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Septette Arcubielle      In ages past, this place was called as the fabled 'Drowned City'- the half of the great port of Armoroad that calved off from the surface long ago and fell beneath the waves, hidden from outside eyes for nearly a century. But to those who lived and died there, it was never drowned. All the world's oceans could never drown this place's indomitable spirit, nor hide its splendor. To them, it is and shall always be the Deep City, a shining jewel in the abyss.

     The Deep City holds many wonders, but the grandest of them are the immense magical dome of air that encompasses the city and the gargantuan tree that shrouds every building and street with the shade of its boughs. The dome of air has no name, for it is merely their sky; the tree is named Yggdrasil, and treated with reverence. It is almost as fungal in form as it is arboreal: ruffled lappets and frills grow from its massive trunk that are sturdy enough to build houses of stone upon.

     On bright days, sunlight filters down through the waves to the city below, casting everything in shifting pale cerulean light as great ocean creatures brush past the protective bubble. But it is not by accident that Septette invites her guests here in the evening. Absent the light of the sun, wild bioluminescent moss gleams a gentle blue and magical lights bathe the city in a pale yellow glow like artificial fireflies, silhouetting every building in an artful dichromatic display against the darkened ocean in the distance. Perhaps some allegory can be found in the fact that the Deep City is at its most beautiful when deprived of even the surface's sun.

     The buildings are all hewn from white or grey stones, complementing Yggdrasil's pale bark. Their designs hearken to an elegant pre-Romanesque European style of construction, but grown to the size and sophistication of more modern architecture. The cobblestones, by contrast, are darker; they're worn by heavy use and heavier metal, with faintly glowing moss growing between the stones.
Septette Arcubielle      The directions in Septette's invitation lead from the Deep City's main warpgate through its main plaza, and up a series of winding stairs at the city's outskirts that tack back and forth across a steep cliff-face. Finally, the stairs reach a plateau or shelf of sorts, revealing a surprisingly modest home made of wood and stone surrounded by a few crumbling stone ruins that overlooks the entire city. There, sitting at the edge of the shelf with her legs dangling off precariously, Septette awaits her guest.

     When Lunara approaches, she'll pull herself to her feet and step back from the precipice, offering her hand to her guest and beginning to head towards the front door of the cottage. "I'm delighted you could make it," she says with obvious relish. "An Elite's life can be busy and full of interruptions, as I well understand, but it's a relief that the refreshments won't go to waste. Oh! And don't worry- I haven't forgotten the monster, either..."
Sentinel Lunara
It really is like Nodrassil isn't it?

In Lunara's long time being alive she has seen many a wonderous land. Ranging from the fantastical landscapes of her homeworld of Azeroth to the chaotic absurdity that was her time in the Nexus. Of all of them however, Lunara has always favored those that mantain a stronge sense of flora and fauna. To see the grand tree stand tall over all the land, like a primordial ancient guardian of nature, makes Lunara smile. Perhaps there are other worlds that still rely on the spirits to mantain them like her very own forests of Ashenvale. Still, her time in the Nexus has taught her that nothing is what it appears, not even the nature itself, and her little time in the multiverse is reinforcing that lesson each day. She pays the tree due respect by nodding towards it but does not attempt to commune wiht it just yet. Considering everything Septette has said, the tree itself may be responsible for all this chaos.

"Hail, my lady." Comes the Dryad's greetings as she bounds across the cliff until she finally reaches Sept's home. She's surprisingly anchored for having hooves instead of feet making one wonder if she might be half mountain goat instead of deer. Regardless, she grasps Sept's hand tightly and smiles at her. "Helping out friends and renewing lands. Those are my real responsabilities, my lady. Let us see if we can attend to both of them today."
Septette Arcubielle      "Yggdrasil out there," she remarks with a sweeping gesture before stepping into the cottage's foyer, "won't have anything to say to the likes of us. It used to speak in ways that even we could understand. But it abandoned us two hundred years ago, choosing to enter a slumber from which it refuses to awaken." Septette smiles somewhat bitterly as she holds the door for Lunara, motioning her to come inside. "My kind was the only sweet fruit of that poison tree. It has nothing to offer the world but shade, now."

     The foyer is snug and warm, lit by flickering candles. The floor is polished cobblestone with a rug to wipe one's shoes (or hooves), and hooks for coats line the wall. Septette hangs her shawl up, then disappears into the kitchen for a moment before returning to usher Lunara into the living room while carrying a tray filled with strange and unfamiliar fruits and vegetables.

     Most of the living room is occupied with green upholstered furniture- there's even a low ottoman that might be comfortable for the centaur to sit down upon- but in one corner is what appears to be a small iron cage, covered with a black sheet. The little robot scoops up the cage before settling in on a couch and nibbling on one of the vegetables, a dark purple-black carrot with white insides. If the fact that the couch doesn't immediately collapse is any indication, the furniture here is very heavily reinforced- a sensible alteration, considering her physiology.

     "So! Here's how this is going to go," she says with no small measure of authority, resting her hands on the shoebox-sized cage in her lap. "When I open up this cage, the monster inside is going to try to kill me, and it's probably going to try to kill you too. I doubt it could do serious harm to one such as yourself, but I will likely end up having to destroy it, because otherwise it could escape into the city at large and cause untold havoc. Tell me when you are ready to begin, Ms. Lunara- you are not likely to have long, once I open Pandora's Box."
Sentinel Lunara
The news of Yggradil's dormant state are met with a dissapointed tightening of Lunara's lips. So much for other lands being similar to her homeland of Ashenvalle. Perhaps one day in the Multiverse she can call a place her home away from home. But for now she will be content if she can make Septette's home safer for everyone living within. Today is not the first day Lunara spends in civilization, or what passes for it around it. She wipes her hooves at the door and makes herself surprisingly comfortable in the ottoman, parking her rear on the upper part and backpedaling her front hooves on the edge. This does mean however that she has her hooves up on the sofa--but hopefully Sept won't mind that! Just as she is about the take a fruit to bit, the plan is revealed and she comes to full attention, elven ears wiggling. "My lady, you should not put yourself in danger just to satisfy my curiosity. Let me bear the brunt of the beast's attack. I am far more resiliant than I appear."
Septette Arcubielle      "Nonsense," Septette replies with an almost distressingly warm and kindly smile. "You feel pain if injured. I do not. Therefore, from my perspective, it's immoral to allow you to be exposed to harm when I could take it upon myself instead. Besides- I know how these beasts behave. I'm at little risk." With that and a nod to ensure Lunara is ready, she reaches inside the cage...

     Something screams at the top of its lungs, sounding like a poorly-tuned violin on a torture rack, but Septette's expression remains placid and focused. She pulls out a lithe, weasel-like creature with a reddish-purple coat and a white underbelly; its teeth look like tiny ivory daggers, its eyes like cabochons of obsidian, and it writhes bonelessly like a snake trying to bite the hand that holds it.

     The creature squirms and thrashes quickly enough to resemble a blur of motion, and judging by the repeated clink of enamel-on-metal, it tries to bite her fingers again and again with near-invisible speed before giving up and going back to its bloodthirsty shrieking and rabid thrashing.

     "This," Septette says over the absolutely hellish din, "is what a rat looks like. Lunara, meet rat. Rat, meet Lunara."
Sentinel Lunara
Lunara's eyes flare open and her elfish ears stand on end. Whatever is causing that screech is not from the material realm. It sounds more akin to a tortured abomination from the Burning Legion. The Dryad makes no futher attempt to remain comfortable and stands up, hooves firmly anchored on the floor whilst her curved deer antler atlatl appears in her hand. A hand is outstetched towards the cage reading herself to attack.. and that is when she sees it.

Sure, even in their most docile rats were never gentle critters. They are aloof at best, prefering only scavange and spread diseases than doing anything that might help nature. But nevertheless, they were still animals that deserved protection. This.. monstrousity is nothing Lunara has seen before. "By Elune, what has happened to it??" She says angrily, though her anger is focused more on that whic has dared corrupt a once innocent soul. "I fear its mind may be too gone for me to communicate--but I shall try nonetheless." And try she does. Her stretched hand opens and she opens a link between her spirit and that of the berserkering rat. "Hold, brother! It is a Dryad who speaks with thee. Cease your anger!"
Septette Arcubielle      The rat takes notice of her extended hand, though perhaps not in the way that one would wish: it leans as far forward as possible in Septette's grasp until her bladed fingers dig into its flesh, and snaps at the empty air inches in front of Lunara's fingers, in the vain hope of injuring her.

     "'Happened' to it? I'm afraid you're not quite understanding," the little robot replies. "This is what they are like from the moment they sight a sapient being, every single one. If it were reintroduced to the wild, it might behave like a normal rat for a while again- but the moment it saw another person, it would revert to exactly the state you see here."

     The attempt to communicate reveals something peculiar: the rat feels deeply wrong somehow, almost natural but not quite. It's made of flesh and blood, true, and not enchanted in any way; it was born and reared by others of its kind. And yet, there is some ancestral memory there, some taint of artifice...

     But if Septette is to be believed, this is how all nature here is.

     For a brief instant, the rat seems to regain some lucidity: its coal-black eyes lock with Lunara's, its horrid shrieking quiets, and it stops its thrashing for long enough to take a thin and reedy breath.

     <<KILL,>> it says, the growling tone disturbingly dissonant with its small and piping voice. <<KILL THEM ALL. KILL YOU. BEFORE THEY KILL US. KILL AND DIE SO OTHERS LIVE.>>

     With that, it deliberately throws itself against Septette's bladed fingers, forcing itself through them until its body is cut in half! Its lower body and hindlegs twitch aimlessly in her hands, but its upper body flops to the floor in a pool of its own blood. It drags itself along the wood floor with its forelegs with disturbing speed, trying to crawl towards Lunara's forelegs with its jaws open wide, but giving her ample time to respond...
Sentinel Lunara
Fearlessly does Lunara keep her hand extended, unflinching against the rat's onslaught. What sacrificies has she not already done for the safety of nature? If she must endure slight discomfort to see what is it that afflicts these creatures, then she will be more than happy to do so. The words of Sept's little robot companion don't go ignored, but she is far too focused on the rodent to respond. The dryad's glowing eyes narrow as she feels words echo within her being, the rat speaking to her through the green sense that binds all the living. 'Kill them. Before they kill us.' She mutters, repeating the words of the rat. They are defending themselves it seems, but through what means? Going into a frenzied rage that will utterly consume them?

And before Lunara can discern more, her link is cut in a violent manner. "NO!!" Lunara gasps as the rat impales itself on Setp's dagger like fingers. Unconcerned for her own safety, she kneels her forelegs and grasps the rat's severed upper half on tender hands that are fortunately armored in case the rat is still going ballistic. She is not naive though and knows that it is far too late for this one, all she can do is ease its suffering. "Sleep, brother. Sleep.." She whispers, hands caressing the rat gently as she applies her deadly toxin. Green mist spreads through the rat's body and it begins to consume its flesh, then its organs, then its bones, until soon nothing but dust remains from the creature. One once again with the earth.
Septette Arcubielle      Even as Lunara gently scoops up the animal, it tries to lash out at her, scraping its razor-sharp teeth against her armored gloves harmlessly. It howls, seemingly in rage rather than pain, and pries at the seams of her gauntlets even as its skin and flesh turns to dust. All the while, its black and hateful eyes remain locked on hers, as if to convey its personal rage towards the dryad.

     Even in its death throes, it shows no agony or fear: its last convulsions are a final, pitifully weak headbutt that simply bounces off of her hands, and then it finally dissolves, bones and all.

     By the time it has returned to dust, Septette has burned her half in magical fire and scoured the varnished floor of its blood; she gathers up the dust and ashes in a handkerchief, walks to a window, and throws them to the breeze before turning back to her guest. "So," she says in an almost comically understated tone, "I think that you have some idea now of our problem."

     Her hands fold in her lap primly as she sits back down upon the couch. Arcubielle's calm and collected demeanor seems to indicate that she saw absolutely nothing unusual in what transpired. She even picks up a vegetable after cooking the blood off of her hands, and gnaws on her second carrot. "Did you happen to find anything interesting about it, Lunara?"
Sentinel Lunara
Lunara on the other hand.. is not taking it well.

The Dryad seems /devastated/. She remains in a kneeling position, head down gaze to the floor, hands and arms limp letting Sept simply wipe away the dust that once was a rat. She's silent for a long, long time, more than it is comfortable, not even her elven ears moving for a while, not even her tail.

But after what feels like a full minute of quiet contemplation, she does stir. Her face looks up with steely concern. A younger dryad might have cried at the untimely death of an animal, far more if they were the responsible ones for it. Lunara though, she is the oldest of her kind. She's seen more death than most Azerothenians combined. "He spoke to me." She says drawing a breath and standing on her hooves once more. "Kill them before they kill us, he said." Her eyes close bitterly, angry at her herself for her inability to learn anything useful. "I'm sorry, that is all I could learn from what he said." She opens her eyes. "His mind was too clouded by rage. There was nothing within but anger. It didn't feel fear, it didn't even feel pain."
Septette Arcubielle      Though it may not have troubled her personally, Septette is at least astute enough to know when not to bother someone grieving. She simply sits there after wiping up the ashes, completely motionless, until Lunara rouses herself again; even the rise and fall of her ribcage that comes with feigned breathing temporarily halts. For a minute, she seems almost more like a somber statue than a person.

     "I apologize if I seem jaded or unsympathetic," she finally responds, after Lunara breaks the silence. "I have killed tens of thousands of these creatures by now- it is always the same. Never reasoning, never showing fear nor any desire except to kill. Even its screaming- that was not out of rage or pain. That was the call it uses to draw more of its kind into the battle. If we were not miles from its home, easily a dozen more would be upon us by now."

     "It is honestly a relief to me to hear that they do not feel fear or pain," she continues. "I always had a nagging doubt, somewhere in my mind, that they did suffer- that their agony was merely subsumed under their blind hatred. But to know that they do not suffer eases my burden somewhat." A remarkably cold way of seeing it, but perhaps familiarity has lent her a more distant view...

     "The words you mentioned are the only part that confuses me. That doesn't make any sense, if they are acting out of self-preservation." Her brow knits itself in thought, and she leans forward to rest her hands on her knees. "Self-preservation implies, well... preservation of the self. Not suicidal aggression. I don't understand what could create such a motivation."
Sentinel Lunara
"It's fine." Responds Lunara abruptly. Tens of thousands confirmed kills is about what Lunara herself has, and she can regain her calm just as easily as any veteran warrior. Only the shadow of pain remains in her face before a fighter's focus takes over. She's indignant now! And an indignant spirit of nature is a very dangerous one!

Ultimately, Sept's relief means little to Lunara. She doesn't want to give ever single of these forest critters a mercy killing. That would mean an utter failure of her job. She needs to save them! Find the source of this affliction -and kill it-. If she can she'll make it suffer too, just in case its sentient.

"I don't understand either." Admits Lunara with a annoyed growl. "But I do know it is an outside that is causing it. There is something out there that is making like this-- its not coming from within them."
Septette Arcubielle      "And are you sure that such would fix them?" Septette frowns slightly, looking distinctly unsure. "I could believe that some malign power created them like this, with a violent hatred for humanity. But the best efforts of our mages and scientists have never uncovered any active effect lingering upon them, and records of this behavior go back to our earliest histories..."

     "I suppose that what I'm asking is- what happens if slaying the entity you seek does not 'fix' them? Or what if the entity is already dead? What if it's inherent to the spirit of what these creatures are?" She shrugs grimly, seeming to despair of an easy solution. "To my mind, the only ends to this conflict are if humans here are destroyed utterly, or if monsters are. And neither seems likely or even desirable: their materials are too crucial to the operation of Etrian society."

     She stands again and looks out the window, arms folded on the sill and her forehead pressed against the glass as she gazes at Yggdrasil with an unreadable expression. "Even the Deep Ones, demons that they were, could not tame nor parley with our monsters. I am surprised that you got the beast to speak at all."
Sentinel Lunara
"The alternative is what you suggested; either humanity or beasts are utterly erradicated." Lunara is all too quick to respond, grim determination etched on her face. That is a very common gaze for the dryad, and those that would know of her in both Azeroth and the Nexus would know that it's the face she makes when she's come to a decision that no universal force can shake. "If destroying this source does not fix the problem then it is at least one step towards the cure. Identify the affliction before erradicating it. And if whatever is causing thisis long dead, if its some morbid death switch from some spiteful deity as a form of collateral, then at least we can act accordingly."

She exhales breath that she must have held ever since she turned the rat into compost. "At the very least I am willing to try. I have already proven that I can do what no one before me could do." Then, her glowing violet gaze sets upon Septette and she kneels before the robot, as a knight would before their lord. One foreleg bent whilst her back legs lower. "All I ask is that you give me the opportunity, my lady. This is your world, I would not impose my ways upon your people."
Septette Arcubielle      For a brief moment, Septette appears truly perplexed at Lunara's proposition. She glances over her shoulder from her windowsill armrest, purple eyes flaring brightly with interest and attention... then she laughs a soft, light, and chiming laugh; the laugh of someone who had to put together human mannerisms from inhuman puzzle pieces and arrived at something strangely charming.

     "Stand up, Lunara," she replies in a cheery tone while patting the dryad on the shoulder. "I think you're getting quite ahead of yourself. We have the barest inkling of what's going on here. This problem has plagued us for millennia, we have no idea what's causing it, and you want permission to go out and kill it. I think I can sympathize with your righteous fury here, but we need to take this one step at a time."

     "And besides," she concludes, "if you take any action with the purpose of making this world a better place, then I have no grounds in my moral framework to object. It matters little to me whether this world is is 'yours', just as it matters little to me whether I have any 'right' to meddle in foreign affairs."

     Then she walks over to the tray of vegetables, running her bony metal fingers along the edge, and winks by flickering one glowing eye off and on again. "But enough heavy talk. You've hardly touched the snacks. Relax a little- I think you've earned it."