Inmo smiled at Baird's clever trick as he uncovered her ears.



She turned to the fighter coming towards her with a devilish grin, "Oh, I am glad to be the one to deliver your karma."



Flames begin to dance in Inmo's hand, forming into a ball.[1] She waits for the perfect shot, then releases the flames square in her opponent's chest.



As their robe-like armour quickly began to be consumed by the flames, the scout threw it off and ran out of the grotto, deciding it was not worth the meagre pay.



The remaining members of the Moonglade Troup looked at each other nervously and then at their leader for guidance, wondering what to do next and considering whether this job was worth dealing with two, technically three, magic users.



The leader stood still in shock. Dealing with three enraged, unaffiliated adventurers was definitely not part of the plan.



The group's hushed whispers began anew as they tried to improvise.



Inmo waits for the next person to make their move, somewhat frightened by her feelings of freedom. The firelight illuminates her conflicted expression. She is free of her cloak, free of her diplomatic nature, and finally free of her fear.

---

[1] fire bolt

    Mors flicked a wing meekly in disappointment. Baird looked to make another move, but a voice rang out, "Stop! Stop, we surrender, please." Their strained ears likely could only hear the muffled call from their leader, but most seemed to not ease up, even at the sight of the formidable duo. Something seemed to bubble up from within them.

    "We joined to save Moonglade, dammit!" | "And to beat back those daylight pigs!"

    Baird gripped a stalagmite with both left hands and cleanly broke it off in a motion to throw it at the latter speaker. The rock, larger than their head, glances off their hip. "First off, don't talk bad about pigs around me. Second, you're not winning this. Just tell us what is happening and give up on menacing the poor folk." Through a face of unblinking fury, a final point to cut deeper than any strike, "Unless- you are just like who you call your enemy. Blindly running into a foreign land just to abuse civilians for your political interests. Sounds like your just mad you aren't the ones profiting!" 
    
    "What!? No, we-"

    "No!? So you are here to help people? You're trying to work with the present rebellion and not just eliciting a false-flag attack?" 

    The remainder start to deflate. Having to admit their desire to engage in this hypocrisy is too much, knowing they can't get away with it anymore. "... Fine. You win. We are from the Lunar Rebels. We came to drive more fence-sitters to face the true enemy hiding in Sol City. If you let us go, we'll petition the cause to work with the dissidents in the Oniwanban. Is that enough?" 

    Baird made a determined smile at the victory of ideals, but wondered whether to let them go or not. If they are killed, the Lunar Rebels may try this again. Turning them over to the local authorities might be the truest justice, giving the victims a voice. How this might effect the future is hard to say. Mors grimaced bitterly at the cynical hubris that got the rebels this far. It looked like it is down to one last decision between Inmo and the chimera. "Let's just call it. We were called to stop the hauntings, and I think we have done that well enough. Whattya think? Mors?" Mors quietly made a shrug.

Inmo pondered their options, their mind a tumultuous sea of thoughts and possibilities. "Turning them in would be the best course of action," Inmo contemplated. "It's not only about distributing justice to the people caught up in this but also about extracting more information from them."

Across from Inmo, the opposing group's leader sensed the moment's gravity. "We will never be silenced! We are—" the leader began, their voice a mix of defiance and a barely concealed edge of desperation.

Inmo, already growing impatient with the theatrics, fixed their gaze on the leader. With a subtle movement, she outstretched her hand, palm facing the sky, a silent promise of a fire bolt that could be cast with but a thought. "Could you spare us the villain monologue?" Inmo interjected, their voice carrying a hint of impatience.

The leader, caught in the intensity of Inmo's implicit threat, seemed to weigh their options momentarily. Then, they wisely chose to clamp their mouth shut, opting not to risk provoking Inmo further.

A smirk played at the corners of Inmo's lips, her eyes twinkling with triumph and mockery. Responding in a tone dripping with syrupy sweetness and heavy sarcasm, Inmo said, "Much appreciated."

Turning to face their companions, Inmo's expression shifted to practical concern. "Do you have anything we could use to bind them? Unfortunately, I don't," Inmo inquired, her voice devoid of its previous mockery.

    Baird scanned the room of many pilfered materials, stolen supplies, and stripped gear, "Plenty of options to choose from. Alright, we'll take 'em in." He then made a thumbs-up at the rebels, "Hey, consider it a lucky break! Inmo and I may be a bit harsh, but better us than actual soldiers, or worse, Mors here." 

Mors grinned, "Don't go counting chickens yet. They still have a chance at making bad decisions." He'd turn his head so that one of his massive eyes would peer with a vicious glow. The group was then corralled with two being held close by the boar's grip. The grotto was not very deep, but was home to several shrines irreverently used as storage spaces, bedchambers, and a planning room. The intelligence stored within was sparse and enigmatic by design, with key pieces being evidently destroyed. These people may not have the thickest spines, but who knows how tightly they may guard their secrets, even against torture or execution. Only time will tell.

     After which, using cloaks and cut rope, the hybrid and the astralblood would prepare the prisoners for transport. They'd be taken out from their cave hideout towards Sunset Pass to be judged by the victims of their crimes. Perhaps not impartial, but such is the people's justice against needless cruelty.

Inmo flashed a smirk, a playful mischief gleaming in her bright eyes. "Hey, I tried being friendly," she declared with a lighthearted tone. "It’s not my fault they wouldn’t listen," she added, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm that danced through the air like a light breeze.

Turning to Mors, she allowed a warm smile to play on her lips, rolling her eyes in exaggerated amusement at his comment. With an elegant sweep of her arm, she adjusted the fabric of her cloak, which swirled dramatically around her as she prepared to make her leave.

As they walked alongside their newly captured prisoners, a palpable weight hung in the air, a potent mix of victory and uncertainty. The prisoners, bound but defiant, cast wary glances at their captors. Gathering her courage, Inmo inhaled deeply, steeling herself as she sought to shatter the lingering silence that settled among her companions.

“Do you have anything else you need to attend to once we’re finished here?” she inquired, her tone brightening with genuine curiosity. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, her demeanor shifting to one of warmth and openness. “If not, I was thinking we could swap stories. I have a feeling you both have some fascinating tales to tell.”

The invitation hung in the air, a promise of shared laughter and adventure ready to unfold, bringing a sense of levity to their grim surroundings.

    It is a strange rarity that few wonder at who or what this hybrid indeed is. Baird would glow at such questions, Mors stifling his own excitement as to (failingly) appear aloof. Another wordless exchange as the vulture nodded without looking towards the boar staring at him from the side.

    "We have no pressing business. I'd be very glad to hear about how one such as yourself came to be as you are. For our side of things, I am Palugen from the Marsh east of here. Mors is spiritually bound to my soul, so we make the most of being stuck together. Gotta say, I've only been outside the village for such a short time, but we've gotten into a few things. This being one of them now." Baird lifts the rope in his hands up, slightly yanking the gang behind him. He continued with a solemn tone, "I've never been out this way before. This place is marvelous and the beauty is sincere. There ought to be someplace cozy in town. Hopefully they won't find me too repulsive to offer patronage once we walk in with the culprits to their recent struggles." 

    Mors would clear his throat to get Baird's attention. The pale swirls that made up his pupils would dart towards their left side. A sudden realization would wash over the boar, who would reach into a pouch at his flank to produce a small porcelain vessel. He'd lift the lid with a satisfying clink. Inside was a pile of lightly seasoned roasted seeds, like that from a pumpkin or squash. The aroma of earthy, smoked spices wafted out from the dish. Baird would clarify, "How foolish of me to forget my usual greeting! This is gratis for being so kind as to hear me out, and I cook plenty more where that came from. Please!" He'd then pinch a few out with a pair of meaty fingers, then drop them into his maw. Once he lifted the dish up, Mors would crane his long neck down and peck a couple gently for himself. Finally, it would be held out toward Inmo.

Inmo tilted her head to the side, furrowing her brows in confusion as she tried to comprehend the meaning behind Baird's enigmatic phrase. "What do you mean, 'as I am'?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine puzzlement. Her eyes searched Baird's for any hint of clarification.

Her eyes lit up with awe and curiosity as Baird and Mors's unlikely story unfolded. "I would be absolutely fascinated to hear more about how that came to be if you're willing to share," she said, her body leaning in slightly, eager to soak in every detail, her breath held in anticipation.

Inmo looked at Baird with a sympathetic expression, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding and empathy. "The people here are cautious around outsiders, but I believe that bringing in this group should help," she remarked, her tone thoughtful and understanding, her gaze lingering on Baird to convey her conviction.

Accepting the offered snack with a grateful smile, Inmo's eyes expressed genuine appreciation. "Oh, thank you," she said, her voice filled with warmth, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. Taking a small handful, she savoured the flavours and was pleasantly surprised by the delightful blend of spices. "Mm, you did a wonderful job with these," she complimented with a smile, her words accompanied by a nod of approval, her expression conveying her genuine enjoyment.

    Baird returned the vessel to its place at his side. He gave a firm thumbs-up, chuckling out a response, "Thanks! Did learn quite a bit in my passion." He waved as though he was wafting the embarrassment of his words physically away, "Ah, to the important point: I only mean that you are an adventurer with some spice to ya! I hope to hear what inspired you to put up your hood and come over to help strangers in need." 
    
    A slight tug on the rope in his hands. Someone was about to try something. With a quick motion harking to his towering size, he reached a hand far backwards and grabbed the fourth person in this gang of several more. With a pull that nearly tripped everyone else on the line, Baird wraps an elbow around the rebel's shoulders in a fashion like he were holding his best buddy. Mors rested his chin on top of the extra head that appeared. "But, hey! I hate making plans without inviting others present. How rude of me! You forgive me, pal?" 
    
    Mors' eye rolled to acknowledge the town that grew into view as the party approached. "Business before pleasure. We know you guys have some arrangements to take care of, so I guess we'll have to include you another time. No hard feelings?" A handful groaned at the repetitive, demeaning attitudes.

    Finally reaching Sunset Pass, a small crowd was gathering already from seeing the bewildering assembly making their way. A pod of guards try to usher the people to not make this into a spectacle. One of them, seemingly a marshal or captain, met the group outside the gates.

    Holding a hand up, the officer gripped his sheath in readiness for a bad excuse, "You're close enough. What is this? We do not deal in slaves here."

"Neither do we, sir," Inmo replied, her voice steady despite the palpable tension swirling around them. Inmo had always prided herself on her composure, but the weight of the guard's piercing gaze made her stomach knot. "We investigated the recent hauntings at the mines and uncovered compelling evidence that distances the Oniwanban from wrongdoing. It seems the true culprits are a group affiliated with Moonglade."

The guard's brow furrowed, skepticism etched deeply into his features. His sharp gaze bore into her as if trying to peel back the layers of her hooded cloak to expose any hint of deception lurking within. "Oh really?" he challenged, his tone laced with disbelief. "And how are we supposed to take your word for it?"

Inmo swallowed hard, the lump in her throat a stark reminder of their precarious position. The evidence they clung to was shaky at best—a collage of dubious eyewitness accounts from a mysterious woman known only in whispers, alongside testimonies from men who carried the heavy stigma of being regarded as monsters, not to mention the desperate prisoners whose motivations were suspect at best. They were standing on a precipice; solid proof was their only lifeline, and they didn't have it.

Casting a furtive glance towards Baird and Mors, Inmo felt her heart race. Each moment stretched thin with anticipation, and she silently pleaded with them, wishing they had devised a more foolproof plan than the one rapidly unfolding before her. The air was thick with urgency; time was slipping through their fingers like sand, leaving their credibility precariously hanging in the balance, at the mercy of the guard's judgment.

    Baird had thought about this, but lacked any answers in the time they took to get here. With the rebels being uncooperative/nonsensical, what could they do? No evidence remained, no conclusive leads to chase.

    "Finding out the truth is not our job." Mors squawked plainly. "We did the job we were asked to do already: stop the hauntings that have gone on lately. Check the cave up those stairs by the monastery and you'll find the remains of both Crown and Oniwanban supplies, as well as costumes and tools of trickery. All we can say is these elves and humans were intimidating, they crumbled in direct confrontation, and they claimed to be Lunar Rebels." He added a small realization that now struck him, "Probably rookies. That is for you to find out." 
    
    Baird glanced over and nodded at the clarification, "Eh, not bad. He's right. The sightings will slow down a lot around here, at least for a little while. What matters for our part is that the immediate problem is resolved." 

    The guard stood with eyes narrowed to a razor, pupils like pin-pricks within. "You do not tell me my job." Yet he pulled his hand away from the weapon at his side to instead signal others to approach. "Nevertheless, you are right. Adventurers were needed to defuse whatever has been going on. We will investigate further to see if these really are foreign rebels. For now, you hand them over. We will also need you to come with us. Once my men have confirmed your claims about the cave, you are free to go."

    Several more guards began flanking from behind the presumed captain. They reached for the rope that wrapped around each of the prisoners, to which the hybrid would pass them over and accept their custody. "Just glad for this to go by quick and smooth. We're hoping to have a good meal and rest after the fight we had. Oh, right!" One arm reaches to his side and tugs at the arrow lodged in him. "Could I get a bit of medical attention? Probably would bleed out if I yanked this now."

The captain released an exasperated sigh, the sound heavy with the burden of delays that seemed to stretch endlessly before him. His brow furrowed, and a flash of annoyance flickered in his eyes as he waved a medic over curtly, the urgency evident in his posture.

As he assessed the hybrid before him, their condition urgent and demanding meticulous care, he resolutely turned toward Inmo. His expression was stern, each line in his face echoing a silent warning. "Don't think this means you're going anywhere, missy," he declared, his voice low and devoid of any room for debate.

Inmo raised her hands in a peaceful gesture of surrender, the soft light catching the determination in her eyes. She had no desire to fan the flames of tension and found comfort in maintaining a fragile peace. "Yes, sir," she replied softly, her voice steady as she sought to quell further irritation.

With a slight nod, Inmo knelt down, her movements deliberate as she cleared the area around her. She brushed aside the scattered debris, creating a small, neat spot to sit amidst the chaos. As she settled onto the ground, the cool stone beneath her provided an anchor amid uncertainty.

Taking a moment to compose her thoughts, she let her fingers work with practiced ease, braiding her long hair into small, intricate sections. The rhythmic motion of weaving her hair served as a soothing distraction, a gentle ritual that allowed her to ground herself while she waited, acutely aware of the electric tension that hung in the air like a storm about to break.

Baird and Mors accepted the triage. Separated at a distance away from Inmo, the boar would flash a smile and a thumb as an attempt at assurance. The gesture quickly turning into a shocked groan shared between the pair of heads. The medic appeared from behind the creature with the arrow in hand, passing it off to an assistant for examination. In the meantime, the professional got to work using a styptic solution and bandaging.

    It took a tense while for one of the guards to return from the cave. In that time, most townsfolk were dispersed and officers returned to their duty. Only the chief and a few detainers remained. The returning guard spoke, "Captain!"

    "Report."

    "The adventurers were telling the truth. The cave had collections of supplies both Imperial and Oniwanban. There wasn't much to go on, but we did find this." He produced a series of paper scraps. "At first we couldn't make sense of it, but watch this." They'd seem to be nothing worthwhile at all. However, once he placed them onto a flat patch of ground, he could shuffle them atop one another in a sprawl. Eventually, the image of a mine would appear, one the captain clearly recognized.

    The captain looked over the pages, "So, we do have a big problem on our hands." Turning to the two cave-clearers, he'd speak with an uncharacteristic sarcasm, "Good news and better news. You are both free to go, and you have another job..."