Flying a dragon over Sol City wasn't subtle in the slightest, but Cirice had learned by now that subtle was not in Morrigan Moonweaver's vocabulary. As the trio clung to the back of Bubbles together, the forger points them towards the slums to the edge nearest to the docks and a small low building that looks ready to collapse. Bubbles lands in the street, startling a few random vagrants and kicking up dirt and debris. Before they slide off she touches Morrigan’s arm once more before she reverts to her own visage to keep up the charade¹.

“Well, that went about as well as expected,” she sighs in Morrigan’s voice², “we’ll have to lay low for a while before its safe. You’re welcome for the save.”


She reaches out her hand to shake the forger’s, runes glowing softly under the arm of the gaudy suit. “We’re in this together now,” She says with a firm nod as the spell washes over the man and gives her a full rundown of his secrets³.

Technically they could have just used this method all along, but they want to see the operation for themselves, hence the theatrics and jailbreak. It was fun at least, and with the added benefit of no one knowing Cirice was the other Morrigan so only their face would be plastered on wanted posters.

---

1 Appearance Mimicry
2 Sound throwing
3 Reveal Truth

Cirice learned this from her spell:

The forger’s name, the one that Morrigan hadn’t even bothered to learn while setting up this scheme, was Mon E. Gruber. A mage who had once trained at the arcane academy, but dropped out when his grades couldn’t make the cut. His specialties had been transmutation and illusion magic, with his roots in the earth domain. The bitterness towards the mages of the guild grew in his heart, until he was approached by a mysterious man who claimed that they would be able to get back at the guild with his help. That they would be able to amass enough money that the entirety of Sol City would be in their pocket. Mon accepted, and joined the underground forgery ring. He taught them the proper way to magically replicate Sol City coins, near identical to the fake - Cirice would be able to see in her mind’s eye the complex runes involved in the process. A bit of copper, some clever illusions, and transmutation magic to turn them into Solars. She would also learn about their hideout, the one that Mon was leading them too at this present moment - that there were four magical thugs that served as guards, and a couple of mages that worked overtime producing the coins. The ringleader himself didn’t frequent the hideout, but often visited.

All information that they should have just obtained at the beginning and been done with the mission entirely. But the guild wanted them to bust up the ring in addition to gathering information. The time for subtlety, it seemed, was over. From here on out, Morrigan and Morrice would have the pleasure of getting in, wreaking havoc, and getting out.

… Leaving Morrigan’s face to be identified as the enemy twofold.

They really didn’t think this plan through.

They twirled their mustache while Cirice shook his hand, patting Bubbles on the side. “Take to the air, my friend. We’re going to go into hiding for a bit. Lay low.”

Bubbles would be within earshot, in case Morrigan needed to call upon him for a quick getaway once more.

Mon nodded, trusting Morrigan and Morrice implicitly. He didn’t seem to suspect them in the slightest - their elaborate ruse had worked. “Right. We’re… all in this together. Follow me - there’s this sewer grate around here that leads to my hideout. We can lay low there until the guard presence lets up.”

Cirice would know from the memories she gleamed that this much was the truth.

Morrigan glanced around. There were a few guards in the distance, but they didn’t seem to be alert just yet. They likely hadn’t heard about the pandemonium in the courthouse. But it wouldn’t behoove them to stick around in the open.

… Ugh, Morrigan’s suits were going to get so dirty-!

Nope. Not important right now. Morrigan, for once, kept their big, stupid mouth shut and followed after the forger. “Right. And while we’re there, we’ll think of a plan.”

Oh, they would plan, alright. But not one to clear Mon E. Gruber’s name… one to bring him in and bust this money laundering ring up for good.

---

Bringing Pets
Bubbles (Adult form Drake: counts against Pet Cap)
Luna Rose (Beastmaster I: Doesnt count against Pet Cap)


Quest Name: This is a Stickup!
Chapter: Two
Description: Now that you have gained the middle mans trust you can have them take you to one of their hideouts where the fake solars are being held or even made. Once there we need you to bust up the operation, taking out anyone involved and putting a stop to the process. You may need to get your hands a little dirty while doing this, but putting a stop to everything is of major importance. Unfortunately this is only one of many locations, so we have more work to do, but this is a good first step.
Requirements:
- Requires at least two people (you and one other, the other does not need to be interested in the guild)
- You must make at least 6 post with each post being 150 words to complete the mission.
- You must put an end to the operation
- You must take out three large body guards protecting the facility
- Once you complete this mission you have finished this quest line

“Lead the way.” Morrice nods, following him. “Oh we never did get your name, sir. You know us, what can we call you?”

The man hesitates for a moment but then he thinks more of it and realizes that there’s no point keeping his name a secret. “Mon E Gruber. My friends call me money because I’m the money man.”

“Nice to meet you, Mon.” Morrice grins, “Money, that’s good. Very clever. We’re Morrice and Morrigan Moonweaver as we said before.”

Mon leads them over to a sewer grate and pries it open with a small heave. “Here we go, home sweet sewer. Watch your step.”

They climb down into the fetid water of the sewer, mixing with the gross dregs of society. Morrice takes a little too much joy sullying Morrigan’s suit. It would be relatively easy for her to keep it clean, but its just a small inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. One that will surely upset Morrigan. Its the little things in life.

They get to a wall with a makeshift ladder hanging down from a hole above them.

“Let me go first and I’ll let them know you’re on the level.” Mon says, climbing carefully up the ladder. Cirice waits a few moments, listening in as he lowers his voice to speak to the others then she climbs a few rungs and pokes her head up.

Mon. E Gruber? There was no way that name was real. And if it was… then nominative determinism was a hell of a thing. Morrigan threw an arm around his shoulder - no small feat considering the man was half a foot taller than them. “Well, Mister Money Man, you’re in good hands. Anything that you say or do around us is kept strictly between you and your lawyers. That’s the perk of attorney-client confidentiality.” They added with a wink.

Despite their confidence Morrigan couldn’t hide their shudder of revulsion as the money man pried open the sewer grate. “Right, yes… here we go.” They shot Morrice a dirty look as she splashed through the water, not bothering to hide the fact that she was shamelessly getting their finery dirtied. Whatever. She could take satisfaction in sullying their suit but Morrigan would be the one with the last laugh when Cirice got slapped with the hefty dry-cleaning bill later.

Eventually the three came upon a ladder, with Mon leaving the two fellbloods below while he went to smooth things over with his buddies. Morrigan lasted all of five seconds waiting in the muck and grime before they got bored. They turned to make their way up the rungs, only to find that Morrice was already way ahead of them.

“Hey!” They hissed, climbing their way up after her. “You can’t have all the fun.”

The charlatan perched on the rungs of rope and cloth and dirty driftwood right under Morrice, straining their ears to catch even glimpses of the hushed conversation above.

“… They broke me out of the courthouse! They defended me! I trust them.”

“And what are a couple of lawyers gonna do when they see what we got goin’ on up here?”

“No, you see, they explained it to me. They have this thing called attorney-client confidentiality. Anything they see will stay between us!”

The others were silent for a long time before one of them eventually spoke up. “… Okay, but if I smell a narc, I’m blasting them with a magic missile.”

“They’re cool, I swear. They saved me from the guards. Here, I’ll bring them up.” They could hear footsteps before Mon beckoned the two into the hideout proper.

It was kind of a dingy place, damp in all the wrong places. A couple of lanterns were hung along wrought-iron rungs on the wall, candleflame flickering weakly across the faces of the criminals that were seated around a table. There was no forged money in sight - not out in the open, at least. They probably kept it in some secret vault away from prying eyes.

With a start, Morrigan realized that others were staring.

They dipped into a bow, whacking Morrice with their tail to get her to follow suit. “Hail and well met, my friends! My name is Morrigan Moonweaver, and this is my twin brother, Morrice - together, we make up Moonweaver and Moonweaver. Once, attorneys at law. But today, we greet you all as humble attorneys at large.”

“Oh, right,” Morrice bows as well. “So this is your crew Mon?” She eyes the lot of them as she straightens. “All these guys don’t look like the magic type. That guy’s really buff. Never seen a buff wizard.”

The easy, scummy smile on Morrice’s lips has all of Morrigan’s signature charm, that is to say none. She walks around the small, unkempt room, looking around as if bored. “Mon says he wasn’t guilty of forging solars, so what do you guys do here?”

The thugs and wizards give her incredulous looks. Who is this bitch waltzing into their hideout and acting like she’s at home?

“Look you little purple twinks, we don’t care if you broke our guy out or not, if you fuck with our operation then we’ll kill both of you and bury you in the Luna Sea.” One of the large thugs growls at them, “We’ve got a good racket here and we don’t need you fucking that up. ‘S only cuz you got Money vouching for you that you ain’t already dead.”

Morrigan took a step closer to the thug that was threatening them. Given the thug’s height, and Morrigan’s utter lack of it, the charlatan had to crane their neck to meet the thug’s gaze.

The beefcake stared at Morrigan, promising murder in his eyes.

Morrigan stared back.

And then they waved their arm and threw glitter in his face.^[1]

The thug coughed and sputtered as the substance got in his throat and lungs, no doubt causing a host of incurable lung diseases and scratches from inhalation. But that was neither here nor there. Right now, his pesky and annoying threats had been silenced, leaving Morrigan to clap their hands and hop up onto the table that the criminals had been playing cards on prior to their arrival. With a flourish, they produced a handful of flowers from their briefcase, which they tossed at the coughing and sputtering thug, who caught it on instinct.^[2]

“Here. I think that mug of yours would look much prettier with a jovial smile, don’t you think, friend?”

The thug fell silent, staring down at the flowers in his hand.

Morrigan turned their attention to the men surrounding them.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering the same thing - are these lawyers really going to come up into our business and rat us out to the authorities? No. You may also be wondering… is this a dream? There’s no way that the most attractive, fashionable, and charismatic lawyers this side of Sol City would really be here to visit us! Also no. This is, in fact, reality. And my twin and I stand here before you with a single business proposition.”

Their lips curled into a grin as bullshit spouted naturally from their tongue, holding everyone’s attention while Morrigan wove their lies.

“… We want in on your operation. You keep us as attorneys on retainer, and we keep you - all of you - out of prison. You get to continue this sweet little operation, unhindered by the law, and we get a cut of your solars. A pretty sweet deal, no?”

---

1. Pouch Sand
2. Charmer’s Bouquet

Morrice groans and hides her face behind her palm. Morrigan is going to get them maimed. Probably not killed, but at least maimed. She could fix that.

“How are you gonna do that? Your face is gonna be splattered across Sol City just as much as Mon’s,” One of the wizard-types says, “What will you do that we can’t?”

“Well they’re actually very capable magically as well. In fact I bet they have the skills to help us with our work. We were getting slower as we tire and the boss wanted us to ramp up production, a couple more hand makes that easy!”

Morrice tries to coax Morrigan off the fucking table. “Get down idiot.” She turns to the thugs, “Mon is right, we can help you, teach us your process and we’ll help you make more solars than you’ll ever be able to spend.”

Magic tinges her words once more, weaving them into an enticing offer, one they certainly cannot refuse¹. The faces of all of the criminals go slack and dreamy. Its easy to tell she’s bewitched them. She gently touches each one, removing the memory of her spell from their minds².

“Yeah…” Mon says languidly, “See? More help… Come on, I’ll show you how we do it…”

Morrice gives Morrigan a taste of his own smug smirk as she turns to follow Mon deeper inside.

---

1 Fae Aura
2 Fade from Memory

Morrice’s attempts to get Morrigan off the fucking table only resulted in them stubbornly remaining firmly on top of it. What could they say? They liked to feel tall. They half-heartedly swatted at Morrice with their loafer while she turned her attention to the thugs, immediately doing a far more effective job of convincing them and probably preventing them from immediately jumping Morrigan and smashing their face in.

The men were in a wonderfully pleasant daze as they beckoned the two deeper into the hideout. Only then did Morrigan hop off the table with a wicked smirk, their tail flicking behind them as they followed the entourage. Getting into the hideout was all well and good, but this was where the magic happened - quite literally.

If there was any time for them to break this forgery ring apart, it would be where they made the money.

“Yes, let us see how the money is made.” They twirled their mustache, following behind the others with a skip in their step and a joyous tune flying from their lips. Though not for the reasons that the criminals could have anticipated.

It was the perfect crime.

If they make it out of here with Morrigan alive then it will be a miracle. She pulls them aside as they head deeper into the hideout.

“Are you trying to get killed? I can’t bring you back if you do.” She whispers into his ear, exasperated.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about. Look at them, they love me!" Morrigan turns and waves at the stupefied thug still holding onto their bouquet, who waves back, in a daze. "You worry about yourself, and I'll worry about me. I can take care of myself." They could not sound less reassuring.

“Fine.” Her eyebrow twitches a little, “I’ll let you handle yourself then.”

She lets go of his arm as Mon leads them into a small laboratory. Well laboratory is a strong word for it. Caught somewhere between an academy chemistry set and baby’s first alchemy set up Morrice was surprised they’d been able to make anything with such a small and ramshackle setup.

“It don’t look like much, but what matters is how you use it.” Mon says, catching the look on her face. “Its actually quite a simple process. We melt down lesser metals and using alchemy turn them into low-grade gold, then use that as the basis for a modified replication spell that is anchored in the metal coin. It doesn’t last forever, but it will last a few months.”

“That’s really clever…” Morrice says, looking over a pile of notes beside the set. “Show us the spell?”

Mon looks excited to show off his skills. “I’ll walk you through the process!”

He takes a seat in front of the alchemy station and starts melting and combining things. It takes a little bit of time but eventually he ends up with a handful of dull yellow discs. He then hands the discs to one of the wizards who sets it carefully on a small pre-prepared magic circle. He begins chanting quietly and the circle begins to glow. In just a few seconds the disc has been replaced by a perfect solar.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Mon asks, smug.

The set that Mon brought the pair of not-lawyers to was… not particularly impressive. Morrigan had a better alchemy bench back when they were still living in the circus, and made potions out of materials bought from seedy, one-eyed pirates and scrounged from the circus trash. Maybe it was the heavy smell of sewage in the air, or the cruddily-drawn runes on the table that helped with the magical component of this operation, but Morrigan had to physically resist the urge to turn their nose up in the air at the sight. Mon turned back to the both of them, suddenly sheepish.

“On the contrary, I think it is the perfect setup.” Morrigan lied so blatantly that most likely made Morrice’s insight rune ping rather violently. “But what’s more important than the tools is the man that’s using them. Let us see this process of yours!”

They nodded along patiently while Mon explained the process, though honestly everything was flowing in one ear and out the other. Morrigan wasn’t really one for the semantics and fine details of rituals… hopefully Morrice was taking notes to bring back to the guild. Oh, well. Perhaps they’d have to try and take Mon in alive so the mages could interrogate him themselves.

But he had some pretty sweet potions on his table… oh. Those would net Morrigan a pretty penny if they pawned them off. While Morrice was distracting Mon with the spell, Morrigan whistled innocently, sidestepping to inch closer to the bench. Closer. With slow, deliberate movements, they swiped a handful of potions into their briefcase, rapidly snapping it shut before anyone could see what they’d done.

It was the perfect crime.

By the time Mon finished, Morrigan had returned to Morrice’s side, clapping along with her. “Marvelous!” They cheered, a bright smile on their face. “Why, Money, I think that gives us just the information we need… to bring you in.”

The smile slid off of Mon’s face.

“What?”

Morrigan held their hand out, flexing their forearm to trigger the hidden knife concealed in the mechanism beneath their suit, pointing the tip of the blade right at Mon.^[1] With a wicked smirk on their face, Morrigan declared. “By the power vested in the mage’s guild, you are now under arrest…! Oh, shit, that’s not the saying. Doesn’t matter. Either way, you’re going down, Mon E. Gruber!”

A myriad of emotions flashed across Mon’s face. “But what happened to client-attorney confidentiality?”

“Perhaps that would still apply… if I were actually an attorney. You see, you thought I was the Zeinavian lawyer, Morrigan Moonweaver, when in reality…” In one fluid motion with their free hand, Morrigan ripped the mustache off their face, “I’m actually the great Wizard of the Wastes, Morrigan… Moonweaver…”

They trailed off, turning to Cirice.

“I should’ve used a fake name, shouldn’t I?”

Ugh, that would’ve made the reveal so much better!

“Well whatever the hell your name is, you’re not taking me alive!” Mon shouted, arcane energy gathering in his hands where they were raised above his head.

At the same time, the other thugs burst through the door at the commotion, all brandishing spells and weapons, pointed right at the two guild members.

And that was when all hell broke loose.

---

1. Desert Stinger (Scarab)

“Yeah, you really should have, dear brother.” Morrice’s amused smirk melts away to reveal Cirice’s visage beneath, “So I guess we’re killing them? Or do you want them to rat you out?”

“Dead is fine.” Morrigan replies, rubbing at the sore part of their lip where they ripped some skin off in that big reveal. “I think we’ve gotten everything we can out of them anyways. Unless you want to beg for your life.” Morrigan winked at Mon.

Mon fires three small orbs of elemental magic at the pair, two flying towards Morrigan and one toward Cirice¹. She calls Crestfallen to her hand and unfurls it into a whip as her bracelet unfurls from her wrist to catch the ice ball headed her way.

“Fuck you! You’re dead!” Mon says as the others surround them.

Cirice grins and sends her whip lightning fast Mon’s way. It wraps around him, biting into his flesh and he screams, the magic at his fingertips fizzling out². She turns the ring on her hilt and Mon is pulled forward towards her and she spins and drags him across the pitiful alchemy lab. Glass and chemicals fly through the air and with a flick of her wrist she send him careening into another of the guards.

“This is unfair… There aren’t many of them Morri. Its barely fun. How about another glitter storm?”

---

1 tribeam
2 magic blocker on Crestfallen

Morrigan supposed that the orbs of wind and fire sent hurtling their direction were answer enough to their unspoken question. “Shit!” Morrigan raised their arms to protect their beautiful, beautiful face on instinct - they sliced through the fireball with their desert blade, the magic fizzling out upon contact with the mana-cursed charlatan.^[1] They weren’t quick enough to stop the wind ball from impacting their shoulder, the burst of pressurized air threatening to throw Morrigan off their feet. The charlatan braced themselves, digging their boots into the ground. The dirt responded, gathering around their boots and holding Morrigan stable.^[2] The strike hurt like a sonovabitch, but Morrigan grit their teeth, glowering at the mage with murder in their eyes.^[3]

“You bastard… you just ruined my favorite suit!”

Before they could sink their claws into Mon’s sorry hide, Cirice wrapped her whipped blade around Mon, throwing the mage into the thugs and knocking them all over. They couldn’t help but laugh when she turned to them, cruel mischief sparkling in her eyes. The poor bastards they’d ambushed had no idea what hit them.

“Why, Morrice… you’ve read my mind!”

Morrigan threw their hand into the air with a flourish, spraying glitter everywhere - Cirice picked up on the cue, the air around them tingling as she wove her magic. The glitter picked up around them, each individual piece slicing at the skin, hurtling right towards the disoriented men.^[4]

Oh, the carnage was beautiful.

Cirice Lunestre was right. This hardly seemed fair. Morrigan clapped their hands together at the show, taking special delight in watching them try to combat the hailstorm of glitter that left deep gashes in their skin. By the time the wind died down, two of the thugs had fallen unconscious from the lacerations that had been rendered in their skin. But there were three left standing, and Mon that still needed to be taken care of.

One of the thugs drew his sword and charged Morrigan, the weakest and sparkliest target. Morrigan brandished the blade on their wrist, beckoning him forth with a cocky smirk, as if they’d already won this fight.

“Come on, let’s dance!”

Steel clashed against steel as the two met in the middle - the mercenary’s strength against the alchemist’s wit. Perhaps one might have expected Morrigan to immediately lose, but the charlatan maneuvered with their wrist blade as easily as they maneuvered around making elixirs. They retracted and pierced and sliced like a desert scorpion wielding their stinger against a bigger and more powerful foe.

But even they couldn’t last forever. The bladesman caught Morrigan by surprise, shifting his stance and stepping forward as he broke through Morrigan’s defenses, bringing his blade down with a deep gash through Morrigan’s chest.^[5] Pain blossomed from the wound, making it difficult for Morrigan to breathe. Acting on the defensive, their tail whipped around and sliced the hidden blade at the man’s wrist, giving them an opportunity to take a couple steps back, ducking behind the knocked-over table for safety.

… Hell, that hurt.

Morrigan was going to need more firepower here. They didn’t possess the spells that Cirice Lunestre had at her fingertips, capable of bending reality with barely a thought. If they were going to hang in, they needed something bigger. They needed a little more mayhem.

Morrigan reached into the bag of wonders and hoped that whatever they pulled out this time would come in handy.^[6]

---

1. Deflecting Slice (1/2)
2. Rooted Boots
3. Sworn Enemy (Mon E. Gruber)
4. Dancing Sand - Cirice Lunestre
5. Gerhart’s Final Strike - Mercenary
6. Jolly Bag of Tricks
njh5_Dkx

Glitter and chaos were the two things most closely associated with Morrigan Moonweaver and together they’d really shown why. As the glitter storm settles and Morrigan goes blow for blow with one of the men, Cirice turns her wicked smile on the rest of the bunch.

“Oh boooooys,” she purrs playfully, “do me a favor and take care of your friends.”

Two of the remaining thugs face’s go slack for a moment, then turn into visages of mixed horror and fury¹. Both men look at each other and start fighting amongst themselves. Fists and magic fly, confusing and startling the third man. In the chaos, Cirice closes in on the last standing man with a grin. Shadows collect on her hands, forming large shadowy claws².

And then, inexplicably, there is a dragon.

“You might want to ru- huh?” Cirice starts to intimidate the last guy only to be caught off guard by the sudden appearance of this… dancing dragon? What?

The third thug takes that opportunity while she’s confused and raises a wand towards her firing a bolt of pure white light directly at Cirice’s chest³. The hit lands, sizzling as the holy light burns her.

Cirice growls, forgetting her confusion as the shadows spread even further over her⁴. She moves with superhuman speed and slices the man cleanly in half from right shoulder to left hip before turning back to Morrigan.

“What the hell is that? Did you do that??” She asks Morrigan, getting ready to attack the beast.

---

1 Whispering madness, twin spelled
2 Death Swipe
3 thug: purity bolt (double dmg against fiend)
34Fiend: Abyssal Infusion

“Let’s see, what have we here… no whammies, no whammies…. Ah!” Morrigan’s eyes glittered as they pulled out a familiar fang, one that they’d used countless times before. Of course, that had only been in the open air, where there was plenty of space for it. In this enclosed room, would it even fit, or would it just make everything worse-? Oh, to hell with it, they’d already thrown the fang on the ground, summoning the great dancing dragon in a burst of rainbow color and confetti. Morrigan stood, letting out a maniacal cackle as they raised their hands in the air.

“Yes, rise! Rise, my dragon!” They screeched, watching the chaos unfurl around them. The dragon was almost too big to be contained in this room, dancing around and bouncing off the walls and ceiling with gleeful abandon, distracting Cirice from the thugs long enough to take a hit. The burst of light magic seared with the heat of Kasra’s fury, briefly reminding them of snow-capped mountains and awful gold. Unsurprisingly, it seemed to burn Cirice more than normal - considering the little lady had some sort of demon lurking in her, holy magic would burn just as much.

Their eyes widened as the darkness grew around her, becoming less human and more like the demon that nearly killed them back in Dragon’s Cradle.

Oh, shit.

Their hand flew to their gut, wincing in sympathy as the she-demon cut the damn guy in half.

And then she whirled her attention back to the dragon, still jingling joyfully even as he was splattered and blood and viscera from Cirice’s last attack. “Whoa, whoa, that’s my dragon!” They hissed, throwing their hands in the air to stave her from vivisecting the poor thing. “Come on, this is our ticket out! Do you want to escape or not?”

Cirice had managed to kill a few thugs, but there were still more to deal with, and Mon still kicking around somewhere. The wound on Morrigan’s chest would have to wait to be dealt with. While the dragon distracted the thugs with its jingliness and jolliness, Morrigan quickly downed a tonic, a cold feeling seeping through their spine all the way into their bones. They shivered as a pair of wings sprout from their back, and the muscles in their right limb began to coil and strengthen.^[1] They winked at Cirice before flying into the air, punching right through the stone ceiling and shattering its foundations entirely.

Light from above spilled into the room as two of the thugs were crushed under large chunks of rock - Mon and two more managed to dodge the falling rubble, slinging spells at Morrigan that the charlatan dodged. As they fell back to the floor, they scooped up one of the large rocks, holding it in both hands.^[2]

“Now, who wants to play dodgeball?”

---

1. Beist’s Transmutation Tonic - Wings, Baloth Limb (right arm, used to break ceiling)
2. Gauntlets of Ginma

Morrigan Moonweaver never ceases to confound and confuse. The fellblood filled the room with the jolliest dragon Cirice has ever seen and then grew wings and a beefy arm and quite literally punched a hole through the roof. What in all the hells…?

Debris fall down around her and she dodges them easily, seeing a few of the thugs manage the same. But Morrigan isn’t done. They picked up some bits of rock and stone as if they’re weightless and proclaimed something about “dodgeball…?” What is that?

But before she can ask Morrigan just what kind of game they’re trying to play a deluge of tepid sewage from the floor above rains down over their head. Taking shelter from the disgusting water with her enhanced speed, Cirice watches in morbid glee as the fellblood is absolutely soaked in the dregs of Sol City. It takes all her strength not to laugh.

“Just kill them so we can get out of here! No witnesses, we have what we came for!” Cirice hisses at the charlatan. She looks up at the hole Morrigan made and see its relatively safe from collapsing more offal down on them and she leaps for it, quickly taking stock of the new surroundings and searching for any light.

There! Sunlight is pouring in from a grate not terribly far away. Once they’ve handled the thugs they can get out without issue. Now to just finish this.

“Morrigan I’ll hold them still, you pummel them!” She shouts down at them as twisting, thorny vines of pure shadow burst from the ground around the last three counterfeiters, cutting into them with a thousand tiny needles¹. Held fast they aren’t going to dodge anything.

---

1 Stinging Nettles