A long road

The dead city couldn't have been any creepier.

The smell of old, rotten buildings was in the air, and the ground was covered in shattered glass and debris. Whatever had happened was long enough in the past that blood and bodies weren't in evidence, but gloom and doom hung heavy like rain clouds. Vanessa felt sure they were being watched, although whoever it was kept a low profile; the only sounds not from ruin were her and her sister's footsteps and the drag of her dress's hem on the rough paved road.

The two had talked at first, but conversation had slowed and stopped as they journeyed deeper into the ruined cityscape. Now she kept her proud bearing straight ahead, while Colbie kept looking around, keeping her eyes on as much as she could. Something creaked inside one of the taller buildings, and her hand flashed a knife at her waist before she shrugged it off.

The two finally stopped in front of a sewer grate marked and daubed with blue paint, like a whirlpool or an eye.

"...Always a knack for making a point." Vanessa sniffed, looking down at it. "We could have just as well done this somewhere more pleasant."

"And miss all this?" Colbie asked, waving her hand around them. Somewhere deeper in, a trash can fell to the ground. "Is he even here?"

"Of course, likely just waiting for the right moment-"

"It doesn't work if you spoil it like that." Said the thing that floated from the suddenly smoking blue manhole. Not from the sewers themselves- the merchant they'd come to see walked much darker roads. He looked at them reproachfully before his face settled into it's normal leer.

"My two favorite customers..." Vulgrim hissed, kneading his fingers together. Vanessa bowed her head, while Colbie smirked. "I'll bet you say that to everyone." She returned.

"Only the big spenders, but they ARE all my..." Vulgrim, the Demon Merchant paused and beetled his brow, staring at Vanessa over his claws.

"...What are you wearing?"

"Clothes. What are you wearing?" She asked coldly, while Colbie snorted behind her fist.

"The finest Stygian silk, of course, but... What happened to the sensible slacks and blouse? You look like the cover of a bad gothic romance novel."

"I said a bat, myself, but that's a good one!"

"If we could return to the matter at hand-" Vanessa started.

"Did you get dressed in the dark?... Though with all that black, you wouldn't be able to find your outfit at all. It's a little much, is all." Said the jewel adorned, horned eater of souls matter-of-factly. Colbie chortled while Vanessa's cheeks turned red. She took a sack from the pockets of her long train and dropped it on the ground in front of them.

"Do you wish this deal or not?" She snapped. "Dryad hearts and a live kitten... What do you even wish with such things?"

"The hearts because they are tasty, and I wished to see if you were as good as your word. The kitten because they amuse me. I like watching them fall on their backs and paw the air. Can I not have a hobby?" Vulgrim asked, blinking in innocence before darting forward and snatching the wriggling sack, holding it close before peering at it.

"My word is my bond, surprise, surprise. Now tell me what I wish to know." Vanessa said, crossing her arms and staring daggers at Vulgrim. Colbie put her hands in her hips and watched him too, a ghost of a smile on her face. Her relaxed demeanor hid how ready she was to spill his blood if he turned treacherous or reneged his own promises.

"Very well... Have you ever wondered why the forces of Good always have the best toys? Their wishes are simple to grant and easy to manage, but our lot have to be satisfied with Ape paws and lying Djinn. Seems unfair, don't you think?" He asked, taking a still-beating wooden heart from the bag and crunching it between his fangs.

"Very unfair. More and more every day." Vanessa said tiredly.

"Self pity does you no favors. What you seek is on an island of Earth. Kuwahawi, to be exact. The Unholy Grail is there and waiting to be claimed. All you need do is drink blood from it's cup and an unstringed wish is yours. Simplicity itself."

"The Unholy Grail?"

"Ew, blood?"

"Yes to both of you. It waits for a hand to claim it, as it belongs to itself. If you are strong enough, and true enough to your desire, you may even win through the others who seek it. It is your only hope now. Do you regret signing those contracts, I wonder?"

"No. Never." Vanessa said, not unaware of her sister's sidelong glance.

"I expected as much. I will let you travel through my Serpent Holes to reach the islands, but then our bargain will have run it's curse... Unless you would care to make another deal."

"Oh, certainly. They've all worked out so perfectly." Vanessa said icily, finally relaxing a little. Her rainment jingled with it's silver chains and charms as she considered him. "Are you setting up shop on the islands, then? Or only ferrying us?"

"I may tarry for a spell. There are always bargains to be had amongst mortals, especially at that Bar of theirs... Besides, I can't just wave goodbye to my two favorite customers."

His mocking laughter rang throughout the silent city before they all three went into the blue hole in the ground; once they were gone, so was it, as though it had never been.

The dead zone.

The start; in the dark. Walls are dimly visible. The view pans around, but with only flashlights, it's hard to see anything. It's a tunnel and the walls are made of stone; there's white paint on the walls, something about a WARNING.

"-hah, holy shit, dude-"

"-the beer?"

"You know it!"

"-place is creepy. You guys smell that?"

Five minutes in; a glass door opens. It's like the waiting room of a hospital, but dirty and wrecked. Chairs tipped over, dust on everything, lights burnt and busted out. The view flips around to the face of some teenager, before he takes a drink of Natty light.

"Okay, so, check it. We're in the old facility, it's supposed to be haunted. Sounds like bullshit, though, there's nothing here."

"Bro, give me the camera."

An old, old computer; it looks like an Apple 2, a grey plastic box. Someone scratched a smiley face into the glass screen.

"...weird, man."

Ten minutes in, and more of the same. Corridors with no lights, no sound. Probably underground. The rooms are locked and there's wreckage throughout. Rusty stretchers, clipboards with paper splayed like birds with broken wings. Trash-cans of soda, old bags of chips, a torn condom wrapper.

"You guys hear that?"

"Dude, shut the fuck up."

"No, seriously! I heard something..."

Twenty minutes in. An amphitheater, like a lecture hall. Except lecture halls don't usually have tables covered in straps, generators that sit still and silent, or surgical tools scattered around the tile. Or what probably isn't old blood on the walls. Probably.

"Let's go. For real, guys, let's get the fuck out of here."

"Come on, man, quit being a pussy."

"There it is again! You hear it?"

Off camera, it sounds like machinery. A washing machine that's rocking very hard, maybe, or an engine rattling and trying to start. There's no more beers being opened; just silence as they listened hard in the gloom.

The camera shuts off at this point.

Forty minutes in; running. Hard breathing. Someone muttering "Fuck, man, fuck." Again and again. It sounds frightened.

"What the fuck was that, man?"

"Shut up, dude! We're getting out of here, right now. Fuck this. There's, uh..." The camera does another dizzying turn, looking at a frightened face. "There's something in here with us. Something big and pissed. This was a bad idea."

An hour in, back in the hospital waiting room. The camera is on the floor; someone must have dropped it. The silence stretches on until the footsteps come, and there's no mistaking them. They sound heavy and labored, like a refrigerator learned to walk. There's another sound, too, like a carpet of worms in the hollow of a stump, or Mercury being slowly sprayed through a blanket.

The camera goes up, and up, and up, until a new face appears.

It's a girl; her mouth is a blender stuffed with nails, the maw of a metal shark, but her eyes are timid and frightened. Her cheeks are dirty and her hair looks like it hasn't been washed in years.

"...He-hello." Her voice is a speak-and-spell stomped through by a boot, a text to speech program being read through cheap speakers. She sounds like this place looks.

"I hope they're gone. Those boys were scary. And they littttered. They yelled a lot when they saw me. I just wanted to be fr-I ends." She said. "...If you see this, please come back. You left your soda..."

Whoever found the camera at the entrance to this place would hopefully know to leave well enough alone in the future.

Filler dreams.

Wren and Ino opened the door silently, the airless Martian landscape making the hinges silent before they both stepped through. Wren took off the glass helmet of her old-timey spacesuit and turned around to raise a hand in farewell.

"Goodbye, Midori! We'll visit you again in another few nights." She called, smiling as Ino shut the door. The two of them were dream-walking, and in the silence of the imaginary Las Vegas bathroom, their gear slowly disappeared until they were back in their usual outfits. Fighting evil Martians had been fun, although Ino had wished she could've torn them apart and eaten their little green bodies instead of using blasters to shoot up red dust and craters. There hadn't been any blood or gore, but the two were exhilarated all the same.

Wren very much liked the girl who once had been a hand; Ino was a fan as well. Her cheer and good nature had made the both of them happy, especially after the dreams they'd been a part of. Some hadn't been as nice, but they were all welcome diversions.

"Who next?" Ino asked, looking around at the mirrors that didn't reflect them.

"Hmmm... Do you suppose Jack would mind if we popped in?"

"Oh. Well... Yes. I think she'd take that rather badly." Ino said frankly. The one time she'd offered to join Jack in a dream, the deaf blacksmith had looked horrified before silently whipping her head side to side. Ino didn't blame her. She understood. It took time to stop dwelling on trauma, and Jack had seemingly never had a period of recovery other than her prison time.

"Ah well. What about your friend, H'astra?"

"I think she and Rahat are busy."

"Hmm." Wren thought about it, quirking her head. "Well, I suppose Etch wouldn't mind some company."

"Oh, I remember her! Yes, that sounds fun. I wonder if she dreams in black and white..." Ino said, hurrying over and opening the door again before they both stepped through into another dreamscape.

Etch's store was dark, but Wren could see fine through her eye wraps; she lit a lamp and looked around at the stock on the shelves and the countertop. The fireplace was dim and glowering; they both turned their heads as a refrigerator opened in the back.

The two walked over to the imaginary kitchen and opened the door, to see Ko wearing a black robe, her arms loaded down with food and plates. She turned around and blinked from behind the small picnic she was carrying, before her brow furrowed.

"What the hack are you two doing here?" She asked, sounding confused and a little guilty.

"Oh, just out for a little sight-seeing. Is this your dream, then? How have you been-"

"Ko? Come back to bed~" someone called from upstairs.

"One second, Caur- er, uh-" her face flushed as her gaze snapped back to the two of them, who were suddenly both on tenterhooks. "...I'm kind of busy right now. Call ahead or something next time, alright?" She grumbled at them. Ino blinked, confused, before Wren put a hand on her shoulder and started to drag her out.

"Yes, of course, so sorry- it was good to see you again- we'll, er, look for you on the Islands-" Wren stammered, before backing out of the kitchen and the store both, back to the bathroom that stood in as their hub. Ko watched them leave before she sighed and morosely bit into a chicken leg.

"...Maybe we should stick to our house for now." Ino suggested, subdued. Wren slowly nodded before the door opened again and Inshabel poked her head in.

"Would either of you happen to know where I put the syrup? It seems to have vanished, and I'd much prefer to have it for the pancakes I'll be making for breakfast."

"I think we used it all, Inshabel. I'm very sorry. Shall we pick some up?" Ino asked.

"Oh, no, dear. Don't trouble yourselves. I'll have it by the morning. Do have fun!" She said pleasantly, closing the door behind her. Wren gathered herself before looking down at Ino, who looked back up at her.

"...Why don't we call it a night?" Wren suggested. Ino unhappily nodded before they left, going back to the house they shared and falling into their own sleep once more.

The start.

It was a clear night on Solis, and the full moon hung in the sky like a pearl on a sea of black velvet.

Death sat in a small glade not far from their castle, her bare feet wet from dew and her violin at her side. The others were watched and guarded, but nothing was unbarred to her; she went where she pleased. She stared up pensively, the silence only broken by the wind and a few ambitious nightengales. Death wanted to enjoy the stillness while it lasted. Soon there would be no more time, even for her.

Conquest was inside her stone cell, laying on her front and trying to sleep. It wouldn't come no matter how many sheep she counted, and she knew full well why. The doll she'd found in the aftermath of a battle, from the warping effects of a machine and a mutant was in her hands; she'd meant to be rid of it, but kept it like a dirty secret. It made her feel things she'd long thought she'd buried, and she sighed with something like regret as she tried to get comfortable.

Pestilence was in her own bare cell, but for once not trying to sleep as well. For almost half an hour she'd been struggling to remove her armor under the weak torchlight, and now it was beginning to grow frantic. She'd done this countless times, over and over... But she couldn't get the plates off of her. The straps and buckles had to be undone in a certain order, and she kept failing at it. Her hands fell to her lap as she glanced at the small mirror she'd installed; her expression was frustrated, confused, and scared. It- the blankness, the disorientation- was growing worse, not better.

Famine was in her lead-lined box, her glow dim and unhappy. It had been days since she'd seen the sun or moon; longer still since she'd been able to talk to anyone. Her steady loneliness made her heart ache. She'd always assumed they'd kept her in here because of fear, but after her eyes had been opened, she knew it was because of disgust, too. She missed Earth, she missed having a purpose other than tinkering and fidgeting in the dark.

When the small, slim Xbox 360 chimed, she almost thought she was hallucinating.

Across space, across whole systems of planets, a rip into reality tore open on a black beach, lighting the night and crackling with lightning. The sand underneath turned to glass as Clash stepped through, her sword across her shoulder. She whipped around to excitedly wave as the tear closed up with a sound like an iron door clamming shut; even though she'd known it was coming, saying Goodbye had been one of the hardest things she'd had to do.

But it was time.

Clash blinked up at Earth's own moon, smiling her sharp smile and holding in a joyful yell before she perked up and reached into her pocket for her Shen.

"Nitori? Hi!... Oh, right, I'm sorry, I didn't realize how late it was- tell Komachi I said Hi when she wakes up! I just wanted to let you know I'm back!... Oh, it was amazing. The whole world was beautiful, and Aggie is doing a lot better. Uh huh. Yeah, everyone was really nice. No... She can't come back... I know. It's okay though. She belongs there and then. I'm just going to miss her a lot... But anyway, I'm on Kuwahari now! I'll see you at work tomorrow, right? I can't wait! Okay. Bye! See you really, really soon!"

Clash hung up and started walking towards the lights she could see in the distance; she was cheerful and happy after her vacation, and more hopeful for the future than ever before.

Gloomy spirits.

The inside of the tavern was warm, packed, and noisy. Gerrard shuffled in place and adjusted his coat before sliding into the crowd.

Travel was still common in this part of the world, and so the press was mostly day-laborers, free from their labors. Gerrard received a few confused stares, but amongst humans he hardly noticed anymore. Goat-people weren't a common sight, after all. He had no business with them in any case.

Reaching the bar itself, he slipped into a vacated seat and took the black gloves from his hands, glancing around. There were more than a few suits of armor with bodies inside sitting around him, but not the ones he-

"You must be the Black Goat of the Hub." A voice growled behind him. It was quiet, but purred with the helm's voice like like the smile on the edge of an axe. He slowly turned around, to meet the red eyes of the Lion.

The man's armor was golden, but spiked and chevroned in sweeping, loose plates. It didn't look heavy; when Gerrard up-and-downed him, it flowed with him as he jerked his snarling faceplate toward a corner, heading that way with a light step. Gerrard followed, dipping his head. When they arrived, he noticed the other one for the first time- a gaunt, tall, silent armored man. He briefly nodded to Gerrard's scrutiny.

"First-" said the Lion, before squeezing the flame out of the candle in the center of the table and sitting down. "You put in effort to hunt us down. Who was your contact?"

"Marcella, in the Old Argo beach district. She highly recommended the both of you. It certainly was a chore to find your trail, that much I'll share." Gerrard said, folding his hands and looking between them.

"Mercenary work is easier if you leave once you're paid." Said the taller one dryly. His armor was more subdued, but still obviously powered and actively used. The scars and torn bits of sheared metal hanging off his frame was proof enough of that- much like the Greatsword leaning against the wall behind him.

"Yes, well, speaking of that-"

"You know our terms?" The Lion growled.

"Your job, your play, your fight, your way. So I'd heard." Gerrard said, slightly annoyed at the interruption. "The job itself is-"

"Why do you want a soon-to-be-Kopper dead?"

"Kobber."

"What?" The Lion asked, looking askance at the other.

"They're called Kobbers, after their Bar."

"So be it." He said, flapping his hand distractedly. "Why does a foreigner want some jailhouse bird red and cold?"

"Personal reasons, primarily. Will that be a problem?" Gerrard asked, filching a drink off a passing tray. He sipped before grimacing- why would anyone in their right mind want alcoholic prune juice?

"Your coin spends like any other." They shrugged at the same time.

"In essence, she bares me a personal grudge, as well as the administration I currently am stewarding. You'd think a war would clean up messes, not leave them to stew in their ugly tempers inside a jail." Gerrard said, discreetly pouring the glass on the floor.

"You want the head when we're done?" Osric asked. His helm snarled at Gerrard, and the red glass of his eyes seemed to pierce through him.

"...Please."

"Half up front, half when the job is done. Do we have an accord?" Antonio, the wolf knight inquired, holding his right hand out. Gerrard grasped him by the wrist and firmly pumped the handshake.

"We certainly do. I'll have your money to you by Tommorow morning. Thank you both very much for-"

"Save your gratitude. The work's not done yet." Osric said, standing and pushing away from the table. Antonio got to his feet, creaking like an old man. Only now did Gerrard notice that his left arm was dead; It hung from his shoulder like a piece of meat, even as he hefted up his sword to his pauldron.

"We'll be in touch."

"We'll be watching."

The homefront (With Cornwind)

The scar across his neck and throat was a dull, yet livid purple. It leapt out to Clash's eyes as he discarded his metal armor chestpiece, leaving the leather padding beneath it. After that, he removed some of his leg armor, leaving the knee and shin guards, and snapping off metal coverings for his boots. Clash was no good at age, but even she could tell the man's hair had gone prematurely grey, a grey that matched the steel-like blue of his eyes. Consulting a wall, he eventually removed a broadsword; the weapon still seemed small compared to Clash's massive length of deadly metal.

"Normally, I'd ask you to go through an exercise, but it strikes me that you are moreso a woman of action and learning on your feet. I can do both, fortunately." The somewhat de-armored knight settled into a combat stance. "Let's leave out those auras my niece told me about, just for now. Otherwise, attack me."

"Take him as seriously as you would fighting me, Clash! Heck, more!" Athena said, sitting on the ground nearby, carefully balancing twin buckets of water attached to a rod laid across her shoulders. Even talking made it jiggle, and she sucked air in through her teeth.

"Okay, sure thing! Get ready!" Said Clash, raising her sword and holding it in the ready position. She was dressed in a red t-shirt and black leggings; her hair was in a loose ponytail. She looked more fulfilled, much less the awkward scarecrow she'd once been. The time here with Athena had been everything she'd hoped for and more. Her pupil narrowed as she shifted her hips and swung.

The first blows weren't quick, but they were steady; Clash hammered the gap multiple times before she swung from her opposite side, the length of killing metal hurtling in a black arc. She was putting oomph into her attacks, and with her reach and range, looking to batter the grey knight's defenses. 

She seemed to be doing well for herself...for the first minute or so. He was staggering a bit, the hits being blocked but the impact rattling him.

Then Clash found her blows were not impacting with the same OMMMFFFFPHHH. She was still hitting, but the man's stance and blade were shifting, ever so slightly, blunting the attacks. That continued on for another two minutes.

And then she found she wasn't even hitting at all. Her sword blows were deflected or just avoided entirely, and unlike Aggie, who did dodging with lots of flips and dramatic movements, the older knight barely moved at all. If she didn't see the focus in his eyes, she'd swear she was being toyed with.

It was different than Ko. Ko was also a blade master, but she was all about advance, aggression, close ranks and crack heads. Clash wasn't sure if the man could also blunt Ko's offense if she was here. Maybe. She'd just met Sir William, Knight-Valiant Of The Realms, an hour ago.

"Hmmm. You've been forged by some real battles, I can tell. Yet there's still a lot of excess movement...though you are better at guarding your openings then the average berserker." He barely sounded winded.

That was when Aggie threw the rock at him, even as Clash swung.

William Ward snapped up a hand, grabbing the stone and dropping it even as he deflected Clash's blade into the ground, still with one hand. The man's battle awareness was astonishing; it was pretty clear he'd told Athena at some point to throw the rock on purpose.

"Okay, hold." William said, dropping his sword and rubbing his wrist. "Not as young as I used to be...You hit with immense impact despite your slim frame. How fast do you heal, may I ask?" 

Clash blinked confusedly at Aggie, before she knelt and tugged her sword out of the floor. At the question, she brightened, smiling a sharp smile with her blade across her shoulder. Her blood was a little up, and her eye was bright.

"Thanks! You're pretty fast- that's neat! I heal quick." She glanced at the arm holding her sword; the surgical scars running across her had faded to nothing but marks. She mostly just wore her eyepatch for the look. "Minor wounds don't really bother me, and whatever doesn't kill me, I can usually fight through. I actually think I heal better if I'm fighting a lot..."

"My sword heals too, actually. All it takes is a night, and then- poof! Good as new!" She said, holding out the blade one-handed and smiling fondly at it. "I never get sick, either. I just burn it out, the same with a poison or a curse." 

"So. Modification." William said.

"From birth. Like, total birth."

"I see." William said. "All right then. Athena, something to restore her vigor, could you please?"

"Yes sir." Athena headed over to a chest and began poking around. William winced, and caught himself before he stumbled.

"Clash? Can you come over here, please?" Athena said, fishing some mushrooms out of a bag when the girl did so. "You need to chew these thoroughly."

Athena lowered her voice. Clash was vaguely aware that the older man was putting his armor back on.

"He's cursed. He can't take his armor off for long without starting to get sick and weak. He wanted to be a knight, and well...that was the downside to getting to be one. And as he's gotten older, it's gotten worse. Just so you know." 

"Oh... Oh. That's awful, I'm sorry." Clash muttered, in between bites of mushroom. She smiled at Aggie before turning back and holding her sword at her side, waiting for Sir William to re-armor himself. While he did, she jangled her chain and then looked up, less excited and more grave.

"Uh... Yeah, I was engineered for War. They used magic and science to make me a killing machine. I think I was really good at it... But anyway, my Aura is only the most obvious part of all that. You can probably see, but all my actual training was either by myself or patchwork from others. I'm not a berserker, though! Uhm... Most of the time. When my blood starts boiling it gets hard not to break everybody, but that hasn't happened in awhile."

"...Disgusting. Er, not you, young lady. Just such a process. Ignore this old man, he has his ways and likes them dearly, and I don't like the sound of that. Process. If only because it snarls potential. Why be a machine of death when you can be akin to a force of nature? Anyone with a blade can butcher meat. But no matter, no matter. I just need to get a full measure of how you act if I'm going to give you some lessons. Where you are strong and where you may be weak. Now then...attack me again. All out. Like I'm your mortal enemy. You hate me."

William closed the helmet, sliding some metal into place.

"In the Honorbound garb, I can endure it. And I will not tire. I need to see when you reach a level where even you cannot fight any more. Even if it lasts into the next sunrise."

"He ain't kidding. I fought him for two hours straight and literally keeled over, unable to move. He didn't even seem to break a sweat. Though that's also due to this place being his turf. It's set up for this sort of stuff. If you two walked down the road a mile, things would be different, but that's training for later."

"Athena. Grip strength training."

"Yes, sir." Athena headed over to a set of bars and began doing a salmon ladder routine. 

"If that's what it takes, then I'm ready! We might be here awhile, but I'm ready!" Clash said, delighted. She gripped her sword and gathered herself before coming in like a wave, her enormous blade a bolt of lightning as it cracked and snarled against it's opposite's metal. She kept her aura from activating, but still attacked ferociously.

She would never be truly quick; Her sword was too much to move fast, other than in swings. But her stamina and her dexterity with the blade made up for it, as she chained together blows, switching in thrusts and overhead chops when she needed to. She stabbed, the tip of her sword slapping the ground before she hauled it up hard with her shoulders.

Clash attacked and blocked, circled and fought; she whirled on her heel and brought her sword through with bone-crushing force, hard enough to rattle the weapons on the walls. She threw out a pommel strike and then reversed her grip, the black sword swinging like a pendulum before she brought it down again.

Later, after many more blows and cracks in the floor, her eye was glowing; around her, it was warmer. Brief flashes of fire backlit her throat, and she was sweating. She was still unbowed; her breathing was heavier, but her shoulders were still pert, and she didn't seem tired at all.

"-All-out All-out?!" She asked excitedly, the air around her crackling like baking tinfoil. 

"...yes."

"UH oh." Aggie said. Even SHE was uncertain if her uncle could handle this. Maybe if he was ten years younger...

Better get some sleeping gas just in case. 

Clash's aura sprang to life, the angry red energy flowing around her knees in a large circle and bathing her in it's light. Her sword burst into roiling flames, the tongues of fire crawling up it's edges. The light of her own internal flames made her look almost demonic, even as she braced herself.

"Okay!"

The chain rattled and shivered as the blade grew great and bigger; Clash hefted the burning sword up, her grin huge.

"OKAY!"

The impact of the first blow made the walls shake, not just the weapons. Clash wielded her sword the same even at it's larger size, and threw out strike after strike that would've cleaved through houses. Cuts from retaliatory wounds bubbled and hissed, the blood sizzling in droplets along the ground; Clash swung, her aura burning before her sword grew sharper. Sharper and more on fire. 

...To his credit, the Knight-Valiant held out for another twenty minutes before his sword broke. The next slash sent cleaved metal flying.

"CLASH STOP! DONE! ABORT! ABORT!" 

"...interesting...disable...makeup..." William said on the ground. 

"HAAAAAAAAAA- oh! Sorry! Okay! Sorry!" Clash said frantically, her aura sizzling off like a grill shut down; Her sword shattered down to it's normal size, although her eye kept glowing. "I'm in check, I'm in check! I just... You're so good at this, Sir. I just wanted to tire myself out faster... are you okay?"

"I guess you can... Uhm, see the point where I start to lose it. The longer I go full power, the harder it is to turn off..." 

"You cut through my armor. That has not happened in...a considerable amount of time." The old knight was back on his feet swiftly and without effort. "So, that is what happens if you invoke power."

"...One can work with this. You should probably also go see Valse, spend a few weeks with him, but not yet. There's immense potential in you, and I want to draw it out. I'm getting too old to venture out and save the world any more. So the more I can make other people do it...

"You talk about being a killer, but it is not difficult to make an opponent fear death. I would like to make your opponent fear YOU. Because in some ways, the greatest victories are the ones where no one fights.

"But, I can see you wouldn't much care for that, so...I'll also teach you the very best ways I know to introduce someone to a blade until they stop being an issue."Ino 

"How long do you think that will take, sir?"

"...eight months? Fourteen if we take a more relaxed pace..."

"Well Clash, it's up to you. I have noticed you can get a little antsy, but I'm telling you its worth it. You think I'm a half-decent swordswoman, I just got three months of training with him."

How things change. Clash suspected three years ago, had she managed to actually knock down a supposedly invincible warrior, it would have prompted rather...negative reactions. Here, she was being offered lessons on how to knock him down even easier. And she suspected that if he HAD reacted that way, Athena would have sided with her and dropped the obedient respect she showed. Though him reacting that way said a lot why she showed him such deference. 

"I'd be honored! I want to learn whatever you'll teach me." Clash said eagerly, still feeling a little guilty for unloading on Sir William. "I need all the training I can get. I mean, I do okay with what I have-" she grinned. Her eye flicked to Aggie. "But I could be better, and I need to be. I'm really grateful just for all this..."

"I love killing, but I don't want to just clear the fields. I want to make a real difference! The others- The ones I'm going to be fighting have way more experience and skill than me. I think that if I can't beat them, then I won't be able to free them." Clash said, wiping her face with her shirt's hem.

"I don't know about saving the world, but I know I want to try and do some good. Especially if I get to fight enemies!"

"When can we start? Or are we going to keep fighting? I'm ready!" She said, happily raising her sword again. 

"Ah...enough for today. These old bones can't go on and on like they used to..."

"UH oh." Aggie said.

"Tomorrow, I think we'll just test your general endurance limits."

"...Hope you like running in mud with your legs chained together, Clash."

"And you can join her for some refresher courses, Athena."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

-----------------------

"I double-checked just to be sure, Clash, but...yeah. I can't go back with you. Even if I hadn't ruffled so many feathers...I'm being watched like a hawk, AND well...going back would be testing my luck, our luck, in a lot of ways. Gambling was never my strong suit.

"But, I didn't spend all the time you were being trained idle. I might have hit my limits when it comes to magical learning, but fortunately, you don't need a spark to make an Emotion Engine. Just the will, and the way."

Aggie produced a large box with a smile...which she tried to open dramatically.

Which failed. The lock was stuck.

"...AND THE WAY."

Second try, same as the first try, Aggie spent a minute struggling with the box before she finally slammed it down on a table, finally popping the semi-stuck mechanism open.

"I swear if it's empty...no, good."

Inside were two items. A metallic black gauntlet, and what appeared to be some kind of metal box that was slightly smaller.

"I didn't name it. You can. Try the gauntlet on. Should fit near perfectly." Athena said. "Your whole fighting style is big, wide, sweeping...the gauntlet will help you out a bit if someone somehow gets right up in your face and your aura isn't enough, whatever rare chance THAT might happen. You can use it to block. And smash someone across the face if need be. It's pretty tough...might not hold up to something like Pteron biting down on it as hard as he could, but still, pretty tough.

"And this, is for any time that you want to hit something and for whatever reason running up and introducing them to your sword isn't an immediate good idea."

Athena slapped the boxy object on top of the gauntlet, and it unfolded like a flower, pieces snapping into place to unfold into a mini-crossbow.

"Only has four shots, but it self-loads and turns any metal put on it into ammo. Like, normal metal. I wouldn't fool around with fancy stuff, might break it. Fire by flexing your wrist down. It has a LITTLE course correction, but only a little. Nice sharp little bolts, has a range of about eighty yards, pierces through some armors...it doesn't hit with much impact though. Consider it jabbing someone with the end of your sword from very far away. And trust me. Very few things can just ignore you shoving something pointy into their eye. Or throat. Or genitals." 

"Aw... I know, I guess I just hoped something would magically happen and it would be okay." Clash said wanly. "Last year was really special for me, and you were a big part of that. I know some of the good was because neither one of us really knew what we were getting into, but... I don't know, I just wish you weren't right..." She frowned.

When Aggie pulled out her labors, it was like someone had flipped a switch; Clash smiled wide before she gasped with joy and slipped the gauntlet on. She clenched her fist and then waved her fingers while her eye widened.

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!! Oh my-" she gasped, delighted. No one knew her better than Aggie. Carrying and using a shield would've been cumbersome and off-balanced her, as well as actually making her less lethal; Aggie had given her one that took nothing from her- if anything, just made her more dangerous.

Slotting the box-bow onto the gauntlet, she sighted and aimed at the wall, before turning it and looking down at the sharp metal points. They mirrored her happy smile. The idea of utility and suddenly having options other than Sword Them To Death nearly made her giddy.

Undocking the crossbow, she reached out hugged Aggie tightly. There were many layers to it; Being grateful for the gifts, thankful that Aggie was her best friend, happiness that she'd come so far, and an undertone of sadness she pushed down again, as she had every time she realized it was getting closer and closer for her to leave.

She'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

"Thank you, Aggie! You're, you're really the best. No, no, no- what's better then the best? THAT'S you!" She crowed, smiling down at her and glancing at the gauntlet again, like a kid with a new toy. When she let go, she looked pensive.

"I mean it, though. You're the best sister I could've ever asked for. I love you!" She said, grabbing her sword and hefting it up, admiring the play of light on the armor's surface. "I can't wait to punch some evil jerks right in their dumb faces!" 

"I'd say the same, but then Sunny and Cypress would complain. So, uh...you're in good company? Grand company, really." Athena said. "Though that reminds me...

"Once you get back, the processes will have been finalized...you'll be adopted into the family. Just in case you needed any more motivation. But don't let that stop you from making any new friends. Or taking any risks. That ain't you, and a Clash that ain't Clash is...I don't know. Clsh? That sounds suitably weird.

"Whatever happens, this will always be your home, if you want it to be."

Clash hugged her again; Everything she wanted to say was caught in her throat, so she just did the best she could.

Ironclad

It wasn't the noises that worried them.

Since she'd moved into her room on the ground floor (The closest to the empty stables) Jack had stayed inside it with the door closed, the only thing emerging the sounds of metal being hammered and wrenched, power tools being used, and every now and then, black streaks of cursing. She'd come down for most dinners, but she was quiet and withdrawn, almost standoffish sometimes, picking apart her food before excusing herself quickly.

Inshabel had asked them all to give her time, but Ino's curiously had gotten the better of her. Peering through Jack's keyhole, she could only see her back, not all the cases and crates she'd dolly-lifted into her room. She was hammering something... Ino knew she had power armor, but she wanted to see it.

She absent-mindedly tried the copper doorknob, and then looked shocked when it clicked and the door opened. She braced and flashed toward Jack, but she continued her work, not even looking around. Ino hesitantly walked into the room, eyeing the open boxes and tools scattered on the carpet.

"Hello!... How are you this day?" She asked brightly. Jack continued to hammer the metal in front of her on her work-table, part of a big metal arm from what Ino could see. She didn't respond, or even act as though she'd heard her.

Ino frowned and walked closer, craning her head over Jack's shoulder. "Is that your-"

Jack jumped in her seat and whirled around, her teeth clenched and anger in her eyes. Ino jerked back and put her hands up in front of her, before Jack winced and shook her head hurriedly. She waved around at Ino before jerking her thumb toward herself, running her hand over her right ear. A slim piece of metal curled around the outside, before it dipped into her ear canal and into her head.

"Sorry. I didn't have my hearing on. You spooked me, that was all." She said, looking at Ino and not smiling. Her voice was rough, almost like she was hoarse from yelling. "...Is it time for supper? I'm not hungry. Thanks, though."

"Oh, ah, no. I was just wondering, well... What are you doing?" Ino asked hesitantly. Her eye shot from the arm, to Jack, to the arm, and back again before she smiled. Jack didn't return it.

"Fixing problems before they happen. Last time I maintained my gear was before I got took down." Jack said, picking her ball-peen hammer back in hand. "Haven't got a chance to do any upkeep on it since. Sorry for the noise, I'll try and work quieter."

With that, she turned and went back to work. Ino paused before sitting down next to her, eyeing the skeleton of a big metal arm that Jack was forcing back into perfect shape. The other woman side-eyed her, but said nothing else.

"So... What was Jail like? Did you acquire a gang tattoo?" Ino asked, soldiering on.

"It was a low fucking point. It was awful." Jack said roughly, glancing at Ino's unhappy frown. "...It was bad, but parts were good for me. I had a lot of time to think. They had these enrichment classes you could do. You ever been to camp? Like those. I learned to read better. They set my hearing aid up, too. The other inmates were mostly what made it a shithole."

"Did they not like you?"

"I don't know. Probably not. It was more, when you got a pack of cigarettes and a nine foot tall, four armed lizard person that weighs five of you snatches them, what're you going to do, punch her?...That was what I did. That scaly bitch broke four of my ribs." Jack grunted, putting down the section of forearm she was working on. "...hand me my spanner, would you?"

Ino looked around, before slowly picking up a screwdriver and giving it to Jack. She looked down before looking at Ino. "No, the spanner."

Ino gave her some solder.

"A spanner is a wrench... Here. This thing." Jack said, showing it to her before loosening some bolts.

"Oh, I see...You're from Solis, like Inshabel?" Ino asked, picking up the screwdriver and examining it doubtfully.

"Yeah. A different part, though. The Eastmarch is as Far East as you can go before mountains stop you. My corner was a mining town. Mom was a blacksmith, dad died in a cave-in when I was young. My mom taught me the trade, taught me a little about engineering and all that. Things were good." Jack trailed off, eyeing the hand of her armor. The middle finger kept squeaking...

"What happened?" Ino asked. She wouldn't have, but Jack looked too angry and sad to not want to talk about it.

"Shit got bad, and shit went worse. You know exactly what I mean." She said, her green-blue eyes holding Ino's red one and measuring her. "I wasn't born deaf, let's put it that way. But that time was like Jail, too. It was real fucking dark, but I made this-" she waved her hand over her pieces and parts-"-out of it. Because of it."

"I'm sorry..." Ino murmured. She would've hugged Jack, but she almost felt that would be a bad idea. So instead-

"I, well, if you wouldn't mind... What does your armor look like? Can I see it? Please?"

She'd guessed right; Jack turned to her with real surprise, before she actually smiled for the first time Ino had seen. "You really want to?"

"Yes! Yes, please!" Ino said excitedly. Jack looked around, her smile fading.

"Give me a few minutes to gather it up. I guess I can work the kinks out afterward..."

Even standing there, only on and active, the armor rumbled. It was a low feeling, more vibration than sound, but when Jack moved, it momentarily rose. She lifted her shield and hit the edge hard to her chest, nodding in satisfaction at the solid metal knock it made. She finally felt like she was at home.

"Guess it's-" Jack started, putting her shield down.

"Who's driving a f*cking truck inside?!" Trace yelled from the attic. Jack met Ino's eye and covered her mouth with her gauntlet, before they were both chuckling.