a goose

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) "Perhaps I spoke too soon." The Ghost's face fell, but the smugness behind his eyes made his insincerity plain. Still, the tension in the room had dissipated; apparently, he was satisfied with her answer. "You already handed me the very puzzle piece you're missing: she singled out miners. Now, unless things have quite drastically changed since last I checked, child labour is still quite illegal in Ferrum. Miners, therefore, must preclude minors. Just picture it: every adult in Sepulcrus, dead in a matter of weeks. Traumatised children left to fend for themselves, spurned by neighbouring tribes out of paranoia and superstition, with no education, no home to return to. Forced into isolation, forced to become nomads…" The excitement in his eyes and his voice faded, as if the tragedy he described had quite suddenly struck him and robbed him of the joy of discovery. "From the ashes of this Dreaming Plague, the Sand Tribe as we know it was born." He sighed, and returned his attention to the present. "I don't imagine you've heard the story of Sepulcrus, have you? The lost city, swallowed up by the sands; even down here it's all but forgotten, but up north… Well, it's hardly relevant to our discussion. I asked you to prove your worth, and you exceeded my expectations – quite handily, in fact. The only thing we need to address now is the Spice." OOC: @Toru Nui IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; Valley of Death) "We stick to the shade, and we go in as straight a line as the canyon allows. Once the shade is gone, we hope that the Lords have left us a cave or somesuch to shelter in and wait out the heat of the day." As he spoke, he continued to look straight ahead into the canyon, not meeting anyone's eye. "Shouldn't have any trouble with Skopio, so long as we make it to Ferrum before nightfall. That doesn't mean we don't have to watch our step, though; Skopio aren't the only critter likes to hide beneath the sand. I don't know for sure that this is sand bat territory, but I also can't say for certain that it's not, and they don't give a damn what time of day it is. Aside from that, you know the drill: cave shrikes, condors, dune snakes… anything that can kill you out on the dunes, and a few more besides. Watch the sand, watch the sky, watch the walls. Just another day in the Wastelands." With a creak and a soft thud, the wooden platform hit the ground below. The party was officially in the Iron Canyon. OOC: @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Burnmad @~Xemnas~ IC: Celrys (CelTech workshop, Tajun) "Hm?" He looked down at his hands, as if to remember what he was doing. "Oh, yes, the wreath… I suppose I see the resemblance." His work apparently done, he stepped back from the bench and returned to Del, helmet in hand. "Here you are – try this on for size." OOC: @Techn0geist @Snelly IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) Cacia sighed in relief as she walked back to her desk; the unseasonal uptick in customers was finally over, and she would savour every moment of reprieve. The sound of the door opening, however, cut her impromptu break short before it had even begun. Wonderful. "Welcome to CelTech. How may I help you?" Though she forced herself to smile, something about the Agori who had just entered unsettled her. He was clearly on edge, with the hood of his cloak still raised even indoors and his eyes constantly darting back towards the entrance; her finger hovered over the button beneath her desk, ready to alert Celrys if there was trouble. "I, uh…" He spoke at first in a hushed voice, which he softened even further into a whisper. "I need to speak to Skyra Daring." OOC: @Jesse Pinkman IC: (Staff NPC; The Shadiest Spot on Bara Magna) For perhaps the first time in his life, Maxas had in fact been watched as he left the CelTech building – not from inside, but from the alley opposite. Kirbraz watched, and waited. The Agori who had just left was shifty – more than once, he thought he caught him glancing over his shoulder. Was he looking for Kirbraz? Just how many assassins had Scodonius hired? Just how fucked was he? Once he was confident the threat had passed, he started walking. It was dangerous to go somewhere so public, so exposed, but he had no choice. This, right here, was his way out – based on where that buggy was parked, this was the only place she could be. Skyra Daring: The only woman who might get him to Vulcanus alive. OOC: @Toru Nui @Jesse Pinkman

IC: Celrys (CelTech workshop, Tajun) The artificer should have been back already – had Skyra and Del not been so focused on one another, they might have tracked his progress through the fish tank. Instead, they heard a strange scraping sound, as if something heavy had been pushed across wood, just as Celrys reappeared. In one hand, he held Del's helmet; in the other was a device that looked almost like a metal crown. He proceeded to one of the metal benches without saying a word, placing the crown inside the helmet and using his multitool hand to drill it into place. OOC: @Snelly @Techn0geist IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) "That's no problem at all. Call in any time and bring your diary with you, and we can get something sorted." The condescending customer service smile remained; Cacia knew she was unlikely to see this one again. It wasn't uncommon for someone to come in to get a sense for the place and then change their mind at the last minute, but she wouldn't say anything to put him off, just in case. OOC: @Toru Nui @Jesse Pinkman

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; Valley of Death) Tueris glanced around with his one good eye, making sure that the whole party had reached the elevator; the medic, of course, was the last to arrive, but that was to be expected. He nodded to the lift operator, a sturdy Agori approaching middle-age, who began the apparently quite gruelling process of turning the iron wheel that put the various pulleys and gears into motion. If it was this difficult to send a group of this size down into the canyon, he felt a pang of relief knowing the operator would not have to worry about lifting their whole group up again. The wooden platform shuddered beneath their feet; the party was on the move. OOC: @Nato G @Burnmad @~Xemnas~ @oncertainty @Toru Nui IC: The Ghost (The Tower) The Ghost's eyebrow quirked upwards as she mentioned his biological differences, but he said nothing. Still, as Taldrix continued to speak, his eyes lit up; when she finished, he released a soft chuckle. "Oh, you really are something, aren't you?" He grinned as he spoke, but the glint in his eyes had turned sinister, the compliment undercut by… what? Anger? Condescension? Both? "Crucius undersold you, my dear. You're more right than you know – that said, you needn't worry about identifying the source or the means of transmission. Those, at least, I already know. Still, you did miss one crucial detail: this has happened before." The grin had soured into a sneer, though his voice remained warm, almost encouraging. "We've already seen one tribe laid low by some mystery malady that robbed them of their minds, after all, and you've proven yourself smart enough to join the dots." OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) A fresh smile flitted across his lips for the briefest of instants, but it was not the practised facade he had worn before – there was a hint of wryness to it that made it seem almost real. His eyes changed, too, bearing a spark of what might have been admiration (or perhaps just amusement) as he began to re-appraise her. "Three days… and here you are, lucid, articulate, and without any obvious physical symptoms of withdrawal. There may be hope for you yet; I had anticipated your affliction would be much more severe." As he returned to his seat, his false smile was back in force. "And it is an affliction. I don't hold with those who believe addiction to be a weakness of character – it is an ailment, though perhaps closer to a handicap than a disease. So you see, when I turned down Crucius' recommendations, it wasn't personal; it was merely pragmatic. I would no more trust an addict than send a lame man to walk the perimeter." He explained himself so matter-of-factly and with such easy confidence as to make his words feel obvious, a simple matter of common sense; it was easy to picture him standing before an audience of nodding heads and murmured agreement. "I believed the risk outweighed any potential value you might have as an asset, but I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong. So… prove me wrong." His perfect smile struggled to resist the urge to become a smirk. "There are gaps in the information you have provided me. I need to know everything she told you – especially if she gave examples of patients. Did she mention any age groups? Or anyone who wasn't afflicted?" IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) Cacia smiled, a tad condescendingly. "Oh, we're already fully booked until the games are over. The earliest appointment I have is for two weeks after the closing ceremony." OOC: @Toru Nui @Jesse Pinkman

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) The corners of his mouth twitched briefly downwards, but the icy glare with which the Ghost met Taldrix was unwavering. “Would it surprise you to learn that Crucius speaks rather highly of you?” He did not leave her time to answer. “He tells me you’re fastidious, intelligent, trustworthy. Such traits are in short supply around here, as I’m sure you know. Better yet, you’re a born sceptic – a quality I greatly admire.” He took another sip of tea; his eyes did not move. “Mindless obedience has its uses, of course; still, I have a great deal more respect for those who show real initiative. The nerve to question orders, to question authority, is something I consider to be invaluable. Crucius knows this about me, and he has – on more than one occasion – suggested you be brought into our circle of trust on exactly that basis. He believes you are able to think for yourself; you and I, of course, know better." He stood, still holding his teacup, and walked to the window as if to gaze out upon his kingdom, though the drapes still obscured much. "I know everything that happens in this compound, Taldrix. See everything. Were tea your only vice, you would likely have found yourself up here much sooner. So I ask again:" He turned and fixed her with four cold eyes, any pretense of a pleasant smile abandoned. His voice, though just as soft as before, became a shard of ice which pierced her and held her, frozen in place. "How long has it been?" OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) As he sat back down, his smile was warm and his eyes were calculating. He was taking her measure – more than that, he wanted her to know that he was. He slid Taldrix's cup and saucer across to her, and took a sip from his own. "That ought to keep any jitters at bay, for the moment. How long since your last hit?" OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) The Ghost took a seat opposite her, accepting the proffered notes. "Interesting. Thank you – Taldrix, isn't it?" Even as he spoke, his eyes were scanning the papers. At first, Taldrix was left with the uncomfortable feeling that she was still being observed just as closely, as if he kept one pair of eyes on her while the other read, but it wasn't long before the notes had his full, rapt attention. His singular focus was a strange thing to behold; the speed at which his eyes moved, the slightest twitchings of his mouth as he read, it looked as if he were in some kind of manic trance. As detached from the world around as if he were dreaming, but as awake and attentive as a dune-cat eyeing its prey. This close, she could see that her initial assessment was even more accurate than she might have expected: his face was uncannily like that of an Agori, barring the most obvious difference. The eyes were real, there was no doubt about that – even that mad artificer in Tajun had yet to create a mechanical eye that could so convincingly mimic the real thing – and there was no scarring or stretching of the skin to suggest surgical implantation. He was real, flesh and blood… and metal. His hands, she noticed, were black metal, intricately built and meticulously maintained, a far sight from the jury-rigged chrome of his followers' augmentations. "This… this is… Lords. A full accounting of the progression of symptoms… fascinating, but…" Whatever he had intended to say next, the whistle of the kettle cut him off. "Ah. Pardon me for just a moment." As he stood, he left the notes upon the table. "Say – would you care for a cup? Tesaran tea; good for the nerves." OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: (The Tower) As Taldrix produced her papers, Trem immediately looked to Kast, who was squinting at Crucius' signature with a furrowed brow. It might just have been a matter of literacy; however, the anxiety in Trem's eyes – in both guards' eyes – suggested otherwise. This, it was clear, was quite definitely not standard procedure. Kast looked back to Taldrix, making no effort to disguise his suspicion or his hostility. He seemed just about to say something when, instead, he moved his spear aside, and Trem followed his lead as he turned the handle and allowed the metal door to swing open. The way was clear. The first thing that hit Taldrix was a wave of cool, stale air. As she entered, the door was slowly shut behind her, leaving nowhere to go but forward, up the steep, spiralling stone staircase. It wasn't merely cool inside – it was cold, cold enough to make her shiver, as if she had stepped back into the frigid North where the Skrall had made their home. Metal pipes wound along the walls, encrusted at their joints with a thin layer of ice. There were no windows in this part of the tower; the Ghost's first order upon making it his home had been to have them bricked up. Instead, the stairs were bathed in a sickly yellow glow from some dull light source far above. All that was left now was the climb. As Taldrix ascended, she noticed salt on the stairs, crunching underfoot. It was a typical Northern solution to snow and ice, and despite the frost upon the pipes, it kept the stone steps from being rendered any more hazardous than they already were. The cold seemed less fierce the further she rose, perhaps in part because she was growing accustomed to it, but the ice on the pipes grew thinner and dripped with condensation. The light, too, was brighter this close to the source; she was almost at the top. And there, at the summit of the stairs, was another metal door. Before she had even had the chance to knock, she heard a voice call out to her from inside: "The door is open; please, do step on in." The man who spoke stood at the other end of the room beyond, his back to her. Far from the oppressive heat outside or the stifling cold below, the temperature within seemed perfectly tuned, if just a little on the cool side. The room itself seemed fit for an emperor, with chairs and tables of Tesaran wood scattered around it. One seemed to be for eating, another a desk, another again set aside for a board game, and finally there was a chairless, long table with a map draped across it. "Please, please sit – I've just put the kettle on." His voice was soft and warm, and as he turned he gestured towards a square table, across which two comfortable chairs faced one another. Semi-opaque drapes hung over the window, and the sunlight that filtered through was rendered warm and dim. Even with her eyes having adjusted to the dull illumination of the stairwell, the man's dark skin and garb made it difficult to discern his features. He didn't look all that different from any Agori – taller, certainly, but he would still come up short against most any Glatorian. His most striking feature, however, was only accentuated by the murky light: As Taldrix looked upon the Ghost, four glowing blue eyes looked back at her. OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Kast & Trem (Staff NPCs; The Tower) The old watchtower had stood for generations, a marker of the Gatherers' unstoppable expansion. Once it had marked the border of the Stronghold; now, it lay well within them. Though well-preserved, it had fallen into disuse over time; after all, what good was a watchtower so far from the walls? There were simple parapets by the wrought iron gates that marked the entryway to the Stronghold, and those more than sufficed. The old watchtower became nothing more than a landmark, and an imposing feature of the Stronghold's silhouette. As with so many other things, it was the arrival of the Ghost that led to the change. It made a certain sense; between its intimidating height and the Ghost's reclusive nature, it allowed Him to stay separate and above the rest of the Gatherers, while still at their heart. Its restoration seemed to be something of a pet project for the Ghost and His chosen few. As a result, the past few months had seen a constant buzz of activity around the site, which had only recently settled and solidified into a small guard presence. So it was that when Taldrix arrived at the Tower, she was met with only two sentries standing at its doors. Kast and Trem – true believers, who had sworn themselves to the Ghost's service from Crucius' clan. As was increasingly typical of those favoured by the Ghost, they bore the clear scars of cybernetic augmentation, and both men held in their hands a strange spear, wires coiled along its length. As their fellow Gatherer approached, they crossed their spears to block the door and glared at her in silence. If she had permission to enter, it was up to her to prove as much. OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Xoros (NPC; Creep Canyons) The mountainous Bone Hunter heard the approaching wolves before he saw them, the rumble of their engines carried by the canyon’s echoing walls. “Gatherers!” He roared, spittle flying from his mouth. “To arms!” IC: Wolf (Creep Canyons) “Take out the riders first; leave the pack leader to me." Wolf's narrowed eyes were alight with something colder than vengeance and more blistering than hate, as if she carried in her countenance the burning soul of the desert itself. The roar of her Kaxium was a thunderous war-cry, one that shook the sands beneath its wheels almost as much as the pounding feet of the Rock Steeds. The Bone Hunters were holding position, forming up with the riders in front. They intended to form a roadblock with the bodies of their Steeds, forcing the wolves to a stop; the riders would use the height advantage to strike down at them, while the Hunters on foot would flank the bikes and box them in. It was a standard tactic, one that had spelt the end of many a caravan, but it was not without flaw. The Kaxium's roar grew to a scream as it continued to accelerate, and Wolf locked furious eyes with Xoros. OOC: @Wotz IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) Somnii breathed a long, tired breath, one she hadn't even realised she was holding. She could feel what little strength she'd called to arms leaving her, exhaustion weighing heavily upon her shoulders. Her negotiations had taken more out of her than she anticipated, but the important thing was that she would soon know her captor. Once she knew who held her leash, she would be one step closer to securing her freedom – or so she hoped, at least. OOC: @Toru Nui IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) “Of course! If you’ll allow me?” She held out a hand, gesturing for the return of the device. OOC: @Toru Nui @Morgan Yu IC: Celrys (Workshop, Tajun) Celrys held his head in his hand and laughed. “Of course. My apologies, Del. Miss Daring, look after Del for a moment while I get their helmet.” Without waiting for a reply, the artificer began making his way back to his office. OOC: @Snelly @Techn0geist

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice) Tueris, who had until that point been – if anything, too – forthright in his warnings, seemed remarkably unbothered by the development regarding the sick scout, even as the tension was rising in the rest of the room. “Very well, then. See to your scout; the rest of us will wait for you by the elevator.” He turned his eye back to Somok, and ever-so-slightly inclined his head. “Thank you for your time, Elder.” As he walked out the door, he did not wait to see if the rest of the party followed. Some small part of him hoped that they might not. OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty @Burnmad @Nato G @~Xemnas~

IC: Celrys (His workshop, Tajun) "How curious." His thumb brushed absently against his lips, as he began pacing slowly towards Del. "Perhaps with the implant rendered temporarily non-operational, we're getting-" Celrys, who until that moment had appeared almost to be in a trance of his own, seemed suddenly to remember he had company. He massaged the back of his neck as he turned back to Skyra, smiling uncomfortably. "My apologies, Miss Daring. Just… thinking out loud." OOC: @Snelly @Techn0geist

IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) As she returned to the reception, Cacia saw that the customer was still examining the device. "Anything catch your eye?" OOC: @Toru Nui @Morgan Yu IC: Celrys (His office, Tajun) "Has this happened before? The singing?" Celrys' voice was barely more than a whisper, as if to avoid disrupting the Ferrumite's reverie. There was a tenderness to his expression, along with a strange sense of melancholy. OOC: @Snelly @Techn0geist

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice) Tueris' posture relaxed ever so slightly, his relief at having to accept only one new addition to their party apparent to anyone watching closely enough. He turned to look at this 'Xyde,' sizing them up. "We would be fools to turn away a good medic, plague or no. You are welcome to join us." His tone had markedly less warmth than his words, but there was no insincerity in his expression. "Still, I would urge you to consider your responsibilities here. What becomes of your patients, if you do not return home? Or your family?" OOC: @Toru Nui @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad @~Xemnas~

IC: Wolf (Creep Canyons) "I had heard rumours, but… this is something else entirely." The Bone Hunters' new leader was not to be trifled with, it seemed. Wolf glared at the party with a renewed intensity. "The pack leader – he's wearing trophies. Sand Tribe bones." The disgust in her tone was palpable, the first time her companion had heard any emotion seep into her voice. "We should teach them how it feels to be hunted for sport." OOC: @Wotz

IC: Wolf (Creep Canyons) As the pair approached, the figures in the distance grew clearer, confirming their fears. Bone Hunters – seven in total, three of them atop Rock Steeds, though neither of the Wolves had seen their like before. At first they simply appeared to have unusual colouration, their scales an oddly metallic hue; on closer inspection, the truth was significantly more troubling. All three Rock Steeds had been outfitted with cybernetic enhancements. Black wires and silver pistons had been woven into the muscles of their legs, their feet almost entirely replaced with brutal metal talons. One of the three was even more extensively modified, armoured plating grafted to so much of its skin that it looked almost like an automaton, only its underside still exposed. It was this silver steed that led the pack, and where they walked the sand seemed to shimmer beneath their feet. IC: Xoros (NPC; Creep Canyons) Riding the metal monstrosity was a vicious-looking Hunter, tall and broad enough to have passed for a Skrall. It was his colours that made it clear he wasn't, black and grey, his armour decorated with bone and feather. He carried a strange spear in one hand, its coiled wires and strange assembly similar in style to the cybernetics of his steed. Two of the Bone Hunters who were on foot carried similar weapons, though only the rider's was adorned with colourful feathers and the skull of a Vorox. The others carried knives, shortswords, and Thornax launchers. The rider's silver steed, his armour, his spear – all were symbols of his station. He was one of the faithful, a loyal follower of Crucius and the Ghost that commanded him. He was Xoros, Zeskbane; his conquests were written in Tribal blood. And he was itching for some action. OOC: @Wotz

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) "Nope – that's all you get. For now." There was steel behind her eyes, the best show of confidence she could muster. For the time being, it would have to be enough. OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Wolf (Atero; Kagnii’s Used Wheels) "You named your bike." It was an observation, not a question; after taking the necessary time to process that information, she revved her engine, pausing only to consider Kagnii. He would not soon forget this indignity, but he was small-time, unconnected. Without his Spice or his goons, he would have great difficulty making trouble for them in the future. Her concerns satisfied, she turned to her fellow Wolf. "Let's ride." OOC: @Wotz

IC: Wolf (Atero; Kagnii’s Used Wheels) While her companion had set about collecting his keys, Wolf left the whimpering mess of ****** and broken bones before her to lick his wounds. By the time Dune Wolf re-emerged, there was a sand-coloured (and sand-worn) Kaxium idling in the lot, the Serrat atop it apparently unbothered by the carnage. "It seems you have a talent for making friends." OOC: @Wotz

IC: Wolf (Atero; Kagnii’s Used Wheels) Wolf kicked Kagnii's knees out from under him, then stomped down for good measure. The crunch was loud enough that even the legitimate businessman's screaming couldn't drown it out. "The safe is in the back office; combination two left, nine right, one. It's where he keeps the Spice." OOC: @Wotz

IC: Wolf (Atero; Kagnii’s Used Wheels) "Call them off. Or I repeat the safe code you gave me when you began begging for your life." OOC: @Wotz

IC: Wolf (Atero; Kagnii’s Used Wheels) “W-wait!” The din of the fight had rendered Wolf’s approach practically inaudible, but in the momentary calm Kagnii’s pleading could be heard loud and clear. All eyes turned to the Agori and the Glatorian who stood behind him, pressing the wicked blade that had sprouted from her wrist against his throat. “Please, explain to your men how you will pay them if you are dead.” OOC: @Wotz

IC: Wolf (Atero; Outside the Red Star Inn) “I know the place. I’ll get my Kaxium, meet you there.” It was, in her traditional style, not much in the way of a farewell, though it hardly needed to be. It would be but a matter of minutes before she and Dune Wolf were reunited; all the same, it gave her time to think. Bringing outsiders into the Serrate, though not unheard of, was highly unusual. It would take some effort to convince the others – Bear, in particular. Moth, she reckoned, would see what she had seen: there was something about this Dune Wolf. His moniker, his history with the Bone Hunters... his loneliness. He was a man without a tribe, and yet one who had so much in common with her people. Their encounter could only have been fated. The Serrata were dying. This might not be their last generation, but it was certainly close to it. Moth had sent her, as he sent the others, to bring back the resources their clan required to survive; perhaps that needn’t only mean food, water, and Denarii. Perhaps what they needed most of all were numbers. OOC: @Wotz IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) Cacia seemed almost not to notice Karak, brushing quickly past him. OOC: @Morgan Yu IC: CelTech Device (CelTech reception, Tajun) As Maxas turned the dial, the image and text changed, now displaying and describing a different device (still in the same block-black format, against the same green background). OOC: @Toru Nui IC: Celrys (His office, Tajun) "No need to worry, they’ll be quite alright. I think. I’m almost certain-” Celrys cut himself off as Cacia came through the door. “Ah- Skyra, could you take over ice-pressing duty here?” Once he was removed from Del, he walked over to his assistant, who was staring at her surroundings with no small amount of wonderment. She seemed surprised when he took the glass of water from her hand, snapping her back to reality. “Thank you, Cacia. We should be fine here, you may return to the desk.” She nodded wordlessly, and shot only a curious glance at Skyra and Del before turning on her heels and leaving. OOC: @Techn0geist @Snelly

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) Somnii took in a deep breath and glanced around her cell, deciding how much she was willing to say. "Our telegraphy station was… malfunctioning. We couldn't get word in or out of the village, and the sick were quarantined. We tried to send people out via the regular route, but-" She paused, carefully considering her next words. "It proved unfeasible. I knew I was taking a big risk by leaving Ferrum leaderless, but I couldn't risk anyone else's life again. That's why I took it into my own hands to try and get help." OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Kirbraz (Staff NPC; The Shadiest Spot on Bara Magna) In the hours after his plan had entirely collapsed, Kirbraz had a great deal of time to think. He thought about how Scodonius had entirely defied his expectations by stealing the Tajun election from him; he thought about how he should have realised that he had not accomplished that feat alone. Most of all, he thought about how his latest scheme had relied upon the idea that he and Scodonius were, effectively, interchangeable. It was a premise which had guided many of his plans, not least that fateful election. He and his arena partner would 'encourage' the other candidates to withdraw, and whoever won would lead Tajun, with the other in charge of its underworld. Naturally, he had always intended to betray Scodonius; after all, the man had always been too power-hungry for his own good. He wouldn't be satisfied with anything short of total control, which meant that he would inevitably have used his position to usurp Kirbraz. It was on that basis that Kirbraz had secretly offered leadership of Tajun's criminal element to the far more malleable Berix (and Scodonius, ever a font of originality, had done the same). But all of it had ultimately hinged on the fact that Scodonius wasn't smart enough to overcome the odds Kirbraz had stacked against him. Kirbraz had failed to consider how ruthlessness and short-sighted greed could do what brains could not. It was now apparent to him that, though their late-night rendezvous (rendezvi? rendezvouses?) were a recent development, Scodonius and his secret friend had been working together for far longer. But it all still begged the question: why Scodonius? The most obvious answer was that rigging the election left him immediately indebted. It was efficient, but it was also a great deal of effort, and risked exposing his benefactor's interest in Tajun politics. There were doubtless safer, and less cumbersome, ways to have left Kirbraz similarly indebted. There could only be one conclusion: it was not for Scodonius' benefit alone. For whatever reason, the Benefactor needed Scodonius in power. So, again, Kirbraz had to ask himself why? Scodonius was stupid, petty, and short-sighted. So, too, was Kirbraz. He could never have admitted it before, but here, in the final hours of his short and wasted life, he had achieved a clarity heretofore unknown to him; the only real difference between him and Scodonius was that he asked more questions. That was it, then. That was why Scodonius was chosen over him. That was why he was going to die. Kirbraz would have realised the sheer lengths to which the Benefactor was going to keep his interest in Tajun a secret could only mean that he knew something about Tajun that no one else did. That was the real, truly frustrating irony of it all: that Kirbraz didn't even understand the conspiracy that he would be killed to protect. With the effort to which the Benefactor had gone, and his newfound self-comprehension, Kirbraz couldn't help but doubt that he would ever have worked it out, even if he did have more time. The thought gave him pause. If he couldn't have figured it out anyway, then why go to the effort of empowering Scodonius? Kirbraz hadn't been overlooked because he would discover the Benefactor's true motivations – he had been overlooked because his investigations would have tipped off someone who could. And not only that, but the fact that his life was in danger meant that he already knew enough to set them on the right path. Therefore – even with blackmail now off the table – his information still had value. Value enough to be exchanged for protection. Right now, all of the most powerful people in the Wastelands were in Tajun, gathered for the exhibition match. All but one – naturally, the only one he could trust. Raanu. If he was going to survive the night, Kirbraz would need to find a ride to Vulcanus.