• Mature • Sliders

[Kasoria]

The quiet was something he could never get used to. Well, the lull, he supposed would be more accurate. A city of a million souls, even depleted by nine-tenths, was never "quiet". Even if a lot of the noise was ghosts.

That wasn't a metaphor, either. Two arcs on from the siege and the razing, the Season of Sorrow and the Time of Vengeance, Etzos was infested with them. Wilbur knew that was the wrong word to use, yet again. That implied pests, rodents, unwanted and disgusting visitors. The specters that wandered the rings and the circles were none of those things. They had fought and some had died a second time in defense of their home, sacrificed their eternities for a chance that the living might wring justice and revenge from their efforts. But it was still... an adjustment.

The young man grunted softly. Next to him, his partner on the gate shot him a queer look. Etzori, he thought to himself. Always so inscrutable.

Rakeem was older than his partner, but didn't feel it. The young soldier had the eyes of a twenty-year trooper set deep into the face of one barely into his third decade. He was one of that generation that was forever scarred by war and famine and plague and horror and fear and rage and all the tumult that had battered their homeland for what seemed like an age. First Lisirra, then Sintra. First plagues and monsters, then cultists and betrayal. Then the long, painful rooting out of loyalists and traitors and the leftover abominations of both. Whether they be diseases or beasts or other, more insidious things.

All that, tasked to a nation that had been slaughtered down to its bones. Like a strong man with his muscles hacked and rotted away until he could barely stand.

But we did, Wilbur thought with a grim smile. We survived. Killed one immortal and saw another off. Boom-boom, one after another. Wankers.

Rakeem frowned slightly at the look on the younger man's face, and decided not to ask. He had some time with the militia in Rharne, so this seemed like a good fit for him. His family had come the previous arc, one of a fresh wave of immigrants to a country sorely needing new blood. But their little idols to the Goddess of Plenty and Profit stayed in their backroom. They did not make offerings nor speak her name. At first it had been... bothersome. Unnerving. But the seasons waxed and he adjusted and... now it was home. A steady job, nice uniform, adequate pay, and the lodgings, well...

The sun-kissed man shuffled a little. They had their pick of houses in the Outer Perimeter. Most were empty. Few occupants would ever return.

"Hold!"

The young man spoke in an old man's bark and the wagon train stalled before the stern stone statue. Parhn, founder and father of Etzos, gazed down with his hands wrapped around his sword. As if judging every new arrival to the city. The portcullis was open under him, but Wilbur and Rakeem allowed none to pass without questioning. It held things up, and there was a line behind the wagons, but security wasn't something anyone in Etzos spoke of frivolously. Not anymore.

"Afternoon, my friends!" The driver said in a Hiladrith lilt, taking off his hat and wiping his brow. "What needs ye this trial?"

Wilbur managed a half-smile. He knew the man. "The same questions, friend, as y'know. First-"

There was a light, sudden and sharp and completely illogical, which stopped his words. A space above the field to the right of the road leading to the gate. It was a spot at first, just a candle's worth. Then it grew and expanded and seemed to rip through the air, blocking all sight beyond it. Wilbur took a half-trill to be amazed and then roared without another thought.

"Archers ready! Close the gate!"

The portcullis slammed shut as a dozen arrows, nocked and ready, poked through the crenelations. Wilbur crouched and readied his polearm with a crisp, smooth movement. Rakeem was considerably less smooth, but he did not balk. The shimmering oval in the air was expanding now, big enough for a party of men or monsters to charge through. He couldn't see clearly to the other side, but it looked like... somewhere with grass, and trees, and a building that-

Then someone walked through. To find a stalled wagon train, a gawping driver, two spearmen leveling weapons at him, and above that...

Above all. Above ground and river and rock and stone and death and time. Looming and reaching and grasping the heavens. An ancient lady battered and bloodied but standing tall on her hill, her children still clustered about her.

Etzos.

[Winston]

We come in peace!

Thread Chain

This is one of the following chain of previous threads:

• I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"
• [Sweetsong] Pillows can kill!
• [Isonomia HQ] Relocation plans
• [Village Hall] Shielding the cause
• [An Inn around Egilrun] Got spades in spades - This is where we create this portal from Scalvoris

Migrants and Devices

Winston is the leader of Isonomia and he and Kas are traveling to Etzos.

He has also saved slaves and run campaigns to offer people a new life in Etzos, etc.

He has also been organising things with

Alex

for establishing Isonomia in the foreign land.

Winston had insisted on going through first, for so many reasons, but not least of all to reassure those new to such things that it was safe. His nose twitched with excitement as he stood before the shimmering portal. The air around it hummed faintly, a sign of the immense power it held, linking two distant places—Scalvoris, the familiar island, and Etzos, the ravaged city-state, a place he had only ever heard about in wild tales and distant reports. Stepping into the unknown, despite all the warnings, thrilled him and as his foot touched ground on the far side of the unknown, he dug his toes into the dirt as if to hold on to it lest it escaped.

The portal rippled as he passed through, casting odd lights across the ground. Totrial, adventure called, and he, a ferret alchemist with an insatiable curiosity, was ready to discover what strange new wonders Etzos might hold.

As it turned out, it held arrows, spears and generally speaking lots of other pointy things... all of which were pointed at him, in a fashion. First they were pointed at some point far above his head, but then, as the expectation of a large demonic invasion was cast aside as the prospect of tiny fury invitations replaced it, the weapons dropped to take their new target.

Holding up his hands and continuing to walk just just far enough to make room for those that followed, he offered an apologetic welcome.

"'ello! We come en piece!" He began as others followed to the same reception.

Wilbur glared at the tiny creature in puzzlement... There was a lot going on right now. A lot fighting for attention in the weathered man's head. Not least of all, what sort of diplomatic delegation turned up through a portal and why nobody ever thought to mention these things to the bloody gate guard. What he actually said thought was... "It can talk... 'the feck can it talk?" The words were no sooner out of his mouth then his sense kicked back in, prioritising the matters at hand into the correct order. This might be the cutest invasion in the history of Etzos, but he'd skin it all the same if it stepped out of order. "H-hold... What is your business in Etzos?" If it talked, it could jolly well explain itself before they turned it into a pin cushion.

"We 'ave come fram Scalvoris wid a diplomatic delegashun..." He held up a letter, given to him by the Council of Scalvoris with a bit of a fluster as he patted his pouch to locate it. "...me represent a Facshun called Isonomia an' we 'ave de good Mr Manclin Sir wid os. 'ere es me

farmal introducshun from de Sclavaris Council

..." He offered the document to the guards should they want to take it. "...ef yuh would?" The ferret smiled harmlessly at the closest gard.

The ferret was certain that the Etzos diplomat would be here soon enough to clear up any misunderstandings, as Winston's political talents ended with knowing it was rude to turn up to someone's house uninvited and expect entry. So short of the metaphorical shield the bit of paper provided him, he was hoping not to have to use any actual shields.

Deciding that he had been very generous with his initial assessment of the creature's ability to talk, it could at least just about make itself understood. The head of the guard nodded for someone to take the papers for inspection and watched as others continued to arrive, with equipment and boxes, including, of course, the aforementioned Etzos diplomat.

The documents seeming to be legitimate he addressed the diplomat for a more comprehensive explanation.

All template credit, love and admiration goes to Kisaik

[Kasoria]

Kasoria stepped into the light and it was-

-a hurricane of wind in half an eyes blink-

-the surface of distant suns flaring all at once, crammed into an instant-

-a jerking, coaxing, wrenching, sliding, dry and baking and shivering sensation of forward, without anything like dirt or stone or ground to anchor you-

And then, after two arcs and one season, Kasoria of Etzos was standing before the city that had birthed him once again. Feeling the familiar wind on his face, spiced with all the tastes of his life. He saw those towers and the rings rising beyond the walls. For a moment he was not himself, just the briefest of instants where he was simply a traveler long removed from his home, in the shadow of it again. As if all his journeying and estrangement had been merely a spin on his heel, now come to a stop.

Then reality, as it was want to do, cruelly pressed down on him again. The tentative smile died, and he heard... relative silence.

The roar should be deafening even from here. Yet it sounds like a grave...

Not quite. But not too much improved

Etzos was a city always in a clamor, before the invasion. A million souls all straining and hustling and working and grinding against each other like an endless avalanche of humanity. Between Lisirra's plagues and monsters and the privation and chaos that always followed war, that number had been well beyond decimated. Not merely one in ten; more like the polar opposite of that ratio. Whole swathes of the city were still quiet, even from here. Smoke stacks rose from foundries and workshops, but merely wisps of cloud compared to the belching ziggurats he remembered.

But he was home, and at least gate security was still solid.

"'ere, who're youse?"

"Rak, fuckssake..." Wilbur growled the words but Kasoria still heard them, smile returning to his face as he approached the guardsmen. "Wh-What's yer business here? You travel with this... individual?"

Smart kid.

"Aye, so I do," he said, an accent smoothed by arcs abroad suddenly jagged again without even stepping food back in the city. Mere proximity to it was enough. He turned and waved to the portal behind him. That was the agreed signal. "An' the folks 'bout t'come through, n'all."

As Wilbur processed this, Kasoria could see "it" coming. That slow realization. Memories of tavern gossip and corner scuttlebutt coming to mind. Details and features he'd heard about, attached to a single man, all coalescing into a name. He'd seen it happen many times, by that point. Even in foriegn lands, he was known... but as Winston would soon find out, what notoriety he had there was nothing compared to-

"Raggedy Man..."

Kasoria's smile became tight. Well. He had hoped he was beyond that.

Wilbur looked at the spear in his hands with something like bemusement, as if he was actually insane enough to try and use it on him. His bronzed partner looked confused, clearly new enough to the city to be out the loop, but he could already see some of those archers above them lowering their weapons. Muted whispers were breaking out among them. A couple even saluted him. Soon, word would spread.

For a moment, his smile turned nasty. Like a wolf scenting distant prey.

Good. Let them know. I have work to do.

"By the Fates!" A cultured voice from behind him barked out, and he turned to find Fagan Manclin inhale noisily. One by one, the full breadth of the Etzori delegation started to emerge from the hole in the air. "It feels bloody good to smell horse shit and coal again..."

[Winston]

All template credit, love and admiration goes to Kisaik

I will call him Bobby Bones!

There are times when the unknown comes proceeded by its own health warnings, like words written on a billboard. A bit like a titan emerging from the smoke of a thousand years of lost knowledge and legend, you didn't know what it is, but somehow, it was obvious that it was important and might squish you if you didn't get out of the way.

This was the feeling Winston got suddenly as the apparent bodyguard appeared and, not in him, but in those around them, he became aware of a 'feeling'. It was so collective, it would be the kind of thing to attract the spirits themselves... Perhaps a Spirit of awe, or fear? Like when a rabbit gets stunned in the light of an approaching cart, unable to move... the spirits of that were a spirit of inevitability for sure.

The Devil on My Shoulder
Curiosity: What is the 'Raggedy Man'??!
Winston: 'e es et wud seem...
Curiosity: They are all scared of him...
Winston: Scared? In awe? Dat's 'ard tuh tell.
Curiosity: We've heard that name... Right?
Winston: Me don't know... Mabey...
Curiosity: Ask him!
Winston: No! Naw es nat de time.
Curiosity: Pfffft..,. Naw es neva the time. Why not ask that skellington? He looks like he's been around a while.
Winston: Nah, me only jost get 'ere, so we are an best be... Wait. What skeleton?!

There was so much to take in... The ferret was like a child, glancing from Kas to the guards, studying their expressions for hints at what he was missing. He barely even noticed the first time he scanned the group that two of the guards standing at the gate were in fact undead, scalital sentries!

If he had bitten his tongue this time, it might have come off as he blurted out... "Woah! Es dat a SKELINGTON?!" He scurried towards it as the guards were disarmed by the reputation of the returning power of Etzos (not to mention death). He was unsurprisingly swift for a ferret, not doing much to dispel any illusion the guards might hold that this was in fact all he was, a pet.

Stopping a little way off from the closes of the two undead guards, he stood, having weaved clear between the feet of one of the humans still decided whether they should be bowing or praying to the Raggedy Man to spare their lives.

"'ello?!" He said, waving at the construct in the hope of engendering some kind of response. The gaurd just stood there, unmoving and emotionless. It was apparently not as impressed by their bodygaurd as the others at the gate that trial.

Turning back to the delegation, perhaps speaking to the diplomat, but open enough to be to any one of them. "Yuh didn't tell meh yuh 'ad SKELLINGTONS! Es dis Necromancy? Does dem 'ave a name? What's yuh name? Hello? Me will call yuh Babby Bones. Ef dat's Oh-kay? Cun yuh talk? OH! Me wonda ef me cun 'ave one... Where'd dese come fram?" The ferret had apparently given up on restraint by this point as punctuation all be ran from his presence in fear. The questions were born of pure and unadulterated curiosity as he reached out with

Joe's

ability to sense magic to gleam whatever he could from it. If the ferret held any contempt for the art, it was not present in his manner. If anything, it might look like he was eager to learn it more than rid the world of it...

A few of the other Scalvorians were less enamoured by the necromatically guarded and looming city walls of this new land, their eyes fixing on the things firmly as the ferret's verbal diarrhea continued.

All template credit, love and admiration goes to Kisaik

[Kasoria]

"Woah! Es dat a SKELINGTON?!"

He had been hoping the savor this moment. Stretch it out as long as he could. Sentiment had... well, it was known to him, and indulged, but privately. Fleetingly. His profession was one where not just brutality but the appearance of its avatar was important. Reputation mattered; whimsy did not add to the patina. Now he was a bodyguard, that was doubly true. He'd sensed more than once that the mere sight of him, the realization of the name he bore, was sufficient deterrent to violence. But now he was home. He was already being enfolded with the smells and tastes and sights of the city that he loved. The last thing in the world that he did, that he had not abandoned, or thrown away.

Even the thought of her could not shake Kasoria. She would be happy that he was home. That assumed and inherited jubilation buoyed his own. But then, the fucking ferret ruined it.

Would have found out anyway.

That fact didn't help. Couldn't stop his face from darkened in the space of three heartbeats when he saw the... thing holding a spear, wearing the armor of a soldier. Staring with empty eyes lit by a deep green glow, buried in the sockets. As he tore his eyes from the sight and scanned around, he could see they were not alone. A couple of the arrows aimed at them from above were held in gloves that contained naught but bone, sighted by the sightless, or eyeless. The Cadouri was still chattering, a dull, aching annoyance, and across the delegation the same turgid morass of emotions were playing out.

What had happened? Who had ordered this? Why had it been seen as necessary? Had there been some shift in power, favoring mages? Was this the army of some new, conquering warlord? What had changed so fast, so hard, so deep, that the dead were denied their rest and dragged-

Still he chattered and chattered and the storm clouds broke across the Raggedy Man's face as he gripped his sword hilt so tight his knuckles whitened and-

"Silence!"

If he was asked, he would say he didn't mean to frighten the Cadouri. It would be a lie, of course, but he didn't much care in the telling. The bark of pure, animal aggression scared a damn many of the people watching. One or two of the skeletons even stiffened as if some programmed threat response was activated... or some kernel of mortal trepidation had been startled back into life. The murmuring across the delegation and the Scalvoris contingent stopped at once.

Wilbur and Rakeem both seemed to swallow at once, looking as if for a moment, they wished they had gods to pray to.

Kasoria filled the silence with naught but simmering, black-eyed anger. But as his grip lessened, as the blood returned, so did some shred of civility.

"Who... ordered yeh... t'use them?"

He didn't need to point; they didn't need to ask. Wilbur cleared his throat and before he could answer, another voice took over. Clearer, sharper, more... cultured, Kasoria would hazard to say, and definitely in command.

"By order of the High Council. By consensus of the Marshalls. And with the gratitude of a city given more to ghosts than the living, Mark Kasoria."

Some of his anger bled off when he saw the man marching through the gate to them; some of it returned when he saw the deference the skeletons gave him. They way they parted smoothly out of his way. The man was twenty years younger than him but his eyes looked much the same. Another veteran of Rhakros, and this one was known to all The Band arrayed behind him. They gave their own gestures of greeting, from nods and half-salutes... to Vaul spitting a stream of tobacco juice off into the ditch. The officer made a show of stamping disapproval across his lean features.

"Now, Vaul. Officer on parade and all that."

"Bollocks t'that, ser."

"Yet still with the 'ser'. My my. Someone finally house-broke you."

The rolling, dirty laughter from the veterans quashed the steaming tension in the air. Even Vaul gave a wry smile, and the officer closed to where Manclin was standing. He spoke to the man as one would a gentleman, as if they were at a cotillion or aristocratic affair. Clicking his heels and giving him a short, stiff nod.

"Fagan Manclin, I was not expecting o be on duty when your delegation returned. I am heartily glad I was."

"I see you have some history with Kasoria, here, but I am at loss as to whom you are?"

"ee's a Flightmaster. Used t'be our boss in Rhakros."

The officer grinned and tapped his lapel. Some new finery glinted there. "Shieldarm Braxton Hughes now, Mark Kasoria. Up another rank."

"So soon?"

"You have been gone quite a while."

The Raggedy Man snorted and cocked an eyebrow. "Short-handed, were they?"

"Very droll, but that had something to do with it... and something to do with..."

Kasoria took a deep breath as the sentence trailed off. Ah... so that was it. The easiest way to make up the labor shortage. They weren't just going to rely on immigrants and survivors breeding like rabbits. If raising the damned dead would put tools in hands and keep Etzos running, then for now, that would have to do. Kasoria could see the logic but something innate in him rankled at the idea. This wasn't like using magic, this was... some how dirtier. Mainly because what the Cadouri could show them, they could own. All of them. But necromancy? That required a necromancer, and if all of these were the work of one man...

Too much power. And there's only one mage in Etzos who'd have it.

Fucking Vuda.

"Allow me to escort you to the Citadel," Hughes said, gesturing with a hand that Winston could see was wood... and inlaid with ivory, apparently. "The High Council did not know when to expect you back, but I think later than... oh."

He looked behind them. Kasoria frowned, followed his gaze, and then gave a short "oh".

"Oh. Aye. Dat's our portal." He pointed down at the besuited Cadouri. "'ee did dat."

"My word."

[Winston]

All template credit, love and admiration goes to Kisaik

Dat guy's piiiiiiiist

Winston's chatter stopped abruptly as he was leaning to peak underneath the skellington's aumour to see what was up there... More bones apparently. He looked over at his would-be master with an expression of "Uh-oh. He's pissed..." that read to anyone with an ounce of perceptive prowess.

The Devil on My Shoulder
Curiosity: OOOooohhhh.... He's pissed!
Winston: Yikes, maby me stap talkin' far a bit... and get away from de skellington...
Curiosity: ...and get a less volatile master?
Winston: Nah, 'im es Oh-key. We jost need tuh let dis play out a littal first...
Curiosity: Winston... What if these things are EVIL.
Winston: OOOOOooooooooohhhhhhhh-crap.

Stepping slowly away from the Skellington and eying the people he had brought here carefully to ensure they were OK, he was not scared of the Raggedy Man's outburst. Surprised, yes, but scared of him not so much. This was mostly because he did not believe the anger was aimed at him, after all, he was his friend... Right? He was more concerned now that they had arrived unwelcome at a city run by evil skeletal constructs.

Joe appeared at his side, invisible but there, summoned by the ferret's sense of need. "We good?" Asked the Diri telepathically.

"Don't know yet, bot ef ting's kick arf, by me time tuh partal everyone out, Oh-key?"

As things progressed, the air slackened it grip on them all and civil greetings began, Winston took a breath of relief.

The Devil on My Shoulder
Curiosity: OOOooohhhh.... He's called MARK?
Winston: Cool! Me don't tink me shud call 'im dat dough.
Curiosity: Why? It's his name.
Winston: Yeah, bot 'im wud 'ave told em dat ef i'm awnted me tuh use et.
Curiosity: Fine... OH! What's a FLIGHT master?!
Winston: Oooo, me don't know.
Curiosity: Maybe he can FLY!
Winston: 'im don't 'ave any wings.
Curiosity: Neither do YOU. Ask him!
Winston: No, Kas might get... Uh... Opset.
Curiosity: Yeah, OK, that would not be grate.... Maybe just move a little way away from Kas and THEN ask him?
Winston: Nooooo... Me gat tuh wait. Masta Kas said 'silence'...
Curiosity: What's Rhakros? Who's on the High Council? Congratulate him on his promotion..!
Winston: Nat now mun... Most... Stay... QUIET!
Curiosity: They are friends. He won't... Is that a WOODEN HAND?! FOR THE LOVE OF THE IMMORTALS SAY SOMETHING OR I"LL MAKE YOU WET YOURSELF!
Winston: Wait what?!

The ferret, now standing beside his master again, looked (if anyone noticed) like he might pee himself at any moment as the corked Cadourie's eyes bulged and he fidgeted.

Like a balloon made of an atom-thin pig's bladder, he exploded with sounds as he was finally addressed by the newcomer. If the gesture from Kasoria was not permission to speak, he was going to have to clarify that in the aftermath of the ferret's uncontained excitement.

"'ello-me-name-es-Winstaaan-Milla-et's-nice-tuh-meet-yuh! PHEW! Me tart we were gonna get untuh a fight far a moment." The words came out like a single stream of sound before he took a breath, a happy smile on his face. "Hehe. Es dat 'and dere magic? Cun et move? Duh yuh want a new one?" He held up a hand as if to illustrate. "Me cun probably make et move about an' everyting... Maybe me cun even grow yuuh a new one?"

Officer Hughes frowned for a moment, before glancing only briefly as the offer caught him slightly off goard at his hand and then at Kasoria with a singular raised eyebrow as if to ask if the creature was for real.

Whatever the response, the weathered and very much on duty soldier recovered his expression without missing a beat as he continued. "You..." Something else caught the man's attention as they proceeded. Between the mark of Taithir on his hand and Sojorn on his neck making itself known, the ferret's dedication to the Immortals was far from discrete.

Hughes' eyes narrowed. To say it was not an accepted practice to worship the immortals in Etzos was an understatement, but delegates and trade partners were often 'overlooked' for the benefit it would offer the city-state and its interests. "Good to meet you. Perhaps another time..." He said, gesturing to his hand, far from disinterested, but still not in the least bit interested in accepting off the cuff in case it resulted in some blassing from the infernal gods that had crushed their nation. "Please be aware that worship of the Immortals of Idalos is prohibited inside Etzos. As a..." He glanced at Fagan for a moment in case his assumption was wrong, having expected a more appropriate introduction should it be true. "...diplomatic guest..? You are welcome to keep your trinkets, but know that open worship is a punishable offence and it would be most appreciated if you would refrain from such things."

The words were all delivered with respect and deference, as if it were simply the fact of the land and a favour the visitors would be doing them to respect, but the ferret pursed his lips for a moment...

The Devil on My Shoulder
Justice: They want to suppress our right to worship?!
Winston: Looks like et.
Justice: OutRAGouse! Killem!
Winston: Hehe. Noh. Me read dem 'ad a really bad time wid Immartals. Dem 'ave a right tuh nat like dem.
Justice: Fine... Maybe just make them a REEEAAALLY bad souffle?
Winston: Look, wat 'appened tuh dem wus nat jost eatha, yeah? Dem need help.
Curiosity: Why didn't Fagan warn us of this?
Justice: Because it didn't suit his agenda. He's dupped us.
Winston: Maybe 'e fargat.
Justice: Not likely!
Winston: Luk, ef dem are suppressing peepal's freedams, den we cun leave and perhaps we cun take some peepal wid os. If dere are peepal in Etzos BEING suppressed, den dey cun be given a way out.
Curiosity: OOOooohhhh, like a secret rescue mission?
Justice: VIVA LA RESISTAAANCE!!!

At this point,

Felicity

piped up, having sat dormant for a long time. Silently in his mind she issued a warning. "Careful Winston. If Fagan and Kasoria wanted to tell you this before you teleported a crowd of Immortal worshiping refugees to their land they WOULD have. This is not a mistake..." The woman was always much more suspicious than the ferret, her experience spying shaping her every perception of people and things.

Offering a waved and a thankful smile he chuckled. "Well, tank yuh far de infarmashun, me wus nat aware af dis." He turned to eye Fagan with the final few words of that statement. "We will respect yuh suppreshun af our freedoms ontil we find time to leave." He said with a deliberate, but exceedingly charming tone. It might not have been very politic of him, but he was good a 'cheeky' and sure that the diplomat would probably get his meaning.

His words to the delegation had been 'me cannot affa obedience. Hehe. Campliance per'aps' and he meant it. While in their land he'd openly respect their laws... as best he could. But he was not leaving his fellows here if they were going to be oppressed.

The Cadouri attempted to suppress his manner, keeping it light and happy, but there might be some able to see through this act as his internal monologue thrummed with the idea of what this visit had now become. He used the time it took the guard to begin to escort them into the city to air his idea with Felicity. "...whatever the case Winston, if you want to even have a chance of making a difference, you need them to let you in and NOT get arrested, OK?"

"Yeah-yeah. Me know. Me mar cancerned about de peepal we 'ave brought 'ere." He replied within his own mind as they set about checking everyone was ready to get moving.

"Talk to them tonight. Whatever the case is, you got them here and we can get them back. We can leave as soon as we want." She insisted, already beginning to plan how she might lay down root and informants in the region.

Winston looked at the shocked faces of those he'd brought here, guilt eating at his guts... What had he done? Would they really be safe here? Could he really just expect them to take this..?

He stopped and looked at some of the (still a little shocked) expressions on the faces of the people arriving... Nope. Nat happening, sorry... Proclaimed his sense of justice.

"Me sarry... Bot dis es nat Oh-key." He said, as if the charade was pointless and ridiculous. The ferret hated saying one thing and meaning another. If they went in there and someone from his delegation got arrested, he'd never forgive himself. "Yuh don't expect me tuh be Oh-key with dis, doh yuh? Me nat bringin' people INTUH oppreshun." He turned to the refugees, abject apology draped over his demeanor. "Me sarry, dis es me fault. Et's nat wat me expected, bot me shud 'ave been mar clear an done betta research. Anyone wishin' tuh leave, me will jost take yuh back reet naw." He turned to Fagen, an expression of frank disappointment deployed quite firmly. "Our arrangement far tools might still stand, ef yuh still need et..." He said gesturing towards the skeletal warriors. "Bot yuh gonna need tuh doh betta den 'please don't worship yuh own gads ar we will arrest yuh' ef yuh want peoplal tuh see Etzas as a welcomin' 'ome... Ef yuh expect me tuh suppart sendin' peepal 'ere." The ferret was devoid of Political maneuvering skills and the idea that sometime you get pushed around in order to push back didn't occur to his tiny little, black and while, right and wrong mind.

There was a mix of shock, relief and very serious treperdation on the faces of several of the people from Scalvaris at the outburst.

All template credit, love and admiration goes to Kisaik