[Empire 7] The Grand Opening

[MappyPK]

The Grand Opening

With the Mall nearing completion, Kororia and her peers invite the leaders and delegations of the world to marvel in the spectacular sight that is the city-sized outdoor shopping center, encouraging them to pick up a few souvenirs for the way home. Of course, many political figures of Miru Miru would be in the area for such an occasion, should anyone want to offer a trade agreement. Up for grabs? Professor Kino Blubba's latest creation, a grafting system that allows for organisms to breathe for far longer than ever before in the depths.

With live musical performances, bubble shows around the central fountain, pop-up food stalls lining the paths, and massive ^{(perhaps 20% off if you were lucky)} discounts, the hustle and bustle of the Mall was well and alive through the week-long celebration of Miru Miru's first steps into the most sophisticated of industries: tourism.

---

About The Aniwana Mall
With Kanapa's extraordinary economic growth, the natural next step would be to capitalize on its growth and create the ultimate commercial hub, providing any and all goods and services a Taika could ask for. Given the circular layout of the city proper, it only made sense to create the world's greatest shopping mall in a similar fashion.

In the center of town, space was reserved for this immense project in a circular shape. In all cardinal directions, pathways would be set up and plots marked off for eventual commercial space. The center of that inner circle would contain a massive stone-and-bubble sculpture of Tuatahi and Kororia swirling upwards in a helix shape, both continuously producing a rainbow of bubbles that fell down into a small rock garden below. Around this centerpiece, construction plans were drafted and materials began to be collected, funded by the government. In the meantime, of course, small businesses, including delectable cafes and mom-and-pop craft shops sprung up in the form of carts, shacks, stalls, and so forth. Business was booming, and the project had hardly begun.

The northwest quadrant of the Mall in Kanapa would be reserved for those who wished to taste of the most specialized of foods available in Miru Miru. Many questioned Kororia's decision to prioritize this sector before the others, given its lack of a direct use to the people and the state, though she would often counter argue by explaining the importance of exploration for the economy, bringing home new colors and flavors to sell in the district. Funding was quickly shoveled into the area, allowing it to grow at a far greater rate than the other sectors.

Notably, the Taika have mastered the craft of the luxury beverage. Though it may be hard to imagine the ability for a simple fish to take delight through consuming a liquid, it was nonetheless possible due to, as one might expect, the power of the bubble. State research grants allowed for the invention of something now known as a "mug" to the people of Miru Miru. By creating a bubble in a cylindrical shape, liquids can be carefully injected without mixing with the water around it. These liquids could be flavored most definitely, but are often just forms of colored water, which can enhance the color diet of a Taika without the need for calorie-dense food, opening the possibility for more diverse color bending in the future. Though hundreds of cafes and restaurants make use of the technology today, Cafe Wereweti Whero, known for its sweet red fruity teas, was the first to market it to the public, and is now the most popular establishment in the district.

After the development of the Delicacies District, the government set its sight on continuing development elsewhere. Specifically, the northeast quadrant of the outdoor shopping center would be filled with a variety of artisan goods, though mostly devoid of foods and other consumable delicacies. Though the variety of shops and vendors funding by the government is immense, a few common themes would appear again and again. Indeed, stone masons, and mom and pop gardening shops are among the most popular forms of artistry in Miru Miru. Although many a stone could be used to decorate the exterior of one's home -- a display of social success in these waters -- exquisitely carved statues, seats, and decorations would surely catch the eye of passersby, especially when combined with rare plants and foliage that are not too often seen.

Most recently, funding began to be shifted into the southeast quadrant, which had quite a lofty goal: attracting merchants from across the seas to sell their exotic wares (at a fee, of course, for the space as to remain profitable for the government). The Miru people can only get so far in terms of beauty and grace if the only decorative items and foods they could eat were made domestically. Expanding the options of the people would surely bring in lots of money, and improve the overall mood of the Taikans. Ergo, a massive marketing campaign was sent out to all of Miru Miru's contacts, and slowly but surely, the worldwide district of the outdoor mall began to fill with a variety of goods.

---

Opportunity
Notably, the Foreign Goods District has been fully operational for the last few years, and many nations have sent merchants and travelers to run a shop or two there to take advantage of the sweet Taikan capitalist system. If you provide a description of a shop and the goods it may be selling within the Mall, you will be entered into a raffle to receive a free technology or 2 treasure from Miru Miru (other than Oxygenating Implantations) as long as you attend as an action.

[Kythia]

By and large the Magaramachi have trouble noticing the Miru Miru. The size difference is a factor of ten and the blind Magaramachi have understandable trouble seeing the splendid colours of the Splendid Miru Miru. In recent years though successful sweet beverage based diplomacy has started to address this and so it is that the grand opening of the Aniwana Mall is one of the few world events they hear about. It’s still unlikely they would have attended were it not for the fact the the Mercenary Exchange was newly finished and looking for customers. Magaramachi can be enterprising when the stars align, and a group of mercenaries led by Where’s-The-Rest-Of-You arrive to tout themselves as wares – such is his personal might and size that well over half of those that set off on the trip arrive without dying in a pointless internal squabble.

The mall is built on entirely the wrong scale and so their stall is set up in a pleasant plaza lined with coral flagstones outside. Or partly set up. Though he tries gamely even Where’s-The-Rest-Of-You’s prowess is unable to whip his troops into obeying orders here in the homeland of the sweet beverage. While he clears a space – easy enough as the locals seem unwilling to approach – a number of his troops set up accidental protection rackets at local shops. And, in their defence, they are accidental. When they swim in, an order of magnitude larger than the owner, and say “BE BAD IF SOMEONE ATE YOU. GIVE US DRINK, NO ONE EATS YOU” they are actually being genuine. It would be bad if someone ate the storekeeper, the Magaramachi don’t know how to make the drink. And they would protect the shopkeeper if someone tried. The merchants, understandably, don’t see it that way. It will doubtless all be resolved within the day, but for a brief period most high end drinks shops have a resident Magaramachon scowling at and threatening customers.

Shop The shop is actually just an area of the plaza with “Hire Us” scrawled across it. At any time there are three or four Magaramachi there and at almost any time three or four of them are fighting one another. Usually Where’s-The-Rest-Of-You arrives in time to bang heads together and threaten them until they stop, but there is already one badly injured member of the company and a severed Magaramachi arm floating down a nearby street.

[Feathersnow]

The female Hermit Crab merchant caste was slowly being phased out, in favor of outsourcing to the Black Pearls. Just as males were extinct for a few decades of peace, so their sisters would be almost as rare in a few more generations.

But the phase out was gradual and would never be completely done. The World Garden were more willing to risk their lives as pacifists than their coffers as ignorant clients.

So Elder Yoshefin and Noviate Yoshi found themselves sent to a low risk assignment in the Gardener tradition of one-on-one mentorship. Joining them was a neuter Mer missionary, Yoshon. The Sisters were tasked to learn about this "capitalism" so praised by the Miru Miru while Yoshin observed more holistically. Yoshin was also tasked as the Note-Keeper and, as the youngest and highest caste member, it was their job to escape and bear witness should the others be eaten or kidnapped


The latter, kidnapping, seemed unlikely. The merchants seemed friendly and scrupulous and their bubbles were as delicious as they were ingenious.

Yoshi wasn't so sure they wouldn't be eaten after seeing the Magamarachi, but the worry the marauding oafs could catch both Sisters was too distant to worry about preparing a designated survivor protocol. So Yoshon just collated Yoshifin's notes....

The notes detailed the fact that The World Garden was dirt poor and bitterly satirized the fact they sold what resources they had to a self-confessed crime lord for a fraction of their face value. She also lovingly talked about all the shiny objects that she witnessed on sale and bitterly regretted going to The Mall with no cash.

Yoshon spun this by cutting out most of it and explaining further that Capitalism would never catch on and that material goods were a concern of lesser civilizations that The Garden had engineered itself free of. Of the shiny objects, they gave no report at all.

[mystic1110]

Four cephalopodic nomads on their shark steed swim through the mall. These were clearly older nomads, well-bred, not hooligans by any stretch of the imaginations, but still - they were blood thirsty raiders. But like honorable ones. Like the type of monstrous pillagers that other species perhaps a hundred years from now would love to dress up as and appropriate their rituals and claim some type of superiority by relation. Obviously, of course, those future cosplayers, will be idiots - but that's the future, here in the present, these nomads are not idiots. They are stern vicious killers when they have to be.

Today, luckily, they don't have to be. Today they are learning about other cultures and their habits. Such as shopping.

I don't understand. Why can't I just kill him and take the trinkets?

Seriously, I don't want to explain it again. How's this - you know when we eat all the fish too fast we have to move? Well - if we kill all the merchants too fast we have to run?

Ok - so . . . we give the man a shark for the necklaces?

No no . . . that's bartering they don't do that here. We pay them money and they give us stuff.

Ah, yes - obviously I didn't mean a shark shark. We all know gold is just the promise of violence since all mercenaries and tribes take it. So a gold is an imaginary shark that one . . .

Don't explain economics to me, do you want the necklace or not?

It's a nice necklace, but I don't think it's five sharks nice.

Ah, you see! This is called haggling!

So what, I tell him one shark. I mean, one coin, instead?

Yeah - try that.

Ok, good merchant, I will give you one debt of murder for that necklace over there.

The merchant, obviously uncomfortable facing four terrifying nomads, meekly peeped "I can't go less than 3 coins sir"

WHAT!? Three! That's outrageous! Come over here I'm going to rip you apart

Stop!

But you heard the price! And people call us raiders!

[Volthawk]

While House Hallus went through changes and reorganisation with Baran's official retirement and Ashal taking the top position, the families under their banner found themselves having to focus on their obligations to the larger family a little less. When you combined that with the fact that Wayfinder was spending some time in the docks, leaving its crew free to roam, and other matters were well in hand and bringing in a decent profit, that meant that the Belar family found themselves with a surplus of time, money, and people - perfect for a journey down south to scout out new opportunities.

As such, outside of the usual mixed bag of Cyphiri from myriad families that were found almost everywhere (but particularly in friendly countries like Miru Miru), the main organised Cyphiri presence here was from the Belar family, with the standard Kalan bodyguards and a small amount of extra Kalan from the Retainer Guard - after the skirmish in Ruwa Mai Juyawa with the pojan raiders, and stories about other raider gangs 'taxing' businesses nearby, the Guard were being careful about any major endeavours in these waters. The guardsmen mostly leave the Belar to their own devices, and try not to cause a scene as they keep an eye on things - it wasn't that they didn't trust the Taika with keeping the place safe, they just felt more comfortable knowing for themselves that things are under control.

---

One of those Kalan guardsmen had been swimming outside of the worldwide district when he spotted pojan - not a particular surprise, given how widespread the nomads had gotten in recent years, but still a point of concern. Enough to keep an eye on. That concern felt well-justified when he sees their take on haggling, and the look on the merchant's face. Signalling for one of his peers to back him up, the guardsman swims over to the jewellery merchant and the pojan, speaking up to get their attention. "Is there a problem here?"

---

Opportunity
The Belar's venture here was simple - they had a very unique product, and they figured odds were good some people here would be interested in picking up some. Shipments of the immense rune-carved fossils found out in the wastes were coming in regularly these days, now that they'd mapped out the safe routes to and from where they were gathering the things, and while Arnel used plenty of them in his experiments, and the Guard most of the rest for military purposes, there were still enough left over - often smaller sections and chunks - that weren't used by the others and could be sold on. After all, putting aside the new purpose Arnel's technology had given them, they were inherently interesting and cool things to own - a piece of some ancient megafauna (if not warranting an even larger prefix), engraved by long-dead hands, found in caves out in some of the most inhospitable waters in the world.

The Kelad here were confident that their goods would sell sell once their customers got a good look, and in order to grab the eye they'd made their shop a little unique. A major part of the supplies they'd brought down with them was a part of one of the cargo vessels they used to ship the stuff out of the wastes,- it was only part of the hull, some of it having been cut down at the mall to fit the alloted space and provide wood for structural supports, but most of it gone from the accident that had made the thing no longer wasteworthy (safe routes can only do so much, after all), but it was enough. From it, they'd fashioned a very...organic stall, structure provided by the wooden boards that make up the inner hull of a Cyphiri vessel (although some of the blubber sealing had split by this point), and decoration from the mass of vines covering both sides - of two distinct varieties, different in colours and shapes, and both rather pointless in these calm waters (out in the wastes, the two varieties served critical roles in ensuring the vessel and the crew inside were protected and could survive in the wastes, albeit not to the extent of the varieties found on Wayfinder itself, but enough to travel the known routes). Underneath that living canopy were the Kelad and their displays, on which some of the more interestingly-shaped or prominently carved fossils were on display, with more in carefully organised boxes - some Kelad had found themselves quite taken with the hobby of collecting, organising and displaying the fossils, so they knew how to make sure they were safely stored so that their customers got them in as good condition as possible.

[mystic1110]

One of those Kalan guardsmen had been swimming outside of the worldwide district when he spotted pojan - not a particular surprise, given how widespread the nomads had gotten in recent years, but still a point of concern. Enough to keep an eye on. That concern felt well-justified when he sees their take on haggling, and the look on the merchant's face. Signalling for one of his peers to back him up, the guardsman swims over to the jewellery merchant and the pojan, speaking up to get their attention. "Is there a problem here?"

The four nomads look at the Kalan . . . and in one breath they say together:

Who are you?
YES there is a problem here - have you heard these prices? Come here and help me kill this stingy brute.
"An exasperated sigh"
...

[TheDarkDM]

Many plagues were known to haunt the waters of the world. From grand and terrible titans to the unseen depredations of the Reavers above, all who lived in this renaissance of power and wealth knew on some level that it existed at perpetual risk. The Miru Miru's grand monument to profit and trade had been erected in defiance of those fears, its glory fit to banish all mean and sullied spirits from the glittering flow of wealth and culture that only alloyed their splendor. But in that light, new and more insidious plagues entered the current. None so dire, perhaps, as the arrival of the Lambent Matron with every Mistress of the Syndicate in her retinue.

Intan knew it was a foolish risk. A cataclysmic blunder. But despite the vast and terrible power she held, the Lambent Syndicate was at its heart a disparate and fractious collection of fiefdoms. The competition between Mistresses for wealth and prestige had balanced on the edge of a knife for years since Adiratna's "abdication," but to forbid any one Mistress from attending this orgy of excess while allowing another would have sent the entirety of her empire spiraling into chaos. And so the Lambent Matron Intan floated atop her caravan crab, at the head of a procession that more resembled an invading army, smiling gaily as blood pearls, siren extract, and all the accumulated wealth of the Syndicate rained down on dumbstruck locals. This too, she knew, was part of the war of smiles and shadows each Mistress was trapped in - none among the august Sirens could be seen to be less thoughtlessly extravagant than her rivals. Such was the value of prestige that the mother of pearl studded pavilion that seemed to appear by Intan's will alone offered a seemingly endless supply of siren extract at no cost. For what need had the Lambent Matron for worldly wealth?

The very real need gnawed at Intan's throat as she swam through the grand opening with a glitter of delight in her eyes. After all, for all the waste, the Syndicate had profited mightily from the unpleasantness to the North. And for all the pains her subordinate Mistresses caused her, Intan would soon have the pleasure of a final gift from dear, stupid Taman. Heart fluttering with bloodlust on the edge of fulfilment, Intan willed her thoughts away from the five other processions of Mistresses with their juvenile Siren daughters and sycophants and ever-watchful Death Commando. She resolved to enjoy herself fully, and eventually was floating like a jitter of bone-white lightning on the edge of the Magaramachi exhibition ground. Tongue rolling over gleaming teeth as she watched the scaled brutes' simple love of combat emerge once more. Her own Death Commando, red armored and dead-eyed, watched with the quiet intensity of casual murder they had become infamous for.

"And what are your rates?"

Her voice slid through the water, musical and hungry. There was something in the energy of her that suggested she was every bit as capable of launching into the fray as Where’s-The-Rest-Of-You, restrained behind the black-water cold of malevolent focus.

[Kythia]

The rates – screamed at volume and interspersed with boasts – seem hopelessly labyrinthine and convoluted until the eureka moment strikes and the listener realises that they make perfect sense when you factor in that they are Magaramachi rates. Why is it cheaper, in absolute terms, to hire the entire company than part of it? Well, because hiring only part of it means the company has to have a fight before they even set off in order to prevent the unwanted troops from coming along for the ride. Why is there a premium if two or more units are to be used within fifty metres of each other? Well, because if they’re that close then casualties will increase as each unit is fighting both the enemy and the other unit. The rules for non-fulfilment of contract seem complicated until you realise that you’re being offered the opportunity to pay for “got distracted and did something else insurance” And so on. The Magaramachi may be crude and violent but they, or at least the larger ones, are not necessarily stupid.

[Volthawk]

The two Kalan seem...a little surprised by the directness of one of the nomads. Outright threatening murder in the middle of a public place like this? It doesn't take long for the surprise to fade as they remind themselves who they were dealing with. Unlike the Kalan, and the others who made up the Retainer Guard and filled the settlement around the Exchange, these were raiders, not mercenaries. They didn't have that understanding of the social contracts around violence in civilised society, and how to work with and around them - a skill mercenaries soon picked up when trying to carry out the wishes of their varied clients without getting into more trouble than the contract was worth. Still, even if it wasn't really their fault, it needed stopping now before things escalated.

"That's not how it works here. If you don't like the price, and you couldn't haggle it down, you walk away. Find another seller. Badmouth the merchant if you're feeling spiteful. But threatening to kill him like that, let alone trying to do it, will get you kicked out if not worse-" "Killed yourself." The other Kalan interjects, apparently not having as much faith in the reasoning ability of this particular pojan as his peer, prompting a mildly annoyed grunt from the first one before he continues. "Or yes, that. There are enough people here skilled in fighting who will intervene if you attack someone, whether to keep the peace or just for the fun of it." His head tilts towards where the Magaramachi were set up, and the Death Commandos watched. "My point is that this isn't a raid. You need to work by different rules. Be smarter about it. Then we won't have a problem." After it's clear he's done, the second Kalan speaks up again. "Oh yeah, you asked who we were. We're with the Retainer Guard, Cyphiri military. You might know us, we're the ones who sent you running up north. Boss asked us to keep an eye on things around here while the little guys are doing their business."

---

Although the members of the Belar family there are happy to deal fairly with pretty much anyone who comes to their stall, when it comes to the Sirens things are different. Taman's depravities were well known in the Union at this point, after all, and recent evidence suggesting that she had greater ties to the Lambent Syndicate than advertised had also reached the ears of the Belar. That's enough for any visiting Siren, Intan or otherwise, to get a frosty reception, a curt refusal of service, and rejection of any of the luxuries thrown around by them, in case they were as much of a tainted gift as Taman was for the Lux-Glossians.

[Grim ranger]

While the ruler of Frozen Seas himself seems to have too much on his plate to attend the opening of the Mall set to dedicate entire city's worth of buildings to the task of trade alone, Kar-Nath Hegemony has regardless seen fit to send a delegation in hopes of creating trade deals and showing off the goods from deep reaches of Polar region. The official part of the delegation is rather visible, most of it being made of the carapaced forms of Nathi... but at the head of it, a pale mer wearing one of Frozen Court's distinctive cloaks with rimestone and electrum clasp can be seen, apparently leading the rest despite the fact the reclusive crustaceans usually keep their own company.

And if currents of change are rushing through the Hegemony's nobility, their traders have likewise changed their methods. Indeed, where before the frozen realm exported little but exotic rock and skins of beasts hunted from within its borders without much care for showmanship, things are somewhat different now. The nathi traders wearing long, embroidered robes of red and green now know how to best show off their wares, their shop set up almost akin to an auction with goods made from frozen wood, precious metals and exotic scales set on little pedestals for customers to peruse. The traders seem to focus more on quality of singular products, not even aiming to compete with the ability of some to mass-produce their wares and instead trusting surpreme craftsmanship to attract more wealthy customers that can be called upon to spend...and to further spread the good name of their products to furthest reaches of the seas.

[mystic1110]

Spoiler: Previously

Show

The two Kalan seem...a little surprised by the directness of one of the nomads. Outright threatening murder in the middle of a public place like this? It doesn't take long for the surprise to fade as they remind themselves who they were dealing with. Unlike the Kalan, and the others who made up the Retainer Guard and filled the settlement around the Exchange, these were raiders, not mercenaries. They didn't have that understanding of the social contracts around violence in civilised society, and how to work with and around them - a skill mercenaries soon picked up when trying to carry out the wishes of their varied clients without getting into more trouble than the contract was worth. Still, even if it wasn't really their fault, it needed stopping now before things escalated.

"That's not how it works here. If you don't like the price, and you couldn't haggle it down, you walk away. Find another seller. Badmouth the merchant if you're feeling spiteful. But threatening to kill him like that, let alone trying to do it, will get you kicked out if not worse-" "Killed yourself." The other Kalan interjects, apparently not having as much faith in the reasoning ability of this particular pojan as his peer, prompting a mildly annoyed grunt from the first one before he continues. "Or yes, that. There are enough people here skilled in fighting who will intervene if you attack someone, whether to keep the peace or just for the fun of it." His head tilts towards where the Magaramachi were set up, and the Death Commandos watched. "My point is that this isn't a raid. You need to work by different rules. Be smarter about it. Then we won't have a problem." After it's clear he's done, the second Kalan speaks up again. "Oh yeah, you asked who we were. We're with the Retainer Guard, Cyphiri military. You might know us, we're the ones who sent you running up north. Boss asked us to keep an eye on things around here while the little guys are doing their business."

---

Although the members of the Belar family there are happy to deal fairly with pretty much anyone who comes to their stall, when it comes to the Sirens things are different. Taman's depravities were well known in the Union at this point, after all, and recent evidence suggesting that she had greater ties to the Lambent Syndicate than advertised had also reached the ears of the Belar. That's enough for any visiting Siren, Intan or otherwise, to get a frosty reception, a curt refusal of service, and rejection of any of the luxuries thrown around by them, in case they were as much of a tainted gift as Taman was for the Lux-Glossians.

There was a brief moment where the four nomads talk amongst themselves . . .

Sent us running? Didn't we win that fight?
Technically - but we didn't bring any food back to the tribe.
So many people starved. Children and Elders turned into mummies upon their mounts
Eh, win some lose some.

The most belligerent of the nomads then looks at the Retainer Guard, his Shark smiling full of razor sharp teeth.

Exactly! You're warriors, so you must know how to have some fun in these doldrums!
(How even do you know that word?)
Let's grab a drink - we passed a stand that is selling . . . um . .
I think it was something called a Penis-Tail?
I've heard Penis Liquor really lights a fire in your belly and makes you extremely virile
We've probably drunk worse concoctions - remember that time . . .
How many wives at home you got Guardsman? Let's be sure to drink plenty of this Penis Wine and get you home to them!

[TheDarkDM]

The Magaramachi

The Lambent Matron's tail flicked in rhythmic amusement at the rowdy exuberance of the eyeless mercenaries. Raising a single talon they could not see, she purred out a final question.

"And how much to fight one of you here?"

The Belar Family

While the insult offered by the representatives of the Cyphiri is oblique enough to bounce harmlessly off the Sirens' narcissism, it goes noted by all. The mirrored eyes of some flash, as they consider ordering the death of so impudent a peasant, while others simply laugh at the provincial daring. One crimson-scaled Siren simply smiles, though. For Radiant Mistress Lintang was a creature of quiet patience.

"Recount this day to your children, little Cyphri. Inscribe it above your lintel. They should know the cause of their despair when this bill comes due."

[Kythia]

Where's-The-Rest-Of-You tilts his head, it appears he's listening for a moment but actually he's clearing the route to the sensitive current sensing organs on the sides of his neck. The challenger was right in front of him, other unfamiliar wave patterns near it - presumably they would join the attack but whether for or against her was as unredictable as his own colleauges behind him. Explaining it like that, though, makes it sound like there was a "should I attack or not" type decision being made. There wasn't of course, it was simply a "where is the thing I'm about to attack and how many might I be fighting"

The Magaramachi don't rely on their bulk in combat as much as one might expect. The issue being, the majority of their opponents are also similarly bulky Magaramachi. As such the lack of size advantage over the siren wasn't the handicap one might assume. What they rely on is winning fights quickly - destroying limbs or the like before the opponent knows they're in a fight. While they've had enough to contact with other races to know what eyes are and have a vague understanding of how they work, its not the instinctive attack point. There is, at least in Magaramachi bodies, a nerve running under the neck which controls the jaw, severing that leaves an opponent unable to use their powerful mouths. Coincidentally, in most other species this is the neck and an attack on that is just as effective.

And so, seconds after the challenge - intended as or not that's how it was viewed - was laid down he was using his tail to launch himself the short distance towards the Siren's neck. Behind him, two of the mercenaries began fighting one another while the third launched itself at the Siren's retinue. He barely even noticed the distraction - the Magaramchi were used to their combats taking part the swirling, blood filled waters of multiple combats which had served as an entirely unintended advantage before and maybe would again today.

[TheDarkDM]

The great magarmachi's speed was incredible as he lunged towards the Lambent Matron's serpentine neck, his fellows falling into clouds of glorious carnage among the Death Commando on either side. The black mirrors of Intan's eyes dilated as heart heartbeat surged, watching her oncoming death with the heady exultation of one of her Siren-bound slaves. Bright teeth flared in the brilliant lights of the Mall, as Where's-The-Rest-Of-You's jaws slammed shut. Only to find the Siren was not there.

The kucen mutant's whiplike tail left jets of water in its wake as it cut downwards, propelling Intan in a spiraling arc over Where's-The-Rest-Of-You. Her long talons caressed his dorsal scales, too lightly to draw blood but deep enough to leave her mark, and with a reflexive thrash the magarmachi was on her again. Strong claws sank into Intan's thigh, drawing royal blood, and the Siren screeched in pain and satisfaction. For though she was held, she was far from helpless, her tail and body wrapping around Where's-The-Rest-Of-You's arm even as he sought a killing blow. There was a sickening pop in the warrior's elbow, and despite his titanic will his grip lessened for the moment Intan needed to slip free.

Talons dug into the heaving bulk of Where's-The-Rest-Of-You, drawing ribbons of magarmachi blood to mingle with Intan's own. His eyeless head battered by opportunistic strikes from Intan's tail, Where's-The-Rest-Of-You was eventually left vulnerable, stunned by the quicksilver tenacity of this new enemy. But even as he shook his head clear, he recognized his doom. In that instant, Intan's clawed toes had dug deep into his shoulder blades, her tail wrapped securely around his throat, while the talons of her fingers were splayed out in a deadly flower around the base of his neck. One final death roll would see even a mighty magarmachi decapitated. And it was in that heartbeat beneath the shadow of death that Intan whispered in his ear.

"Most satisfying, warrior. I may have use for you in the future."

And then she was gone, kicking free of her burrowed perch on Where's-The-Rest-Of-You's back to return to her Death Commando.

"We never agreed on payment, you realize? I trust these will suffice."

At a nod from her, one of the surviving Death Commando retrieved an enormous clam shell coffer and deposited it on the sand. Unlocked, it spilled open to reveal a fortune in blood pearls.

"Until next time, warrior."