Pax RP

A large, wooden building that even boasted bedrooms on the second floor, whilst underground-one of the holes the dragon, Furnace, had dug-was full of all types of alcohol, non-alcoholic drinks, and even a type of bottled, synthetic blood. Some of this stuff was hard to come by, and therefore quite expensive. But the majority of it was cheap and cheerful-if not particularly strong. The main room was full of carved wooden chairs and tables, some arranged in a semicircle around a fireplace and some in a purposely darker corner of the room. There were even windows in this place, though lacking in any sort of decoration. There was a bar near the back, the cellar entrance just behind that, and here the tavern owner was already fussing about the counter. It would soon be time to open.

At the main entrance stood two tall figures-one on the inside, and one on the outside. The one on the inside casually leant against the wall, with her furry arms crossed. This was Tala, the werewolf, currently in her 7ft tall, silver furred Were form.

Outside, a silver scaled draconian wearing a skintight, black one piece suit stood, rigidly awaiting the time to open the doors. This was Syllak, the sivak, and though she wasn't wearing her platemail armour today she did have her twin katanas strapped to her back. Above her, carved letters proudly declared this place to be called 'The Horn and Halo'. On the other side of the doors, there was a large piece of paper with the rules written on it, meant for everyone to read:

Patrons must not:

1: Punch, kick, scratch, claw, bite, poison, cast spells on or otherwise attack other patrons, for any reason, including completion of contracts. No matter who they are
or what they've done-this is meant for all.
2: Draw any weapons of any sort.
3: Turn anyone-even willingly. Take that elsewhere.
4. Attempt to exert a psychic or mystical influence on another persons mind-we WILL know.
5: Threaten the staff.
6' Taunt or harm the resident fire-lizard, if/when she appears.

Do any of these things and you will be thrown out by one of our two lovely bouncers-who happen to be a werewolf and a draconian, so not much is going to get past them'

The sun hit the right position, and Syllak threw open the doors "The Horn and Halo is open again!" she yelled with enthusiasm.

Coolpikaaa sat at the bar staring into a glass mug that was nearly as big as him. He had been here for hours, with the same beverage staring back. He only occasionally sipped it. To be blunt, his drink of choice was nearly half a bottle of some unspecified alcohol, unmixed and poured directly into the glass. The only reason he didn't simply ask for the bottle was to avoid the stigma.

People had been trickling in all day, joyous grins and laughter as they refound old friends they hadn't seen since the event. It had become a nearly weeklong holiday. "After Lili" they called it. Shops had begun to open again, and family and friends had been reunited. Life was starting to "go back to normal", at least in the minds of the townsfolk.

Coolpikaaa on the other hand knew the truth. He hadn't seeked out old friends, or gone back to his routine because he knew it wasn't possible anymore. The occasional person would still let out the odd "Moo" or "Bleat" absentmindedly. The humiliation had become a funny event for those around them, much like a loud belch. Coolpikaaa saw it another way, as a lasting scar of Lili's influence. It was impossible for anything to truly return to the way it had been, because these scars were hidden everywhere despite how much fun people tried to make out of it.

He sipped his drink.

That had been another example. The bar had been Lili's first target in the town and her first act of manipulation was it's transformation. Every last person trapped inside had been reshaped into bar stock, furniture or other decoration in her initial eagerness. Every single one. The reason it had taken so long for the bar to re-open was a massive team of mages checking to make sure every cask, bottle, keg or half drunk shotglass hadn't been a person at one point. They then moved into the rest of the town. From what Coolpikaaa had heard, anyone with the ability to sense out the brush's influence was making off like a bandit, quickly becoming Pax's wealthiest members.

There were still tons "missing". Family and friends held out hope, but now that the mages were finding less and less, Coolpikaaa was fairly sure he knew what had happened. Either he, or one of the other dragons had probably ate them. Simple as that.

He took another sip.

The electric mouse looked over to Tala and Syllak, ushering people in for the welcome back festivities. He felt a flash through his mind... the sensation of the werewolf skin rug Lili had made Tala into under his scaled and clawed feet. Syllak hadn't faired much better. She had originally been a comically oversized chicken drumstick, but after all the meat had gone, the thick and massive bone had become something of a favorite chewtoy for Red the entirety of his existence.

It was safe to say CP hadn't started up a conversation with them since. He honestly doubted he would ever want to put himself or them through that again. It was a shame. They had been pretty close friends before the event.

Coolpikaaa pushed his drink away, overcome with emotion. He hopped off his chair alone as ever and made his way to his room upstairs. He passed a spot on the wall where there was still dark stone with the twisted grain of the surrounding wood. Scars everywhere.

The electric mouse's room was dark. The lights had been removed, as he found himself much more comfortable in shadow now. His computer and tools sat unused on the workbench opposite his bed. Before, tinkering would put his mind at ease. Now technology was a sour note. What he wanted was more than anything was magic. He hungered for the power as much as he feared what it would do to him again. It left him indecisive and empty.

Maybe what he liked most about sitting in the dark was imagining she might step out of the shadows some time. He could never decide if he would fight her or leap back into her arms when he had these fantasies. Both seemed equally alluring.

He would probably break down and cry if it ever really happened.

Scars, everywhere.

Claymolder fared no better in the chaos that struck the Encampment. Sipping what closely resembled Limnio wine, the distraught grathon peered aimlessly in the shot glass he held between his fingers. Gēraskō d' aíeí pollâ didaskómenos... yet no measure of knowledge could sate the pain seated in his heart. The loss of those close reminded him of the first siege of darkness. This time Jent, Devon, Tages; nearly everyone he knew vanished. Oh, the countless times he wandered Blackstar in his ever-shifting body, how he would preferred to be cursed in that form once again, in exchange of his 'friends.'

The gentle sways of his head passed the hidden details of the Horn and Halo, having never found time to drink, nothing stood out to him regarding the personal suffering of others. Yet, no amount of despair could silence the murmurs of the defeated townsfolk. Tales of sorrow, maladies of the unreal, all of which burrowed deep in Claymolder's mind. Raising the shot glass to his lips, his ears wailed in protest to the constant ringing of their misfortune, the intoxicating effects deafened the grathon's maddness gradually. Sighing, he darted his eyes to the side. Perhaps imaging the small yellow figure ascending the staircase doing a dance recital might brighten up...

Coolpikaaa!

Standing abruptly from the bar stool, Claymolder fumbled a few extra coins from his pocket to pay for a night's stay. Why is he here? Perplexed, the grathon dismissed the rising anxiety as he followed the rodent. He always was involved with the history of Pax, perhaps he might be best at explaining it all to me?

At the sullen door of Coolpikaaa's room, came a subtle knock. "May I have a word with you?" Claymolder inquired.

Coolpikaaa turned around and looked to his closed door when the knock came. He watched the wood, and didn't reply, waiting for whoever interrupted his painful reflection to simply get bored and leave. The electric mouse didn't recognize the voice, and honestly didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Minutes passed, and still that shadow of someone there filtered in from under the door. With a sigh, Coolpikaaa rose unsteadily and cracked the door enough to look out.

"What do you need?" He asked, without any heart behind the question. "Oh. It's you." He eventually concluded, and opened the door enough Claymolder could come in. The mouse returned to his dark spot in the middle of the room and sat back down, allowing the visitor to speak.

Swix sat on a stool by the bar of the Horn and Halo, the woman in the black dress with white trim had hair that today seemed more dishevelled than usual. Swix, like everyone else had been affected by what had gone on, though her absence for more than the entirety of it certainly hadn't helped when she'd come seeking a drink in the purposely neutral tavern.

When she'd finally gotten back from her misadventure, she'd drunk all the iced tea she'd stored at her home and stayed there until this place opened. She'd also used the tunnel system to get here, too paranoid to travel alone above ground anymore.

Swix sipped the strong mead she'd ordered and eyed everyone who came in as through they all had intentions of starting a fight with her. Every little relief of the paranoia caused her to drink that bit more. The large wine glass the mead had been in was almost empty and it had only been half an hour since she'd ordered it.

Swix sighed, and knocked the remainder back like it was whiskey. She caught a glimpse of CP going upstairs, followed closely by someone she didn't know.

She should probably go and talk to CP at some point... Yet he hadn't looked at all in the mood for it earlier. Swix left her glass and made her way up the stairs after the unfamiliar man, only to find him standing at CP's door.

"Unless you have something that really urgently needs CP's attention and that only he can help with, you should leave him alone" she told Claymolder as she leant on the wall.

The sudden intrusion caught him by surprise, which to say the least, felt justified. Claymolder was not being polite himself by prying into the private matters of the dejected rodent after all. Besmirched, the grathon stole a look at the women. While dressed distinctively off-putting, Swix bore a resemblance to someone he met by the lake.

"Have we me-never mind," he cut off, reluctant to degrees from the intention of the of his inquiry. "It depends on how you look at it. Whether it requires his assistance is what I am here to find out."

Peering back to the bleak board, a flickering sign of a tear hung by an eye, only to be held back by Claymolder. He knew that wounds that stained layers deep of a person took time, and any attempts at forcing a desirable outcome only soured their treatment. Except, when inaction leads to a far more disastrous trail. "You have my deepest regrets, Coolpikaaa. I'm quite aware of the situation that has befallen the town, but I believe you might be of some help," he beseeched. "And it involves a certain 'friend' that you might recognize."

The grathon calmly stepped away from the door, carefully not to step on the tiny feet had just stood beside him. Covered in yellow fur, with his ears handing down cowardly, a familiar creature walked inside Coolpikaaa's room. He cautiously glanced at the sullen rat, tail twitching in anticipation as the 'Pikachu' addressed him.

"Remember me, Pricius? I've -ah- wondered if you have seen Tages in the past month?"

"Uhhuh" Swix said, then smiled darkly when the grathon mentioned the town through the mouses door. "The town? You think this is about the town?" she had to hold back a "Hah!" by covering her mouth, but she knocked on CP's door with the other one "CP! I would have words with you when you're ready" she called.

Swix made a mocking bow towards Claymolder with an equally mocking flourish. turned around and made her way back downstairs.

Coolpikaaa gave an immediate look of gratitude towards Swix for her rude dismissal of the other vistors. He hadn't asked for company, and certainly wasn't ready to start up a quest looking for some mage that had probably wandered off with his new riches. It had even taken a good while for CP to remember who Tages was, the sight of the other Pikachu eventually reminding him. He couldn't call Tages a good friend exactly, they had maybe hung out a few times and one of them he brought a Homunculus that copied CP's form. That was about the extent of their relationship.

"I remember you, but I haven't seen him. We weren't exactly close. Last I heard, wasn't he "liberating" Lili's court? That's all I know, but should he turn up he's probably a rich man, both with the hero gratitude and magical abilities. You sure he didn't run off and start a new life somewhere?"

Cp left that sourish note hanging, then turned to face the darkness again.

"Like I said. I can only speculate. Could you sent Swix up on ypur way down please?"

Claymolder wasn't pleased with Coolpikaaa's answer. That man never rejoice in the live of splendor and extravagance, with the only thing keeping Tages from being a hobo was the grathon himself. "Very well then, Cp. Glad to see you're still in Pax," Claymolder replied, scowling at the other Pikachu as he turned around. "Homunculus, you can have this back."

The little creature didn't have time to react. The grathon jettisoned the bothersome mirror from his cloak, causing the Pricius to tumble backwards to catch it. "Whoa, whoa, hold on-OUCH!" he squeaked, the weight slamming him to the floor.

Claymolder stepped down to the bar quietly, leaving the homunculus behind. Mumbling, he asked the nearest staff member of the number to his room.

Swix resumed her seat at the bar after she'd come back downstairs and asked the barman for another large glass of mead. She'd missed the drama upstairs as she'd already been on her way down, and simply sat staring at it for a long time without speaking.

Claymolder soon enough received the board number, mulling over the stubborn recluse's troubles. Perhaps this is the final chapter for the rodent? Procuring a flask from his cloak, the grathon doused the quarrelsome wine with much needed spring water. He haven't had a good time in awhile since the takeover. Even experimentation with the modified homunculi drew arguments between him and the Blue Mage.

Might as well tell that lady, then.

Depressed, he seated himself besides Swix as he ordered a random drink in the cellar. "So," he dragged on whilst waiting for the order. "I finished my business with Cp, you can go up to see him whenever you are ready."

Swix took a large gulp of the sweet golden liquid as Claymolder spoke and, then turned her head to stare at him for a couple of seconds "Bit of a short visit for a business conclusion wasn't it? Not that it's really any of mine" the twisted smile showed up again as the woman ran a finger around the edge of the glass "I'll go up as soon as I've finished. Who are you anyway?"

"Yeah, quite short," the grathon wincing at Swix's snarky remark. Her presence could only be detrimental to his deflated ego, Claymolder recalling the gloomy notion of the defeated rodent. "The little guy I brought didn't faze him in the slightest. Fact of the manner, you could say the 'agreement' fell."

"I'll go up as soon as I've finished. Who are you anyway?"

Claymolder felt a sudden stillness in his throat. The women's question, as simple it may be, disturbed him immensely. Countless years he had remained in the inescapable rut, always perplexed at his existence. What should be the proper response, to someone who's gone endless aliases, that came together in one statement?

"I... am a refugee in this world."

"Aren't we all?" Swix said, and downed the rest of the glass of Mead. It really wasn't the way you should drink the stuff - Mead was a deceptively strong drink - but after what had happened she didn't care anymore and the rest of the patrons likely didn't either.

"Well, Mr. Refugee, it was perplexing to meet you" Swix said as she rose, white trimmed black dress swaying slightly at the movement "But I'm going to go up there to see CP and do something I should probably have done a long time ago. Oh and by the way, the name's Swix. You might wanna think about getting your own one of these days" The Split made a mocking bow to the grathon, then turned to make her way up the stairs and towards CPs room.

As soon as she got there she knocked despite the door being ajar and called through "CP? It's me"

"Swix? Come in." CP said after a while, letting the woman wait outside his door. He still wasn't entirely set on the idea of guests, but for such a close friend he could make an exception. Close friend? Maybe that wasn't the right title. Yet, Swix and CP had an understanding and... some kind of bond, whatever it was.

When the woman entered, the electric mouse was on his back, looking up at the shadowed ceiling. He didn't really have anything to say to her, and hoped she had at least brought conversation material. She had requested to see him after all.