(When Puddin' had heard Ell's scrapping and tapping on the door, he had darted around Colleen and whistled the first few notes of the "Crimson Dragoon's Anthem. Elija had whistled the next few lines and Puddin' had slid the steel bolt back and pulled the large metal door open)

“L” glared at Puddin’ “If yas has let them Scalies eats me mum Puddin’ Ise bloody well lops yuz Nebuchadnezzar off to put owt for bait an’ uses it ta catches Scallies, Iz will.” Elija said as he moved towards Puddin’

Puddin’(MC-MAJOR CHARACTER) held up his hands and said “Hol’ on mate yuz Mum is here. She be there.” Puddin pointed to the door of an joining room, where Colleen was slowly limping into the view. Resting one hand on Daisy's(MC) shoulder and using a sword as a cane.

When "L" seen Colleen his eyes lit up, grined and said to Puddin' "Sorry Mate. Iz wouldn' 'ave used yur Nebuchadnezzar for bait." he then punched Puddin' on the arm and said " 'sides it ain't big enough ta tempt no Scallie. 'less thays be just out tha egg."

Puddin' punched Elija on the arm, grinned and said " 'L' ya ain't gots 'ands big 'nough ta 'old me Nebuchadnezzar 'r the muscle ta lift it."

The rest of the SHODDY END GANG laughed.
Galley(MC), Jack(MC), Cricket(MC), Frankie(MC), and Sam Shinner(MC) and Lil(MC)

After the trio lunched in the sun, Curt retired to his cabin to rest and Payden took control of the sloop for the rest of the day. Though, as Curt promised, it was an easy enough task; for the winds blew from the southwest all day and the current swept the Sylph along unfailingly.

Gertrude fetched her notebook from her carpetbag and situated herself where she would not be in Mr. Raynsford’s way. When she grew bored of polishing her account of their journey, she turned her hand to verse, luxuriating in the salty air, lilting with the rocking of the boat. She found it easy to wax on about the honey sunlight glistening on the ropes, the sails panting like the chests of racing white horses, the spray as fine and fleeting as nostalgia…but soon realized her poems had no aim and therefore no life.

She discarded them and turned the page, inspired to write a play about three characters traveling on a boat. Only, instead of traveling on the ocean, they were traveling down the river that used to run past Hedgefew and through several villages. All three of them were men. Their expedition was to be one of pleasure, but on the way they met with secrets, betrayals, mistaken identity and of course, love. It was a comedy and therefore it would have a happy ending. Pursuing the gentlemen’s river voyage over her scribbled pages, Gertrude kept herself entertained until evening. When the wind began to blow more strongly and she felt weary from so much exposure, she went into her cabin to continue, chuckling to herself from time to time. Travel is always good for inspiration, she reflected. When she had to stop and massage her hand from time to time, she dreamed of Ursha, anticipating what lay ahead.

As evening drew on, the waves breathed up a gray mist and clouds came rolling up from the south, close and dismal as a funeral party. They wept a thin veil of rain for half an hour before carrying their miseries into the horizon. A pink line emerged over the waves in the west, and Curt emerged from his hibernation, bidding his companions a good evening. As at the start of their voyage, the count seemed immensely pleased and smiled most of the time, as if he knew an amusing secret.

When it was time for dinner, Curt and Payden, in caution of the weather, laid out a simple meal in the sheltered public space between cabins. Curt summoned Gertrude from her cabin with a polite knock. The young lady emerged a few moments later looking flushed in the amber lantern light.



“Oh, dear, I wish you’d told me,” she indicated the dinner spread, “and I would have helped. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Despite her humility, Gertrude was tense and looked uneasy as someone who’s misplaced something important.

After receiving polite inquiries from the gentlemen, she said by way of explanation, “It’s always like this—or nearly—when there’s weather.” Her voice trembled very slightly.

Curt’s eye flashed like the eye of a magpie. “Your magic?”

Gertrude’s gaze flickered over her companions’ faces before returning to the safety of the small dinner table. “It’s still so odd to talk about it.”

“Ah, but we must accustom ourselves to such talk—for is that not the very aim of our journey? To get at the heart of magic?” Curt said.

Gertrude merely nodded and slipped into one booth-style seat beside the table, which itself was little more than a wooden plank that could be folded up and fastened to the wall to make more room in the small chamber. Once seated, Gertrude quickly became fascinated with her silverware. As the boat rose and fell, the lantern light snaked back and forth over the place settings and the water in the pitcher wobbled. Gertrude was glad that she didn’t feel seasick—at least, not yet. The crackle of energy inside her made her bones feel like they were rattling and it was hard to imagine feeling anything else.

“What do you fear most, Miss de Pontu?” Curt asked as he and Payden took their seats. “Is it hurting someone inadvertently?”

Her eyes snapped to the count’s with a look that suggested he was right. Though a moment later she said, “That does worry me, of course. But at the moment, I am most perplexed by my inability to…choose what form the magic takes.” She looked at the fork in her hand and bit her lip. Her face turned a paler shade of white, making faint freckles appear over the bridge of her nose and the small mole on her cheek stand out. She let out a frayed breath, as if she had been holding it, and lemon-white crackles of electricity snapped and licked quietly between the tines of her fork. Her eyes remained fixed on the utensil as she said in a low voice, “I advise you to stay clear of me, just now, the both of you.”

Curt’s eyes narrowed like someone peering into the distance, though his stare was fixed on Gertrude and the fork. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Marvelous!”

Gertrude took her eyes off the utensil and looked at the gentlemen, finding them both watching in interest. Electrical energy continued to fizz the length of the silver fork even though she wasn’t focused on it. She was panting, like someone who was exerting herself.

Most unexpected of all to Gertrude, she felt a flash of nervousness, as if she was about to give a musical recital. It’s rather the same level of personal exposure, she reflected. With the brush of anxiety against her senses, the felt the power grow weak. She thought she could dispel it easily now, if she so tried.

Gertrude closed her eyes and in her mind spoke the traditional closing she always used, Go in peace and know you are always welcome here… Her grip on the fork slackened and the energy receded into her again, though she continued to feel lively in the deepest part of herself, as if adrenaline was flowing in her blood. She licked her lips, which felt dry, and opened her eyes to see the gentlemen still observing her, almost like a pair of ornithologists watching a nightingale sing his courtship operetta.

“What I really need,” she told them matter-of-factly, “is some butter.”

Curt's furrow was almost comical, “Butter?” he demanded.

Gertrude looked at Mr. Raynsford. “What about you? Can you decide what your magic does, when it comes? And can your exercise it with compliant control?” She realized too late that she was babbling, but she couldn’t be bothered to worry about that fact. Either they would understand, or they wouldn’t.

The relief Colleen felt when she saw Elija was almost draining. She was so glad the boy hadn’t been hurt in any way. Of course her relief turned to more worry when she saw the soldiers beginning to file into the large room with the children intermingled in them. Confusion mixed with her worry as she looked around. When she looked around again to talk to the soldiers, she recognized the face of the man who’d helped her find Elija earlier then gave him the metal. Blinking, her look turned to surprise when she saw the bright red uniform and the rank insignia on his shoulder lapels.

“Captain….Mandek? I…didn’t realize…you were a soldier.”

Colleen gave a puzzled look around at the men with him then turned her dark blue gaze to him once more.

“I take it things aren’t going so well over head if you all have taken refuge in these tunnels.”

Colleen’s words were more of a statement than a question and she didn’t seem upset in the least by her matter-of-fact words. There was a moment’s pause before she spoke up again.

“What do you need me to do, Captain?”

Captain Mandek, tipped his hat to Mrs. Smith but his face remained cold and emotionless. He was more concerned with her disheveled state than formalities, for in the brief time he had spent in her company, Basha had found her to be level headed and strong of will. Even in the dank dungeon he didn't expect her to be so unnerved and in his experience there were only a few things that could frighten such a person so.

"First off, Mrs. Smith," Basha began in reply to her proposal, "I want to know if you've come in contact with any Lizzies down here?"

When the Captain made reference to Ta'kun being in the sewers, Clubber, Book and Sandy, immediately looked around and readied their weapons. Only the Captain remained at ease, as he suspected they were not in the immediate vicinity, if in fact there were any at all. As for the explanation of his captaincy, he hardly had the time for long stories, so he gave her the short version, which was telling her that, "It was the only jacket they had left."

Colleen could see that one of his soldiers, the one with the dark wavy hair, lowered his eyes to the ground, stifling a laugh at Basha's little quip. The Captain glanced over toward Book for a moment but said nothing and flashed his eyes back toward Elija and his mother.

"Please join us, Mrs. Smith." Captain Mandek asked, motioning for her follow him into the main room, "We some planning to do, and since your son is going to be a big part of them, I believe you should be involved."

Back in the main room, Basha began to explain his plan to Colleen. About how he required the Shoddy End kids to guide them through the sewers and lead his men deep into enemy territory so that they might be able to get a clear shot at the leader.

The scent of the electrical charge from Gertrude's display of elemental magic filled the small area. Payden, continued to eat, however, it had been a long day and he was positively ravenous, although he had taken several polite pauses to pay attention to Miss de Pontu's demonstration. When she asked of his abilities, the young man quickly chewed back a morsel and washed it down with a quick drink, but continued to cut up some of his food while he answered.

"My... skills... are far more subtle than yours it would seem, Miss de Pontu, and thus far I have had some success in controlling my 'sight' or scrying as you would call it. You see my magic is quite invasive and so I rarely practice it." Payden briefly answered then returned to eating, but stopped to add a comment, "But the few times I have used a skill, such as peering into a person's mind, I have felt something sinister, something dark in my soul and so I try to refrain from using them."

Satisfied that he had answered her question as best he could, Payden returned to his supper and quietly ate.

No More Dreams.

Dear Jessica,

Days are growing long once more and I can feel the warmth of summer approaching; warming the cold stone walls of Fort Glory. Not unlike your smile, sweet as honey, warms, nay, sets my heart aflame. How I long for the day we will be reunited. I realize I have not written in a while, but things are hectic these days. Luckily I have some time to spare and I could no longer bare the pain in my heart for not writing you as long as I have.

First things first, my love. Since my last letter I have received a short note from your parents. They are well, and so is our daughter. As per usual, their letter gave but few impressions of Liranne’s well being, but I am confident she is well and is making the both of us proud.

Fort Glory is much like always; an always changing décor for the play that is my life. The fortress is much like always, but new people move in while others move on. These past few days I have met two people I dare call extraordinary in their own right. I know Eldorf and Simon have their issues but I gladly welcome any who can add their knowledge and skills to ours. Only a couple of days ago I met the industrious Andreas Marcus Samuel de Pontu, though he prefers to be called “Andy”, and he brings with him a breath of fresh air and a new perspective I feel we will learn to appreciate before long.

The young man has told me of his family whom he came to visit in Fort Glory. His older sister had taken residence in Fort Glory long before I had arrived. She, her Husband and child settled here after the destruction of our beloved home and have since been picking up the pieces. Andy had taken residence in the city of Baloc, but despite its size and opportunities it was perhaps too established for him to find his place among its people. He and his younger sister, Miss Gertrude, journeyed to Fort Glory after their sister, Sophie, had pleaded for their family to reunite and her husband, Beau Bradley, had assured them there were plenty of opportunities in Fort Glory, being the current home of King Dorian, after all.

He has since met not only the three of us but also a number of Fort Glory’s finest. Amongst them is Fort Glory’s female farrier, Colleen Smith, with whom he attempts to build a weapon with which to combat the dragons. It was through this very idea he came into contact with Eldorf and the rest of us. I know I have never spoken much about the other people of the town, but she is certainly one I should not have skipped. Despite the people’s misgivings about the woman and her chosen profession she is most capable and a true asset to the town, you would surely be able to admire her spirit, dearest Jessica. From what I heard she even took a chance on one of the young street urchins you have heard me gripe about in some previous letters. Despite that I feel these young children are more trouble than they’re worth it is an admirable action and in a way suits the smith just right. And even though you would not think it, the word is the two of them go well together, despite both their backgrounds and the young one’s troubled past amongst the likes of dishonorable street thugs.

Though Andy was reluctant at first, he and I have found some time to trade stories. It was not easy to stir him, but after telling him the story about how we took that walk one fateful morning I got him to talk. I still remember every detail, Jessica. Your honeysweet smell still fresh in my mind, the twinkle in your sparkling green eyes and the exact tune the birds sang, just for the two of us. If I didn’t think the people around me would grow tired of the story I would never stop telling it, dearest. I long for the day we can do it all over again, I long for it more with every passing day.

Afterwards, Andreas spoke most passionately about his family. His faith in his brother in law seemed lacking, and though he gave ample reason to believe him unfit for the world we have found ourselves in, I believe he may be a bit too harsh on the man and should rely on his sister’s judgment at least. He scoffed at the thought at first but then had to consider it as he spoke highly of Sophie and how they had managed to preserve so much of what they had, in this time and place where we have so little. Sophie and Beau had managed to keep their house in order while raising their child like they would before the catastrophe as best they could. Though certainly he was fondest of his little sister, whom he had personally swept away to keep her out of the dragons’ raging path.

He described her as a most interesting young woman and I like to think you would have loved to spend some time with her. I’m led to believe she has a great flair for the dramatic and a strong sense for the spiritual. Andreas said that if there was any reason for him to believe in anything besides the here and now it would be because of Gertrude’s influence during the time they spent together. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about his sister seemed to indicate beyond a doubt there was more than the eye could see, not just to the world in which he lived, but also to her. His suspicions were only fueled by her the strange behavior she showed at times. There was something about her Andreas couldn’t or wasn’t supposed to see. I doubt many people have an inkling of how that feels, but in a sense we share that much with the young entrepreneur. Perhaps I’ll tell him one day.

I have already spoken of the Amazing Richard and the stories Simon had told me about his old friend, but now that he has arrived in Fort Glory I can say every single word I might have thought were fables could very well be true. Though, it has come to my attention Richard has had a more troubling past than the stories that the public spread about him suggest, his powers are indeed potent and will surely help us greatly as we come ever closer to completing our quest. Perhaps in time I can come closer to him as well, but no doubt he feels if he would drop his cloak of magic and power he would be very much misunderstood and alone. I get the feeling this magic is both blessing and curse the more I learn about it.

Oh, how I wish I could be with Liranne right now.

Forever yours,

Frederic

Beyond the experiences of Frederic van Sandt the world of No More Dreams is inhabited by a great amount of people. All of them are special and noteworthy in their own right while they fight to survive against the dragons and their kin; the ta’kun and the mermadons.

It is strange, to find the ta’kun so far from the mountains which the dragon kin have claimed without question. But surely the mermadon who has mustered the ta’kun, Lord Yassun, has his motives, his objectives and his desires that require the annihilation of Fort Glory and all who live within its walls.

Still, many humans stand in between Yassun and his goal, those who have entangled their fate with Fort Glory and King Dorian. People like Guyer Faulks, Basha Mandek, Captain MacBhaird, the band of street urchins and many others. Others have cut their losses and seek their fortune amongst the remnants of Ursha. Following Count Curt of Ursha are Gertrude de Pontu and Payden Raynsford.

These last three have found themselves on their way to the lands of Ursha and the magical mysteries it might hold. Gertrude, Andreas’ younger sister who is gifted with energy magic figured her destiny to lie with learning all she could about the powers she held within as did the once railway warden, Payden, commanding the powers of the mind. Only time can tell what mysteries they will find in Ursha and what they can learn from the rather strange Count they have chosen to follow.

While many citizens of Fort Glory have managed to flee the city with the last of the trains the city harbored others are now more or less stuck and must fight or flee to survive against the merciless ta’kun. Most ta’kun are engaging the last of Fort Glory’s defenses while others are in hiding and waiting for their chance to jump into the fray.

King Dorian, hero of mankind and the only ruler willing to openly defy the dragons, once proclaimed he’d love nothing more but to take the fight to the dragons in person, if only he had wings he’d fly up to them this instant and slice their scaly necks with his sword. But he had to admit he was but human, and humans don’t have wings. But he promised his loyal subjects, whenever he found a way to make people fly, the dragons would soon be a distant memory. It had been years since the inspirational speech he gave back then, a speech which so eloquently showed that he realized their current inability to defeat the flying lizards but a promise to find a way and subsequently be rid of them as soon as they could.

King Dorian, though capable and with much support amongst his people, has spent years fighting a defensive war, mostly against the vile creatures the dragons introduced to their world and not even them directly. These creatures themselves were a big enough problem as it was and had forced the humans on the defensive even without the direct support of their flying masters. What the dragons were up to was anyone’s guess. But with increased sightings of ta’kun came increased sightings of dragons and it seemed inevitable that the conflict would only intensify as time went on.

Even the King was growing desperate, hoping for a breakthrough somewhere, somehow. His closest servants searched for capable magicians to turn the tide, brilliant strategists, or grand scientists. He sought for any and all glimmers of hope, but his people found few of these people who had any real potential, and now he had lost his daughter while the ta’kun were at his doorstep.

King Dorian had already lost two sons since the war, all he had left was his daughter, princess Zelda. Only a few days before Fort Glory’s siege she had been allegedly ambushed by a dragon while she traveled with her escorts towards Wetmulder Hold to the east of Fort Glory. Though, neither the King nor his staff have officially admitted the disappearance of the princess the King has spent all his time secluded since the rumor began to circulate struck down by grief and paralyzed by a lack of hope.

Fort Glory has since then depended on its capable captain of the guard MacBhaird. A sturdy northerner with many years of experience who has assisted the King for many years now and is one of his most trusted advisors. Yet with all his expertise and the men under his command he is hard pushed to keep the town out of the clutches of Rashi and her Red Fists, especially with the wizard Yassun in their midst. Luckily the town has given refuge to many capable people, and not the least among them is one of the Crimson Dragoons, Basha Mandek. Though, Mandek had long since the initial dragon invasion given up on his military career hoping to find a simpler life there seemed to be no escape for the veteran when war came to him and the people of Fort Glory called upon him. Given his heroics during start of the invasion he was quickly given the rank of captain in King Dorian’s army. The rank he once held as a Crimson Dragoon.

Perhaps Fort Glory would not even stand to this day had it not been for the dedication of those who uphold the law and with it the human values which we hold dear. If there is anyone in Fort Glory who is dedicated to these values and to bring justice to those who cannot hold themselves to the spirit of the law it is Guyer Faulks. The great inspector once busied himself with putting the most dangerous of all criminals behind bars but now he is suddenly confronted with a very different threat to the human values he has sworn to uphold, as the ta’kun descend upon his home.

Faulks’ prey too is forced to react to the threat to Fort Glory, whereas some of the rats abandon ship, others dig in with the rest of the citizens. Though one might look upon the band of street urchins as either good or bad, there is no doubt their knowledge of the city is nearly unmatched and they do not lack determination or courage. Whether or not all of it is enough against a foe so relentless and alien as the ta’kun and their masters remains to be seen.

Colleen tilted her head slightly at Basha as he explained the best he could his uniform and ranking. The slight chuckle from the other soldier didn’t go unnoticed and Colleen made a mental note to let Captain Mandek know he didn’t have her fooled for a moment.

But right now, as Basha had p ointed out, they had things to discuss. Especially when she found out Elija and the other children were involved. Needless to say, the concern that crossed her face when Basha explained how the children were going to help was unmistakable. While everything within her and her own maternal instinct screamed NO, she knew they had no chance without the childrens’ help. Even as Basha explained things to her in as much detail as time would allow, her eyes rested on each of the children and she couldn’t help but feel a tugging at her heart for each of them. What if this were the last time they were to see them?

No. She couldn’t think like that. Colleen finally turned her full attention back to Captain Mandek and his men and nodded reluctantly.

“If things were different, I’d argue the whole point with you but….desperate times call for desperate measures. While I know these children are quite resourceful and quick thinking, they are still children and I think it’s safer for them to be in you and your men’s company than alone. Fear has frozen a many seasoned warrior on more than one occasion. You can imagine what it does to a child. Street smart or not.”

Her gaze slid over the men in Basha’s company then before she let her dark blue gaze settle on the icy, cold, blue gaze of Basha.

“I’m not going to sit here and worry and wonder while all of you are out there. I’m coming with you. Elija helped me bring some of the blades from my shop down here. I’ve learned the bellies of these bastards are quite vulnerable and my blades have been crafted to deal with particularly touch, scaly hides. SO what ever you need me to do, that doesn’t involve sitting here, I’m at your disposal, Captain.”

The look she was giving Basha now told him if he denied her request, he’d find out the hard way just how stubborn she really was. And what he saw at Gypsie’s place was just the tip of the iceberg.

Even the mightiest of dragons needs to spread his wings once in a while. I would argue for the beauty of a dragon’s flight any day but when Lord of the dragons Koldarris takes flight it is a sight of pure dread. The fact that such a large creature can even lift from the ground is already a mind boggling realization. Quickly followed is the realization of not only the physical strength behind it but also the ability to manipulate the essence of magic.

It has left me wondering, questioning the fundamentals of the universe. The dragons of spawns past had grown to even greater power, if nothing else the greatest of the dragons were slowly but surely degenerating as they were being usurped. The largest only think about becoming more powerful so that they may at one point join their illustrious forbearers, but realistically the trend has turned against them. Then here’s the ugly question, are dragons meant to survive for much longer? Of course none of my brothers and sisters would dare think of the past few spawns as anything but a fluke. But I see the writing on the wall.

It has taken a long time, but it does make sense, for all our quests for power we are merely collectively growing weaker. The power we once had has corrupted our kind and has become the poison that will lead to our downfall. Only I have seen the light of our salvation. I, Kaizur, know the course of action we must take to fulfill our destiny or face eternal damnation.

It is all so simple, the reason why we fight one another for scraps when we were young, to the quarrels over our place in the dragon hierarchy is only serving the one on top and that position is as fleeting as the life of the scroungy mammals we find ourselves pitted against today. Perhaps now is our chance, our chance to make a difference, our chance to redeem ourselves in the face of the Everlasting.

Koldarris, the almighty, the guiding light who tempts us to go into the shadow is distracted with his petty mermadon thief.

How did one single elder mermadon manage to tick of the greatest of dragons? Is she just a petty thief? Or is Cindra Elon perhaps a bit more? Was this truly just a matter of principle for which Koldarris had put many a resource aside?

It was just as his shadow passed me I discovered there must be more to it than that. He could care less for Cindra, he wanted the pearl. But what value could a tiny rock have to the most powerful of dragons? Was it rather the book that held secrets dear to him? The book of dragons, written in the near forgotten language of our kind, known to but a select few for it takes a near eternity to learn and none who know it care to teach it. Least of all Koldarris. Obviously in the written word of his kind there was some kind of power hidden. And that very language was the key to the book which was stolen from him. A book written by a long forgotten mermadon who took down notes provided by Terrasil himself. The potential wisdom hidden within those pages might very well change the very fate of dragonkind.

It was then I decided to search for that which Koldarris sought.
Not for his greed.
But for our salvation!

Humans, beware! Kaizur will accept no one in his path.
Dragons, rejoice! The reckoning is nigh.
The Everlasting be praised!

“God Damnit, Frederic!”

Van Sandt wasn’t quite sure what happened but he jumped up, dropping what he was doing. Due to his sudden movement his top hat toppled off his short curled hair and he could only barely prevent it from dropping to the floor.

“This is not the time to start writing your will. You should have thought of that before we were in the middle of a bloody warzone…” McVogh said, when he had gotten the desired effect he turned his gaze back to the window which he sat in front.

He had one of the crossbows he cherished and watched for activity on the street. Richard had found himself a bottle of scotch while Andy made sure he filled his rifle’s strap with new cartridges.

“How many did we get Eldorf?” Richard asked as he poured several glasses of drinks until the bottle was practically dry.

“Like… I don’t know… Seven?” McVogh said distracted. Next to the door there was a dead lesser ta’kun, with two bolts sticking out of its chest and its jagged dagger still next to its lifeless body.

“What fight were you in?” Richard wondered before gulping down a good deal of scotch, “I must have gotten ten on my own, you know.”

“Burning them after I stab them doesn’t count as your kill, Richard.” Frederic said.

“Oh, you merely scratched that one! I saved your life!” Richard defended himself.

While the men argued and drank their drinks Frederic collected the pencil and paper he had dropped from the floor. Some of his paper had fallen in puddle of blood and would now be forever tainted by the red stain of ta’kun blood. He didn’t pay it much mind however, before folding the papers and sticking them in a pocket of his jacket. In fact, his entire jacket, no longer in one piece either, was covered in splatters of blood.

“We can’t stay here.” Andreas said as his hand trembled towards the glass filled to the brim with the amber liquid.

“I’d rather not stay in this tavern either, we can’t stay here, but with the streets in their current state I’m not sure we can go anywhere else.” McVogh said, taking a last look at their surroundings before also coming towards the bar to find him a drink.

“We have to try and get into the keep, or we won’t make it through the night.” Andreas rephrased while the other three quenched their thirst.

Though they were not quite up for a verbal reply the three of them nodded as they recovered from the highly alcoholic spirit. Andreas left his drink for what it was and went for the door towards the street, the others finished their drink before grabbing their gear and following the young industrialist.

After his fruitless encounter with Splevey, Faulks rested on the vacant veranda for perhaps a quarter of an hour. Another lull had come over the town, and when gunfire sounded, it was short and stuttered. Either the defenders were relying almost entirely on cold steel now, or the tak’un had withdrawn for the moment. The street around him had grown quieter too, though the occasional drunken choir warbled into the smoky evening and the scattered shards of broken piano chords fell on him from time to time. Faulks looked up and through weary eyes saw a misty orange glow still wavering above Harker’s Lane where the last of the fire trap was burning down.

He heaved himself up, wincing at the stab of pain from his ribs, and began to hobble aimlessly again. He was still waiting for something—for closure, he supposed. Perhaps the only purpose he had any more was to be a witness.

The hollow sound of footsteps rasped lightly in an adjoining lane, and Faulks saw a party of four spent men, bloodied but mostly uninjured, marching doggedly towards him. He stopped when he recognized one of them—the most garishly attired—as the Amazing Richard. The sight frankly surprised him, for he would have expected the man to have moved on before things got this bad. Perhaps he’d misjudged his character.

When the men drew abreast of him, Faulks spoke to them. “Have you come from the front? Is there any news?”

Splevey(MC) Billy(MC) and Phoebe(MC) made their way through the crowd to "The Marked Cards Tavern", where they found a booth at the back of the dimmly lit tavern / gambling hall.

"There's be a good fat bone ta be made in this situation and I means ta take me far share. Billy ya gathers up a pair of chivvy snakesmen, them kids can shinny down a chimney smooth as shite through a goose they can. I figures ta go callin on a few of them deserted townhouses I does." Splevey then banged the hilt of his ridding crop on the table and yelled “Brings us a beer wench and be quick ‘bout it!” He then looked at Billy coldly “An if ya sees them little bastards Elija and Sam ya brings em ta me straight away. I owes em I does and pays em I will.“ he said as he rubbed the hilt of his riding crop.

Cannons fired in the distance.
Steel met steel somewhere around the corner.
The smell of gunpowder was thick in the air.
Fort Glory had been turned into a field of war.
War between people and dragonkin.
A conflict without discernible reason, but just as deadly as any other, if not more so.

Andreas, Eldorf, Frederic and Richard practically ran through the narrow streets connecting Fort Glory’s main roads. They risked ambush but at least managed to avoid the open skirmishes as they took place on the main roads where ta’kun and human clashed openly.

“Men. A moment please.” Eldorf said as he wheezed. He allowed himself to drop into a pile of rubbish as he tried to catch his breath, groaning. “I think that ta’kun broke a rib or two.” He grit his teeth but managed to utter a curse or two as he tried to determine his injuries more clearly. He had not survived their previous encounter with the lizards without as many scratches as he had thought.

“I thought you said you were fine.” Frederic was surprised to hear otherwise but also worried about their rather unfortunate place for taking a rest. There had better not be any ta’kun around to take advantage…

“Well, I guess I’m not, argh.” He dropped what he was carrying and undid his jacket and shirt to reveal his red and blue chest. “Stupid snakes with feet… Who’s got the bandage?”

“I’ve got it.” Andreas remarked, lowering his weapon to get the bandage from a pocket and threw it towards McVogh.

“How is your wound doing?” Richard asked, seeing the bandage around Andy’s leg revealed a blood soaked cloth.

“Alright… I guess… Might need stitches if it doesn’t stop bleeding.” Andreas said, suddenly more aware of his wound he rubbed it and couldn’t help but wince.

“Good thing that arrow merely grazed you. You might not be walking the way you are if it had hit you square in the leg… With all those nasty hooks on the arrow head and all.” Richard said as he looked over his shoulder to see Frederic help patch up Eldorf’s injuries.

“At least we’re alive…” Andreas pointed out and picked up his rifle again to watch one end of the alley. Richard took it as the end of the conversation and went to look at the other end for any suspicious activity.

After having patched up Eldorf the four of them returned to the task at hand, luckily the walls of the keep were already visible from where they were standing, and they should soon find themselves in front of one of its gates.
However, behind them the sounds of battle intensified and the four men started to move faster through the narrow streets, cluttered with debris and the dead. Still, the sounds of battle approached faster than they could manage to move towards Fort Glory’s last bastion.

As they went they came across barely anyone, and if there was someone in their path it was usually someone in a disembodied state, sitting against a wall or walking around aimlessly. Some badly injured with a bottle clutched into their hands others lucky enough to be still alive and managed to escape from the ongoing battle.

But then they ran into inspector Guyer Faulks.
At first they expected him to be much like the previous men they had encountered, some of those also seemed to take notice of the four of them moving through the streets, but none of them ever actually addressed them, unlike Faulks.

“Have you come from the front? Is there any news?” He asked the four of them.

They were surprised to be talked to and stood frozen for a moment before Eldorf decided to speak up, “We haven’t seen the front… I think. But it still wasn’t pretty.”
“We’ve tried to avoid confrontation.” Frederic explained.
“With the emphasis on ‘tried’.” Eldorf added.
“Right.” Frederic said and then continued, “We’re looking for our friend; Simon, and Andreas’ sister; Gertrude.”
“But then we ran into about a dozen ta’kun not far from here.” Eldorf interjected, “Now we’re just trying to get to the keep.”
“Might I suggest you do the same, mister….?” Frederic asked.

Shawn Richardson, the soldier they called 'Book' non-chilantly slipped out of the pathway between his Captain and Elija's mother, who stood across from one another locked in a battle of wills, each staring the other down. Basha, wasn't about to have a woman, who could barely walk slowing them down and endanger their mission but she was dead set on accompanying her son and looking out for the rest of the urchins. He slowly exhaled as he ground his teeth together awaiting Mrs. Smith to bend, but she didn't back him down an inch, something that rarely happened to Basha, least of all by a woman.

Basha took of his hat and out of frustration thrust it downward and slapped his leg while he muttered a curse in his native tongue. Then his stern expression pried into the slightest of smiles.

"You've got spirit, I'll give you that." He told her. "But none of these men, are going to risk their lives to save you! You fall behind, you're on your own!"

The men all looked to each other, their silent expressions all agreeing that there was no way they would let any harm befall the woman, no matter what the Captain ordered. It just wasn't right to not to protect a woman, and as Basha scanned the faces of his men, he knew then that they weren't ready to deal with the Ta'kun on their own ground. He wished then that his gods would grant him the wisdom to guide these men, children and woman.

Basha then proceeded to layout his plan in more detail, announcing that they would be breaking up into three groups in order to position their snipers within shooting distance of their leaders. "The last I heard the Ta'kun were gathered at the southern gate, for what reason I'm not sure, but while the majority of their forces are there, it's as good a place as any to expect find a leader or two." He instructed, "Now, Sandy, Clubber, Elija, Sam and you, Mrs. Smith are with me." He assigned Sergeant Lasekura and Ram as the leaders of the other groups and advised them to divide the remaining men equally between them, as for the 'Shoddy End Scouts', as he come to refer to them, Basha advised them to choose which every group they wanted.

The plan was simple, the scouts would guide them through the sewers and take them as close the walls as possible. Basha would take the far southern wall, and the other the east and west. They would then have the options to scale the walls or make their way to a rooftop or some other high location that would allow good line of sight. It was then up to the Shoddy End Scouts with the assistance of a few of his men, to return into the sewers and use the dynamite to raise the fiery bowels of the underworld to draw out the leaders, and hopefully kill as many of the Ta'kun as possible.

With a grim expression, he then told them that they would be alone on this venture. "Captain MacBhaird, and Bane, agreed not to stand in my way, but they also said they would not support me. We are alone."

Silence fell across the room at the news, but then Clubber rallied the men. "And that's jus' the way we prefers it! We dun need those stiff necks, gettin' in our way! Ta, the shit-house with 'em all!"

The men all cheered and those who were sitting leapt to their feet in support, holding their fists high and proud. Encouraged by the support, Clubber continued with his inspiring rant, "We's the refuse o'the army!", then he looked down at the urchins, "And the scum o'the streets, but we'll show 'em all we have twice the sand than any o'them 'ave!", he punctuated his statement with shake of his fist toward the ceiling.

Only one in the room remained expressionless, showing neither apprehension or revelry, and was he whose motivation they yearned to hear, but the Captain remained as silent as a tombstone, a foreboding reminder of what awaited them. Their solidarity would give them heart, and they would need it, but he could offer them no encouragement, each would succumb to their fate. Perhaps some would survive but near all would die a gruesome death at the hands of monsters that hated them with the utter most passion.

When the cheering and goading began to subside, Basha finally spoke. "Gather your things! It's time!"

The soldiers were anxious now draw Ta'kun blood, and they would get their chance, Basha assured them of that. They had enough supplies to sustain them for the wait that accompanied sniping, and the scouts seemed to have more than enough dynamite. Book who had been working with a few, assured the Captain that the kids could handle it, and had even shown them that they could cut the sticks with a knife should they want to make a smaller explosion. Some of the soldier helped themselves to Mrs. Smith's weapons, and even Basha replaced one his own blades with a razor sharp short sword, the bright blue flash of his eyes falling upon Colleen's reflection in the highly polished metal for a brief moment.



They set out, skulking through the darkness with low lit lanterns to guide them, and they weren't that far away from the 'diggs', before the scouts advised them, "This is where we's splits up."

"Good luck, and remember nobody shoots until the fireworks start, but if you get one of the leaders in your sites, then take their head off." Basha told them before they parted ways, Basha's group pressing forward and the others turning toward their respective destinations.

Colleen was like a duck gliding along a smooth lake. Above the surface of the mirror like water, she was as calm and poised as one could imagine. Especially with someone giving her an icy glare and waiting for her to back down. But, beneath the surface of that clam water, she was paddling as fast as her little legs would paddle. In her case, though, it was her heart beating like crazy. As Basha continued to hold her gaze with his, she refused to let him see just how nervous she really was. Nothing would stop her from doing this. Especially with Elija’s life in the balance.

When Basha finally broke and gave her the slightest hint of a smile, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Thankfully, the Captain didn’t realize just how nervous and self conscious he was making her. As he told her, in no uncertain terms, that she would be left behind to fend for herself if she was too injured to keep up, she shook her head.

“Don’t worry about me, Captain, I’ll be just fine.”

Her leg was smarting, still, but once again, Colleen was very determined not to let it interfere with her ability to keep up with the soldiers and the children. She would just wrap it extra tight to make sure it was protected even more.

Once Basha explained the details of the plan, Colleen knew this was most likely the last stand they would ever make. There was no room for failure here. It was either destroy the ta’kun or be killed in trying to do so. Not a very bright prospect either way you looked at it. But Colleen knew it was better to try and fight for your life than simply forfeit it without so much as an argument. Even if those in charge weren’t supportive of your efforts.

As Basha’s men rallied around their Captain, Colleen couldn’t help but wonder what would become of them when they survived this onslaught and it was discovered they had used unconventional methods to defeat the enemy? Would they be considered criminals and tried for what they did? Or would they merely be chastised for doing something so unorthodox yet life saving? Truth be told, she didn’t give a rats tail right now. There was only the time they lived in right now. What ever the future held, they would find out soon enough. Either way, she would be proud to be associated with these brave men and children. At least they made an effort to save what was theirs.

It was during this small down time Colleen found a place to sit and rewrap her leg. Pulling the leg of her trousers up to expose the bandage, she untied it, made sure it was a bit more secure then pulled a bigger, wider bandage from her supplies. Wrapping it around the smaller bandage, she made sure it was secure and a bit thicker to protect the stitched wound for the strenuous time ahead. As she tended the wound, she didn’t realize she was being watched from the reflection of one of her blades. By the time she had her leg wrapped and ready to go, the moment had passed and she was none the wiser.

Picking up her blade, she followed along behind Basha and the children he was taking with him. When they reached the place they were all separating, Colleen’s gaze passed briefly over the men and children.

“Be careful and watch your backs. Gods speed to all of you.”

As the three groups went their separate ways, Colleen whispered a small prayer to the deities asking them to protect all of these brave souls but especially the children. She also prayed for the safety of a dark eyed, dark haired handsome rogue of a man hoping he was unharmed and holding his own.