III

A Trembling Wrist

The wind was whistling, the air was unusually dry, and woodland creatures from Dustlow Forest were sneaking into the city streets more often than was typical. Much was unusual today in the town of Lumen, but one constant remained frustratingly present; Korrenarh Fletch Sootfoot was getting himself into trouble.

He paced around the open doors of his workplace, his taloned feet scraping the wood floor, his attention darting between the various bowls and bottles resting on shelves, and the miscellaneous materials and ingredients stored inside them. Korrenarh Mathieu and Korrenarh Karmen talked over each other while Fletch grabbed for this and that.

“You can't reverse-engineer an heirloom we're meant to give back to a client,” said Karmen. “It takes a day to safely disassemble mechanisms you have seen before, and God knows how long it'll take us to understand this thing enough to- I'm sorry, what are you even suggesting we do?”

“Replace its effects,” Mathieu repeated. “Mr. Marcetti can wait a week or two if it's important to him.”

“No, I heard you the first time Mathieu, what does that mean!?”

Fletch pulled out a chair to reach into a pot hanging too high for him to grab. The drooping vines of hanging plants strung up along the laboratory's ceiling kissed his teardrop-shaped head. His black-feathered finger touched something bristly and warm inside. Day Lily! That's good…

“I mean we find out what the actual magic of the thing is coming from, and just- swap it out!" Said Mathieu. "That way, he can still use it, and we can make it something useful to-”

“Do you think magic is a clockmaker's game, Mathieu? Are you that dense? You're just gonna break it! Now, if we run it through with anti-magic...”

“Anti-magic! Your heavensent panacea for every scrape and cut our neighbors bring us! Do you think anti-magic grows on trees, Karmen!? We can't use it like salt!”

Fletch opened a drawer, and shuffled through a few different beakers he had left rolling around in there, feeling for the right shape. No, no, no… fine.

“Excuse me for not cheapening out when people come to us for help, Mathieu!”

“We're going to run out, Karmen. If you don't have the creativity to stop leaning on such an expensive crutch when we do-”

“I am not using it as a crutch! Mr. Marcetti said he didn't want the box to drain his constitution any more, anti-magic is the simplest way to go about that.”

“And what about the boost to his intelligence? What, do we just turn this thing into a normal piece of wood? Some scholars we are!”

Fletch swept past Korrenarh Zacharias, and grabbed a handful of dust kept in a bowl atop his desk. He almost sneezed as the dust tickled his beak.

Zacharias noticed this, and berated Fletch as he walked past. “Ask first, Fletch!”

“Okay.” Fletch kept walking, pulling out a piece of orange string while he stuffed the Day Lily to the bottom of the beaker with his thumb.

“He didn't ask us to keep the intelligence booster,” said Karmen. “And honestly, are we sure it even does anything to make him smarter?”

“We'd know if we reverse engineered it.”

“It's a childhood toy with a curse on it, for all we know. Anti-magic lets him keep the box, which is the part he cares about.”

“Are you implying Mr. Marcetti doesn't know what he's holding on to? He's a smart man, Karmen.”

“Then what does he need an intelligence booster for?”

Fletch filled the beaker with the dust, wrung the string out until a drop of orange liquid dripped into the vial, and closed it. The beaker sizzled and foamed as the orange substance liquidized the Day Lily. He made his way over to the main study, vigorously shaking the beaker.

“You're gonna break it, Mathieu. Stop playing genius and let us do our job!”

“Genius IS our job! I will not let our reputation revolve around skimming magic items from our clients, especially ones as loyal as Mr. Marcetti!”

Fletch entered the study, walked between Mathieu and Karmen, and snatched the wooden puzzle box Mathieu had in his hands from him.

Both scholars glared at Fletch and shouted at once. “Fletch, ask first!”

“Mhm.” Fletch opened the beaker, and poured its contents onto the puzzle box. It glowed with a dim orange light, before quivering a little in Fletch's grip.

“What did you just do to it?” Karmen asked.

“I doused it in Mirror Solution.” Fletch answered, handing the puzzle box back to Mathieu. “Its effects are going to reverse themselves over the next day. So, it'll boost his constitution instead of draining it.”

“Okay…” Mathieu studied the box. “But I don't think he wants it to drain his intelligence, either.”

“The box is tied to an enchantment cantrip?” Asked Fletch.

“Transmutation.”

“Then both effects will level out at zero in… six hours. Use a mental ward or some kind of countercharm, and you can freeze the intelligence booster when it gets to that point.”

“How do we do that?”

“I don't know.” Fletch shrugged.

“You don't--” Mathieu scowled. “Well we're kind of stuck doing it your way now, Fletch!”

“Good," said Fletch. "Now you have the same goal. Figure it out.”

“We can still use anti-magic,” said Karmen.

“No,” Fletch said. “Mirror Solution uses Norcum powder, anti-magic's going to set the box on fire.”

“Fletch!” Karmen bleated.

“You said this was for Mr. Marcetti?” Fletch asked, already walking away.

“He's waiting in the front hall,” said Mathieu. “You can tell him we... yeah, you know.”

Fletch entered the front hall, where an old Elven man in worn-down robes smiled patiently. He was more wrinkles than skin now, leaning on every desk and chair in stubborn refusal to purchase a cane. Fletch noticed the glint of something shiny hanging out of his pocket: a metal chain.

Fletch felt butterflies build up in his chest. Sunlight beamed warmly in through the pair of large windows beside the tall door to the outside; he could see the open road from here. The Korrenarh lobby was a quaint and modern room, deep browns and greens along the paint and furniture mixing soothingly with the ever-burning sage in the air. Mr. Marcetti greeted Fletch with half-closed eyes as he walked by.

“Hello, Fletch!”

“Hello! Karmen started working on your box.”

“That's good! They think they can work it out, then?”

“Yep! We think we can make it stronger- but the method is risky.”

“Risky?” Mr. Marcetti frowned. “Well, don't go and hurt yourselves over it. I'm just looking to make it safe enough to pass to my grandson when his birthday comes around, it's nothing urgent-”

“We understand completely, Mr. Marcetti- ah, excuse me- I'm sure it's in good hands! Give Karmen your questions, though. I leave now!”

Mr. Marcetti stumbled and waved as Fletch walked off. “Oh! Alright then- take care, Fletch! Be good, son!”

“Yes! Good! Always! Good!”

Fletch opened the door and dashed off into the morning wind.

The tiny scholar giggled to himself as he twirled the chain of the shiny necklace around in his fingers. The ornament was smooth and hefty, a miniature figure of some sort of staff-wielding goddess

East Clearbrooke was a big and open town no matter what stretch you found yourself in, but the 'obelisk stretch,' where the Korrenarh Scholars' headquarters was stationed, was especially keen on giving its buildings room to breathe. Flat dirt with patches of brown grass were given color through thin and disorderly cobblestone paths, winding this way and that with no real sense of pattern or purpose. The buildings here were big, bulky, rectangular behemoths; one hardly needed a road to show them exactly what steps to take to find them.

Fletch kept his attention on the ornament; he brushed the dust off of her with his fingers, and twisted her around to see her from every angle. The shape was so intricate, the little jewels on her dress were so beautifully distracting- and the chain! The links of the chain were all uneven, in totally different shapes! Try as he did, he couldn't find two links that looked alike! And he tried, again and again and again and-

Fletch walked straight into two Elves in metal armor, clinking his beak against one of their breastplates. He yelped, and jumped backwards so high that one might mistakenly think that this particular bird had wings.

Fletch's talons nervously dug in the dirt as he landed. The two guards stood perfectly still, and glowered as he scrambled the necklace into his coat.

"Eep!" Fletch squawked. "You hit me!"

"We didn't move," One of the guards responded dryly. "You were too taken by your toy to notice us."

"Oh!" Fletch stood up straight. "My mistake! I leave you alone now!"

"That looked awful familiar, Fletch," The other guard crossed his arms. "Where'd you get that necklace?"

"Necklace? Mmm- you saw wrong. I had a- a- a- carving, no necklace! Lots of carvings! I show you later."

About seven inches of the necklace's chain was still hanging out of Fletch's inside pocket.

"Right," The guard rolled his eyes. "Fletch, that wouldn't happen to be Mr. Marcetti's necklace, would it? The Fyr totem he wears?"

Fletch's eyes darted to the side. He didn't respond.

"Because your friends warned me that you've been staring at it whenever he's around. I don't know where you got the impression that you're subtle enough-"

Fletch turned to the side, and started walking away from the guards. The speaking guard scoffed, and jumped in his way. "Hey!"

The moment the first guard leapt toward Fletch, he ducked and rolled between his legs, getting back on his feet and taking off. "Wait- stop!"

Fletch smiled, wide eyed, and rushed away from the guards as they regained their footing to chase him. Heading west, it took him no more than half a minute to reach the flea market, where all that open space of the obelisk stretch was traded for dozens upon dozens of ramshackle merchant stalls. All of them competed to make the most noise and boast the most hideously eye-catching colors, in hopes passersby and ill-fortuned tourists would be fooled into thinking they were being sold something worth a damn. They never were. While one could end up inhaling an uncomfortable whiff of dust from time to time wandering around town, it was practically a rite of passage here; some people opt to hold their breath and rush through the chorus of kicking feet in this dense little portion of the city.

Fletch leapt over a table, nearly knocking a vase full of water into a pretty Elf's face. He weaved between stalls, spinning into dust clouds, taking advantage of his tiny stature. Those pointy-eared leaf lickers would have a hell of a time crawling around in pursuit of him here.

As Fletch let his thin orange legs carry him further and further into the city, thoughts of the necklace grew dimmer and dimmer in his mind. He wasn't going through all this trouble because this necklace held any special value to him; the truth was, now that he had it, it would be mere minutes before it stopped meaning anything at all to him. He did this all the time: snatching random baubles and trinkets that caught his eye wherever he saw them. And not once in his fifteen living years was he able to explain why.

To feed himself? Hardly, he was a respected scientist and hunter. And it wasn't that he enjoyed the chase, either. It seemed to him that one second, he was looking at something, and the next, it just so happened to be in his hand. A harmless quirk, he figured; it wasn't like he ever got to keep his things. And people forgave him when they got them back! Sometimes.

He'd been punished before, but he never saw any reason to show remorse for his thievery. Being good at stealing things, and running away; those were both useful skills that made someone very strong. Feeling sorry as a skill was… decidedly less useful.

So, those stuffy Elves in metal suits could chase him all they liked. Fletch Sootfoot would keep moving, keep living, and keep taking what he wanted.

Fletch turned down an alley, expecting to scurry into it and disappear. On the other end of the flea market came the clayflat; a beautiful maze of tall brick projects where nothing but intuition could guide you through. Here, he could vanish without a trace for those pests to pick up on. But when he planted his foot forward, he suddenly couldn't feel the push of the floor below. Then again: his feet moved, but his body didn't. He found himself staring down the dark passageway, running in place. His frantic feet tossed up dirt in a circle around him; he took another good seven steps before he realized that he wasn't going anywhere.

Fletch looked down at himself, and noticed the dim green aura waving around his torso- a surefire sign of some magic holding him in place. Fletch gulped, and stupidly tugged on his own coat, trying to pull himself out of the spell's hold. He knew very well that wasn't how magic worked.

Fletch turned around, and spotted gloomy and drab woman pointing at him from a distance, a wavy green ring circling her finger. She had sleek, yellow skin, and patches where scales plated atop her flesh; a Yuan-Ti. And not just any Yuan-Ti, Fletch knew this one. The blackbird puffed up his shoulders, and threw out his arms as he screamed at the snake lady.

"CARLA!" He shrieked. "LET ME GO!"

Carla rested one hand on her hip, still pointing at him with the other. Two strangers stood behind her: a pair of large, strong looking women with ashy white skin and spiky hair. They watched him curiously as he fumed in place.

"CARLA!" He repeated, matching his previous inflection exactly. "PLEASE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

Carla rolled her eyes. Fletch's blood chilled, as he heard the footsteps of the guards fade in from the other direction.

"STOP IT!" He pleaded. "STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT, PLEASE!"

Carla raised her eyebrows, and tapped her foot, ignoring his pleas. He wasn't even sure she could hear him.

"YOU WIN! COME ON, I GOTTA GO- I REALLY GOTTA GO CARLA IT'S IMPORTANT I- I- UH-"

The two guards stomped past the crowd and raced their way to Fletch. In a last ditch effort, Fletch clasped his hands together and prayed to Carla, before the Elves snatched him up by the collar and slammed him against a wall, finally breaking the spell.

"-Ack!" Fletch spouted, as his head banged against stone.

"Haah- got ya!" The first guard panted. "Tollus, you're quick."

"You stand and listen when I'm talking to you!" The second guard raised his fist.

Fletch held his hands over his face and quivered, talking almost too quickly to be understood. "Okayokayokayokay you got me I give up you can have the necklace I'm sorry I'm sorry don't hit me!"

He snatched the necklace's chain and tossed it at the second guard, smacking him on the chin. The guard's face went blank as he watched it drop to the dirt.

"Little shit!" The first guard growled. "Someone oughta cut your hands off, you crook! How many times do I have to-"

"Let him go," said Carla, approaching. "You wanted that thing he dropped, right?"

"We need to punish him, scholar," said the second guard. "Or did you forget that stealing is against the law?"

"I did!" Fletch squeaked.

"Shut it!" The second guard punched Fletch in the beak, sending him hiding into his collar. The guard shook his hand, having pricked his knuckle against the beak's tip.

"You probably don't wanna sack him this time, boys," Carla warned, not bothering to look any of them in the eyes. "He has diplomatic immunity."

"Huh?" The guards looked at Carla, who pointed her thumbs up at the two Goliaths standing at her shoulders. The first guard thought for a moment, dropped Fletch, and reeled in frustration. "Oh, God damnit. That's right, you're an owned man now."

"We can still put him away," the other guard said. "He doesn't own this city, he broke the law."

"That's probably more trouble than it's worth," Carla shook her head.

Amira leaned to the side, and gave the guards an awkward smile. "He's actually leavin' with me 'n an hour'r so."

"I'm afraid he's gonna have to wait," he said. "We need to hold him until Mr. Marcetti decides whether or not he wants to demand recompense. And a repeat offender stealing a religious totem could constitute flogging."

Fletch let out another yelp at that word.

Amira's smile dropped. "I don't have time fer that. Like I said, we're gonna be outta here 'n an hour, so I need ya t'look the other way."

"Do you expect me to-"

Amira stepped up to the guard, towering him by nearly two feet. Her shadow blocked Fletch's view of the sun. "Ye haven't gone deaf, have ya? We're taking him."

Maeve smirked. The two guards looked up at Amira, their confidence draining by the second.

Amira grabbed Fletch by the collar with one hand, and yanked him out of the Elf's grip, without breaking eye contact. "You got yer treasure back. Go pick it up."

The guards' eyes darted briefly to the necklace, collecting dirt on the ground. They paused, then one bent down, and picked it up. "I guess that should be our priority. Mr. Marcetti's probably waiting for this. We need to return it."

"You do that," said Amira.

The guards walked off. Amira dropped Fletch, who landed on his feet, and perked up.

"Haha!" He cheered. "I'm free!"

"What was that about, Fletch?" Amira glared at the tiny blackbird. "What'd ya steal that necklace for?"

"I dunno! But I didn't steal it. Mr. Marcetti has it, so it wasn't stolen!"

Amira and Maeve blinked. Fletch changed his demeanor on a dime, pointing an accusatory finger at Carla.

"You! Why did you stop me!?"

Carla shrugged. "You were running. And in an actual direction. That means you either had another breakthrough, or you stole something. I flipped a coin."

"Fletch, ye aren't gonna do that again, ah? We can't waste time protectin' our reputation from petty crimes if we've got work t'do." Amira scolded.

Fletch cocked his head to the side. "We?"

Amira caught herself, and held her hand out for Fletch to shake. "Name's Amira! Callaghan. I'm the Ambassador's volunteer from Gro."

"Did ye not put together that she was an Ambassador?" Maeve asked. "She said she was leaving with you."

"Well excuse me- I was distracted! I've never been dead-lifted by a naked giant before!"

Amira rolled her eyes. It's true that she and Maeve were both wearing considerably less clothing than everyone else in the city, but that was just how Goliaths dressed. They weren't naked. Or giants. Technically.

Maeve got a good look at Amira and Fletch side by side. She made him look like an infant; at 7'8 and 4'9 respectively, Fletch barely came up to her stomach.

Fletch, in comparison to this white giant, was a small pile of black dust in a heavy coat. He was scrawny, and constantly twitching; both standard for the Kenku race. His beak was round and dull, with a faded yellow tint. It poked out of his face like a mask tied around with a string. With beady black dots for eyes, you could mistake his irises for the glare of the sun. His legs from the knees down, the only significant part of him not covered in black feathers, were a hard and thin pair of bright orange sticks attached to three sharp talons each. His fingers were almost as sharp, not that he liked using his hands as weapons.

Fletch was draped in a heavy coat with a muddy, washed out deep green color. His sleeves never seemed to cover the same length of his arms from minute to minute. And though he had pockets on the outside, almost everything in his possession seemed to vanish into the unknowable void inside his clothing.

Fletch finally remembered that Amira was offering her hand, and shook it with both of his at once.

He nodded his head, "Hello, Amira."

Amira pulled back, noticing something strange about the way he said her name. She thought for a moment, and realized something. A childish smile crept upon her face. "What was that?"

"Huh?" Asked Fletch.

"What did ya say?"

"Hello, Amira."

"What's my name?"

"Amira. Why are you- oh."

Amira giggled. She was entertained by an unusual quirk, exclusive to Fletch's people.

Kenku do not have their own 'voices' to speak with. Granted, they have a voice: you can tell how one Kenku sounds apart from another, but they are unable to create words and sounds on their own. Instead, they store the words and voices that they hear, and mimic them to carry their speech. So, any word or noise they make will share the exact same cadence as who or whatever they heard it from.

This tradeoff also allows them to perfectly copy the sound of someone else's voice, should they choose not to sound like themselves. Quite the handy party trick.

Fletch had only heard Amira's name once before in his life: when she said it herself. So, he only had one inflection he was capable of saying it with. Every time Amira asked him to repeat himself, he did so with the perfect mimicry of a recording.

"Are you having fun?" Fletch crossed his arms. Amira stopped laughing, and nodded.

"Amira," She said again, to give Fletch a second option. "And this is Maeve, my sister."

"Sister? You weren't in the letter."

"I'm just a bodyguard," Maeve waved her hand. "I'll be outta yer hair when-"

Suddenly, a Satyr came screaming around a corner, holding their shoulder, blood dripping down their arm. Their twitching eyes and half-bent knees implied a frantic marathon from wheresoever they came.

"Displacer!" They shrieked, their voice breathy and desperate. "Displacer beast in the square! Someone, help me!"

Carla watched the Satyr collapse into the arms of the closest stranger. She let out a heavy sigh as the stranger carried them off, likely to a hospital. "Never a dull moment. They really ought to fix the fences around-"

Not bothering to stop and listen, Amira rushed off before Carla could finish her thought, Maeve chasing just after her.

Carla and Fletch stood in awkward silence.

"Do they know where town square is?" Fletch asked.

"Probably not."

Fletch took off as well. "Amira!" He called in an unnaturally calm tone; two mentions of a name still wasn't much to work with.

Carla stood and watched Fletch rush away, leaving her alone in the middle of the street. She looked around, and walked the other way, in search of somewhere to find lunch.

The displacer beast licked strings of flesh off of its long, porcelain fangs. Those fangs had just tore the skin from the exposed stomach of a Clearbrooke soldier. Not ten feet away in either direction, bodies of dead or dying warriors laid flat in the dirt; their might tested, and found lacking.

The displacer beast was a terrifying monstrosity of nature; at first glance, it could be confused for a panther. But its features were meaner, its face and muscles all toned with dense and well-groomed musculature. Its legs were numbered an unnatural six, its skin an unsettlingly smooth blue-black. Protruding from its mighty shoulders, two tentacles bent and hovered high over its head, each sprouting into spiky, diamond-shaped pads.

It is from these pads that the significant danger of the displacer originates. When the pads vibrate a particular way, they give off a humming beam that displaces light and affects its prey's perception. This allows the displacer beast to appear up to three feet away from its actual location, in any direction depending on where their pads are facing. A hunter cat is deadly on its own; unstoppable when you've dropped your guard attacking nothing.

The town square, a grand dusty stage with no more than a few soap boxes and a wishing well sticking out of the hunting ground, gave the displacer a blissfully freeing lair. In this spacious plaza, it could abuse the minds of its helpless prey almost as effortlessly as it abused their bodies. The displacer was savoring the nectar bleeding from its catch, when the sound of approaching footsteps tingled its ears. Six feet… another displacer? No. Three more threats were on their way.

The displacer stalked atop its prey, and raised its tendrils, ready to confront the Kenku and two Goliaths entering the square.

Though Fletch was noticeably faster than the sisters, and was shouting directions the whole way to the square, it was Amira who led the charge into battle. Maeve and Fletch caught sight of the displacer beast just in time to watch Amira leap into the air, spinning her whole body while holding the Dane Francisca like the world's most impractical throwing disc. With a force to crush boulders, Amira sent the axe head straight into the cobblestone, slicing clean through the… nothing, in her way. The stone cracked and sent pebbles soaring every which way, a violent tuft of dust scratching the axe's blade.

Pain surged up her arms as her fall concluded unbroken. Her feet slipped, and she sprawled onto her knees in shock. Amira gritted her teeth and gasped, as the displacer beast looked her in the eyes, three feet away. She didn't have time to stand up before the monster pounced on her.

Maeve stopped running, and watched perplexedly as her sister missed her target by multiple feet- a mistake she never made so egregiously. Her stomach dropped as the cat sunk its claws into Amira's flesh and pinned her down.

Maeve shook her head clear, and rushed ahead to help her sister

Fletch stayed put, reaching his arm out to Maeve. "Don't approach it! It's a displacer, you can't hit it!"

Maeve didn't hear him, and charged the monster head on. As soon as it noticed Maeve approach, it faced both tendrils forward, at her eye level. The Goliath slowed her pace as she watched the beast, and Amira beneath it, drift away from her- without themselves moving a muscle. No, they weren't moving. The very ground between them was extending… how? What did this monster just do?

Not giving it the chance to pull any more tricks, Maeve marched ahead, lifting her greatsword above her head to split its skull in two. But she hadn't time to reach it- after just three steps, while the beast was still some feet away, the displacer lurched its head upwards, and it vanished from the neck up!

Maeve stopped on a dime. As she did, the displacer's head reappeared just beneath her chin, its jaw outstretched and its fangs protruded. The beast clamped its teeth around Maeve's face, piercing through her cheeks and jerking her torso out of posture.

Maeve screamed as her mouth was forced open by the wedge of bone quickly sliding through her skin. She dropped her blade, which nearly fell on Amira's head.

The metal blade clanged beside Amira's ear, and woke her out of her stupor. Running on adrenaline, Amira shot her arm up, punching the displacer square in the throat, and sending it reeling back; in just enough pain to loosen its grip on Maeve's face, setting her free.

Maeve stumbled back to relative safety, as Amira tucked her legs in, and kicked the displacer off of her, flipping it into the air. The cat scurried to get back on its feet, and Maeve scrambled to get her weapon back. Meanwhile, Fletch rifled his hands through the inside of his coat, looking for something.

"Its stalks!" Fletch shouted to the Goliaths, who were finally ready to listen to him. "It's making a mirage with its stalks!"

Maeve and Amira both looked up at the tendrils hovering over its head, each pad pointed at one sister. The beast was standing still, waiting for them to approach it; they recognized that now.

"It only has two." Fletch went on. "Keep it focused on you, I just need a minute!"

The sisters looked at each other and nodded. Maeve held her greatsword ahead of her like a shield, and rushed at the displacer. Amira watched the displacer 'teleport,' and leap atop Maeve's sword. Its claws scratched the metal blade, sending out sparks, but not meeting flesh. As Maeve staggered backwards, Amira approached it from the side, stopping a couple feet away with her weapon drawn.

Not predicting her halting, the displacer turned and leapt at Amira. She turned tail the moment its paws left the cobblestone, winding her arms back as it landed, too far for her axe to hit anything- and that's when she swung.

Sure enough, the head of the axe disappeared from its pole handle, and reappeared three feet away, where it crashed clear into the beast's side, knocking it off balance and earning it its first major wound.

"HA!" Amira shouted, with an excited smile.

Behind the beast's back, Fletch pulled out a long rope from his inventory, and tied it into a lasso. With the monster distracted, Fletch held his breath, ran forward, and jumped right on the displacer's back.

He heard- no- felt the beast growl when he landed. It pulled its neck back, trying to get a look at Fletch, which was just the opportunity he needed.

Fletch ran up the beast's spine, and threw the loop down around its neck. Not daring to spend one unnecessary moment touching the thing, he gripped the other end of the rope, and pushed himself off its forehead to escape. The beast snapped its maw to catch him, but the crafty bird was already gone.

Fletch hit the ground feet first, and bolted away from the apex predator, his great length of rope trailing behind him. He curved left as to run right past Maeve, putting her in the beast's path.

"Save me!" He yelped, as Maeve furrowed her brow. Instead of solving Fletch's puzzle, she raised her blade again and squared off against the agitated beast.

Maeve and the beast clashed, while Amira watched from a short distance, holding her arms out to her sides. "Are ye gonna lasso the damn thing!?"

"Watch the rope!" He screamed, still running around. "Don't watch him, watch the rope!"

Amira looked back at the beast. One stalk was pointed at Maeve, the other, still pointed at her. But there, three feet away, Fletch's rope swung back and forth, held above ground by... nothing!

She understood. Amira readied her axe, and charged ahead; not at the beast attacking her sister, but the empty space three feet to its right. Once again, she spun through the air, and sent her weapon's head straight into the nothing. And it met flesh.

The displacer beast's torso collapsed to the ground, succumbing to the incredible force. It swiped its claws desperately, cutting Maeve's stomach half open in turn. Maeve screamed and stepped back, not nearly ready to stop fighting.

She got a good look at the scene, and she too understood the rope trick. Fletch held the rope for dear life, running circles around the square; both trying to not clothesline the Goliaths, and keep as much distance from the displacer beast as possible.

Amira caught sight of her sister. A bloodied mess, with holes in both her face and torso, struggling to ignore the pain this monster inflicted. She clenched her jaw, gripped her weapon, and deepened her stance. The edges of Amira's vision went red, and her chiseled arms trembled with fury.

While Maeve got her head back in the game, Amira chased the stunned monster, and swung the axe up, scooping the beast back onto its feet by force. Maintaining the momentum of her swing, she spun around and sent the axe's blade right into the beast's torso. It whimpered, suddenly robbed of control over its own motion..

Maeve ran around to attack the beast from the other side, expecting her sister to recover her posture, but she did not. Instead of pulling the axe back from the beast's breast, Amira let go of her weapon, and punched the displacer across the cheek, before sending her elbow into its forehead. Her accuracy was poor, as she technically still couldn't see her target, but damage was being done.

Maeve plunged her sword into its ribs, planting her feet into the ground.

"Amira, spot me!" she shouted.

Not acknowledging her sister's voice, Amira punched the displacer beast two more times, kicking it in the leg and climbing up its side. She grabbed her axe with both hands, and swung it around, using the momentum to lift herself onto the beast's back. Maeve took a step back, and tried calling to Amira again. "Amira!"

Amira growled, and continued ruthlessly barraging the animal. She grabbed both of its stalks, and pulled them together, breaking the helpless monster's illusion entirely. Standing on one knee, she planted the Dane Francisca's head on the beast's back with her free hand, and stomped the blade into its flesh with her boot.

The displacer beast screamed, and collapsed to the floor, its piercing yellow eyes closing as dust billowed around them. Maeve put her sword down, leaned against it, and rolled her eyes.

Amira pulled her weapon out of the monster's back, and leapt back to the ground. Her boots gave a hearty thud. The girl pounded her chest, and let out a guttural bark: her exclamation of pride.

As Maeve stood in front of the displacer and held her sword up, ready to plunge between its eyes, Fletch suddenly interjected. "Wait! Don't kill it! I want it!"

"Huh?" said Maeve, as Fletch scurried up and pushed her away from the animal.

Fletch waved both sisters away. Reluctantly, they stepped back for him. Dropping the rope, Fletch again rummaged inside his coat, and pulled out a curious looking container.

A glass jar, with a heavy looking wooden lid, golden painted bands with various runes jotted messily around the circumference. Within the jar, a strange pink light emanated, with little flakes of something swirling around the interior; like a mini-tornado was brewing inside the thing.

Amira and Maeve watched curiously as Fletch pointed the jar at the barely conscious displacer beast, and popped open the lid. The moment he did, a large rune of blue light flashed between them, vanishing as soon as it appeared. The sisters struggled to make sense of what happened next.

The tornado inside the jar escaped, and became a mighty vacuum cone, pulling in the space on which the displacer beast lay. Amira felt the gust threaten to steal the breath from her lips, and Maeve struggled to keep her bangs from flapping against her face. An aura of similarly pink light outlined the monster, and moments later, enveloped its entire silhouette. Now merely a glowing pink shape, the displacer beast shifted and shrunk. Little by little, that shape was sucked into the great whirlwind, and shoved into the confines of the glass prison that Fletch wielded.

When the displacer beast, once easily over twelve feet long, was fully within the foot-long container, Fletch snapped the lid shut, halting the vacuum in an instant.

Amira and Maeve staggered. The disturbed wind settled, and after a moment's hesitation, Fletch perked up, and admired his jar, once again displaying a pink glow with a tornado of tiny debris- only now, somehow fuller than before.

Amira was the first to speak, once her jaw was back up from the floor. "What… 'n the nine hells... did you do!?"

"I caught it!" Fletch said, as proudly as it was matter-of-fact. "I thought it would put up more of a fight, but I guess it gave up! Good job, you two!"

Giddy, Fletch turned around and walked past Maeve and Amira, putting the jar away and humming happily to himself. As Fletch wandered back into town, Maeve looked at her sister, and shrugged.

"He caught it," she muttered. "Good fer him."

"Knew he had it in ‘im," said Amira.

The two sisters dusted themselves off, and followed Fletch, leaving the townsfolk to deal with the bodies on the floor. He took the sisters to a local apothecary to shower themselves in healing potions, but the vendor had to turn them away. His regular suppliers had been undercut by competitors, so his store was out of stock of quite a few necessities. Begrudgingly, Fletch went to the nearest Lyverian stall, and paid almost twice the usual rate for four small potions, using one on each of them.

A few minutes later, in the spacious and dusty stable grounds, the three came across a carriage of considerable size. Two passengers chatted with guardsmen nearby: an Aquatic in blue and pink, and a Tiefling in green and white.

Maeve nudged Amira in the rib, the first to notice them. "Hey Amira, that wagon's parked n'the spot. Reckon it's them?"

Amira and Fletch both looked, and lit up. "Reckon it is!"

The trio waltzed up to the carriage, catching the attention of the two strangers, who stopped their conversation to acknowledge them.

"Hi there!" Amira waved. "Name's Amira Callaghan- are you two the Ambassadors?"

The Tiefling smiled, his earnest eyes clashing with his fangy grin.

"Yes! Amira!" He bowed. "I'm Alikath Navarre. And this-"

The Aquatic pinched her dress and swept it to the side, holding one arm up, and one across her chest. "Rosellia de Lusitania! It is an honor to meet you two!"

"You wouldn't believe what happened to us while we waited for you. I almost got thrown in jail!" said Fletch.

There was a pause, while Fletch waited for a reaction. Maeve lazily gestured to Fletch. "That's Fletch. I'm Maeve, Amira's sister."

Fletch began again, "You wouldn't believe-"

"They heard you," Amira interrupted.

"I'm sure you had your reasons, Fletch. We'll be getting into all sorts of trouble from here on," said Alikath, with a wink.

"Sorry t’keep ya waitin'," Amira scratched her head. "Think we got a bit distracted when you two arrived."

"Oh, don't be." Rosellia waved her off. "A few minutes is nothing between new friends. By happenstance, we were having an important dialogue with the city's leader!"

Fletch cocked his head to the side, and looked over at the person standing next to Rosellia. When he recognized him, Fletch let out a sound that could only have come from some sort of sickly animal.

"Sapa Inca!" he bleated, shocked that he hadn't recognized the colorfully clad man standing right next to him.

"Buenas tardes, Fletch." The Sapa laughed. "I was lucky enough to see you and your friends off. I worried my schedule would forget you, between second lunch, and my second second lunch!”

The Sapa was a jolly, older looking Wood Elf. Smile lines and sun spots lined his portly body's arms and legs, never hidden to imply shame. His hair was covered with a turban-like piece of cloth, which fell to his back and connected to the sleeves by his wrists, giving him almost the opposite of a cape. His torso was covered in tightly wrapped robes, which, while primarily white, displayed lonely strands of every color of the rainbow. Clad in sandals and a warm smile, the Sapa- or as his friends called him, Luiz- was a jolly looking old man, but a walking physical mystery.

That was due in no small part to his most unique feature: the gaping rectangular hole dug all the way through his chest. Slightly at an angle, and cased with a frame made of some iridescent crystal, you could stare straight through the man's body, though he would tease you ruthlessly if you did. Hundreds had asked what happened to him to earn such a grievous scar.

He claims that he fell on a gnome's hat when he was a boy. No one believes him.

"You knew I was leaving today, Sapa?" Asked Fletch.

"Of course I did," said Luiz. "What kind of leader would I be if I let my smartest scholar leave without me knowing?"

"We'll take good care of him, Sapa," said Alikath. "I only hope you chose your volunteer well."

"And I hope he's found the right leader! He could use a friend born in his century!" Luiz laughed. "Be careful Alikath, I never could get a wrangle on this one."

Fletch furrowed his brow. What did he mean by that? Fletch had hardly spent two days in the Sapa's company.

"I'm sure we'll manage," Alikath reassured him.

The Sapa closed his eyes, and took Alikath's hand.

"I'm sure you will," he said. "He's a great gift, Ambassador. I expect great things out of him."

The Sapa turned, and placed his hand on Fletch's shoulder. "And you. Don't forget about your little home, won't you? We're counting on you now."

"The district's counting on him," Alikath corrected. "But we know how special it is that you sent him to volunteer. We'll keep the whole forest in our minds, Sapa."

"Yes, yes, of course," He said, frowning. "The forest… the whole district needs you. Forgive my forgetfulness- I nearly left my own shoes at home this morning! And it's just so easy to make enemies nowadays."

Alikath said nothing, but kept his smile. Luiz gave one last grin to the group, and waved. "Ah, I must be off. Without Fletch here to break all the pretty women's hearts, I have my own trouble to get into, haha! Nos Vemos, Ambassadors!"

The group waved the Sapa goodbye, and watched him walk off. Maeve huffed, and smiled at Amira.

"Reckon this is where we snap off, ah?" Asked Maeve

"Reckon it is." Amira shrugged. "Too late fer me ta kick yer ass one more time fer good measure, ah?"

Maeve rolled her eyes, one of them covered by a long strand of hair drooped over her face. "Yeah."

After a short pause, Maeve pulled Amira in for a hug. Amira squeezed her sister tightly, making her jump; her wounds were still sore.

"Be safe out there, sister," Maeve said. "Don't ye dare be any stupider than ye already are."

"Shaitaan, don't make me swear away all my fun! First time I won't have my big sister pullin' my leash around, ah?"

"I mean it!" Maeve snapped. "I'm not losin' you too, hear me!? Yer not allowed!"

Amira pulled back from the hug. "...Haan, Of course. But you, too. I'm scared for you, too."

Maeve grinned, and shoved Amira. "'Course! I got too much shit ta do t'let myself croak."

"We'll meet again," Maeve swore. "And by then, I'll be stompin' yer ass inta th'dirt whenever ya show me that stupid axe, hear me!?"

"Hear ya, Maeve!" Amira laughed. "Tum gande jhoothe ho!"

Maeve laughed back, and stepped away from the group. Amira took a deep breath in, and turned around. The other Ambassadors were all together, climbing through the carriage door.

"So, where to?" Amira asked.

"Our next stop's Romiet, across the Matria," Alikath said. "Ready to go?"