making another," Alptraum says and sighs.

"What?" the old woman croaks. "You're taller than I remember.. fine take it out, I ain't gagged in fifty years and I don't need to swallow." She then fumes while the acolyte removes the feeding tube. "There! Git!" she tells the acolyte.

Alptraum kneels down by the cot. "What did you need, then, if it wasn't expectations that I came for you?" he asks.

The acolyte does leave, but probably doesn't go far. "You don't remember me, probably," the old woman says. "I was much younger back then, when I was just startin' on the Path. I need a boon."

"A boon from a failure? It wouldn't be worth much," Alptraum points out. "You can ask, but I can't promise much of anything."

"Cedra, you cover your ears," the old woman says, and waits until she gets a "Yes Aunty" from below the cot. "I'm just a village witch," she tells Alptraum, "but a lot of that is working with you. Bargaining, asking you to take a hog instead of a person and such. You're usually pretty good about that. But demons came down from the sky and killed who they didn't take, save for Cedra because she's good at hiding when told to. They used terrible magics. Called up phantoms to do their killing. But they took the boys, including Cedra's brother. I want 'em back, and I want you to drag those men to Hell. I know how Sunala feels about necromancy, so what do you want in return?"

Alptraum is quiet for a bit. "Tell me about these demons that came and took people," he finally asks. He closes his eyes and dips his head slightly. "All I've ever asked for others to do, is be willing to help others in turn without. All I've wanted from everyone, is willingness to pay forward any acts of kindness done for them. Don't ... be like the people you rail in anger at, don't continue the cycle. It's a fools wish, as I've been reminded of again recently."

"I'm a witch, I look after my community, but I failed pretty badly," Aunty says. "Those men were mages, but didn't dress the part. All Eeee this time, but I know they had other types before, when other children were taken a few years back. Ugly airship, all spiky. Undead with them, pretty sure. Hollow, you know? But they walked and laughed like it was nothing to stomp on us. Nothing I could do to stop them, damn me. But I still got off a curse."

"Probably the same group I've been dealing with. We took down one of their ships yesterday," Alptraum says, eyes still closed as he listens. "No prisoners on that ship I know of. Would the curse you cast make it easy to track them down? I do not know where they are based, other than their main one in the forbidden zone; and those mages wouldn't go there."

"It's why I'm here," Aunty claims, as she rolls something off of one bony wrist: a loop of hair. She stares at it for a moment, and explains, "They call me Aunty, but Cedra's mother is my granddaughter. She had the gift, was going to replace me. She marked one with her blood before she died, and this is her hair. Her spirit has gone after them, after her son. This is the link." She offers up the hair with a shaking hand.

Alptraum reaches up and takes the hair in his right hand and lets it rest in his palm. "Will Cedra take your place in time, then?" Alptraum asks as he finally opens his eyes.

"Gods, I hope not," Aunty says. "What's back home for her now? Spring water and people with their wings cut off, if they manage to go on at all."

"The wings can be fixed," Alptraum says. "I will try to find her brother, but I will also try to save their home, too. As angry as I am at ... everything right now, I can't turn my back," Alptraum admits and curls her fingers closed. "I want to say 'Let Dagh just take it all', but I can't. I broke my own hand instead of hurting even the people that ... failed me."

"Everyone fails," Aunty says, and tries to lie back again. "Don't trust anyone that doesn't. Means they haven't learned spit. People are stupid if given half a chance, and the more there are together the stupider they are. I had lots of smart folks in my village. But boy did they make stupid decisions when it came to a vote."

"See, that's where my job comes in," Aunty says. "I'd yell at them and they'd realize they were being stupid. Don't be afraid to yell at people. They remember being yelled at when they were children, and why."

"It's a slight bit scarier when I yell at people, given what I can do to them," Alptraum points out. "I don't want people to 'do things' only because they're afraid of me."

"Oh, did your parents never scold you?" Aunty asks. "And if they did, was it fear you felt or shame?"

"Sunala doesn't have to scold. One look is enough. As for the parents that raised me, some, and sometimes yes, it was more fear than shame," Alptraum explains, then shrugs some and shakes his head. "Rinala is ... she just always makes me feel sad." He rubs over his face a bit with his right hand, careful to not lose the bit of hair. Then he leans over to look under the cot. "You can come out," he tells her. "I'm really not that horrible, just ... tired."

There's a simple brown dress with a string for a belt, and quite a few stains. But until Cedra opens her eyes the rest of her is nearly invisible in the darkness, as her fur is pitch black. "I listened a bit," she whispers. "Don't tell Aunty on me. I'll give you my doll if you bring back Dravitz." She holds out the worse-for-wear ragdoll.

"I think your doll should stay with you. She needs you to protect her, like you need your brother to protect you," Alptraum says gently. "Will you please come out?" he asks. "I'm sorry for yelling earlier."

The girl comes out reluctantly. She's very small, and hugs her doll to her chest.

"I know I'm probably scary," Alptraum says and holds his arms out and apart. "But may I hug you?"

"Only one does," Alptraum says and then moves slowly to lean in and hug the small Eeee. It's gentle, and when he draws back he kisses her forehead. "I'm sorry the world has been cruel to you and your family. I've been trying, but not succeeding very well in changing things; and I am so sorry for that. My anger is from knowing that people like you still suffer in spite of all I've tried to do. I really have no right to ask this of you, but if I can save your brother, I want you to promise me when you get older you will try to help others too. It doesn't have to be grand things. Kind words, food to those hungry, simple little things. Remember kindnesses shown to you and show them to others. Try to not let the horrors you have seen continue in the ways you can by showing others there are other ways to be. It's all I ask, all I want from others; be kind."

The little girl nods. "My mommy and daddy were very nice," she says. "Dravitz is a poop-head most of the time, but sometimes he plays with me too. I don't want anything bad to happen to him too. But if you can bring back some of the others, it's alright if you can't save Dravitz too. Be careful though because he bites."

"I'll do all I can. And I bite too, but only people who deserve it," Alptraum promises. He looks to 'Aunty' and sighs, "She likely won't remember me when she's older. Probably for the best."

"Eh?" Aunty wakes up a bit. "Ah, she's sharp. I try to keep the ugly truth away from her, but she knows. I remembered you. Well, the previous you, I suppose. I think she'll remember all of this, for good or ill."

"Well, right now I need each of you to look after each other," Alptraum says. "Is there any place in this city you will be staying that I can come to after I track those mages down and save who I can?"

"Anyplace that's free," Aunty says. "Those Skreeks probably know someplace. I don't think they're getting paid to pick up invalids."

"Unlikely. I know of a few places that may be. But have them tell the folks here where you end up. I'll ask here, then come to you," ALptraum promises.

"I'll hold you to that," Aunty says. "Tell the girl out there I'd like some tea if they have any."

"She's probably listening," Alptraum remarks and gets up. "You protect your doll and your Aunty, okay?" he asks Cadra.

"Thank you," Alptraum says and steps away from the divider to give them some privacy.

"I'll get her some broth," the acolyte notes. "I don't know if she'd like our medicinal tea."

"Bring both," Alptraum advises. "She's old and cranky. She may hate it, but still drink it anyway because she asked for it." He reaches out and places his right hand upon the acolyte's shoulder. "And, I'm sorry. I took out my frustrations on you. I should not have."

"Not really," Alptraum admits. "And I shouldn't take up more of your time; there are more important things here to deal with than my ranting."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you with that particular wound," the acolyte says, and bows her head. "Please don't break your hand again. I don't think Rinala will be upset if I ask you that, since you're Her family."

"No, She wouldn't. I'll repair the bones later, I just .. it really was an expression of the kinds of wounds you couldn't see. I needed the physical pain so help absorb the one in my heart," Alptraum admits. There's a pause, then he hugs the acolyte too. "Thank you for helping people. I only wish more people did care about others. Not for religious reasons, not out of fear, just because it's the kind thing to do," he says and rests his chin on top of her head.

"If there's anything you want to discuss with her, I can fetch her, or bring you to her," the acolyte says. "I'm not qualified to really deal with god problems."

"I am asking you if I should, out of respect. Not for any particular problem," Alptraum says.

"Do you want to?" the acolyte asks. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I'm not obligated to tell her you dropped by with a broken hand."

"Come with me then," the acolyte says. "I have to get the tea anyway." She heads deeper into the building and looks back to see if Alptraum is following.

The lighting becomes a bit irregular the deeper they go into the chamber, and there are more permanent walls showing up. The incense odor is stronger as well, but it struggles to cover the other smells. They eventually encounter an apon-clad Eeee woman who is washing her hands in a basin. Alptraum's guide clears her throat, and says, "Yodhrinala Hydolthea, the Barsunala would like to.. pay his respects."

The older Yodh turns to face them. She's got russet fur, but white covers her face in an irregular splash. She's also blindfolded, and there is a white, pink-eyed Creen on her shoulder. "Please forgive the mess, I was with a patient," she says, with a bit of gravel to her voice.

"Why are you blindfolded?" Alptraum asks as he peers, and also starts feeling for aura as well, curious.

The Yodhrinala's aura is twisty, and seems to extend to the Creen as well. "My eyes are sensitive," Hydolthea claims. "Does it bother you?"

"No. More if it was an injury, I may have been able to help," Alptraum replies. "Please, do not let me interrupt work here, I just wished to say thank you for your help and care of the people."

"No thanks are necessary, but I appreciate it all the same," Hydolthea says. "The other Yodh rarely come by. I don't recall any ever coming to this clinic since it was founded, actually."

"Thanks are always necessary, they are what help hold back the ever-pressing feelings of hopelessness in the face of great tragedy. They are not given enough," Alptraum counters. "And since I am here, is there any manner in which I can be of help to you?"

Hydolthea freezes for a moment, before asking, "What manners are available? I'm afraid that I haven't kept up with the latest lore. Everything seems to be changing."

"Blame me for that, I've been writing my own path, I suppose. As for what, it depends on what needs doing. I tend to try more than just follow a list of what I'm 'supposed' to do," Alptraum admits, shrugs. "For example, I am actually capable of repairing terrible wounds, and more. Mostly due to having taken the ability away from an enemy to make my own."

"Please come with me then," Hydolthea says, then turns and heads towards a foul odor.

They enter an actual room, where an attendant is attempting to mop up a mess of blood and excrement. The source of it seems to be a Skreek on his side. His stomach has been shaved to expose a single massive bruise, and incisions have been made in an attempt to drain it. "Kicked by a Fnerf or Dromodon, I expect," Hydolthea explains. "Burst bladder, one kidney severely damaged, along with intestinal ruptures."

"Fatal if not treated, and would require considerable effort," Alptraum says and nods. "I'll see what I can do," he adds and without asking moves over to where the skreek is and kneels down. "Hey, if you can hear me, I just want you to know things may get .. strange. It's okay, though, nothing more for you to worry about. I'm just trying to help you. I need you to try and stay calm. Don't fight me, okay?" he asks as he places his right hand on the poor skreek; near the bruise, and very gently. "Now here is where it may feel strange. I know it will be hard, but please try to stay as calm and relaxed as you can," he requests, then on his next breath out, he allows the shadow dragon essence to flow out from his right hand, over and into the wounded skreek. "Just relax, I am not going to hurt you."

The Skreek is barely conscious to begin with, so has probably been given something to dull the pain (but he still moans a bit while Alptraum works). It's good that he's familiar with how Skreeks are put together, because this one feels like he's been dropped from a tower onto a boulder (which would be the simplest explanation if there had been broken bones). Everything is.. horrible. It's hard to tell which bits of tissue belong to which burst organ. Other the ones listed, there's liver and stomach damage as well, and acid burns along the esophagus.

So the repair is more of a rebuild, which means he has to re-apply the pattern of how a skreek is from his list of bodies that he has learned. It becomes less about what used to be part of what, and instead becomes more of a what can be used to rebuild what, and what needs to be all-together removed for being infection and not salvageable. So, Alptraum sits there, and he has no idea how long as this is an easy way to lose track of time, and he works. Slowly shifting, rebuilding, and applying a skreek shape back to a skreek. At least since it's the same species, there's no having to re-enforce the shape on him; it is his natural state in a sense.

Aside from the damage, the infected 'goo' is the hardest thing to deal with. Dealing with infections are Gorphat's domain, but Alptraum has surprising little experience in getting rid of them. So it's down to removing the 'sick' parts as much as possible, which means absorbing them. This makes his left forearm throb a bit - but that's Gorphat's arm, where the horrib stinger manifests.

Time ticks away, and he does not rush it. Slowly urging parts to regenerate, others isolating parts too badly damaged for much else until they can be removed entirely. Everything is focused in; if anything is going on around him, he's not aware of it. The priestess could stab him through the back right now and he's not notice until it was too late to do anything about it.

Eventually the only thing left is to deal with the skin inflammation and incisions. The Skreek has remained still throughout, although may be unconscious from Alptraum's having put him into partial stasis in order to prevent too much more internal bleeding. Otherwise the Yodhrinala had managed to stabilize him well enough beforehand to keep the rat from dying outright of shock and blood loss - but Skreeks can be pretty tough like that as well.

And now it's drawing back to just that incision and getting the skin to 'remember' what it is like to be whole and together instead of cut open. "Almost done," he says.

The Skreek seems to be in a natural sleep once everything closes back up. Some of the stink is gone as well, as the cleaning didn't stop while Alptraum was at work. Hydolthea is still there, but has a cup of tea in her hands. "Fascinating technique," she says. "Is it some sort of local death reversal? And do you drink tea?"

"I have no idea how long I was in there," Alptraum admits as he gets up to stretch, and things complain. "It's ... not easy to describe, exactly. It's more helping his body rebuild itself, and providing the guidance on exactly how, where things need to be, how they're constructed. Then removal of anything beyond direct repair. The more I can salvage, the less cost it has on me to expend in building anew. It's ... magic that's a mix of life, spirit, and shadow. I don't think there's actually any direct category for it. And yes, I drink tea."

The Yodh holds out the tea cup to Alptraum. There's still steam rising from it. "I know of Life Magic that can enhance healing, but none that can actually replace damaged tissue," Hydolthea says. "So perhaps it is a miracle due to your nature. How is shadow involved, though?"

"Because I claimed the ability from an ancient creature that was turned into an ancient weapon. It came from the remains of an old horror called the Shadow of Amena. Which was made from creatures capable of reshaping flesh of any kind," Alptraum explains as he accepts the cup and sniffs, then sips slightly. "I made it part of myself, and thus, its abilities became mine."

It's a fairly common Babelite tea, likely made from mushrooms. Although it has a bit of something to sweeten it up, possibly honey.

"That is certainly not something I recall from the lore," Hydolthea notes. "Have you always been able to do that?"

"No, it's more recent. Less than a year," Alptraum explains, "Just before I returned to the city."

"And there are such creatures outside of Babel that can reshape flesh?" Hydolthea asks, and the Creen spreads its wings as if in shock. Or just to stretch its wings. "They aren't coming here are they?"

"There are, but they are rare. And no, I know of none that would be coming here. The only other I know of personally is continents away," Alptraum answers, then takes another long sip from his mug. "I'm the only monster in Babel with the ability I know of."

"If you are monster then what does that make the rest of us?" Hydolthea asks with a slight grin. "Rinala does not have a sacred monster or demon like the rest of the Kindly Ones."

"I work for her as much as anyone else these days. If someone needs help, I help, the who usually isn't that important to me as long as the need is an honorable one," Alptraum says. "As for monster, I look for more of a monster than any of you do."

"Not really," the Yodh claims. "I can see you fairly well right now. But everyone looks like they're covered in feathers this way. Which is better than being blurry shapes with different colors."

"I could probably fix that," Alptraum points out. "I happen to know how Eeee are 'built' so to speak. Easy for me to fix."

"Thank you for the offer, but the way I see now is a blessing from Rinala," Hydolthea explains. "Eeee aren't overly dependent on sight anyway. And I have my pet to help out when necessary. Although my eyes can be disturbing to some."

"No more disturbing than I appear to most, I imagine," Alptraum says. "Is there anything else I can help with? If not, I should probably be moving on, I've got another task to finish today and then some mages to hunt down."

"This was more than enough," Hydolthea says. "I expected you would need to take this one to his next life, but you managed to save this one. I will see to it that he takes this second chance to heart. Thank you, Barsunala."

"Thank you, again. I hope his second chance proves to be worthwhile. If you do ever need help for something you cannot solve, try to send a message through the Mage's guild. They are neutral, and they know how to contact me," Alptraum offers. "I may not be always able to help, but if I can, I will."

"I suppose I will need to find a mage then, should it become necessary," Hydolthea says, and gives Alptraum a short bow.

"Ask the Avenger," Alptraum points out, "Or even the Yodhbarada. Any of them know how to reach me. Or .... try to dream of me, that may reach me too."

"That is also a new part of the lore," Hydolthea says. "I have not tried to dream purposely before, but I will attempt it if needed."

"I'm a troublemaker, I shake things up," Alptraum points out. He sets the tea cup down, then bows. "Until we meet again," he says, then turns and heads his way back out, he hopes.

His guide finds him and leads him out through the maze of temporary dividers. "How is your hand?" she asks at the door. "Does it still hurt?"

"It aches. I should probably actually fix it versus just continue to deal with it," Alptraum admits.

"Well, I can't help with that," the girl says. "But don't remove the bandages until after you do."

"Do you wish to do that now?" she asks. "I can take you to one of the staff rooms."

"This way," she says, leading him a different direction this time. It still ends in a stone wall, but this time there's a closed door that she opens.

Alptraum follows along, then steps through that door. "I don't think it should take me that long," he claims, though fixing himself is not something he's done much. Change, yes, fix, no. Hell, he's probably at a point he's semi-reverting female again since he's been in this body for a while now.

The girl turns up the wick on the single oil lamp in the room. It's got some decent space, but mostly seems taken up by cots, a few perches, and an area for washing aprons. Several clean ones are hung next to it. "I can check back in a bit, feel free to lie down if you need to," she says.

"I just need a place to sit, thank you," Alptraum says and goes to a cot to well, sit. He closes his eyes there, and this time he focuses in on his own hand, to see if there is anything he can do.

He does hear the door close. His left hand is throbbing, but he probably needs to apply the shadow directly, either by touching it with his right hand or.. cocooning and trying to reapply his male-self template to his entire body again.

Alptraum for now just places his right hand over his left and tries to ease the shadow into it. Oddly, if he is reverting, he's not in the mood to stop it yet.

It feels very odd, pushing the shadow into himself like that. He's done similar before, but usually that was more flowing it over sore muscles. This is the first time doing it with the intention to repair part of himself. And it doesn't feel entirely like his hand. Aside from a sense of disconnect, there's also the feeling of the poison sac and the stinging barb, even though they aren't physically there at the moment. There's even a moment of feeling like the number of fingers is wrong, as if it should be a Vartan hand. It will take more focus to isolate just the Eeee hand from the mix.

Well, it's good practice, at least? He tries to focus on finding just the Eeee hand in there, any Eee hand, since he has several Eeee forms, he should be able to find one of them!

He manages to focus in on one that at least matches in color. But it seems to want to be smaller, and is straining the bones. So most likely the original Nicora hand.

Alptraum actually laughs to himself, and tries again to find his ... well, they're all technically his hands, to find the male him hand!

It isn't that different, so it's easier to get there from the female hand. It still feels weird, since he's not usually awake for the bone altering aspects, even if they're being altered back to normal. Things are left feeling both numb and tingly and hot at the end, but are probably repaired.

And it takes a bit as usual, before he opens his eyes and tries to flex his hand a little, just a little. Also curious since it came to mind, he cups his own chest with his right hand to see if he is reverting or not.

Flexing the hand doesn't feel right.. but that's because the bandages are still holding things tightly. There's a bit of softness (as best as can be felt with that hand) to the chest, but nothing that would show, especially if stand up straight.

Alptraum does get up and goes to the door. He opens it, and peers out. "Would you unwrap my hand?" he asks, "I think it's fixed."

The unnamed girl takes him to a better lit area and carefully unwraps the bandage and splints, asking at each finger if there was any pain or stiffness.

"Seems okay, doesn't hurt," Alptraum claims, then tries flexing his fingers on his own. "Thank you. I'll get out of your hair now."

"If only everyone recovered as quickly," she says wistfully. "Be careful going after those evil men."

"I also have to endure worse than most of your patients. So, there are down sides," Alptraum points out and pats her shoulder. "I'll be careful, promise."

"Why a dragon?" the girl asks. "Especially if you're going to be hurting the mages. I would try to help them recover, after all."

"Not as a dragon, you'd probably eat them," Alptraum points out. "Anyway, I'll be going now."

"Don't worry, I confuse everyone," Alptraum claims and now makes his way back out. He's got to get the treatment list from the mages, and take that back to Cricket.

Flying back to the Guild Hall, Alptraum finds that the airship mooring gear is still being disassembled, so the main doors are actually open so they can get the heavy pieces inside. A lone Eeee guard is watching them, while the beefier ones help move the heavy equipment. "Did you.. leave?" the guard asks. As an Eeee, he probably doesn't consider that the tower has other, non-flying entries.

"Yes, I left, through the lower gates. I won't be here long, don't worry. I just need to get notes from Trilby," Alptraum answers as he folds his wings in a bit. Felt a bit lighter flying, so, yeah, reversion is slowly starting, but not much yet.

"Oh.. good luck then," the guard says, and steps aside for Alptraum. The reception area is cluttered with rope and tackle and timbers, with a foreman yelling at everyone. He even has a cigar, which looks strange being chewed on by an Eeee.

"You look ridiculous," Alptraum comments to the foreman as he passes by, heading deeper in the tower.

The infirmary is quiet, since with the Cervani gone there's only one patient kept behind closed curtains now. The novices that are there seem engrossed in paperwork. Trilby isn't in the main area, so may be in her office.

Alptraum heads towards the office door and knocks. "I need a few minutes, Trilby," he asks through it. "I'll keep it brief and be out of here."

The door opens after a few moments, and Trilby is in her nightgown and looking bleary-eyed. "Ah, come in then," she says, and opens the door the rest of the way.

Alptraum does come in. "I wanted to see if there were any records or plans on the order you folks wished to treat the patients being kept at the hospice now. It's so the Yodhbarada can know what order they should be pursuing their identities in. It gives them an order focus."

"Order.. hmm," Trilby says, and sits down on a lab stool. "The Rhian.. Sackcloth, first I think," she starts. "He has medical training, so could be helpful. Maybe the big one after that.. uh.. Straw. He seems harmless, which makes me suspicious. Could have boobytraps. Depending on how those go, I'd say the tigers next. Not sure what to make of them."

Alptraum looks for some blank paper and something to write with to make these notes on. It's better than nothing. "All right, this helps. Past the tigers, any order, or would it have just been by weight or some other parameter?"

"The tigers seem the most out of place," Trilby says. "The Jupani maybe after them. If anyone is tampered with, my shekels are on that one. The Naga should be a safe one after that, then the Lapi and Skeek. Aeonian will be the trickiest. I'd save the Vartan for last. Most physical trauma and likely criminal background. Half of that is seeing if he doesn't try to run away before then though."

Alptraum continues to jot down notes. "I'm certain the Vartan is a criminal of some sort. I doubt an implanted personality could push anyone as far as he would go if it were not in their nature," he comments as he writes. "Do you really feel any of them are actually enemies in disguise, or are they all likely just victims?"

"That's the thing," Trilby says, and leans back to stare the ceiling. "Any one of them could be one of the enemy, using an overlay, just in case this scenario came to be," she suggests. "Or there could be layers. That's all Cyprian and Rostre's mess to untangle though. From their physical conditions, I can't tell. Aside from the Aeonian they've all have signs of physically hard living, and Life Magic has definitely been used on them, but I can't tell if it was to mask hidden injuries or not. At least, ones not related to the transplant stuff. Life Magic would have been needed to prevent rejection."

"I can tell if something doesn't belong, but beyond that I wouldn't know either. And I have zero formal training, I'm blundering half blind most of the time and going by instinct," Alptraum admits, pausing in his writing and rubbing his forehead. "So, really, we know nothing."

"And I may just be paranoid from reading too many fictional thrillers," Trilby says. "But at least those had sexy villains. Blythe is the one who can think in knots. I'm sure a Babelite could do it better. I just have to worry about keeping them alive immediately after the others are done fixing their heads and dealing with any traps."

"You or me, really. I could keep them alive in your stead if you'd rather be done with it," Alptraum offers. "Not as well or with skill, but I can make up for it with my stupidly weird sorta-magic."

"They're my patients," Trilby says. "I already have my minions recording their physical results. You're welcome to be my nurse.. or house-call person since I have no idea where they are now or will be after I give them a look over."

"Well, I'm going to be gone for a few days at least, I have a lead on some of the mages and possibly one of their artifacts. So, I have to go hunting. It will probably be horrible and bloody," Alptraum admits.

"As a medical practitioner I have to advise being extra thorough," Trilby says. "Fire, boiling acid, locking individual pieces in thistlebark boxes and throwing them into volcanos, if any are handy. Avoid Forbidden Zones. Oh, having them eaten by Groks is usually good too."

"I'm surprised you would be advising me to mutilate people that extremely. I can. I am more than capable. But understand those kinds of acts also wound me in their own ways. I will be going to dark places of myself I do not like to tread," Alptraum says. "And be things I'd rather not be."

"They aren't people," Trilby says. "They've rejected what it means to be a person. They're cunning and dangerous and don't care about anyone but themselves. If we had them, and knew we had all of them, right now, there isn't a single mage in this tower that would suffer them to draw breath."

"Actually, there are actually worse things than death we could do to them," Trilby adds. "Just need a powerful and angry enough Earth Mage.."

"You have one luxury I don't. I have to face them after they are dead, too, and drag their souls, spirits, whatever you want to call it, to their metaphorical hells too. Sometimes I have to live through their memories, see everything they've done, feel everything they've done. It hurts in ways that are hard to describe," Alptraum admits as he sets his writing stick down and rubs his face. "I'm afraid at some point I'll stop caring, and that's when I will become a monster completely. Can you imagine what someone with my powers could do, that has none of my moral restrictions?"

"Yes, because it's happened many times before," Trilby says. "During the big Dream Ritual, so many Dream Mages turned out to be involved that we almost lost the whole Sphere. People we went to school with, suddenly found to be have been doing horrible things. It's why our punishments are so harsh and brutal now. And before that, during the last war.. which to this day I cannot fathom the cause of.. mages were used as weapons. We attacked our own, and not just on the battlefield. I don't know what the executioners or battle mages felt though. Maybe you just need help from someone who could take on all the dark parts for you."

"I broke my hand earlier today," Alptraum admits. "Punched a wall hard enough, because I was angry. Because I felt I had been betrayed. That everything I had done and gone through had been utterly pointless. I broke my hand because I was seconds away from killing her and had to burn it some how. Pain helped stop me from doing something I would have regretted, it gave me something else to focus on instead of how much I wanted to eviscerate her, and about have a dozen other people. I was honestly close to going on a killing spree and wiping out the Yodhbarada, and following that, all of Mount Rephath. Imn that moment, I wanted to kill them, all of them. Every. One. Of. Them."

"BEcause what they had said, made me feel like they were no better than the mages we were hunting. The people I've been trying to stop. We were discussing the patients, specifically the Aeonian. They said his mind wasn't really messed with. So, I asked why we were holding him at all now. Because, he was valuable, and the Yodhrephath wanted him held to be used as a strategic asset." HE pauses there and curls his hands into a fist. "So, all I had done was save people from one prison, and shove them into another, to be used, again. I thought what I had done was better, that I was helping people. In reality, I was just a tool for people with similar ideas about how to use people."

"The Aeonian is a strategic asset?" Trilby asks. "He seemed sort of.. dull. Not even scholarly, really. Just generally uncomfortable about everything."

"HE's an expert strategist, and that was beneficial to military plotting. I understand the interest, but the idea we were holding him as a prisoner for the same reason they were. I just exploded. I have been trying so hard to change things. To try and do the right things for people, even if it's not the best thing for me. And here I was, just another monster on the other side of the coin. No better than the mages I've been fighting. No better than the general. And here I was helping continue the bullshit, round two."

"We still need to check him for manipulation, whether he has been or not," Trilby notes. "Otherwise, I don't know anything more about him or what 'value' he has to the powers that be. He's still around, right?"

"Yes, he's still around," Alptraum says. "They're still holding him. The point, the anger is from him just being a tool to use, it's no different from how his captors saw him. I just ... thought we were better than that. But I was wrong. I probably should have just killed off all the sects instead of trying to reform them."

"You don't think that would have made you numb to killing?" Trilby asks, eyes wide.

"At this point is it any worse than helping keep around people just as bad as the ones I've been hunting? What good have I actually done? Traded one bad for an equally bad?" Alptraum asks.

"I didn't ask. After I broke my hand, I left," Alptraum says. "Though I know what he'll say; he's stayed because he hopes to meet the Aeonian mare of his dreams again."

"Seriously?" Trilby asks. "That seems.. odd, from what I've heard about Aeonians."

Alptraum shrugs. "I still might kill all the remaining members of all the sects. I don't know. If they really haven't changed at all, then it's time for them to go too," he says.

"Seems a bit harsh, if they're at least trying, but I don't know how they were before compared to how they are now," Trilby admits. "Or really what they're like now, either."

"Are they trying, or are they playing me for a fool, and I've been one in the vain hope I was changing things?" Alptraum asks, and shrugs again. "That's what i don't know."

"The claim is to know what order they should search histories in to line up with your plans," Alptraum says, "So I guess I should get back to them."

"Search histories?" Trilby asks, blinking. "To see if they match with what their memories get restored to?"

"To find out who they were, and see if they want to go back to being that person, or stay who they were made into. They may prefer who they are now," Alptraum explains.

"Oh.. well, make sure the information doesn't include their real names," Trilby advises.

"If anything is a trigger phrase for something nasty, it will be their names," Trilby suggests. "It would be proof they're in 'enemy hands' so should self-destruct or go crazy or whatever."

"You do read too many stories," Alptraum agrees, "But its probably a good warning." HE writes it down on his notes.

"I think Cyprian is still asleep, and I'm definitely not going to get out of bed for another day," Trilby says. "Windcaller was awake earlier when I checked."

Cyprian needs to stay asleep. He was a mess. Which reminds me I should go see his assistant and see if I can fix his vision. I know where his nerves are messed up. I don't know if Windcaller would want to see me, given how I've been talking about killing all the Yodhrephath," Alptraum admits.

"I don't know her reasons," Trilby says. "But she's my patient and I can hold her indefinitely if I think she's going to come to harm by being released."

"You realize it's unlikely I would, I hope," Alptraum admits. "It would take more of a push to get me to just ... let the beast out like that."

"And then it could never be reigned back in?" Trilby asks. Then gets up. "I'm going to bed," she says. "If you do check in on Windcaller, try not to upset her."

"You ask a lot of me," Alptraum says and does get up. He grabs his notes and heads to the door. Part of him does want to talk to Wynona, to get a feel on what she thinks of the Yodhrephath now. If anything is different. Though, would she even be honest with him. It's not even like they're friends. Odd acquaintances, yes, friends, questionable."

"I expect a lot," Trilby claims. "From everyone." And then she's through the door to her sleeping quarters.

Back in the infirmary, Trilby's minions are still going through physical exam results, which is going slowly since they've run out of Mateh - or because Trilby isn't breathing down their necks. There's only one patient bed in use, with the curtains closed around it. It's very quiet other than the scratching of quills.

Alptraum sneaks over, then peers through one of the parts in the curtains. "I hear that trying to blow yourself up is bad your your health," he says.

The gray-furred Eeee within is propped up, and has a rubber ball in one hand that she's trying to squeeze. She startles a bit at the voice, and looks up in alarm, which fades quickly. "Alptraum.. did the Vigilant Eye make it through the battle?" she asks softly.

"You can rest easy, the ship made it through fine. All because of you, I might add," Alptraum says as he slips past the curtain. "Though your injury worried a great many people, the Captain included. He insisted on carrying you here himself once I told him I could make the arrangements for them to treat you. I stabilized your arms best I could, but it was beyond my knowledge to fix."

Wynona's shoulders are still bandaged, mainly to keep her from moving them too much. "That's a relief!" she says, and does seem to relax, if not smile. "He's alright. I just need to get my arms working then," she says, then forces a grin and adds, "At least the ship didn't explode and send me to another continent this time. That's.. improvement."

"Everyone's all right because of you. You literally saved the ship, so no getting down on yourself. The Captain didn't want to leave your side," Alptraum explains as he sticks his hands in his side pockets. "You should also make a full recovery thanks to Trilby's work. And no one here cares about your status, either. They all made sure to give you the best care they could. I would have fixed it myself if I could have, but ... it went beyond my knowledge and this place was the best option I could think of. They've all promised to keep you safe, though."

Wynona sniffs. "They're pretty isolated from Guild oversight here I suppose," she says. "And I'm in no hurry to thrown in jail again, either. I feel stupid for not wearing the heavy armor now, but it makes it hard to concentrate." She looks up to Alptraum again and says, "Thanks for keeping me from.. bleeding to death? I'm not too clear on what happened, and Trilby only tells me about recovery exercises instead of what I'm supposedly recovering from."

"Lightning fried your arms, including your nerves almost up through your shoulders," Alptraum answers that question. "Armor wouldn't have really helped any. Trilby fine-tuned the repairs I did, which were more generalized. Without treatment, you would have lost the use of both hands and your arms. And I know oyu want to recover quickly, but .. don't push yourself too hard. You'll just set yourself back."

"Heh," Wynona chuckles. Then she keeps going, getting close to hysterical before she manages to stop (possibly because she ran out of breath).

Alptraum kneels down beside the bed. "Are you going to be okay?" he asks. "Not your wounds, those will heal. But you, in here?" he asks and actually reaches over and taps the center of her chest, then her forehead.

"Sorry.. sorry," Wynona says, and takes a deep breath. "It's just.. it reminded me of the situation I was in when I first really dealt with the Yodh. Yodhinala back then. Did you know they had mercenaries?"

"It doesn't surprise me. Truth be told, I often wonder if I made a mistake sparing all of the Yodh instead of systemically wiping them all out," Alptraum admits and shrugs. "Even the Yodhsunala. Many of them have tried to kill me in the past. But I've always hoped to change things versus just ending it all. Probably stupid for that, really."

Wynona goes wide eyed. "Uh, given the choice between mass murder and.. anything else.. I'll choose anything else. I was already nearly killed when the Yodhblakat wiped out the Yodhinala. Even as a Yodhrephath I don't want to have to judge who is innocent or guilty."

Alptraum shrugs a bit. "Bear in mind sometimes the choice between mass murder and the else, is when the else is the lives of many more than you removed. It's not always so easy to know. You have to admit the Yodhrephath have also not always been honorable, or remotely kind. There was a possibility you might have had to face me in judgement. I would have won," he claims simply, and shrugs. "And I would have hated it, and myself. And truth be told, I don't want to have to judge either. I hate doing it; it's only when it is so glaring that something is wrong that I can act without feeling the guilt and weight of it."

"We just fought to protect the city," Wynona says softly, looking at her hands. "We've been protecting the shipping lanes instead of focusing everything on the Wound. I don't know what else has been happening, but I think we've been doing good."

"I want to think and hope that too. I'm not expecting people to be perfect, or altruistic, but ... I want them to be better than what we're fighting against," Alptraum admits. "That's what's important to me. I don't want to prop up one flavor of evil over another. I want things to be better than they were. And truth be told, the Yodhrephath have had me worried; they requested holding onto a prisoner I rescued because he might be valuable. I didn't save someone just so they could be someone elses pawn. I want us to be better than that."

"A prisoner?" Wynona asks. Then after a moment, she says, "Oh, one of those men from the Royal Mage airship?"

"Yes, one of them. It made me mad enough I ended up breaking my own hand instead of hurting the one who told me," Alptraum admits. "IT's just ... important that we do not become our enemies. Keeping someone against their will because they could be valuable is not right. Especially not after I promised to protect them. If I allowed it, it would hardly be protecting them. Now, asking them if they'd like to help, but not preventing them from leaving if they would rather is different, and I truly hope that was the intention and it was just explained poorly to me."

"Well.. please find out before staying mad," Wynona says, a bit worriedly. "The Yodhrephath have changed since I've been with them."

"I'll actually be leaving the city for a bit. I have a group of the mages massacring towns north of the city. That will not stand. I will find them, and end it," Alptraum says with a sigh. "And give me time to calm down. I wouldn't have been so upset had I not considered so many of you ... friends. I actually care about all of you, and want to help and protect you too. To feel like I was being used frankly hurt a lot more than breaking my hand did."

"I know the Yodh can use people, or used to," Wynona says. "Been on the end of that myself. I have faith in Rephath, even though she's used people too."

"I know they can. All the Yodh can. Hell, I even care for the malodorous, self-harming, self-mutilating Yodhgorphat, and they're probably as strange and gross as they come," Alptraum says. "The main thing for me is that they not be as bad, or worse, than those we are fighting against. As long as we are growing, improving, and trying to be better than we were, that's what matters to me."

"I'm trying," Wynona promises. "And I've been burned for helping before, too." She starts squeezing her ball again. "Numbness and tingles aren't going to stop me. My friend overcame worse, so I can do this much."

"I know you are. I probably shouldn't have said anything on it," Alptraum admits. "You're one of the bright spots of the Yodhrephath. And I should have faith that they've been honest with me, not just ... afraid of me."

"It's probably a hard place to be," Wynona says. "You're a demigod, but the Yodh don't like listening to anyone but their goddess. You're sort of in the middle."

"Good think I boink all the Goddesses?" Alptraum jokes and grins. "Rephath likes being spanked."

"Oho, so you do it looks like. Don't worry, I won't tell the captain," Alptraum teases. "I also expect he'll be visiting again soon. Bit of advice, don't show him how much you've recovered already. You can probably get him to sit with you and feed you."

"Alptraum," Wynona pleads. "I can't raise my hands up to cover my face yet! And I don't know where my uniform is either. He shouldn't see me in a hospital gown."

"He already has," Alptraum points out. "He's been here every day since you were brought in to check on you."

"Several days? A week or so? Somewhere around that," Alptraum says, "You were seriously injured."

"Probably both. Before you were here, he had you in his office," Alptraum explains further. "He didn't care about that, he was worried about you"

"I'll just pretend nothing embarrassing happened," Wynona says, and bites her lip.

Alptraum rolls his eyes. "You are hopeless. I guess I shouldn't suggest how if your hands improved, you could run them over his body, huh?" Alptraum comments and even grins.

"Then I should let you rest me. Please take it easy, recover at your own pace, don't push it," Alptraum requests and stands. "And continue to be one of the Yodh I'm proud of."

"You aren't much older then me, stop trying to sound like my dad," Wynona chides.

Alptraum smirks. "I'll leave the Captain as the one you can call 'daddy'," he teases as he slips through the curtain. Good thing she's no no shape to throw stuff!

The next stop on the way out takes Alptraum to Cyprian's door. After a light knock, it's opened by the very white Torgo. "Yes?" they ask quietly. "Who is it?"

"The Leaf-Nose Ledger, I'm here to interview you," Alptraum quips. "It's Alptraum, I'm back as promised."

"I did not realize you were a journalist," Torgo notes as they open the door the rest of the way. "You don't have the least trace of a Saskanarian accent."

"I'm not. I'm back and willing to try and repair your vision. I'll be out of town for a bit soon, so this is the last chance I'll have for a while," Alptraum explains.

"Oh, do I need to go to the infirmary then?" Torgo asks. "Cyprian is still deeply asleep."

Torgo takes the stool in front of Cyprian's desk, sits up straight and sets their hands in their lap. "Do I need to hold my breath?" they ask.

"No," Alptraum says as he heads to the desk and sits on it, in front of Torgo. "So, just relax. I'm going to touch you," he explains as he reaches out and puts his right hand upon Torgo's forehead. Then it's Alptraum's turn to try and relax, and as he breathes in and out he lets the shadow flow out, and sink into Torgo's head. Slow, easy, and careful, and it sinks and he searches out those twisted nerves.

Torgo is very good at staying calm, and keeps their eyes open save for occasional blinks. They barely move at all.

It's not something that has to be done, only that he wants to try. So, he's careful in seeking out the nerves that were warped. And if he can find them again, slow and careful nudging to try and get them to wire back correctly.

Nothing is ever predictable with Boomer-related injuries. The warping of the nerves is odd, as if the eyes themselves had been spun around to twist them. It's definitely a mechanical issue.

So Alptraum is slowly trying to unspin things. "Just relax," he repeats, though if it's directed at himself or at Torgo is unknown. Again, since it's not required, he's not going to force it, just ... gently nudge and encourage.

"Hmmm," is Torgo's response as their eyes and nerves are reoriented. Their fingers are active and fidgety though.

"It feels like Zolk is moving inside my face," Torgo notes, still sounding calm.

"Appropriate description," Alptraum agrees and goes back to trying to move things back into position. "Just imagine, I have this going on inside me all the time."

"Does it ever chafe?" Torgo asks. The deadpan tone makes it difficult to tell if they're serious or not.

"Never," Alptraum claims. "Things seem to be trying to move to the right place..."

"What?" Alptraum has to ask. It's more slow and steady moving as he tries to get things to line up with how Eeeee eyes normally are; he's got plenty of examples in him, after all.

"That's ... something?" Alptraum says. Well, if he's seeing something there's more encouragement in the direction for things to unwind!

Torgo's ears begin to twitch as things unwind further. "I am getting.. dizzy, I think," the say.

"Just relax. Think on something. Imagine focusing on a spell, or run through your head a ritual in reverse," Alptraum suggests. He tries to speed this up to not prolong the sensations. He can't imagine being dizzy is particularly good.

Torgo does list a bit towards the direction of the untwisting. They begin to chant something, but it doesn't sound like a spell (as Alptraum doesn't feel any sort of magic charge building up). The eyes are closed now, but the effects of the motion can be seen on the eyelids, as they get dragged a bit before going back to normal.

"Things are going well. It's promising," Alptraum explains as he also helps un-list Torgo a bit. He pauses for a couple minutes to let Torgo recover a bit, then resumes, trying to push it the rest of the way.

Once things seem to be untwisted, there's the matter of getting Torgo to open their eyes to find tune things. At the moment they seem to be in a trance.

Alptraum lets him stay in this trance for a bit, and to just relax. So, it's only about ten minutes later that he's nudging Torgo a bit. "Hey, I need you to open your eyes now," he says.

The eyes open, and there's a bit of sparkle in them. Torgo tilts their head from side to side. "Hmmm," they go. "I am seeing things."

"What are you seeing?" Alptraum asks. "I need to know if I need to do more or not."

"I'm seeing.. ghosts," Torgo says, and blinks several times. "Silent.. I see Cyprian sitting at his desk, dimly. I see you, I think."

"You are an Eeee, and a Rhian, and a.. frightening thing," Torgo says. "Some others but they are dimmer. Less.. recent."

"Ah, you are seeing echoes. Auras in a sense. It might be an artifact of repair and long exposure to my shadow. You are seeing things as I sometimes do. It should ease up in time I think. Can you try to focus on me, just the Eeee, and see if the others go away?" Alptraum asks.

"Well, I'm not sure what to talk about" Alptraum admits. "So, let me tell you a story," he begins, then goes on a long and rambly story about one of the weird events in Sylvania.

"Which part? The one involving killing zombies using a kyoote cumber barrel?" Alptraum asks. "Or the time Hexen set his tail on fire and rath around lighting half the camp on fire?"

"He's all black, and short," Torgo says. "Not like a Fnerf. What are the dray beasts called?"

"Rhugrhats?" Alptraum asks. "Those things? and yes, Hexen is like a fnerf, only without four legs."

"It's fading now that you've stopped talking about it," Torgo says. "I think I am seeing your memory, when you are relating it. I have an affinity for Mind Magic after all. This may take getting used to, but furniture and architecture are very clear."

"Black, like Hexen, but with long white hair. Silver eyes?" Torgo describes. "Blood around your mouth.. but it comes and goes."

"Generally correct. I'm a vampire, a natural one, so that's the blood. And that answers that. So, I think it's working, you just need to quit trying to look into peoples mind as a way to see all the time and the echoes should fade too," Alptraum offers and stands.

"I can hear what is real, that will help," Torgo says. "I don't interact with others much, so this should not be an issue."

"You need to interact with people more," Alptraum says, "Also, go see a sunset sometime."

"And I should get going, many things to still do," Alptraum says, then actually bows. "I hope things continue to improve. And now you can read faster."

"Yes, thank you," Torgo says. "I can look after Cyprian better now. Perhaps he can think of a use for this way of seeing as well."

Alptraum bows and slips his way back out. At least he feels a bit less agitated now. This is a good thing.

The reception area is still full of parts of the landing winch, but some of it has been moved out at least, so that there isn't any obstacle course to get past.

"Don't mind me, passing through again, on my way out," Alptraum says as he moves around the various parts and out to the perch-launch.

The Laughing Chibix
Deep beneath the upper decks of Cenesta Plaza where no sunlight penetrates is this nondescript looking room-by-the-hour hotel. It's only two floors, given the restricted space, and may be built into one of the plaza supports. There are no windows, as there's nothing to see outside, and the door is emblazoned with a cartoonish looking laughing chibix.

The foyer and hall of the Inn isn't empty. Sackcloth and Bright are there, wearing.. leather shorts and vests, while Mr. Puff is shimmying into a pair, despite Mr. Fingers insisting that he grabbed the wrong pair.

Trying not to laugh at this. Not what he would have picked, Alptraum instead asks, "HAs anyone seen Cricket? I have some information for her."

"She hasn't left her room," Sackcloth says. "She was supposed to start interviewing us."

"She hasn't left her room?" Alptraum repeats. "That's odd. Let me go check on her then. Which way to her room?"

"It's at the end of the hall, near the common room," Bright says, and points the way. "I can show you."

"I'll find it," Alptraum replies and goes in that direction. Down to the end of the hall, then he looks for the door closest to the common room and knocks. If something is wrong, he doesn't want the others to see it.

There's some shuffling sounds, then a rather weak, "I'll be ready to start.. in a bit.." is heard. "Who is it?"

"Alptraum. I have the notes on the order treatment and the concerns the mages had," Alptraum answers.

"Oh.." A moment later the door is unlocked and opened a bit, with just Cricket's silver eye visible for a moment, then it vanishes and the door opens the rest of the way, although the girl is still hiding behind it.

Alptraum goes in the room. He doesn't look for Cricket, he knows where she is. Instead he asks, "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Cricket says. She emerges and goes to the small desk, which has several pieces of paper spread out and covered in unfamiliar characters. There's an oil lamp turned down to almost the minimum wick to remain lit.

Cricket's cheek fur is matted, and she doesn't meet Alptraum's eyes. "Is Babel going to be destroyed because of me?" she asks.

"No?" Alptraum says as he cups his hand on her cheek and runs his bup to try and wipe away some of the wetness. "Why would you think that?" he asks.

"You were going to leave," Cricket says, and starts crying again. "I thought I did everything right. I got the Yodhbarada to use their resources to help, and make sure these men wouldn't just be left to fend for themselves after they were cured. I thought it's what you wanted."

Alptraum closes his eyes and sighs, then pulls Cricket into a hug. "I said I was going to leave for a few days, mostly so I could calm down and work out my frustrations over a great many things. And I recognize I probably misunderstood what you were trying to explain," he admits. "Especially after talking to some Yodhrinala, and a Yodhrephath while I was gathering the information you requested. I'm sorry. I was not fair to you at all, and I laid a lot on you that you did not deserve."

"I tried to make it sound like it was a matter of pride to the Yodhbarada," Cricket admits, pressed into Alptraum's chest. "We're nothing like we once were, not after the purge. It's going to take everything we have left to find what we need to for the men. If it falls apart, then we're done for. We'll take our retirement."

"You're not done for," Alptraum says and keeps Cricket there. "Any information is more than we have right now, and that's all that matters. And if it's too much for you, that's okay. I would rather have you, alive. You're just as important as those people out there. More important to me. I got mad because you are more important to me, and thinking I had misplaced my trust was upsetting," he admits, then pets her head. "And even with as mad as I was, I still found a lead on your request, and now I know where to start looking. And yes, I will be gone from the city for a few days, but not because of you, for you."

Cricket sniffs. "That's.. good. I'll get started here finding out what each of the men does remember, because I don't think it's the same for all of them. I.. don't know what the arrangement is between Mr. Bright and the Yodhrephath. We can't really stand up to the other Yodh right now."

"My problem. Not yours. Don't worry about the Yodhrephath," Alptraum says. "Do only what you can, and don't worry about the rest. You're still mine, even when I've been mad. I did make a point to not hurt you, nor did I remove my mark. I just hope you can forgive me for doubting you."

"Of course I can," Cricket says, and rubs her eyes. "I need to wash my face, then I can get to work. Were you able to get the order they want to treat the men in?"

Alptraum reaches into a side pocket and pulls out his notes. "And the concerns the mages had about each one and what to watch for. Especially about not mentioning their actual names to them if you do uncover them. The name could be the tripper for an implant," he explains and kneels down a bit to even out heights. He cups under Cricket's chin and looks her in the eyes. "I am proud of you, Cricket, and I am sorry for pain I have caused you. It was inappropriate and wrong." He leans in and kisses her in the center of her forehead, too. "Even if you learn nothing, it is not a failure, you have still helped find a place for people, the guild could not keep them all effectively. So, no more talking about retirement."

The girl nods (well, a little, since her chin is cupped). "We will find their pasts," she insists. "They can't have been chosen at random," she says.

Alptraum even does something he's been careful about with Cricket. He tilts his head and actually kisses her, on the lips. It's reasonably brief, but there is tongue involved before he breaks it. "Again, I am sorry. The city will not be destroyed because of you. You have been nothing but helpful," he says. "I need to have more faith in the Goddess' too, and their Yodh. It's something I will be working on while I am gone too."

"Even Blakat," Alptraum agrees. "It's important that we all share of each other and remain united."

"If anyone can get them to cooperate, it will be you," Cricket says, and pats Alptraum's shoulder with a smile. "Especially if you recover all of the stolen holy relics."

"I hope so, as I have to ask Gorphat for some help before I leave. I will need her help in invoking hell upon the mages when I find them," Alptraum says as he rises. "So, chin up, okay? When I return, I will spend a night with you. And yes, that means exactly what it implies."

"Hopefully I'll get some sleep before then!" Cricket says, as she looks over the notes. "I'll interview Sackcloth and Straw, and set the network in motion."

"I should be back within two weeks. Less is more likely. There's no rush on anything, be careful. If you need, reach out to Cyprian too for any mage input needed. He will help, he is faithful," Alptraum offers and heads for the door.

"Good thing I'm a monster too," Alptraum says with a grin. And that he also knows where to get weapons that are equally horrible to bring to bear against them.

Chambers of the High Priestess
Unlike certain of her Sisters, Gorphat is not known for ostentation. The apartment within the Temple of Gorphat has its own bathroom, which sets it apart from the others, even if that just means there's a special closet for the chamber pot. It might also be slightly dryer, and have higher ceilings, but otherwise it has the same rough-hewn look combined with a bit of masonry to fill in the gaps - so long as it doesn't disturb the organic feel of the place.

It's always a bit of a shock becoming Yodhgorphat Scourge. The physical changes are the most severe of any, since they're ostensibly being applied to an Eeee form. And there are the aches, which tend to be forgotten when in any other form than Nicora.

And worse, Alptraum did it while fully aware. So, he saw his fur wither and fall out. Flesh squirm and distort as parts swell, bones shift. He felt every moment as his genitals shrunk, then drew inside and inverted, and his insides squirmed as a disfigured womb filled her lower belly. Everything through her eyes took on a green tint as they went horribly bloodshot, then sickly yellow-green of severe jaundice (though it's more due to the glowing bacteria that lives within her. Then the scents start, sickly, sour, then growing progressively worse as her body becomes more fallow and emaciated. The worst though wafts from between her legs, the scent of rotting meat and spiled ... everything, from what was Inala's gate, but is now Gorphat's wound. She knew to stand legs spread for what would come soon enough. The pain-sickening pull as parts of her insides give way. The wound spreads and out protrudes her cervix and part of her vagina as it inverts and her reproduce system suffers a complete prolapse and hags out painfully between her legs. It drips of a thick puss-mixed slime and the smell is beyond foul. "Mother Gorphat," she says, voice raspier, like one who has had a chronic cough for years, "I have returned to your embrace. I have need of your gifts, and your blessings, to bring your justice to the mages that attack our city."

"We've been expecting you," Gorphat gurgles invisibly. "Come to the Queen's lair."

It's not easy to walk when part of you hangs heavily out between your legs, and swaying movement hurts. But, walk she does. It's slow, stilted, and waddling, but Yodhgorphat Scourge makes her way out of the High Priestess chambers, a bit down the hall, and then into the Hive Queen's chambers. She does nothing to try and still swaying movement, or suppress the pain of walking, she endures it as is proper.

Lair of the Sacred Horribs
This was once the chamber of the Senior Priestess, second to the High Priestess and thus next to her suite. It isn't all that big, but big enough for the current occupant: a 'modified' Horrib Queen, birthed by the current High Priestess herself. The surfaces are all covered in hive resin, with alcoves used for holding 'victims' while the Queen herself is suspended in the center of the chamber in a cross between a cocoon and a throne made of extruded chitin.

Things move in the shadows. Large things. To one side of the suspended queen is the looming presence of Hosheb, and to the other the sleek, deadly form of Gronegk.

"Beautiful children of Gorphat," Yodhgorphat Scourge burbles and wipes some mucus from her mouth. "It has been far, far, too long since I have seen all of you. I have missed you terribly," she claims as she waddles her way in.

"I am here at Rephath's behest," Gronegk says, and rests one taloned hand on the queen's back. "To lend my qualities to those of the Horribs."

Gorhpat even hows slightly to Gronegk. "Thank you, honored one, for being willing to help," she says. "I need Gorphat's creatures to help bring these vile creatures to justice, to bear them in Gorphat's sacred Yodh, and be available too all others of Hers, the Buck, the Doe, and more. "I willingly offer my womb as the vessel to carry and contain them," she adds as she waddles towards the queen. "And I humbly beg her to allow me her ovipositor to guide into my body."

The queen's ovipositor extends, and looks slightly different than usual: it's thicker.

Scourge moves closer, then stops. "I do this in honor of Gorphat, and in confirmation that I am Hers, utterly," she intones and then reaches down. It's good that she's slimy down there, because it helps her work a few fingers into the center of her cervix. HEr expression draws to bared teeth. It hurts, immensely. Once her fingers are in, she cries out a bit as she starts to spread her fingers and force her womb open. As it spreads, the foul smell is worse; rot and decay, old blood, and thick dark slime that falls; all the proper nutrients her flies often need. Then she leaves a few fingers in as her shakily takes the other hand and tries to guide the thicker ovipositor her forced-open womb. Once the tip touches, she slips her fingers out and then pushes hard on the queen's tube, trying to push it up into her womb. The pain is hideous, and it's making her knees and legs shake as she tries to work it into her body.

Once it's in (thanks to her own tube being a bit flexible due to the externality of it) the queen begins to fill Nicora. The eggs have rough, almost hard shells instead of the more gelatinous proto-larval feeling that is 'normal' for them.

It's not comfortable, not even close. And while she's being filled, Scorge is trying to shift the angle and then try to push her womb back up inside her body before it gets too full, so that depending on how full she gets, it may help hold her insides, well, in. "Thank you, Mother Gorphat," she hisses out as thick mucus-like tears run down her cheek from the pain of trying to push her bits back into her body as she feels the rough deposits within, even in spite of the goo within her. "I am ever your daughter, and you honor me to be one of your hosts again."

"There is more," Gorphat gurgles, once Nicora is as full as she can manage. "Hold forth your left arm."

The pressure is painful, and her lower belly is quickly showing, distending out, not in smooth shapes, but more like a pile of lumpy objects within her. She's shaking all over, but never once does she try to pull herself off, or free herself from the queen's ovipositor. "As is your will, Mother Gorphat," Scourge says instead and does indeed hold out her left arm before her. She doesn't question it, or oddly even worry, through she has every reason to.

Symbols appear on the outstretched arm which normally only appear on Snowcora. The flesh turns even greener, and a arching horrib-style stinger emerges. Her own toxic blood drips from the tip, but it smells like horrib paralytic venom.

Scourge grits her teeth. Nothing Gorphat ever does is painless and this is no exception. She feels the flesh year and part as the stinger-barb slides out of her wrist and arches over her hand, along with the symbols and the flesh darkening to a vibrant green instead of the paler sickly green the rest of her is. She wiggles her fingers slowly, finding that her hand still works. "Thank you, Mother," she manages out in her raspy voice. It ripples a bit as she endures through the pain.

"I have something as well," a different voice says behind Nicora, and Gronegk bows his head.

"What do you ask of me to do, Honored Gronenk?" Scourge asks. She's still impaled on the queen's stinger, with her womb now back where it's 'supposed' to be, though instead of being help up it sits heavily on her pelvis instead. The masses within enough to keep it from slipping back down for now. So, for the moment other than having the thick tube pushed between her legs, the green and ugly-looking 'bruised' flesh looks positively normal for Scourge.

Gronegk steps forward, and is holding Rephath's double-headed, blood-red battle axe. "Several Yodhgorphat fell in the skirmish in the foothills. So she wishes you to have this, but you must take it in your right hand only," he explains, and holds it out. "It will cut through illusion and spells."

Scourge reaches out and accepts the double-headed axe with her right hand. She bows her head to the demon as well. "Rephath does me great honor and I thank her for this unified front against those that threaten all our people," Scourge rasps.

Since it isn't a physical weapon, it's like holding a ghost. But there's a reaction of sorts from the dagger. Ichor and shadow flow from the hand to cover the insubstantial axe, making it into something more disturbing. The texture is black and organic, and the blades because pure semi-translucent shadow. And between the blades, a yellow-green eye opens.

That makes Scourge's eyes go wide. "wha ... wha," she stammers out and almost loses her balance. Being impaled actually helps keep her standing!

"I imagine it will be quite useful. I just hope U can store it away when I have to travel and be in other shapes," Yodhgorphat Scourge admits after she regains her balance and peers at the off weapon in her hand. She tries to 'draw it in/away' as if it were simply shadow.

The shadow pulls back, drawing the weapon into her palm. There's no remnant of the 'spiritual' core of it, Rephath's axe.

"I imagine being struck with that blade would be pretty painful," Gronegk notes. He can't grin, exactly, but his tone suggests it.

"I tend to agree," Scourge admits as she flexes her hand a bit once it draws away, the whole concept feeling rather odd in being there and not at the same time. She bows as best she can with both a lumpy lower belly, and still being impaled on the ovipositor, just with it ptucked up' into her where it helped hold her womb back in place as it was being filled.

"There will be other modifications to let you make use of the Queen's seekers," Hosheb says next.

"Modifications?" Scourge asks, ears flicking back a bit. That sounds worrisome to be certain! "If such is Gorphat's will, I am but her servant and canvas," she concedes to the demon. "What is required of me?"

"You are the carrier," Hosheb says, and uses one limb to indicate her bloated, bumpy belly. "The Barsunala is the launcher."

Scourge reaches down and cups her belly. "How will the Barsunala do that?" she inquires, "And do they require ... fertilization?"

The Queen makes a gurgling sort of chuckle. "Sss-peCIAL," she clacks. "Old.. form. WeaPPon."

"I ... supppose I will find out when it is time, then," Scourge admits. Worried, but hopefully nothing too horrible!

"Horribs are the second iteration of the form," Gronegk says in his grinning tone.

Scourge ... peers at both of them. "You are having fun at my expense," she concludes, then shrugs and grins.

"We are having fun at the expense of your future victims," Gronegk counter-claims. "You will have fun as well, perhaps. The best justice is sometimes poetic justice, for Rephath."

Scourge smirks. "It's appropriate, I suppose," she concedes. She reaches down and tries to slowly pull the ovipositor out of her 'wound' since she thinks it's done its work.

On the way out, there's one last secretion to close things up. Hopefully it isn't the usual Horrib resin.

Scourge's ears shoot up! Then she's feeling down and inside her in a panic in case it was!

Scourge withdraws her hand and keeps her legs spread so as to not squeeze anything, well, out, and allow whatever that was to solidify as much as it will without being compressed too much. Scourge sighs out, then grins a little weekly. "I cannot explain it, but I always enjoy hosting, all the discomfort included," she admits.

"It would not be in keeping with Gorphat if it was comfortable," Gronegk points out.

"I would not want it comfortable," Scourge says, "Any pain and discomfort she allows me to bear is an honor. If I am not in pain, I am not properly Her daughter."

"And soon you will be.. well, Her and Rephath's Champion, for this hunt," Gronegk says, and shows his teeth. "A step along the Path."

Scourge peers. "Is there more to come, then?" she inquires, one ear flicking out to the side.

"The Sabaoth's Path ends with becoming the Champion of the Seven Sisters," Gronegk explains. "This is a foreshadowing of that."

"Ah, yes, that. It needs to be done soon," Scourge admits and nods. She also needs to visit Zakaro's temple still.

"Are you excited?" Hosheb asks, in his odd clacking monotone. He doesn't usually ask personal questions.

Scourge considers this. "Concerned, mostly, and a bit excited," she answers after she figures out what she feels other than really lumpy.

"It is good that you are both," Hosheb says. "The combined powers of the Sisters must be wielded with consideration."

Gronegk runs a hand over this featureless face - the 'eye roll' gesture of Sylvanian vampiric Eeee who don't have visible pupils.

"All power must be wielded with consideration," Scourge points out and shrugs. "Is there anything either of you wish of me while I am here?"

"I wish you to call on me when you are ready to hunt them in their holes," Gronegk requests.

"I promise to keep your mind sharp, and keep your dragons at bay," Gronegk pledges. Then he and Hosheb begin to fade away.

Scourge breathes out. All in all, that was only mildly horrible! That makes for a good day in Gorphat's temple. She even waves as they depart.

Then the clammy forearms of Gorphat drape over Scourge's shoulders. "Can you bring me their spirits?" she gurgles. "They used me name for one of their toys. I would like that broken, if you find it."

Scourge leans back against Gorphat. "Of course, I also intend to send them to Your hell," she murmurs, "My most beautiful and wonderful Goddess, the reason for my existence."

"By the time Yodhmagog have gorged on their sins, there may be nothing left of them," Gorphat chortles wetly. "I am not a goddess of the hunt though. Just the aftermath. But you my blessing on the chase. Make them feel fear and weakness. They've dabbled in my domain for too long, and must pay for it."

Scourge turns herself in Forphat's arms so that she can face Her. She leans in and kisses her Goddess wetly on the lips. "Of course. They should suffer for daring to use your name and gifts for their own," the Yodhgorphat agrees. "They will hurt and suffer in terrible ways as they should. They will not find themselves blessed with Your glory like I am."

Gorphat purrs wetly. "Is it wrong for me to look forward to the suffering that will be inflicted in My name, Scourge?" she asks. "Or is it allowable in this circumstance?"

Scourge leans in and bite-licks Gorphat's neck. "Not at all. Defending Babel should be something for you to enjoy, and bringing its enemies low. And you can always find enjoyment when you make me suffer, too. It is an honor to suffer for you, My Goddess," she rasps, and rubs her hand over her distended and lumpy lower belly. "It is one of our many wonderful duties when serving you. I apologize I have not been around as much to suffer in your glory."

"Alas, you are not mine alone," Gorphat says, her neck-fur tasting bitter. "Nor should you be. We also must serve you, and Babel. I am pleased with My growing status, even if I am not actively appeased as much."

"I know I cannot be always Yours alone. But, when I am here at least, I am yours alone. In this Temple, I am Scourge, and I am yours," Scourge promises, "And it is all I desire when I am here. This body, this form, is my favorite."

"Pure," Gorphat says. "True. That is where my beauty lies, for it hides nothing and embraces everything."

Scourge rubs her hands along Gorphat, delighting in the clammy, almost slimy in places feel. "And I embrace it utterly. Every ache, every ooze. When you made my breasts swell, ache, and ooze-leak, it was glorious," she says dreamily, "All eight of them."

Gorphat licks Scourge's ear stickily, and says, "You can return for a proper visit when you bring those Mages to my hell."

"I will, I will spend as much time as I can here once they have been brought low. Will you bless my breasts again, so that they ache and drain in your honor, my Goddess?" Scourge rasps and returns that lick with one of her own. "I apologize for my own greed, and desires for Your touch."

"Then I will suffer and ooze in many glorious ways when I return," Scourge croons. "Thank you."

The sticky presence fades as well, leaving Scourge along with the Queen and her buzzing drones.

Scourge even goes over to the Queen horrib and pets her gently. "Thank you for this," she tells it, her other hand upon her belly. "I always welcome using my body to bear your young."

This makes Scourge snort. "I suppose I should leave," she says with a sigh. And so out she waddles from the Horrib chamber, pausing only to pet the sleeping Penance in the wall, who too bears a very distended belly, then makes her way back to her own chamber to shift back to Alptraum in private.

The shift is.. odd. Things relocate that normally wouldn't, namely the eggs. Alptraum's left arm is clad in chitin armor (with a Horrib styling to it) up to the shoulder, and instead of a stinger there's a large open-ended tube taking up the back of the forearm. The upper arm has a pulsating sac of sorts bulging it out, even though it's covered in articulated scales. The shoulder has a large pauldron shape, with more of that disturbing, scaled sac attached to the underside.

"Uh," Alptraum says in a bit of horror at spotting that. He does dare to reach up and poke at that pulsating sac, though.

Alptraum tests how much movement he actually has in that arm. Somehow, without screaming.

It seems to have full movement, just feels a bit heavy. And while the back of the hand is armored, there isn't any restriction. But there a slight feeling of fluid moving around beneath it. Probably goo of some sort.

Alptraum tries to see if he can squeeze the goo out somewhere, a little at least.

Pushing where the flexible sac part joins to the armored part produces a trickle of thick, green goo that smells.. appropriate to Scourge.

When his head clears and stomach stops clenching, there's still the urge to rip his tongue out. And there's nothing to wash away the taste in the High Priestess's chamber! You'd think there would be wine or something. But Yodhgorphat have to suffer sobriety along with everything else.

Alptraum sums it up with a 'Bleh!' And that's inside his arm! Ick, ick, ick! At least it's motivation to get moving and get hunting!

There almost never anyone to spot him when he comes and goes. Although that's usually because of the secret back route that Phlagaea first showed him. And he's never heard any rumors about the Barsunala paying private visits to the High Priestess, so it must be working.

Which is a good thing! It's weird enough how much he finds he loves Gorphat when he's there, and always wants to bed her. Having others know about that in some fashion would just be wrong. So, out he goes, and it's about time to go hunting! North of the city a ways, but still hunting!

Once outside on the rear of Mt. Gorphat, Alptraum is ready to take the patch of hair he was given and try to summon Celeda, the ghost mother.

Alptraum moves further away from the mountain, just in case. Once he feels comfortable, he sits down on the ground and holds the bit of hair in his left hand. Eyes close, and then it's time to draw his senses down to that hair, to know it, and feel anything that may still exist as an echo upon it, a tie to its former 'owner'.

In the darkness, it seems like the hair starts to glow.. and grow. It becomes a thread stretching into the distance, and voice comes over it. "Help me, I can't get inside," the wispy voice says.

"I am coming," Alptraum says, though he is not sure he can be heard. His eyes open and he stands and looks off in the direction the thread went. He has no idea how far he will have to fly, but now he's grateful for not being a typical Babelite Eeee and has a bit more endurance. So, up he goes and starts going in that direction at least. He may need to stop and get supplies on the way, but he'll make do as he can. If it happens to go past Mount Inala, he could even tell Tulani and Mave, but it's not critical.

The path isn't directly north, and certainly not in the direction of the main shipping lane. Alptraum remembers there are estates and farms in this direction though (including the where Captain Karada's son is living). Lands owned by (or formerly owned by) Babelite nobles.

And so that is the direction Alptraum begins to fly. He'll push as hard as he can, but land and rest when needed. He's got to be functional when he finds these people, after all.

The tail wind at this time of day helps, at least. The terrain gives way to rolling hills, which become gradually smaller and forest begins to take over. Most of the trees closer to the city had all been harvested already. It's several hours before Alptraum's wings begin aching, but he's gone further before when that happens - generally when he's trying to keep up with Tulani. A bit of shadow soothes the ache, until things start to actually feel stiff. By then there is a manor house and tended grounds visible in the distance, although Babelite manors tend to look a bit more fortified than a typical one.

Alptraum does head towards it, though. Best to sleep in shelter if possible, but if not he can make due in the forests if he has to. He'll land a distance away, though, to avoid being shot down!

At the gardened area comes right up to the forest edge. There aren't any roads visible, but there's a flat area free of anything but grass that sports a mooring tower for an airship. It must be the only means of supplying the estate, since the gardens don't reveal any sort of crop cultivation, nor are there any livestock present. There are presences in the surroundings though. It's not that late, so they could be people just out for a stroll.

"This place seems very strange," Alptraum mutters as he peers at it before slowly, and carefully approaching. Who would live this far out and this isolated?

Up close, the grounds aren't perfectly kept. Clearly the flowering plants are being slowly choked by weeds, and there are signs of animal damage (though nothing on a scale a wild hog might cause). The ivy on the main house may not be decorative after all. There's the sound of someone humming further along the paths, but in the open space it's difficult to pinpoint. Which may be by design, if it's an Eeee residence.

For a moment, Alptraum thought it might be abandoned. "Hello!" he calls out, trying to not seem like he's a sneak thief. "Is anyone there?"

The humming stops, and a pair of ears pop up behind a low hedge. There's also a sun hat, but the ears are more notable as they're not Eeee ears, but Lapi ears. They just scan about, but there's no sign of the rest of the head yet, nor a response.

"Hello! I'm heading north by wing and I'm a bit tired. Would it be okay if I rested here for a time?" Alptraum calls out.

The ears vanish. Then appear again around the edge of the hedge, along with a bunny face of indeterminate gender. "You're alone?" the Lapi asks. Probably male, or just young.

"Just me," Alptraum says and waves. "Flown out from Babel, heading north-ish. On a mission to help a raided village," Alptraum answers honestly. "I'm Alptraum."

"Nothing. This is a weapon, of a sort, designed to deal with the raiders and mages that have been attacking the outlying towns," Alptraum answers. "I'm the BArsunala, but I don't know if that means anything to you."

Rabbit nose twitches rapidly, as the Lapi asks, "Are you a tax collector then? Nobody every flies out this far without an airship. Can you wait here while I go ask the Master what to do?"

"No, I'm not a tax collector. I'm ... eh, it would take too long to explain. I don't need anything from your master, so you can tell him that, I only request a chance to rest here," Alptraum explains.

The Lapi is wearing overalls, but that doesn't stop him being able to run on all fours towards the manor house. The hat stays on, despite flapping a bit.

"Cue the pitchforks and torches," Alptraum mutters as he waits quietly in the sorta-garden.

Instead, a Fnerf eventually approaches from the house. He's armed with a broom. "Hail, Barsunala," he calls out. He's wearing a gray pinstriped vest. "The master would like to know, for clarification, that you are not here specifically for the purpose of carrying off a soul, and are just passing through."

"YOu didn't need to bring the broom, I'm no threat. I'm not here for anyone or any soul. I am indeed just passing through. I flew out alone from Babel and my wings are a bit worn," Alptraum explains.

"In that case, please follow me to the manor," the Fnerf says, and turns around to walk back, looking over his shoulder every so often though to see if Alptraum is following.

Alptraum does indeed follow. HE wonders if the fnerf did plan to try and beat him off with a broom. He prefers a different kind of beating, but. Blah, he has to be tired, his mind is going weird places.

The outside of the manor has certainly seen better days, but the entry hall is well kept, and even has a mural painted on the ceiling. It depicts a vineyard, rather than anything historical or mythical.

"Nice home. It's seen better times, I suspect, but being this isolated I can't imagine it's easy to keep up," Alptraum observes as he looks about. "I do appreciate being allowed in."

Once inside the Fnerf says, "I'm Chives, the butler. The master is of a delicate constitution, so.. would you mind covering your left arm with a wing, sir?"

"Sure. I didn't think it was that bad, but," Alptraum says and does in fact wrap his left wing a bit around his left side.

"The master is rather religious," Chives explains, gestures for Alptraum to follow. "Of a sort." The room he's lead to is a bit like a study or library of the sort Alptraum's seen before. There are bookshelves along the walls, although they are a bit bare, and there's a stone fireplace with a low blaze going. Above the mantel, instead of a portrait, there are alcoves with statuettes in them. More than seven, although aspects of the Seven Sisters are present. There are two high-backed chairs facing the fire, and someone is seated in one, although all Alptraum can see is a blanket covering legs.

Alptraum slows down a bit to try and read any titles on the spines of the books if possible. "Greetings," he says once he spots those legs. "Thank you for allowing me into your home. Again, I promise I am not here for anyone or any soul. I merely wish to rest a bit before continuing my journey to one of the outlying settlements. There have been raids out that way that cannot continue," he explains.

"I didn't think anyone else was still in the region," an old voice says. "Please, sit and warm yourself. I find the fire helps with aches." The books all have hand-written legends, most of which are numbers that look like years.

"Thank you again. I promise to not disrupt or distract while here," Alptraum promises as he does approach the dire to find a place to sit. Also, to try and get a chance to look at his host.

The Eeee in the other chair is gray with age, although his eyes are still sharp. "I have precious little distraction anymore," the man says, and turns to look at Alptraum. "Silver eyes," he says.

Alptraum looks back, and one brow arches a little. "Does that surprise you?" he asks.

"I wasn't sure anymore," the man says, and gestures to one of the figurines over the hearth. "Paint wore away, I don't know how long ago." The figurine in question is a tall Eeee, the stone still showing bits of black paint. His arms are crossed in an X against his chest, one hand holding a sickle and the other some sort of flower.

"Wow, that's the only statue I've seen of me in a very long time," Alptraum claims. He actually moves a little closer to get a better look at it. "Isn't it hard to live out here alone? This place is rather cut off from, well, everything."

"My wife passed.. I don't know how long ago now," the man explains. "I haven't really been keeping track of time since then." He then says to the butler, "Chives, bring one of the bottles. This is a good occasion." The Fnerf says, "Of course, sir," and backs out of the room.

The figures are stone instead of porcelain, and their surface is a bit rough. They seem very old. The depictions are also much gentler. Gorphat, indicated by a few remaining flecks of green, seems very cheerful, and has her arms low and spread outward is if waiting for a hug.

"Oh, you don't need to do anything extravagant for me. Was this one a vinyard?" Alptraum asks, "I saw the mural on the way in. And your collection of these statues in delightful, these are priceless. Relics of the past."

"We're all relics here," the man jokes, but his laugh is a bit wheezy. "My wife was from Saskanar. I built this place for her, and she tended a wonderful vineyard. We even had a winery. Now, the wine is something to help me remember."

"She was fond of Gephesa in particular," the man says, noting Alptraum's interest. "For the fermentation, she said."

"Mm. I find it sad when things that were important and beautiful are slowly forgotten," Alptraum admits and even sighs a little. "But i can understand why you remained, if this place was for your wife. I'm not sure I could have left it, either. But, that's the way of things, time marches onward regardless of the wants of people. Things rise, things fall, memories fade."

"Your presence gives me comfort, Barsunala," the man says. "I was careful to observe all the proper funeral rites, and the preservation of her body. I didn't really feel that it mattered though, at the time. I never felt the presence of the gods, despite my devotion. It didn't seem fair to me, at the time. Now I know it wasn't for naught."

Chives returns, rolling a cart with two ornate wine glasses and a dark bottle that still has dust on it.

"Another way to look at it is that you were already all the Gods wished of you. They did not show because they did not wish to ask anything further of you, and let you live your life in peace and happiness as you chose to," Alptraum offers as he steps away from the old statues and returns to the place he sat earlier. There he sits, quiet, but extends his own senses, just a little, to see if he can feel any echo of the spirits past, including his now passed wife. Strong emotions do tend to leave memories behind, as he recalls from Sylvania. So, he's curious what he may, or may not, feel.

Chives uses an obsidian knife to cut the sealing wax from the wine bottle to reveal a glass stopper. "Her wine was her own sort of devotion," the old man says, after smiling at Alptraum's words. "No cork to rot, kept in the dark to preserve it. It was her family tradition." The stopper is pulled, and a small amount poured into the glasses. There's definitely a sort of presence that comes with the wine, a sign of how much of herself the woman must have put into its creation.

Alptraum accepts the offered glass and curls his fingers around it. His senses draw in on the wine, trying to see if he can draw together memories, essence, and echoes she may have left. "If you had a chance to speak with her one more time, would you wish for it?" he asks before he tries anything further.

The aroma is very fruity, and Alptraum feels a certain spirit to it - not unlike Sylvanian Mephisto Wine. "I talk to her many a night, when my knees can handle the stairs," the man says holding his cup with some reverence. "Her passing wasn't sudden. We had time to say what we needed to. Sometimes we would go days without talking. Imagine that.. we just didn't need to. We knew what the other was thinking. I feel that in the wine. Her voice, just without unnecessary words. In that, I am glad that I wasn't the one to go first, to leave her alone without my presence."

"You aren't wrong," Alptraum says as he swirls the glass of wine and looks at it. "I can feel presence with this wine. She loved making it, and in turn imbued part of herself in every bottle. You are still hearing her voice with each glass, you are not wrong in that at all. Any act, any art, done out of love tends to carry an echo of those that made it. I am glad you had time to say all that was needed, and in her passing nothing was left unsaid that needed to be said. That is truly a rarity; most pass with words and deeds left unsaid and undone. Perhaps it was Their will that made sure you two would have the time you both needed when the end came, because you always retained faith, so they in turn showed their faith in you and gave both of you what you needed too."

The man drinks from his cup, and it looks like a sacrament the way he does it. "When it is my time, Chives will see to me," he says. "I have my place ready, next to her. Her hand is even ready for mine.. not an easy pose, for a Saskanarian." He chuckles again, but there's no wheeze this time. "Then all this is his family's. There are plenty of children by now, so the place won't be empty."

Alptraum only takes a sip after the old man does. "That is a kind and honorable thing to do. Not many are kind enough to consider doing that, much less do it. Thank you for thinking of those who cared for you, and giving to them in kind," he says after the sip.

"Leaving Babel was what made it possible," the man says. "Out here, it's safer to feel humble. Where your only concerns are about your land and the people you're with. The Saskanarian touch verses the Babelite suspicion, my wife would call it. Though.. there is still trouble out here, apparently?"

"Further from here, but yes. A band of some of the former Royal mages and some brigands are attacking towns. I met a young girl and an old woman in one of the town clinics. they had just escaped one such attack. The old woman, called Aunty, asked me to deal with them and rescue the brother of the young girl she had with her if I could. So, that's where I am headed. I intend to bring an end to their attacks and save whom I can," Alptraum explains as he swirls his glass a bit more, then sips again. "I couldn't sit by and let the City decay any further; I've been working to change it. To make it better. It's slow, and there are many disappointments, but things are improving."

"Send them here, if their villages have been ruined," the man says, "and it isn't too far for them to go. Nobody bothers us." He then raises his glass, as if in toast, to the figurines above the mantle.

"I .. that. Well, thank you. If they need a place I will direct them this way," Alptraum says as he bows his head to the old gentleman. "May I ask your name? And the name of this estate?"

"I used to be Samson Velkarno of Babel," the man says. "A powerful family when I fled the city. I didn't care for them, so it was easy. I imagine they thought I'd died when my airship was 'lost', heh. This estate is Summerland. A bit ostentatious, given what it seems to be now. Soil should still be good. There's an acre or two in the old vineyard where my retainers grow their crops."

Alptraum grows quiet and swirls his glass for a bit. "I'm sorry," he finally says after a bit of 'uncomfortable' (to him) silence. "I know of your former family all too well," he admits, "And I am sorry it is not good tidings I can bring you. They had allied themselves with the Royal mages I now hunt, as well as funded and committed many atrocities within Babel. They were one of the most corrupt families I ... wiped from the city." He sighs out and looks back to the fire. "And now here I sit with you, your guest and undeserving to be such. I know not how you felt of your own family, but I hope you can forgive me. After I tended to some of their victims of torture, I could not let it stand any longer. I had to act. You may hate me, and I would understand. If you wish me to leave, I will. I bear you no ill will; you are a kind man and led a good life. But I know it may be hard to welcome the one who .. killed a branch of your family."

"My true family is here," the man says. "My wife, my people. We grow things. My fortune came from shipping, and I took it with me. If I'd stayed, my brothers or nephews would have killed me to get it, most likely. That was a long time ago."

"Still, I could not keep the truths from you. You have been kind, you deserved to know who you let in your home, good and bad," Alptraum explains. "But thank you for understanding."

"It tells me a bit about Babel, and the improvement you've mentioned," Samson says, and sips his wine again and smiles, looking at something distant. "They need to grow things. Not just hanging gardens for the elite. People do better when they can get into the dirt and make something grow from it."

"Babel still has a long way to go, but perhaps it will make it after all. More of the regular people have actual input, and the old religions are now working again to help people," Alptraum says. "Things are still fragile, but there is hope."

"Things are always fragile," Samson claims. "And people keep them from breaking. Or in Babel's case, Earth Magic keeps it from breaking. Do you need anything to help with your mission, other than rest?"

"Just rest. Your offer to allow others to take refuge here was more than I could have ever hoped for," Alptraum admits, "I could not ask anything further of you, only tell you thank you from the bottom of my heart. For being a good person above everything else. IT's easy to lose sight of that when you're always deep in the worst of your kind trying to stop it."

"Then rest until you feel fit to press on," Samson says, and waves to Chives. "There should be some maps of the area. They're old, but I doubt anything new has been built. We aren't the only estate, assuming the others are still around."

"I'll fetch them, sir," the Fnerf says. To Alptraum he asks, "Would you like a room to rest in, or a back massage, sir?"

"A room is fine, thank you," Alptraum says. He almost hits on the fnerf with a suggestive comment, but ... right now it would be terribly inappropriate.

"I stiffen up a lot, at my age," Samson notes. "Chive's daughter Paprika is good at loosening up sore limbs."

"I ... can imagine. It would be nice, but I won't expect it. A room is more than kind enough," Alptraum says and holds up his hand.

"I'll have one readied and a fire lit," Chives says, and leaves them with the wine.

Alptraum swirls his glass and takes another sip. "I do have another favor to ask. Tell me of your wife? The little things, the mundane things. All the small ordinary things that made her perfect?" he requests as he sits back, relaxing now for a time with a gentleman, and a kind soul. It's ... a nice break from dealing with the city, and a chance to prepare for what is to come.

Samson tells of her penchant for cussing in a cutesy voice, her inability to bake despite trying constantly ("It's hard to use a rolling pin when you have wing-arms"), her disturbing laugh. Mainly, all of her imperfections that he found either charming or annoying, but described with genuine affection. "Whenever it rained, she would dance naked in it. She was not a very good dancer, and she always had the sniffles the next day, but you could not convince her to give it up. She never gave up on anything."

"She sounds perfect. She sounds ... real. someone who decided to live and enjoy their life, unfettered by worries of what others might say, or think. That's far too rare," Alptraum says after he listens, and smiles. "I hope, that at least once ... you joined her in dancing in the rain. Life is all too short, and regrets are often of things you didn't do, not the things you did."