The wagon rattled and bumped along the road at a hurried pace in an attempt to beat the storm brewing overhead. Cyran had been through Dragon’s Cradle a few times before, but never had it been accompanied with such bittersweet feelings. Nor such urgency.

He tugged at the fabric covering his mouth, turning to face his travel companion. “I truly appreciate your help.” He said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between the two of them. Cyran was too wrapped up mourning the loss of his orphanage, and without Cirice as a buffer, he wasn’t quite sure how to talk with Miss Veliky. So the two had simply… moved in silence, with the kids sleeping in the wagon Veliky had brought with her. Some hours had passed since they left the borders of the Ash Lands and made it to the Dragon’s Cradle, but the destruction and turbulence in the wake of the earthquakes in the city hadn’t quite died down.

In fact, the storm almost seemed to be following them.

But there was nothing they could do except keep moving until they made their way to the safehouse. He kept a wary eye on the encroaching clouds following behind them. The storm made him nervous, but there was nothing much he could do to change the weather.

Cyran wasn’t sure why Veliky was offering so much help, really. He honestly wasn’t sure whether she had a high opinion of him or not. It was difficult to determine where the two of them stood. But the kids needed the help, and Veliky was willing to offer it.

“I… I’m in your debt, truly.”

---

Bringing Minions
Andromeda (Warlord II)

"I know."

Veliky is not an affectionate person - not without great effort. Much like an orange, there's something within her that can be seen by the diligent, but anything before that is met only with a bitter taste. Even when someone's already seen that inner nature, they aren't altogether safe from the soreness - something Cyran knows well enough.

Indeed, where do they stand? Veliky has no more certainty than the assassin seated beside her. But her uncertainty isn't such a present thing as Cyran's; it isn't something she ponders for more than a moment. It's a feeling in the back of her mind that's met with an instant retaliation from the rest of hers. She doesn't speak it as a question, but as an answer that she repeats until she believes it: 'It's a business relationship.^[1]'

"My ship's moored southwest of Skypeak. Once we get there, we can ferry the orphans to Sol City and keep them at one of our compounds the orphanage is being repaired - and preferably until these disasters stop happening. I'm sure you've realized by now that Darkveil doesn't have the best infrastructure when it comes to dealing with this sort of thing."

She glances at Cyran in her periphery, away from the Vixen that pulls the wagon along.

"Are we in agreement?" It comes across more like a command than a question.

---

1. Smooth Talking

Bringing Minions
Bishop-12 (Warlord)
Knight-05 (Warlord)
Rook-14 (Warlord)

Bringing Pets
Lag Switch-07 (Ashlands Jackal)
Stalker-03 (Prismatic Spider)
Vixen-01 (Reindeer) {Sleigh Bell}

Cyran didn’t look particularly offended at Veliky’s confident assertion that he was indeed grateful for her help. Her blunt nature was something he was accustomed to by now. Fortunately for her, Cyran was rather fond of oranges. He was lucky that the cloth covering the lower half of his face obscured the fond smile that tugged at the corners of his lips while Veliky immediately brushed off his gratitude and launched into a clinical description of their plan.

“That sounds good to me.” He nodded, brushing off the offhand comment about Darkveil’s infrastructure. He was a man who dealt with plenty of contingencies and plans in the event of any emergency - when it came to the safety of the kids, he didn’t take any chances. But it was difficult to account for the world falling down around one’s self, and the sight of their livelihood and hard work crumbling to the ground. He knew better than anyone that Darkveil wasn’t safe for the kids at the moment. It likely would not be for a long time.

I’m not sure Sol City is much safer at the moment, he wanted to point out, but he didn’t want to bite the hand that was feeding him, so he held his tongue.

“It’ll be better for them to stay in one place until Darkveil is safe enough for me to start on repairs. Del has promised to help, but… it will take some time.” There had been considerable damage to the building, and it would take more than a single carpenter and hitman to stitch it together again. And he didn’t have a lot of funds to carry out the repairs, either.

Thoughts for later. When they weren’t currently evacuating the city, and Cyran wasn’t still grieving over the loss of his home.

“How much longer will it take us to reach port?” The storm was making him a tad nervous, and he hoped they could get to their destination before it descended upon them. The last time Cyran got caught in a storm in Dragon's Cradle, it had ended with more than a few monster fights, and he wasn't in the mood for battle at the moment.

A boom of thunder resounds from the distance, as if to highlight Cyran's anxiety.

"A few days." she answers bluntly. "Anywhere from three to six, depending on how bad the storm is... It probably will catch up, if that's what you're worried about."

Pessimism: eschewing hope for weal in favour of preparation for woe. Veliky seems to embody this as a virtue. And indeed, with the sound of snoring coming from just behind them, beneath the wagon's crimson bonnet, is it really such a sin.

...It's strange. There's some feeling that's sitting in Veliky's skull, and she can't quite identify it. It's gnawing, but not painfully so much as aggravatingly, like an itch beneath the skin. Perhaps it's merely the residual irritation of having ash constantly blown against her face. Just how the hell do people actually *live* in the Ashlands?

...

'Serious' is a constant for her. But, as any thing, it comes in degrees. And at this moment, her expression shifts toward a greater gear of seriousness as her eyes narrow and her brow furrows grimly.

"We don't necessarily need to send them back, you know. After the disasters are over. You know well enough what a dangerous place Darkveil is. Why not start an orphanage in Sol? Keep them there?"

“It’s not necessarily the storm I’m worried about. It’s what lurks in it.” He replied, giving the sky a once-over, only to give a satisfied nod when he didn’t spot any of the telltale signs of crackling wings or a bird’s cry. “The last time I was caught in a storm around here, my companion and I were attacked by a giant bird. I later learned that they’re called arcuila… nasty creatures.” He shuddered at the memory. Even between him and Blue Raspberry it had taken some time to fell the beast. Even though he’d grown stronger since then, there was a lot more at stake now.

Veliky didn’t respond immediately, a stern expression on her face. Not angry, necessarily, but - thoughtful.

He didn’t expect the question she asked next, however.

Cyran sighed and turned to stare at the road ahead. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked such a question. It wouldn’t be the last, he knew. “I’m fully aware of the dangers that Darkveil holds… I would not be so overconfident to say that I could protect them from everything.” The incident with the earthquake only proved that. “But I didn’t open a home there because I wanted to expose kids to danger. I opened one because even children born in such a crime-ridden place deserve safety and stability.”

He leaned back in the seat of Veliky’s wagon. “Any place has its own dangers. But I don’t want to give up on the kids that deserve a home there. And I don’t want to uproot these kids’ lives, either. They’ve had enough of that already.”

It may have seemed a foolish answer, but it was the one Cyran held, nonetheless. He was convinced he was doing the right thing when he met Iryla and he still thought so every time he brought in a new child like Cypress and Cashmere. Darkveil was not the kindest of cities, but it was home.

“I appreciate the advice, but I am… happy there. And if I thought the kids weren’t, I would glady move them somewhere else. But I’m okay where I am.”

"A safe place for the children of Darkveil doesn't necessarily need to be *in* Darkveil." she rebuts. "We could establish a program for children there to be brought to Sol City - or anywhere else, for that matter. King's Valley, Bleakfort, Moonglade... there are plenty of places that'd be better for what you're doing. Besides,"

she looks back, through the window that peers into the wagon's contents: children, most sound asleep at such a late hour.

"even if you're okay with keeping kids there, do you really want them growing up there?"

Lightning CRACKS along the sky, and the thunder that follows is booming. Thunder and lightning have been nothing uncommon on this trip - they are travelling through the Dragon's Cradle, after all. But what makes this particular crash so odd as to draw their eyes backward is just how close it is. That flash shouldn't be so bright, and that sound shouldn't be so damning. But, when they look back, the storm is encroaching - encroaching far, far faster than should be possible.

Veliky lets out a low, frustrated growl. "...Hey, you mentioned a giant bird? An arcuila? Did anything like this happen when you encountered it?"

If the last lightning crash was close, this one is something truly baleful. No farther than thirty feet away from them, a great lance of electricity jolts the earth; they can feel the static in the room.

Veliky lowers the arm she'd raised to cover herself. "...I reiterate my question."

“Those places might be safer overall, but none where I can effectively protect them the same way.” Cyran admitted, voice low and heavy. Veliky knew what he did for a profession, but it was a subject they hadn’t really broached - that Darkveil was simply the safest place for someone like Cyran to live. Oh, he knew it would be better for the kids if they could live some place like Sol City, where they wouldn’t be under threat of the constant dangers that plagued the city, but it stung knowing that every word out of Veliky’s mouth was the truth.

One just had to look at what had happened during the earthquake, after all.

Cyran was saved from answering by the sounds of the storm growing louder behind them - crackling lightning made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and thunder like drumbeats in the sky signaling the return of something horrible. At Veliky’s terse question, Cyran turned around, one hand reaching for his dagger on instinct. Little good it would do if they truly were about to encounter what Cyran thought they were about to.

“… Something like that.”

He narrowed his eyes, pulling himself to his feet to get a better look at the sky. Dark stormclouds had stained the air pitch-black, blotting out the sun in a near-perfect copy of the ash-clouds in Darkveil.

… No, not a near-perfect copy.

Those were literal ash-clouds.

“It looks like Darkveil followed us here.” Cyran muttered, thoroughly confused. Why here? And how had this happened? The small shift in weather was rather unimportant, though, in the face of the beast that was currently breaking through the stormline with a loud screech that rumbled the very air.

Cyran swore under his breath in elvish, reaching for Spell Slicer before turning to Veliky. “I’ll try to hold it off if you can protect the caravan.” He didn’t wait for her answer before summoning forth a pair of inky-black spectral wings, taking off into the air.^[1,2] Last time, Cyran had been caught by surprise. This time, he wouldn’t be taken down so easily.

… That was when a second bird descended, both staring Cyran down in the sky as lightning poured down around them.

---

1. Bat Wings (Post 1/3)
2. Spirit Guardian

"Hold it off...? Wha- hey!" Her confusion swiftly turns to frustration as Cyran takes off. She should be surprised by the sudden revelation of spectral wings, but it's overridden by the affrontedness at Cyran's sudden departure. Besides, she's seen weirder. But that experience does little to answer the question that hangs in her mind until she speaks it aloud. "What the hell are you gonna do against a lightning bird?!"

No answer. Too far away to be heard over the storm.

"Kien!"

The fight is on; in an instant, Veliky's mind has switched in mode, and she's looking at her (admittedly limited) options. Cyran said he'd hold it off, but how the hell is he planning to do that? No, she has to get up there.

Her eyes dart between little details in her environment until they fall on the construct that's dragging the wagon: the Vixen. "You'll do." Standing from the driver's seat, she leaps onto its hind! And then, she turns around for a brief instant to sever the bar with searing light^[1], freeing the beast! Finishing her twirl, she lands in the creature's natural saddle, and holds on tight as it rears.

"Get up there! Fast!"

And it does. Its steel hooves glow with a white light, and it begins to step forward -- and upward! It gallops on the air as if it were solid ground, rising into the air and toward where Cyran approaches the sky-bird.

"Hold it off... Yeah fucking right!" she laments. They'll deal with this, fast and efficiently.

At least, that's what Veliky thinks until another bird breaks the clouds, ash still trailing on its pinions. That is what people in the business refer to as an 'unforeseen complication.'

But that's only more the reason for Veliky to be here.

"No you don't..." she raises her right fist in front of her mouth. "Desperation!^[2]"

Suddenly, around that descending secondary bird, a pulse of mana warps the air! The bird's wingbeats are thrown off-rhythm and it lets out a shriek - strangely weak. For the moment, its approach has paused.

One less problem to think of for the moment. But the first is still nearly upon Cyran! Bringing the musket around her shoulder, Veliky points it at the first bird and pulls the trigger. With a BANG and a cloud of smoke, a pellet flies through the air... but it doesn't make its mark. It only grazes a feather.

"Dammit!" she curses, but doesn't let it waste any time. Already, she's grabbing another packet and opening the tray...

---

1. Angelic Light
2. Desperation

If he were being honest, Cyran had no idea what he was going to do against a bird of this size, either. The last time he’d combatted one of them, he had nothing more than his daggers and a bit of pitiful dark magic - Blue Raspberry had been the one to do most of the heavy lifting, with… whatever strange brand of magic the ooze possessed.

Thankfully, whoever said an old dog couldn’t learn new tricks was woefully wrong.

He raised his hand into the air, using his finger to trace a complex arcane symbol from the shadows. This particular spell was a powerful one, but the setup was a little too slow to be practical. Thankfully, he could hear Veliky swearing up a storm as she launched herself into the air on the construct he’d heard her refer to as Vixen. He barely spared her a passing glance, too busy drawing small markings and lines in the sigil from memory to pay attention to what she was doing.

He just had to trust she would watch his back while he finished setting this up.

A burst of power sunk its claws into the second arcuila, halting its progress - not a moment later, a BANG resonated through the air, and a projectile barely grazed the bird. It didn’t quite land, but it provided just enough of a distraction for Cyran to finish casting his spell.^[1]

All at once, large, ashen chains burst from the ground below, wrapping around the arcuila and tightening until the bird’s wings were clipped. The creature shrieked in pain as the heated chains burned into static wings and seared flesh, branding the creature everywhere that the chains touched.

The ritual completed, Cyran wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, the energy that it took to cast such a spell making its mark on him. But the creature was bound - and the other, still frightened after whatever Veliky had done to it.

The trap was set. Time to secure the kill.

---

1. Scern's Godkiller
2. Bat Wings (2/3)

...Veliky knows that spell. It's a little different, but that's definitely the same spell that Scern used during the Ziev incursion. Only, it's been slightly altered to fit his abilities.

She throws him a glance. 'Clever bastard, where'd you get that?'

But there's no time to think about that. They have an opportunity, and she's going to take it.

"Vixen, bring us in! Priority: Gold!"

At her demand, the reindeer-bot begins its approach toward the onyx-bound avian, hooves clopping against nothing but air. Even bound, bolts of electricity arc from the creature as it shrieks in pain! One comes so close to her that she can feel its heat upon her skin, but she doesn't stop. As she comes nearer, she only just finishes ramming the musket, just in time to point it forward at the bird's chest and...

BANG!

This one doesn't miss. Not only does it pierce the bird's feathers and skin, but it practically detonates in an explosion of light^[1]! What's left - or perhaps it'd be more apt to refer to what *isn't* left - is a hole straight through the beast's chest. Continuing her flight, Veliky's taken straight through that chasm and out from the other side, just as the the glow fades from the bird's feathers and it begins to plummet.

"One down, Cyran!" she screams, voice still barely audible over the storm. "Take the other one out, before it-... ah, shit."

The arcuila whose flight had become so stunted, beats its wings with increasing rapidity, increasing strength, increasing ferocity. Power is returning to it, and electricity is arcing across its feathers with greater intensity! It holds its wings close, hovering for but a moment... before unfurling them and releasing a wave of violet lightning that crests across the sky!

---

1. Angelic Light

Veliky’s precision with the projectile in her hands was much finer the second time - she blasted a hole through the arcuila bound by Cyran’s onyx chains before maneuvering Vixen through the wound, ensuring that the beast was dead.

That left Cyran to deal with the second bird while it was still fearful…

Oh, hell.

Just as he’d grabbed Spell Slicer and Cold Steel from his belt loops, the arcuila had already shaken off whatever spell Veliky put it under, and it looked utterly enraged. Lightning poured from the sky and bounced off of its wings, aimed right towards Cyran - only his experience flying allowed him to duck and dodge, drawing closer to the bird. He was fully aware that his knives could do little to kill the beast in its natural domain, but now was not the time to allow worry and doubt to cloud his judgment. The Specter maintained a cool and level head, no matter the situation -

A stray bolt of lightning hurtled right towards him, one Cyran couldn’t dodge.

But rather than knock him out of the sky, the bolt merely seemed to… pass through him, as if Cyran didn’t exist at all.^[1]

Strange.

Another worry for later, added onto the ever-growing pile. With a renewed speed, Cyran dove for the arcuila’s wing in a maelstrom of slashing blades. Once - with Spell Slicer. Twice - with Cold Steel. The third and final blow - Cold Steel once more, each precise strike delivered at a point at the wing where muscle met bone in an attempt to render the creature’s limb entirely useless.^[2,3,4]

It had the intended effect. Soon, gravity began to pull the creature down, with Cyran not far after it. Its body impacted with the rocky ground with a THUD, creating a crater from the landing.

But it wasn’t dead yet.

Cyran landed a few feet away, his wings dissipating with a burst of shadow.

---

1. Phase Walk
2. Cyran's Haunting Blade
3. Ice Rune
4. Magic Blocker Enchantment
Bat Wings (3/3)

Tired and concussed, it's only with slow and deliberate movements that the great bird rises to its talons. That glow on its feathers has vanished, leaving only a dull-pink plumage as it limps forward in great strides. It kneels over the body of its other, still confined with onyx chains, raises its beak to the sky and lets out a shriek that pierces the sky. Bolts of lightning from its own storm crash around its silhouette.

But, though drained of power, the beast has yet to die. To that end - and with it now within arm's reach - the Blixtbots™ take up their arms.

The first strike that comes is from the Bishop, whose bolt plants itself firm in the arcuila's expansive chest. But this seems only to draw its rage, as the shriek it looses is not in pain - but anger! It steps forward, raising its wings and beating them flightlessly as it stares down the construct-party. But, as fearless as the metal they were built from, the Blixtbots™ don't relent.

The Rook, sword in hand, dashes forward. He zips between bolts of lightning with incredible deftness^[1], unscathed! With a shriek, the arcuila lurches forward and attempts to pluck the bot with its beak... but suddenly, the bot isn't there^[2]. It's vanished without a trace.

The arcuila screams in frustration, stepping forward and toward the wagon again. But this scream would swiftly turn to pain, as Rook suddenly manifests beside its backward talon and drives its blade through the foot! Lightning courses through the sword, scarring and crackling^[3]!

It fought well, and it made its mark. After the bot left its brutal wound, the leg that it struck has become limp and numb. But, while it could strike with precision, it has little way to defend itself against such a beast. Looking down again, the arcuila brings down its beak and pecks through Rook's hull, plucking it from the ground and waving it through the air before throwing it far into the ash. Where it lands, a bolt of lightning follows, as if to definitively call it 'destroyed.'

---

1. Cat's Grace (Rook-14)
2. Invisibility (Rook-14)
3. Lightning Rune (Rook-14) {Sigil's Blessing}

Cyran lifted his blades to continue the assault once more, but to his surprise, Veliky’s bots beat him to the punch. The one with the sword - the Rook, if he remembered correctly - managed to get a few good blows in with his blade before the arcuila pecked it to death with a devastatingly sharp beak.

He suppressed a sympathetic wince - Cyran understood all too well that these constructs weren’t exactly the most… durable.

But it had done its job well, and Cyran took a moment to mentally thank the Rook for its help before lifting his arm in the air. The shadows stirred with him, forming vine-like, writhing tendrils that surrounded the grounded arcuila - he clenched his fist and spikes protruded from the shade, piercing the already-wounded bird.^[1] All at once, his own minor injuries began to heal as the bird let out a pained scream, desperate to free itself from its bonds lest it suffer the same fate as its companion.

Unfortunately, it had picked the wrong target tonight. There were no lengths he wasn’t willing to go to protect his kids.

The bird had merely taken too many injuries. From the still-injured, bent wing, to the fall, the draining shadow-nettles appeared to be the last straw. As Cyran recovered a bit of his strength, the arcuila lost the last vestiges of energy that it had been so desperately trying to hold over. And it, much like its friend, slumped over, its rage finally simmering out of its body with its last few, shallow breaths.

Cyran sheathed his blade and then immediately went to go make sure the kids in the wagon were alright as Veliky landed nearby.

---

1. Stinging Nettles

"Well done." says curtly, but congratulatorily, a Veliky that descends from the heavens above. As quickly as she entered that mode of deathly seriousness, she's left it behind; now, she rides side-saddle as the Vixen steps gently down onto the earth, and that white glow leaves its hooves.

Veliky hops from her perch, boots unsettling the ash, and approaches Cyran. She looks up at him with recognition, then to the bird, and then...

BANG! She pulls her musket around her shoulder and puts a bullet into the arcuila's head. A bit more black powder now sticks to her face.

"Had to make sure." she says, preemptively explaining her deed to an unspoken bafflement before handing the musket off to a waiting Pawn. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, thank you. Are you?"

Removing her hat, the quarterling runs a gloved hand through her now-soot-stained hair. "For now... I'll probably be sore in the morning, though. Why can no trip ever be easy."

She lets out a long sigh. But then, her face assumes an oddly contemplative look that lasts for several seconds.

"...I guess if we did do a program like I mentioned, we'd have to find a damned good route for it..."

Cyran gives no answer, only a thoughtful silence.

"Right... Anyways. Clean yourself up. You're covered in soot and blood, and we've got kids here."