World: Sicoria
Region: Arnst (Reggie's Homeland)
Location: The Town of Greer
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Ronwe, one of Reggie's companions, a yellowish skinned, dark blue haired demonkin, sat lazily at the edge of a burnt down shack while she ate at a bread roll. Soon after, Percival, their fair skinned, bald, holy monk sat beside her with a frustrated groan.
"I don't get it Ronwe. Even with that backup we got we still couldn't find Reggie. Not even among the dead. No one in town has seen him either. It's like he vanished. Pushed me out of the way and poof. Gone."
Ronwe looked sadly at her half eaten roll. "He's not messaging me back with magic either. There some sort of... 'interference'."
"Like a ward?"
"More like... he doesn't even exist."
Percival shook his head. "I think we're going to need some old help for this..."
"Oh no no no. We are NOT going back to HIM." She protested.
"We don't know anyone else with powerful enough magic. We need to find Oddy again..."
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World: Sicoria
Region: Feylarun (Dian's Homeland)
Location: Black Market of the City of Vigil
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Derrick stood in the cold snowy streets of Vigil. Lowlifes and vagrants moved around him like a bustling hive of bees tending to their queen of criminal industry. He held a note to his face; an address. "This better be the place, it took a while to find you." He whispered to himself.
He walked into an old auction house. At least, that was the front. The extravagant foyer was a stark contrast to the dismal outside. He removed his hood and greeted the clerk. "I'm looking for gemstones."
"Sorry sir, but none are on auction this week." The clerk replied, a man as wizened and old as Derrick.
"The code phrase..." Derrick thought to himself. "I heard you had one the was white, jagged, and bloody."
The clerk's eyes widened. "I see. Those are on our VIP list. Allow me to show you."
Derrick followed the clerk through the bowels of the building, as winding hallways and several locked doors made sure his visit was disorienting. But even in his age he was much too smart to be dissuaded by a petty maze. Finally they reached their destination.
The clerk knocked on a door with a rhythmic pattern, and a similar knock replied. "Enter." The clerk opened the door letting Derrick through. On the other side was an otherworldly sight. Though they were in the middle of the building, it was like he walked into a geode. The walls, floor and ceiling were covered in glistening gemstones of almost every kind. A bright rainbow cacophony of color assaulted his senses.
"Mr Anderson. I've been expecting you." A voice range out. On the other side of the room behind a desk of diamond sat a man of similar make. His skin was grey and somewhat decrepit. It matches his surprisingly suave face. What wasn't covered in a fine coat was gemstones cracking through has body, clinking and morphing with his movements. A hole bore through his chest where his heart once was.
"Orlov Dresden." Derrick replied cold.
"It's been a while friend!"
"We are not friends..."
Orlov threw his arms boisterously. "Come on Derrick. The Monty incident was years ago. Bygones and whatnot!"
"That's something for you to bring up with Lady Dian."
"Ah-ha! Miss Dian. Sole survivor of the Cetch massacre! Such a fun time!" Orlov laughed as if this was a nostalgic occasion than what actually occured. "How is the old bird? Must be getting there in those elf years?"
"She's actually still quite young compared to us old men." Derrick replied clinching his fists. He was doing his best to remain formal.
"Old men, Derrick? Such flattery still calling me a man." Orlov's voice suddenly grew more sinister. "Given how Dian made me a corpse and the curse took over my body."
A hostile silence filled the crystal room.
"Bygones?" Derrick looked straight for Orlov's crystal eyes.
Orlov smiled back. "Bygones!" He walked over and put his fleshiest arm around Derrick's shoulder. "So what did you come here for?"
"It's about Dian. As an information broker, I assumed you would have knowledge of her whereabouts."
Orlov snickered. "You know how I gather information right? The gems I produce through my body. Make it into jewelry, sell it to nobles, and boom; I know everyone's skeletons. You'd be surprised the sordid laundry some people have. But there's one noble in all of Vigil I can't see. An elf that doesn't wear fancy jewelry cause it's just another thing a monster can grab." Orlov slowly walked back to his desk. "Can you guess who?"
"Dian..." Derrick sighed.
"She doesn't go to balls, banquets, galas, weddings, funerals, or any council address! I haven't seen hair or tail of her in years!" Orlov shrugged. "She might as well be a ghost to me."
The word ghost but another idea in Derrick's head. He turned his back to Orlov. "If you can't help me, then I guess I'll go ask your old team."
CRASH!
Orlov slammed a heavy gemstone fist through his diamond desk sending shards all over the room. "Don't you even fucking DARE to mention that egotistical bastard's name!"
"Half of the Cetch family fortune." Derrick declared. "Find her, and it's yours Orlov. Or I can go to 'them'... Do we have a deal?"
Orlov huffed. "Fine, deal. And please stop calling me Orlov. I prefer Oddy."
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World: Nairdonis
Region: Wuth Empire (Ag's Homeland)
Location: Peek of Sungazer Mountain, Outside the City of Hell's Fall
Atop the dormant volcano lay a plinth of stone, on top of that lay a massive red dragon. Millennia of battle adorn his scarred body like abstract warpaint. Around him lay a plethora of scorched weaponry and melted armor. Trophies of failed attempts on his life by those who'd seek his demise.
On the very outskirts a staircase winded down the mountain while a blue dragonkin hiked his way to the top in full armor. He was old, scarred and burned from his own battles. Even missing his right eye, along with his horns that use to cross like an X behind his head. Underneath his arm he carried a log, a few sticks, and string.
He arrived at the top and sat before the dragon without a word. Instead he used what he had to start a camp fire. Once it was lit and properly burning the dragon opened his mouth just enough for his booming voice to get out.
"Speak, Norixian."
The blue dragonkin bowed his head looking straight at the fire.
"I've come to give my report, Lord Wuth."
Wuth gave an affirmative huff signaling for him to speak more.
"The war in the north is going as planned. Azigon is on the retreat, but we still have much more of their untamed land to burn before they surrender. It's gone exactly as you planned."
"Good." Wuth huffed. It sounded nether sinister nor cheerful.
"There has been issues dealing with Talvadi. The queen has yet to be found, and the brother is on the run. We are holding ground there now trying to return things to normal as we wait for the queen to return."
"Pitiful creature." Wuth huffed. Norixian hoped he was referring to the runaway king.
"And lastly... Your son... seems to be missing as well."
Wuth opened a solitary eye. His piercing amber gaze digging into Norixian. "Explain."
"He was dealing with a tyrant in Tillmono. Our scouts have found that he was successful, but the successor was even worse. We believe he has gone missing in this time."
Wuth rose his head high above Norixian as he sat up. "Look upon me." His voice boomed. Norixian looked up and shuddered. He was one of the most stalwart of the Phoenix Knights and feared nothing, but the sight of his lord above him shook his core.
"Do you know why we fight, Knight Krosis Norixian."
"To harness the flame and uphold balance in the world, Lord Wuth."
"You are partially correct." Wuth lowered his head and spoke more softly, but it didn't wholely removed his intimidating presence.
"Fire is the universal equalizer. Life and civilization is born through fire. It is not something we have the right to harness. It is something to be respected, appreciated, honored and feared. For life and civilization is brought to ruin through fire as well. It is the outcome when a fool thinks they can harness fire."
"Then why do we harness it, Lord Wuth?"
"Because we respect, appreciate, honor, and fear fire. We are it's arbiters. It trusts us to carry it's doctrine. Bring life to the scorched and damned, and taming the wildfires of prosperity through tainted corruption and malicious dogma. With it's gift we can carry out this duty. Do you understand, Krosis Norixian?"
"I do, Lord Wuth. But may I ask... what does this question have to do with your son?"
Wuth laid his head back down on the plinth. "Agshulkaal is alive, but he is not with us now. He is continuing the Eternal Flame's duty in a new world without it's presence."
"I'm not sure I understand, Lord Wuth."
"He is fine as he is. Continue with your duties. Deal with the tyrant in Tillmono. If anyone asks for my son's whereabouts, he is making deals with the elves. You are dismissed."
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World: Aghe
Region: Nexus, Neutral territory (Yoona's Homeland)
Location: Biff's Tavern
Mortis, Angelkin, Avatar of Hagen, and dear friend to Gala and Tifa, sat alone at a booth along the tavern wall. He was calming the morning shivers with a warm water rather than a drink to burn his throat. Patiently he waited, staring at the door and windows for a visitor. Seconds to minutes to hours, he finally arrived.
A pudgy, dark-skinned human walked through the door. Draped in dark green robes he crossed his arms and searched. Though his eyes never opened, the eye in a moon painted on his forehead pointed him in the direction of Mortis. He sat before him expressionless.
"Your late." Mortis said, less stating annoyance and more acknowledging a fact.
"I apologize for the delay." He spoke monotone. "Though Leviathan has been put to rest, some of his kin still roam the deeps. The boat ride here out of Tidewind was not pleasant.
"I see. Either way, thank you for coming on short notice. I needed to confirm something."
"If you wanted timely information, you should have asked--"
"No! No. I don't want involve the 'crazy one' in this matter. Besides he never answers my summons anyway." Mortis lowered his head dejected.
"Hmm. I agree. You are much more amicable to deal with. What was it you wanted to know? I know you are the newest of the Avatars."
Mortis sighed. "I'm aware we can speak to our respective gods. Use some of their power, and in emergency they can use us." His head pointed forward as he then whispered. "Do they ever just stop talking?"
"You are speaking of Hagen and Graila's silence. That is a matter that has troubled me as well. Even more so for his followers that wish to commune with him through me." Though the man's expression barely changed, there was a hint of melancholy on his lips.
"They actually talk to you? Can't they just talk to a tree or the moon or something?"
"Can't your's copulate with brothel workers?"
Mortis looked at him intently. "They are called priestess, and... touche."
HOOOOOOOOOWL!
The cries of dogs could be heard from outside.
"What in Hagen's name was that?" Mortis perked up. "That didn't sound like normal dogs."
"That would be the gnolls..." The other man replied. "One of the tribes have been scouring every island from the Provinces to Tidewind. Rumor says someone stole a culturally holy relic from them."
"I wonder what poor fool got that idea."