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Broken People; [Private]
Topic Started: Mon Nov 13, 2017 3:00 am (195 Views)
Frostbite
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"Are you cold?"

The hand opened, moving to cover her face--

A prayer stood between her sudden awakening and total panic. Taking a deep breath, Frostbite lifted her hands up toward the ceiling, focused on the way the lantern light played off blackened tissue. She flexed her fingers experimentally. As always, it felt like nothing was there.

The dream had been on-point this time. As she sat up, pushing her bedhead hair onto one shoulder, Frostbite clung closer to the layers of blankets that shielded her cot from a typical Balefire winter. Her breath misted in front of her mouth. Outside, the snow was coming down so heavy that the street lights were making each cluster of ice visible. After two tries, she got the portable heating lamp to kick back on. It had run out of mana. She was more than happy to give it a supply of her own.

Once the room's temperature was a little more tolerable, Frostbite swung her legs over the side of the cot. Her toes were just as dead-black as her fingers. She didn't see the letters that had been slid under her room's door until she was halfway through fastening the ornate metal coverings onto each finger. One of the messages was sealed with a signet ring shaped like a moth. She opened that one first.

As her eyes passed over line after line, she couldn't suppress a huge grin. Frostbite glanced at her coat rack, where her Across Borders rescuer uniform hung in immaculate form. Her assigned breaching irons were fitted into a custom shoulder strap leaning against the writing desk nearby. Now baring teeth, Frostbite fastened her faceplate over her nose, adjusting the ornate sheet of metal so that it properly covered her cheekbones while leaving her eyes and mouth exposed.

Time to get to work, she thought. Easy enough when you love your job.



The desk attendant for the Balefire chapter of Across Borders was busy enough. He and two rescuers were embroiled in intense conversation with a mother-daughter pair. Frostbite recognized them. They had survived a recent head-on collision between two scorchliners. The mother would be on crutches for the rest of her life. The daughter was missing an arm. Both were responding well to the conversation. All three Across Borders employees were attentive and good listeners, showering the survivors with the doting praise they deserved.

One of the rescuers caught Frostbite smiling from the background, but opted to give the former victims his undivided attention. She nodded approvingly at him.

"We brought some treats for your crew," the mother said. "It's the least we can do. You've been nothing but helpful and patient ever since the accident. Like we mean something, or we're more than just a number quoted in the list of victims. Almost-- like a second family. Sorry, does that sound strange?" She laughed nervously.

"Not at all!" the desk attendant said without missing a beat. "I mean, what does our sign outside say?"

Frostbite ducked out of the front door, careful not to interrupt such a critical conversation. With the overheard comment still fresh in her mind, she glanced up at the pole-sign as she left. The text, written in several local languages, showed some familiar turns of phrase:

ACROSS BORDERS - RESCUE AND RELIEF
"ALL LIFE HAS VALUE"

With a mission as pure as that, anyone who wanted to oppose their humble group was objectively foolish and wicked. Unfortunately, the wider world was full of foolish and wicked people.



Rats liked to whisper, but Frostbite thought it rude to pry. She stepped forward, letting her proximity scatter them across the snow-packed cobbles. The little rodents disappeared into the darkness of an alleyway, chittering.

She pulled the crumpled-up paper out of her coat pocket and unfolded it, holding up one hand to shield it from the falling snow. The written words were almost too small to be legible, crammed under a scratchy pen drawing of a moth. An address was listed. The final orders were terse. 'Fix the leak. Destroy the cause. Return what you can.'

Apparently her starting point was a fighting pit. That was great news. Immediately upon breathing in the sweaty air, seeing the grime and the blood, Frostbite felt more at ease.

'Follow your instincts. Search for unlikely allies among broken people.'

They didn't need to ask her. Hefting her sheathed breaching irons so they were out of the way, Frostbite took a seat in a spot that gave her a good view of the fighting.

Edited by Frostbite, Mon Nov 13, 2017 3:01 am.
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Iris
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The crowd stomped their feet. Iris rose, bloody and bruised as one of the Arena's favorites raised their arms into the air. She rose to her feet, holding her injured side. Just another day in the arena. Her finances were grim, even she knew as much. Her little, decent apartment was at threat. The beaten fighter stumbled into the staging area and accepted a pittance of medical aid - stitches and a few drops of an alchemical to help her manage the pain - before putting her coat on to make her way into the stands. Sometimes someone would give her a bit of money. She had a few fans, but the Arena did not play well to her shadowdancer tricks.

It was a tumultous place as the next fight got started, her blood already swept off the stands. A few gentle pats on the back as she moved through, although not a bit of coin found its way into her pocket. She sighed to herself as the crowd roared. She made her way to the bar and indicated to her favorite serving girl. "Complimentary drink. The, uh, chilled milk." It was expensive enough she couldn't afford it normally, but not more expensive than what the other fighters got. Aged Balefiran scotch or vodka. The fresh milk kept her sharp-ish, although sometime she sought out a tea to stave off weariness. She was handed a big mug after a minute's wait. Iris made her way up through the formless bodies, into the less populated high reaches of the stands and sat down beside another woman. She sipped her milk plaintively as Ungofin's fist sent some poor crestless knight tumbling across the arena. "He always fights harder after I lose. I think he tries to look out for me." She commented. She squirmed in her chair, ignoring the stabbing pains, until she found a spot that was somewhat comfortable despite her bruised side.

"I'm, uh, well, they just announced my name if you were in here to, well, watch me lose. I'm Iris." She took a hefty swig of her milk. Her garb was relatively simple, a black suit jacket over bloody brown trousers and a red and black patterned, soft button-up tunic. Her tail swished behind her. "I wouldn't bet on the next one, honestly. Vampyre Nyte is pissed about her ex, so it might be an upset. I don't think Scarderizer knows what he's in for. I mean, you could bet for the upset b-" She paused. "That'd be more money huh." Iris put down her milk on the little table between them and gradually made her way to the edge. A quick few gestures and she returned. "I just bet my fight pay." A small blush warmed her cheeks. "Sorry to be so...talkative. You were alone, you wouldn't want that probably. I just haven't spoken to anyone really in so long."
Edited by Iris, Tue Nov 14, 2017 2:33 am.
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Frostbite
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Taking sips of her drink, Frostbite watched the losing fighter with undisguised curiosity. It was always the losers that caught her interest the most. Not only were their stories usually more fascinating, but they had a few more scars to show for their efforts. At Across Borders, scars were a badge of pride.

This loser was some kind of cat person. Iris, if the announcer had been right. Frostbite watched her come over, milk in hand, and take a seat next to her in the stands. The kid had probably felt herself being looked at every so often. Iris introduced herself after making a comment about Ungolfin, the minotaur who was currently fighting in the pit. Frostbite, instead, put all of her attention on the one talking to her. People had a tendency to respond well to that. It made them feel like what they said mattered. And it did.

"Good to have friends in a place like this," Frostbite said, raising her glass as if punctuating her remark or indicating the surrounding grime. She listened to Iris talk about the odds of the fights to come, then pause to bet her fight pay. When she returned, the Across Borders rescuer was still giving her a pleasant smile. "Just because I'm alone doesn't mean I want to be. I certainly don't mind conversation with such an interesting person. I take it you're a regular fighter here, then, Iris?"

Iris nodded. "I try for every other night, but it depends on how hurt I get! This injury won't keep me down for long, the one on my shoulder is way worse!"

Frostbite's eyes gleamed. "Remarkable resilience! I certainly wouldn't be able to keep it up that much. You seem like you really enjoy your work."

Iris beamed. Her ears gave a little twitch. "I really like to fight. About all I like. Everything else is so dull compared to going ax to ax with someone twice your size!"

"Is that so?" The rescuer didn't laugh, but did wear an expression of genuine appreciation for what her new acquaintance was saying. She folded her hands on her lap, leaning forward to speak with the woman next to her even more easily. "Do you prefer to fight only in the arena, or are you comfortable elsewhere?"

"It is against the law to fight in the streets!"

"What about defending yourself? Or your assets? Then it's legal under Balefiren law, correct? As you can surely tell from my accent, I'm a foreigner."

"Well, that's uh different but I'd need to be a bonded mercenary to defend someone else's stuff, and it isn't cheap to get a freelance bond."

Frostbite made a thinking sound. She was reminded of the note with the moth on it. The part that encouraged her to follow her instincts and look for unlikely allies. The human made a decision. "I'm looking for some help, actually. I work for a humanitarian organization called Across Borders. We help with rescue and relief after disasters. Unfortunately, the organization has some nasty enemies here in Balefire that I've been asked to protect against." She quirked an eyebrow. "Would you be interested in a job? We'll cover all of your meals and lodging if you need it."
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Iris
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Iris tumbled it around in her head. "But I only need free food." She resisted salivating at the thought of a significant quantity of food. "Uh, sure, yea, food sounds good. Is there any other pay or?" She twiddled her thumbs nervously.

"Oh, yes, of course. I just meant that would be in addition to the wages that would be part of your temporary contract. You're already set with a place to live, I take it, then?"

"I got a little behind on rent." She blushed. "So every little bit helps." Her appearance fee at the arena was not significant. Maybe twenty total people showed up to watch her fight, and one of them was Ungolfin. Iris wanted to ask how much, but kept her lips tight. She could learn that later. "Could I have a small advance to get my freelance license? Fifty marks? It won't affect you at all, I just don't want to get fined for improper mercenary activities."

"Oh, certainly! I'm happy to help in any way I can." She rummaged through her pockets and withdrew fifty Cascadian notes. When Frostbite handed them over, she gave Iris' hand a friendly pat with her other.

Iris's eyes widened as she flicked through the fistful of paper. "Uh, fifty notes is a lot more than fifty marks! Are you sure?" It was more than she honestly made in a week. Her tail waved behind her in a fast, wide semicircle.

Frostbite gave a shrug that was intended to look a little theatrical. "I'm just a foreigner, you know? I don't know the difference between notes and marks. Take it." She winked.

Iris knew she was lying. She very carefully folded the notes up and stashed them in her interior pocket. "Um. If on our way to the job we could stop by the mercenary licensing division, that'd be great." She greedily drank her milk.

"Of course. We can even stop and pick up some more milk, if you want." She glanced down at Iris' drink to indicate it.

Iris's face whitened and her tail stilled. "No! No! I should have water, right? Water is good." Iris rose and made her way out of the building, her axes bouncing at her hips. The warmth of the Arena was replaced by the tepid Balefire night, although she suspected the foreigner was feeling the bitter chill. Hoarfrost grew off a road lamp. A howling wind cut through the streets. "A big storm is coming tonight." The MLD was fairly close to the Arena, both on the main strip of taverns in her home district. She stepped in and left a few minutes later, clutching a precious license. "I'm happy they take notes." She still had twenty left. "So uh, this job. Where are we going? Should I get my armor?"
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Frostbite
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Frostbite shrugged about the water comment. Milk-drinking was an odd thing to be self-conscious about, but she knew from her training to never press things like that. People were a bit more pliable when they weren't on the defensive or feeling self-conscious.

She followed Iris' lead out of the building and toward the Mercenary Licensing Division. As soon as the semi-heat of the Arena yielded to the Balefiren winter chill, Frostbite had to hide a noticeable dip in her mood. There's little I hate more than the cold. She drew up her shoulders and held onto her jacket collar so that it protected her neck and ears from the chilling wind.

On the way, Iris said that a big storm was coming tonight. Something dark crept over Frostbite's features for a few moments before she looked away and focused on softening that out into something more acceptably grumpy. She laughed at her own bad mood, like an unspoken self-deprecating joke. "You can probably guess from my name that I don't look forward to that news one bit."

Iris returned quickly with her license and paperwork in order, clearing her to work as Frostbite's employee immediately. The catlike woman asked what the job was all about. Despite the infuriating cold, Frostbite found the energy to smile thinly. She seems pretty loyal. Accepting the offer before even knowing what it's for. Or maybe desperate.

"Our organization is currently dealing with an ex-employee who's spreading lies about Across Borders and framing it all as 'leaked information.' Even though this constitutes slander and libel, the Sheriffs of Balefire have refused to cooperate with us. They say that their hands are tied with more severe crimes than defamation. My superiors suspect that he's going to escalate by inciting violence against employees or our properties, such as our Balefire field office. We would prefer not to wait until that happens, so we're taking this case into our own hands. 'Balefire justice,' as I've heard you locals call it." Frostbite smirked. "Your job will be to protect me and any nearby Across Borders employees or properties as I hunt down our... apostate of sorts. You're also more than welcome to help me investigate, if you'd like."
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Iris
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Iris's ears perked up as Frosty explained the plight of her organization. "A bit of drama, huh? I'm sure if we turned them over to the authorities, they'd take over from there." Iris's tail darted to the side suddenly. "So I won't need my armor, huh?"

"Err, unfortunately, I'm not so sure that turning them over to the authorities will work. Balefire's jails are already packed to the brim with violent criminals, and the Sheriffs have been clear about their disinterest in this crime. I've also been asked by my superiors in the organization to bring the culprit to them rather than law enforcement."

"Um, so you'll do your own little jail-y thing? That sounds good, I guess! You guys seem really powerful to have your own law enforcement. Um, what does Against Borders do?"

"Across Borders," Frost gently corrected. "We do rescue and relief for mass disasters. I'm a rescuer, so my job is to run into burning buildings or crash sites and get the survivors out. Or I might come in after a disaster and label the victims by whether they're dead or how urgent their injuries are. That's called triage. My organization is headquartered in Cascadia, but we have field offices in almost all of the major nations in Imythess." She sounded proud of that fact.

"Even the deep cities?"

"Aren't they technically Ivory League now?"

"Yes. I saw an enkaida before I left! They are super big."

"Left... the Deep Cities?" The human's eyebrows raised. "Is that where you're from? I'm sorry, I'd assumed you were a local."

Iris nodded proudly. "Yes! I grew up there. In an orphanage. Dwarves got me as a baby on the edge of Balefire territory and I grew up in Axerise! I wanted to join the Shieldwall but, uh, there's actually a few requirements that I didn't meet. Like strength. I'm way stronger now, I'm sure if I went back they'd let me try. Ungolfin's weight lifting program is super good. The Deep Cities are a bit too, uh, peaceful for someone like me I think though. They don't have nearly as many fighting pits, and the ones they do are super formal and hard to get into."

During the entire time that Iris had been talking, Frostbite was giving the hasenka her undivided attention. "Sounds like you've found your calling here in Balefire. Unstable places leads to more fighting. It's always good to love your work. I also love my work."

"Um, so you don't think I'll need my armor? I don't really use it to keep it from being harmed..."

"That's totally up to you. I admit I don't know you that well, although I would like to get to know you, so I'm not sure at what point you would need the armor. I also can't tell how bad this is about to get."

"Oh! Okay. Right. This is just a whiner not, like, a gang or a monster!" Iris's ears perked up. "Where's our first lead?"
Edited by Iris, Tue Nov 21, 2017 3:40 am.
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Frostbite
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"I need to drop by the Across Borders field office to request his employment records," Frostbite said. "I just came from there, but the secretary was tied up with some important business as I was heading out. Plus my orders were pretty adamant about hiring some protection before I started the investigation." Admittedly, the orders didn't say anything about hiring the loser on a whim. And I'm not sure why it requested that sort of establishment in particular, other than the fact that they're semi-sacred. How am I supposed to follow their rituals if I don't even know the half of them?

"We'll need to plan around the storm, too. I don't want to be caught out-of-doors when it hits."

She imagined an outstretched hand cast in silhouette by blowing snow. Fingers moving toward her. A part of her wondered if this was some strange way to be afraid.

They walked through half-abandoned streets. A thin layer of snow stuck to the sides of the buildings. Frostbite kept their conversation to small talk.

Across Borders was a hole-in-the-wall jammed between two larger buildings. The hanging sign above the doorway creaked as it blew in the wind. Frostbite tapped her booted toes against the ground to shake off the snow. A sign that said "All Species Welcome" was posted in the window where a storefront might have otherwise been. Light and warmth covered her like a blanket as she crossed through the threshold. Everyone's eyes swiveled toward her. Several people welcomed them.

That included the smartly dressed secretary at the front desk. She was a local, a mixedblood with eyes lined in makeup and hair kept loose. "This is Iris," Frost said, approaching. The secretary stood and shook the hasenka's hand, giving a nice and attentive greeting. Only then was it apparent that the woman had only one leg. Everything below the other knee was gone. "She's the guardian I hired to look into the issue with Mr. Hurst. If anything seems unusual or you need help to stay safe, let us know."

"Oh, Iris, we appreciate it! Those horrible lies he's been spreading need to be stopped. And to say such things in Balefire, of all locations, is asking for serious trouble. This city is unstable as it is! Your presence here is already making me feel a lot safer, so thank you." The secretary bowed her head. "Is there anything either of you need? Shall I make living arrangements upstairs for Miss Iris?"

"She's got her own place, but maybe have a room in reserve in case this blizzard snows us in. And could you also do me a favor and pull up the employment records for Vang Hurst?"

"Certainly. Could I see your papers? I trust you, but it's just a formality."

The rescuer rummaged through her fire coat to find the letter containing her orders. She handed them to the secretary with the complex designs facing her.

"The Moth? This must be worse than I thought. I'll get those records for you in a moment, Frostbite."

"No problem." She turned to smile at Iris, validating that things were going well so far. "Ah, paperwork. Can't ever get out of it. Not when you're a legitimate organization, at least."

As they waited, a courier entered the building. Snow sloughed off his shoulders as he approached the front desk to deliver a package. Apparently it wasn't addressed to anyone in particular, just the office. The secretary hesitantly accepted it. Frostbite's eyes narrowed.

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Iris
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Iris followed after Frosty. "Storm shouldn't be too bad! Maybe a few feet of snow?" Iris's ears perked up as they went into one of the less desirable parts of town and then into a hole in the wall building. The organization wasn't as big as she had thought. She plucked at her license nervously as they entered. A hand shot out to greet her, and Iris quickly joined the gesture. "A...pleasure to meet all of you!" Her ears drooped a little bit as she looked from person to person. The secretary suggested living arrangements but before Iris could politely decline, Frosty got her a room just in case of the storm, but in truth she'd rather claw her way across the drifts. "Sounds wonderful."

They continued to talk and Frosty produced some paperwork. A courier entered and dropped off a parcel. The chunky script showed it was addressed to Frostbite. The secretary began to accept it but Iris batted it away with the back of her ax. "The package isn't right." She poked at the address. "The return address is for a public mailhouse, and it is addressed to miss Frostbite who hasn't been here more than a day, right?"

"Yeah, I just got called to this office," Frostbite added.

Iris came closer to the package. "So, uh, how do you safely open a package?"


The secretary, eyes wide, had backed as far away as she could from the parcel that now sat across the desk. A heavy silence fell over the lobby. It only lasted a few seconds before Frostbite was in motion.

"Who's the hazardous materials specialist based out of this office?" she asked, her tone calm but urgent.

"I'll summon her. You two start evacuating the people in the building," the secretary replied, having seemingly snapped out of her surprise.

Everyone else stepped back. Iris quickly mimicked them. They moved out of the building quite quickly while Iris kept her attention on Frostbite and helped her leave with the crowd. "Careful, if their goal was to drive us out we just...got driven out." Iris's slitted eyes traced across the rooflines. "Hrm. I think you are starting a few steps behind."
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"Dammit." The winds outside were picking up, and carrying curtains of snow with them. Frostbite draped her jacket over the secretary's shoulders -- the young lady thanked her, hugging it closer. She watched shapes move behind the narrow view of the building's open door. Iris had made some prescient comments. "How did he find out so quickly? It's been mere hours since I was even given my orders. Yet it was addressed to me."

The hazardous materials mage came sauntering out, and Frostbite could feel her entire body give an instinctual reaction of annoyance. She looked to be a little older than Frost herself, but walked with this ridiculous hip-swaying swagger, one foot in front of the other like a girl who'd partied her way through the Academy of Magic. The package wasn't in her hands, but she tipped up a bulky breathing mask that pushed aside some of her dark brown mane. Beneath that, the lady's fanged grin and bright blue eyes matched the way she carried herself.

"You Frostbite?" the specialist said in a thick Balefiren accent.

"I am."

"You should feel special, mate. Someone put your name on their attack. They wanted it for you."

"What kind of attack?" the secretary said.

The lady with the wild hair gave a jovial laugh. "You wouldn't believe it. Smells like a goddamned plague. Already called in a couple guys to help me move it somewhere safe, where we can study it, get to know it better."

Frostbite's eyes widened at the word. "A plague? Are you sure?"

"Can't fool this nose," the specialist said proudly. "But, eh, just to be sure mate, I can't let any of you come back for a few more hours yet. My guys gotta clear the place, make sure the box didn't leak and all that. Contamination and what have you."

"What should we do?" The secretary asked Frostbite and Iris. "Talk to the Sheriffs? Alert the criers and pamphlet-makers? Would it even be safe for me and the other employees who live off-site to go home?"
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Iris
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Iris listened in as the specialist returned. It was a curious enough conversation that lead Iris to wonder what a plague smelled like. "Certainly not roses." She mumbled. Then came another round of questions, and Iris was thoroughly out of her depth here. "Uh, it seems like they might be targeting Miss Frosty, so maybe everyone should go to a friend's house and lay low while we, uh, do a thing. I dunno if the sheriffs would help without a, uh, culprit. They don't really do the protection thing."

"My thinking as well," Frostbite said. "All of you, stay at least in pairs as you travel the streets." As the crowd started to disperse, the woman rubbed her chin in thought as she shivered. "I'm still hung up on this man's sheer speed. I had barely even begun the investigation. I was just transferred here to Balefire. Do-- do you think he might still have access to the organization somehow? But how?"

"He'd must have a lot of access if he got you that quick." Iris gazed into void above them. "Wasn't that courier from the...uh." She growled. "It was on the tip of my tongue! The pear-no, uh, pirate? Pug? Pig? Pegasus! Yea, Pegasus shippers. The Cascadian company."

"Cascadians, huh..." Frostbite began to glare. "Cascadia is where Across Borders' headquarters is located."

"The letter telling people where you were going must have traveled as fast as you!" Iris lead them back to her usual haunt, past the fighting pit and pointed towards the Pegasus Parcels branch. "Oh. Got the name wrong. But that's the closest branch, I think."

"How good are you at persuading people to talk?"

"I'd probably start talking first if I ever tried."

"I mean being intimidating and beating people up." Frostbite gave Iris a tight smile.

"I could beat them up but wouldn't they just say things until I stopped beating them up? I know I'd just lie out my teeth until someone stopped hitting me. If I couldn't hit back, that is. If the package was addressed to you, couldn't you ask for details on the order?"

The rescuer shrugged. "Fair enough. Lead the way, then."

Iris lead into the little shop where a disinterested angel-touched clerk took a quick glance up at them. "No, you haven't received any packages from home Ir-" A blush exploded across the hasenka's cheeks. She shook her head.

"No no the package is for miss Frosty here. It, uh, came broken and we need to contact the person who sent it. Frosty could you give them your details?"

Giving Iris a curious look, Frostbite stepped forward and gave them her information. "I was just transferred to the Across Borders field office here in Balefire, and that was the location the package was sent to. Any idea who sent it?"

"Let's...see here." The clerk wearily went through page after page. Iris leaned over to see the book herself but was shooed away with a dismissive palm. She waited impatiently instead, her tail flicked back and forth behind her knees. The clerk glanced back up. "It was sent by some guy who didn't leave an address, but he used the Church of Immortal Saints' account to submit it." The clerk kept reading. "Oh, it says here this was supposed to be confidential. Could you all forget that for me?"

"I'm sure we could forget it. Uh, thanks for not helping. I guess? Is that how this goes now?" Iris assured the clerk. The clerk did not look assured.
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"What package? I've never even heard of the Church of Immortal Saints." Frostbite gave the Pegasus Parcels clerk a conspiratorial wink. She sifted through her things and slipped the clerk a small bribe as thanks for the information. Then she was out again, back into the infuriating cold of Balefire City. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain a look of serenity or even slight happiness in the face of such bad news.

"So he has contacts in the Church, now?" she said through a tight jaw. "No way they'd let someone like him into any place that's supposedly sanctified. He'd probably burn up. More likely it's an enemy-of-my-enemy sort of situation. The Church of Immortal Saints has been in direct competition with us for as long as I've worked for Across Borders. They provide the same aid, but they insist on giving it a religious message. Plus I've heard horror stories of how... nosey their priests can be."

Iris nodded along with Frostbite's commentary as though she fully understood the situation. "So are we, uh, going to beat up people in that church? Is it wrong to beat up priests if they aren't nice or?"

Frostbite grinned so wide that it looked like she was nearly grinding her teeth together. "Oh yeah. We're going to beat up as many priests as it takes to make them tell us his name and where he is. But--" she forced her lips back to where they should've normally been, "--let's of course try talking first. Give them the... benefit of the doubt. If there's anything you need to grab before we go, might as well do it. Your armor, maybe. They're no Immaculates of the Forward Path, but they have their own annoying things about them."
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Iris nodded and lead Frostbite to her home, but left her waiting in the security room before returning in armor. "Uh, right." She shook a gauntlet. "This won't be suspicious, right?" It certainly felt suspicious. Iris double-checked the address the security man had given her and lead Frosty across the city in full armor. She attracted some strange looks as they moved three districts over to the Koz district, a former human slum that now housed a middle class community of silver elves. They attracted even more attention as they moved through the district. The elves were less heavily dressed than those from other areas. Adaptations.

"That's the building." Iris looked over the squat, lonely church with barely three feet of balefiran gardening around the outside. It was made of ethercrete - cheap, strong, endlessly producible - which gave it a severe appearance that even the spattering of decor couldn't distract from. The primary symbol was the aspen and its interconnected roots. Which Iris just learned about. "Ah, yea, so you don't know these guys all that well, right?" Iris approached the heavy double-doors. Like any in Balefire, they were reinforced with steel. "Time to look all supplicant-y."
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"Supplicant-y?"

The voice coming from behind dripped with undisguised derision. Feeling a chill up the back of her neck, Frostbite turned.

They hadn't even managed to get into the church before an obvious member of this particular religion's clergy was standing before them. She stood taller than Frostbite herself, a silver elf or some hybrid wearing the practical outfit of a monk: loose, but not enough to be a liability in combat. A red line was tattooed down the center of her forehead as if bisecting it. Although the priest wasn't outwardly armed, Frostbite could tell by the way she held her weight that she probably had something hidden. Or many things, as it were.

"Neither of you look to be here for worship. I'd suggest you leave. Everyone in this district was whispering about you."

"The sign says, 'Visitors Welcome,'" Frostbite said, jerking a thumb behind her at the piece of wood hanging from a pole. "I'm a visitor with a lot of questions about the business you're running here. I'm not asking you to make us tea or anything, I just want to chat. Unless you'd prefer to work this out some other way?"

"You're dressed like you're from Across Borders. The mask over your nose, the prosthetic fingers -- you're Frostbite, right? The rescue handler." The priest stepped forward, reaching behind her. As she'd predicted, out came two long, thin blades from the folds of her loose-fitting clothing, pulled from sheathes hidden on the small of her back. "My name is Sister Alavara. Both of you need to take out every weapon on your person and put it on the ground. Then put your hands up."

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Leyanni[Adm]
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Iris glanced around the rather sparsely decorated church, but at least it was immaculately clean. The lighting was strangely dim for Balefire, a city obsessed with staving off the dark. The priest demanded they offer up their weapons. Iris drew out her twin axes and handed them over. "Be careful with them. I'd hate to lose something my mother left for me."

Frostbite stared wide-eyed as Iris complied with the priest's wishes. After some hesitation, the rescuer removed the sling that contained her breaching irons and handed those to Sister Alavara as well. It was clear from Frost's expression that she wasn't sure if they had made the right choice. As soon as she was no longer armed, she raised her hands in accordance with the order.

The priest sheathed one blade long enough to accept the weapons, putting them on her person for safekeeping. "You'll get your weapons back if you answer a few questions. Come with me." Alavara walked past both of them, pushing open the reinforced double-doors.

As expected, the interior of the church was sparsely decorated with spartan amenities. Supplicants sat in scattered groups at the pews, heads bowed in silent prayer to the various statues and idols arranged at the fore.

Iris watched the ongoing prayers curiously but without understanding. She was not religious because of her connection to the Ethereal. The world was full of Things to her, and those Things were after something from you. It was best not to attract their interest. Her presence brought a few from their worship. The clank of her armor was about the loudest thing in the room, at least until the bell rung. They were brought into the back, into a hall lined with small rooms - some of which appeared to be private chambers for ceremony, but the one they were lead into was clearly a mundane office. "Um. I'm just here with this nice lady, so direct your questions to her, okay? I'm just a bodyguard."
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Frostbite
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The office they were ushered into seemed fairly typical for a clergy member. Extensive ornamentation and collections of artifacts paired with the lighting to give everything a homey sort of feel, like a cabin in the wintertime. As Frostbite's gaze moved over the expensive-looking furniture, she spied a cockroach scuttling beneath a saintly statue in the corner.

Before she could think too much of it, her attention was drawn to the movement of the person at the back of the room. They had their back to Frostbite and Iris, gazing out of a windowpane that opened up to a view of the City of Lanterns. All she could make of them was the huge, hooded brown robe that obscured any details of their form.

Sister Alavara entered last, closing the door and standing in front of it. "Brother Viclis."

The hood turned. With a peak at the top, his whole face was obscured. Frayed ends of bandages dangled out from the shadowed depths of his hood. Frostbite narrowed her eyes. Something about this seemed familiar.

"Protect the supplicants," he rasped.

The silver elf bowed her head and departed.

Having watched their brief exchange, Frost was growing tenser by the second. She covered it up with a toothy smile at Brother Viclis. "Are you surprised to see that I'm here and healthy? Did you really think that mailing a plague to my office would stop me?"

She watched Viclis limp over to his desk. He grabbed the chair and eased himself into it, sighing comfortably. "The man you're looking for is not here. I owe no information to Across Borders or their rotten prophets."

The mention of prophets piqued Frostbite's interest. She stepped forward. "You should have made your priests kill me on the spot, then. Or at least kept one of them nearby in case me or my friend did anything rash."

Viclis turned his hood in Iris' general direction. "A sad truth. Clan Zajac is lower than the stories I've heard, or perhaps more unfortunate." He gestured toward her bodyguard's distinctive armor with a clawed, bandage-covered hand. "What foul contract binds you to Across Borders, knight? The sight of your armor protecting a rat like her is upsetting."
Edited by Frostbite, Fri Dec 29, 2017 12:25 pm.
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