Wine, Ale & Spirits Quest

[Larfleeze]

Taking care of Appa hadn't been a simple affair, as they pushed further into the city. While there were stables and courtyards- even ones that catered to unusual mounts, none of them could handle an animal of Appa's size. And the few that could didn't meet Aang's own standards of cleanliness. 

Be that as it may, they couldn't exactly float menacingly over the streets, nor could they parade him on the streets, as the roads would only get narrower and harder on the beast's feet the further up they headed. 

In the end, they talked to a man on the outskirts of Minas Tirith, a farmer with room in his barn, and enough hay to keep Appa satisfied for weeks. The trio weren't sure how long they would stick around for, but better safe than sorry. 

Aang and Chakravartin both contributed enough Omnilium that the farmer wasn't about to shirk his new Appa-caring duties anytime soon. 

Lysandra took the lead, as they explored further into Minas Tirith. The exuberant girl tended to follow whatever caught her eye, very much enjoying the atmosphere of the castle town, and the dress fit for royalty Chakravartin had crafted for her. Aang and Chakravartin- being without any goal in particular in this part of the city, played along. Aang enjoying the shopping trip, and Chakravartin taking in the culture, the clothes, and the fruit.

It was the smell of a particular kind of fruit that drew Chakravartin to one building in particular.

While there was alcohol aplenty in Minas Tirith, something wafting from this building in particular drew him forward. 

"Chakra?" Aang asked, looking up. "A... bar, really? You want to go in?"

"I smell something." Chakravartin said with a thoughtful expression. 

"Wine?"

"Yes."

"Well, that solves the mystery. Come on, I don't exactly want to see you drunk."

"I do!" Lysandra said, joining them at the entrance to the building- a place advertised as the "Crescent Moon Alehouse".

Chakravartin stepped inside, followed quickly by Lysandra, and Aang reluctantly followed. 

When the Avatar, bridge between humans and spirits, stepped inside, he immediately regretted it. The air felt frozen, though he could tell it wasn't that cold. There was a powerful, malicious chill in the air. He looked between his two companions, and seeing that neither appeared the least bit bothered by the horrible cold, just made it feel more wrong.

An older woman was kneeling by the bar, sighing, cleaning up the wine that had obviously escaped from the broken tankard barrel next to her. It explained why the smell was so strong, Chakravartin thought, looking at the dark red-brown stain on the floor. His eyes slid to the tankard itself, and he raised a bushy brow at the sight. It had been torn open, as if by claws, from the inside out.

"We... should get out of here." Aang said quietly. 

"Why, we just got here." Lysandra said, "It's nearing evening anyway. We might as well see what kind of food they have available. Besides, it's not too bad. Nobody's trying to sell me death sticks, so it's better than the place I usually went to on Coru- my old hometown." she caught herself. No one in Camelot was going to be especially friendly with a Coruscant native.

"Oh! Customers, please, do excuse the mess. A tankard, uh, fell. Clumsy of me, I know. I guess I'm just getting up in years." the woman said, brushing off her apron, she glanced down at her hands, and her eyes shot wide open at the sticky red substance clinging to them. She recovered quickly, shoving her hands behind her back, and smiling uneasily at the trio, "I uh, just have some wine on my hands. I'll wash up, and then we'll see about getting you three young fellows something nice, huh?" the old woman quickly hurried into the kitchen. As she passed the trio, Aang shivered at the smell. 

Lysandra had never smelled it, not really. Chakravartin had smelled it countless times, but it was always different, coming out of different species. 

Aang had smelled it on the worst battlefields, usually mixed in with the scent of smoke or mud, but the smell of wine and blood together wasn't altogether new to him either. The Avatar was a fight magnet, after all.

"We need to get out of here." Urged Aang.

"Why? I mean, she's clumsy but-" Lysandra began.

Chakravartin looked to the Avatar. "That wasn't her own blood on her hands. It came out of the barrel. The wine... where it stains the floor, it changes."

"Spirits." Aang said, "And I don't think happy ones." 

805/5000 words. 
-Speak with owner of the Crescent Moon alehouse, accomplished.

[Alex Mercer]

Lysandra paled as much as any ghost. She was suddenly looking in every direction with rapid snaps of her eyes, as if she were trying to see everything at once. She only succeeded in hurting her eyes. "I don't see any! I mean, I know they're invisible, but I don't see anything moving..."

The look on his face told stories of uncertainty, but the way his shoulders were set and his back straight, there was no doubt this man was worthy of his title. His mind may be clouded, but there was an almost instinctual urge. "I've seen this before." Aang looked out across the alehouse with a set brow. "We should ask around... See what people know, or how long this has been going on. I hate to do this, but I'm pulling rank on this one." He gave Chakravartin an apologetic look. "You get the next anomaly, I promise." He had to remember that here he was not the most important being in the world. He was literally a commoner, a weakling among Primes.

Chakravartin did not seem phased by Aang's show of authority. Though they were both Avatars of something, Chakravartin laid no claims over the spirit realm, while Aang was the "bridge." It was only right Aang pulled rank. "Very well. If it comes to a fight,"

"I hope it won't," Aang interjected.

"But if it does, you play defense." Chakravartin gestured to Lysandra. She may be a weak mortal, but she was valuable, especially if they were to ever return to Coruscant. He imagined she would be a fountain of information on a location she had actually been raised in.

Aang nodded his approval. "If it does come to that... I don't know about spirits in this world, but even in mine, there were those with nothing but evil in them." The thought sent shivers down his spine. He would rather not talk about that venture at this point, lest he jinx this whole thing.

He straightened himself and resumed that authoritative stance. "You two talk to the locals... We need to know a bit about the history of this place. In my experience, Spirits usually only attack when they've been wronged. It's not much, but it's something to go on. I'm going to look around, see if there are any physical indicators."

"That's it? I thought you would have some sort of, like, spiritual answer? Do your glowy-thingy, or something?" Lysandra pointed to his arrows.

Aang considered this. "I could... attempt to enter the Spirit World and ask questions... but I don't even know if I can connect to the Spirit World here, or if there even IS one..."

"Worth a try," Chakravartin casted his vote.

"I mean... if anyone would know why a spirit is totally pissed... might be his spirit buddies?" Lysandra shrugged. That was Prime stuff. She could ask questions, but that was it...

The monk nods. "Alright, I'll give it a try. You two start asking questions... I'm going to meditate on the roof. Privacy and all..."

With little celebration, thanks in part to the spooky aspect of their tasks, the trio separates. Lysandra is sent on her task with enough to pay for a few rounds, and Chakravartin is immediately assessing the situation.

Aang exited the building. His hazel gaze glanced around for a moment before he takes a mighty leap. Planting a foot on the wall he kicks up once more to reach the roof of the building. The altitude was not fantastic, offering no inspiration from above, but it was very secluded. He sat upon the shingles of the roof, crossing his legs and placing his knuckles together. There was a mixture of terror and excitement about this. What would he find in the Spirit World, if one even existed? This could be a terrible, terrible idea. Then again, he could regain a piece of his livelihood. Maybe that is what drove him here... he hoped Chakravartin was not too upset. Aang did not enjoy bossing people around.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled through his mouth. In through the nostrils, out through the mouth. The struggle was intense. It felt like there was a wall. Just like there had been with his Stone Glove. It was a limitation. He needed only two things, as experience had told him, to break through such a wall. He channeled his Chi, and focused his mind. The Avatar focused both, and willed Omnilium to infuse with his very spirit.

The wall chips away. Aang can feel something beyond himself. All at once, the broken wall shatters completely, and his tattoos ignite with a fierce blue glow. The display was not as great as it was the first time he achieved the Avatar state, but the rekindled spirit of the Avatar was still an immense experience that had a few passers by looking to the odd monk sitting atop the alehouse.

Magic... A few of the denizens were inclined to rush past, hoping to avoid whatever mischief they believed to be on the way. Others watched the meditating monk, curious and in awe. This eventually fades... and they continue on their way as well.

[Larfleeze]

"Madam." Chakravartin said, spooking the owner of the Crescent Moon Alehouse, making her jump, and nearly drop the menus she had been gathering in the kitchen.

"Oh, where did your friends go?" the woman asked, "What are you doing in the kitchen? I... did something scare them off?"

"I'm not sure." Chakravartin said simply, casting his eyes around the bar. Lysandra was taking a better look at the stain itself, before walking through the building, searching for the owner herself, satisfied she was out of earshot, Chakravartin fixed an emotionless glare on the old woman, reaching out and pushing her down with one hand, easily overpowering the Secondary. 

"Wh-What are you doing?!"

"Silence." he commanded, "I wouldn't get too mad with me, madam. After all, I'm not the one with barrels full of human blood."

She paled, "You... don't know what you're talking about. It's just wine."

"Something clawed its way out of that barrel you 'clumsily' knocked over, Madam. I came here with a monk, he can feel the malice in the air."

"I... I promise... I don't know why! The place has always been a little weird- from the very beginning. It wasn't anything I've done! I don't know why they're acting like this!"

"They?" Chakravartin asked coldly. 

"Them." she said, quietly, and Chakravartin, for a moment, felt a brief fury as he realized she wasn't afraid of him. She was afraid of something behind him.

He released the cohesion of his form, falling as a heavy liquid mass and splashing against the woman and the floor. A moment later, a wooden beam snapped, burying itself in the wall behind where he had been standing. He retook his usual form, shaking off the momentary dizziness and tiredness, before lifting the woman up off the ground, pushing her ahead of him. "So... you said that they had always been here?" he glanced behind him, but there was nothing there. But the same claw marks from the barrel marred the wooden beam as well.

"Yes, yes, they have been. From the very beginning. But they were never this bad!"

"Fine. Fine." he said, nudging her along, keeping an ear out for them. Whatever 'them' was. He would have to look into the history of this place.

376 words.

2010/5000 words overall. (miscounted # of words in first post, this should be accurate though)

-Speak with owner of the Crescent Moon alehouse, accomplished.

[Alex Mercer]

The stain on the floor was definitely blood. It looked brackish, as if it had already started to coagulate. Lots of those cop-shows had taught her that. She quickly moved on, a bit sickened, to intermingle and do her thing!

"'Scuse me boys, mind if I join you?" She had picked a table of two men, who were chatting back and forth. One was a shaggy brown-haired, bearded man in his late twenties. He had the look of a lumberjack if she ever saw one - which she hadn't. The other was a decent looking older gentleman, with salt and pepper hair and a long, braided goatee of almost pure silver. From the look of them, this seemed to be a father and son trip to the bar.

"Not at all!" The younger man replied, a smile splitting his face the instant he laid eyes on the beauty that was Lysandra. Her dress depicted her as a wealthy woman no less.

The elder man started a thundering laugh as the youth pulled out a chair for Lysandra. "Beat'n 'em away with a stick, are ya?!" Lysandra immediately believes there was more to that comment than she was aware of. She had definitely interrupted a conversation. "Oh, don' be mind'n me..." The man sighed as he calmed himself. "Me 'n me son Chester's justa drinkin' down th' aches o' labor, if'n ya know what ai be mean'n."

... Lysandra was not quite sure what language this man was speaking, so she turned to the younger man. "Don't mind him, he had a thick accent BEFORE he started drinking. He's three tankards to my one." He gestures to his drink, a sizeable mug for sure. "Speaking of... Waitress!" He beaconed to a woman with a tray. "One more tankard, for the lady. Put it on Pa's tab!"

"Oi! You's thinkin' Imma be payin' fer yer date's boozen about? If'n yer gonna offer, yer gonna start a payin' fer that tab you's done racked *HIC* up..." He held a hand to his chest after that powerful hickup. "Ngh... tha'n hurt a bit." That did not stop him from chuckling. Or hiccuping again.

Chester furrowed his brow at his father. "Sorry about him... he can't quite hold his liquor."

Meanwhile, Lysandra is almost dying of laughter. Reigning it in was almost painful, her face had turned a brilliant red and her lips were pinched tight. "It's no problem at all! I mean... I just... had a few questions! You looked like a nice guy, I was hoping you wouldn't mind helping a new girl out!"

Attention switched swift from his father to the giggling beauty. "Sure! I mean, I'll do what I can." He cleared his throat and took a swig, to try and dial back the general eagerness. "What would you like to know?"

"Well... tell me some about this... um... tavern.... place... It seems kinda quaint... quiet, even..."

The old man just burst out in a gale of laughter, interrupted by devestating hiccups. HahahaHIChahahaHIChahahHIC-ow-hahah-HIC....

"It's... well, it's a nice place during the day, but everyone generally steers clear at night. General theory is a gang likes to hide out in here after hours... they cause a big ruccus... There's usually a lot of growling, so maybe... some sort of under the table pit fighting. Dire wolves, I'm guessing."

"What wolves?" Lysandra's brow furrowed.

"Dire... big ones. Angry too, bout the size of your average horse, with jaws stronger than your run of the mill crocodile." The old man made a statement here, but Lysandra - nor Chester - could really decipher what was said. To make it worse, it just ended with another string of laughter and hiccups.

[Larfleeze]

The owner, a woman named Eridel, looked around nervously.

"And you have no idea what's been causing this?"

"It wasn't me." Eridel looked down at Chakravartin, frightened.

"Things tend not to happen 'just because they do'. Some things are physics, but everything else has a 'why' attached. Why do 'they' want to hurt you? What are 'they'?"

"Look, I'm not sure what else I can tell you kid. For now, just, go. You're making them mad. Tell your monk friend to get out of here too!"

"You're kicking me out?"

"Yes! I'm kicking you out!"

"...You said the problem has been one affecting you for as long as you've worked here, correct?"

"...yeah."

"Now, I don't give a damn about this place, or you, or your ghosts. I came here because I smelled spilt whine." Chakravartin explained, "But now something has tried to hurt me. I don't like that. Seeing as these things can't simply be choked to death, the closest thing I have is hoping the monk on the roof figures something out. I'm trying to help him. Getting information on what these things are or could be helps him. If he permanently deals with these things, that helps both of us."

The old lady looked to the side, shivering, "I... every time I tried to have them dealt with- or looked into things, it got worse and worse. If just leave em' be, they'll calm down. They always do eventually. One or two empty barrels isn't too bad, after all."

"What a coward." Chakravartin sighed, leaving her and returning to the main room of the bar, he went behind the shelf, and began to search through them, looking for some kind of documentation. The entire land of Camelot was desperately outdated, apparently by intention. He figured that either any documentation of the sale or passing of ownership of the place either simply wasn't kept in the building, or had never existed to begin with.

"Chakra, find anything out from the owner?"

"She won't say anything, but apparently these spirits have been a long-standing issue."

"I think I have a lead." Lysandra said, gesturing behind her to the two patrons, who waved back smiling, "They said there's a rumor of people sneaking in after-hours and holding dog fights with these things called Dire Wolves."

"Hm." Chakravartin affirmed, "Do wolves have claws?"

"Do you... not know what a wolf is?"

"I'm assuming it's an animal with claws then."

"Uh, yes. Yes they are."

"Well, then, I suppose the next step would be to investigate the cellar." Chakravartin looked down at the floorboards. There was the occasional hole and crack in them.

"There's a spot out back that should connect to em'." the more sober of the two drinkers supplied, "People have seen paw prints leadin' up to it, s'why the rumors started, that and the sounds."

"No need." Chakravartin said emotionlessly, before allowing himself to lose cohesion.

Lysandra screamed as Chakravartin melted, the molten gold spilling out in every direction, flowing into the crackes of the floorboards.

507 words.
3706/5000~10,000 words (including the Astral Realm Posts.)
- Speak with owner of Crescent Moon Alehouse accomplished
- Examine grounds and ask about odd sightings in progress
- Conduct research on history of tavern in progress

[Alex Mercer]

Lysandra's sudden shock passed when she realized her friend didn't just DIE right in front of her. Her heart racing, she headed for the door to find the cellar entrance. Almost a full lap around the building, having gone the wrong direction, she groans. Upon the cellar doors sat a heavy duty lock. It was not the kind with a hand pad or buttons, but an old fashioned lock... with a key... "Chaky... Chaky, the door's locked!" She quickly sprang out of the way, clearly expecting a huge explosion to allow her entry. Alas, the explosion never came.

Chakravartin was busy once he regained solidity. The cellar was cramped, filled wall to wall with various shelves. There were dozens of shelves dedicated to barrels, each with varying amounts of dust collected. He almost had to double take when he noticed a shelf littered with bottles of wine. One in particular caught his attention. The bottle's label had a delicate lining. Running his fingeres along the ink, he imagined it to be actual gold mixed in with the ink, to give this particular bottle extra value. Odd how the humans did such trivial things.

He dusted off the neck then chipped away the wax. He heared a muffled voice from the far side of the room, but it sounded distinctly familiar. Lysandra had found the door, it seemed. For the moment Chakravartin holds onto the extravagant bottle and walks over to the door. He gave it a push, but it appeared to be locked from the outside. At least he could say he tried.

Moving on, Chakravartin turns his attention to the cellar. The stench of stale ale was ever present. It would seem not only wine was spilled in this place. "Lysandra. Go check on Aang. I will handle the cellar." He could hear her grumbles, but she left him to his spelunking.

Grumbling the whole way, Lysandra rounds the building once again. The first lap had been looking for a way down, this time she needed a way up. No such luck. Aang had jumped, no doubt, but she could not hope to clear the first floor, much less the roof. "Aang! Aang, you okay up there?" That was all she could do at this point.

[Larfleeze]

Chakravartin idly pulled open the cork on the gold flecked wine and began to empty it into his mouth, walking through the sizable cellar. When the bottle was finished, he took the bottle into himself, hiding it among his clothes. Who knows when it might be useful later?

The cellar was stacked high with shelf after shelf, and great kegs laid here and there. Despite the ghosts and the nervous owner, it was still a somewhat successful bar. The owner had enough stock to last her a long time. However...

It was clear just from looking that it was stolen from regularly. He could tell it wasn't much- but discarded empty bottles could be found hidden in corners, having rolled into crevices where the owner wouldn't find them in the darkness. There were places for torches, and the shelves themselves showed signs of movement. Narrowing his eyes, Chakravartin began to push the shelves in the center of the cellar. He did it slowly, watching the marks on the floor, until he had lined up all the ones he could find.

It created a near-perfect circle in the middle of the darkness, wide enough for a half-dozen men to move around comfortably enough. Or as many animals.

He wasn't quite sure what a wolf was. He had learned the human language through the Fist Personas of hybrid Fist Users, and most things came up occasionally, but they didn't often bring up animals. He knew what cows were, bulls, lions, dragons, spiders, birds. But not a wolf.

From the tone alone with which Lysandra identified it, a wolf was something dangerous- a predator, likely. And going by the claw marks inside the barrels and on the wooden beam, it would fit. The center of the circle, in fact, the entire circle, was dotted with similar claw marks. He closed his eyes, and began Summoning a simple light. He began to regret it, for as soon as he took his focus away from his surroundings, he felt a confused sensation in his belly. Something was trying to spook him.

Saru didn't leave ghosts, Chakravartin knew. Their souls carried on with the stone their blood falls on, and if that stone gets annihalated, he didn't know where they went. Saru did not fear the transparent and wrathful echoes of things long dead. They relished in them, for it was a sign of the Saru own superiority, that the Saru had lived while these things had died. But something was trying to make him feel creeped out.

And that alone was enough to piss him off.

He gave up on his summoning, and the rainbow light retreated into him. He supposed he didn't need a lamp, though it would be easier to make out the evidence in white light, rather than red. He drew his lightsaber, and activated it, and the dark cellar was awash in red glow.

He held it over the scratched stone floor of the tavern's cellar, and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the brown of dried blood amongst the stones.

The lightsaber flickered, and the temperature lowered, Chakravartin able to see his own breath. A barrel cracked open spontaneously on the other end of the cellar, and he could smell the ale pouring out of it. He could hear the lapping of a tongue agains the now-wet stone. He could hear the clacking of claws on the floor. Of hair brushing against bottles and wood.

He decided to make a strategic retreat.

Chakravartin ran for the opposite direction of the cellar, away from the sound of the dead wolves, drinking their fill of ale, and upon reaching the shelf he had moved into the position it would have held during the dogfights, he pushed it back.

But it refused to budge. He began to climb, but an invisible force shoved him back down, so that he landed in the center of the impromptu arena. He couldn't understand, but he felt a deep aura of resentment and anger emanate from the shelves themselves. In the center of the arena, made of shimmering pale blue light, a large, furry, sharp-toothed, large-clawed monster of a predator took shape. It was covered in scars, missing an eye, its nose tore down the middle. Bits of fur was missing from various points on its body. It was obviously a veteran, and going by the gleam of its remaining eye, it was quite insane.

"Ah. So that's a wolf."

[Alex Mercer]

The light that beamed from the monk's various tattoos fade as Aang's astral form returns to the material world. Lysandra's voice from below was a good sign. She did not seem outwardly distressed - yet - but he knew time was limited. With a mighty gust, he was instantly moving at top speed atop an Air Scooter. The scooter seemed to cling to the wall on the way down, then instantly change direction at the ground. Lysandra was plucked from the ground and pulled onto the monk's back.

"We need to get --"

"Cellar door, other side, its locked!" Lysandra was two steps ahead of him. She picked up instantly by his attitude and rush that something was afoot. Just as she described, Aang found the door - and the lock. With a flick of his hand, his Stone Glove flew from his belt, punching the lock. The metal crumbled under the dense Prime-powered stone. A gust of wind threw the doors open, allowing the pair inside.

Aang had to drop from the Air Scooter, landing lightly upon the scratched floor. Thankfully, it had grown dim outside, so it took little time for his eyes to adjust. What he saw was an energy sword lit and ready and a massive wolf with hide of a thick miasma. A hide far too similar to the haunter Doc's to be a coincidence. Just like his fellow Avatar, Aang also noticed the cleared circle. The scratches that filled just the center, while outside was mostly warn smooth. His stomach turned.

While the Monk was busy taking in all the details, to try and get a better idea of the situation, Chakravartin took the beast's snarling challenge and dealt back his own threat. A quick swing of the lightsaber had the ghostly entity stepping back, before barking fiercely. Another warning swipe passed just by the beast's ethereal ears. "The next will not miss." This was as much a warning to Aang as it was to the beast. If the pacifist did not step in, there would be a fight.

Jumping to conclusions was not Aang's favorite thing to do, but for the moment he had to rely on his gut to fill in the blanks. "It's not a wolf, if's a spirit -- I mean it's a Haunter, hired by another spirit!" The moment Aang reveals what he knows, the wolf glares at the monk. Something was said to catch its attention. Chills run down Aang's body and it seems that he is frozen in place, his eyes wide and his face paled. Lysandra was on his back, and she too looked petrified with fear.

The wolf's snarl was blood curling, but that glare... those eyes... hypnotic... terrifying... Chakravartin felt their power even though he was out of their field of view. Finding a median somewhere between using the deadly condensed energy and doing nothing, he steps in, two Palace Hands parting from his body to quickly strike the beast under the jaw. The wolf did not even flinch as the dense golden biomass passes through its form. It was not nearly as afraid of the strikes as it was the energy weapon.

[Larfleeze]

"Fine, then how about something entirely new? I've meaning to try this out in an actual fight." he handed his lightsaber to Palace Hand, which gripped the blade tightly. It then began to spin. What once was a single red line had transformed into a hellish circle. "Spinning Death Palace Hand!"

Chakravartin moved carefully forward, his glowing buzzsaw hovering threateningly between him and the ghostly monster. It turned its glare on him, and Chakravartin couldn't help but feel compelled to stop, like his companions.

As the sky grew darker through the exit of the cellar out into the alley, the wolf only seemed to grow more there. The shadows of the cellar coalescing, Pale blue gave way to darker violet, and the hypnotic eyes of the animal became paler and paler, an eerie white,

It let out a horrible howl, and dove to the side, keeping its eyes on as much of the group as it could while doing so. Chakravartin's main body might have been having trouble moving, but his Palace Hands were more prepared, almost automatic, in their protective orbit.

[Alex Mercer]

The way the punch had phased right through it showed an immunity to physical damage, but the ghastly form was clearly wary of the energy weapon. Chakravartin took note of this and used the glowing fan of death to force the beast back towards the junction of a wall and a rack of barrels. They did not look like wine barrels, so he did not mind if they were spilled.

Eventually the spinning Palace Hand became enough of a distraction that the wolf averted its gaze. The unnatural fear effect lifted. Chakravartin took the new mobility as his chance to further corner the creature. A few swift steps in the right direction and the spinning lightsaber blocked off every viable option. Except the wall.

The dire wolf's maw curled unnaturally into a fiendish grin. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth and before their very eyes its body rose, drifting in the air. The back legs vanish, the arms detach, shortening into nothing more than floating hands. The massive floating face laughed as it simply dissipated into the walls.

Only... it would not get far. Aang, newly freed by Chakravartin's antics, moves in with a flurry of fluid motions. The sound of sloshing fills the air, before a number of barrels break. It may come at no surprise that only the cheaper looking barrels of ale and wine shattered... No doubt they had been watered down beyond reason.

The water chilled the air even more than it had been - quite a feat to do - as it swirls around Aang for a single lap. It then arcs over Chakravartin's head and cascades down onto the escaping ghost. In the blink of an eye, the water had frozen it in place. That wicked smile and mischevious gaze now stuck like that, despite the .... unsavory situation.

Aang twists his hands. The ice crunches, then with a jerk of his wrists, it lurches away from the wall. It looked rather funny, how half of the creature was stuck out the back side of the ice, wiggling for freedom to no avail. "I wasn't sure that would work... I'm glad it did." The monk seemed out of breath, as if that had taken a bit more effort. It was a magnificent display at the very least, and the bottom half of the barrels now contained a much more flavorful wine or stout.

"WOO! We caught the ghost! Now we just have to... uh..." Lysandra's instant cheer drooped into a wave of bafflement. "What... do you DO with ghosts? Can they be killed?"

"Not this one," Aang states. He takes a step forward, noting how the Haunter's eyes followed him. "He's a Prime. He's called Doc, and he was hired by a spirit on the other side. Isn't that right?" Aang tapped on the clear ice, grinning proudly. Even as he tapped, the ice was chipping away. The Haunter's struggle had stopped.

Chakravartin's spinning Palace Hand stopped and disengaged the lightsaber. "How long can you hold him?" He did not believe too long, the way the ice was already cracking. "Are we going to fight it?" He hoped Aang agreed. Chakravartin enjoyed the idea of testing the meddle of this creature. Perhaps it had the makings to be one of his Generals? The Fists did not seem to follow him, after all.

The monk shook his head. The ice begins to crumble, allowing the Haunter to chip its way out. "Good evening boys... Looks like the jig is up." The creature's floating clawed hands rose to its side in an "oh well" manner.

"Yes it is... because I would like to make a deal... Tell us what's going on, and we will take care of it. We will complete the job for you, so that you don't have to stay around here any more." The large face of the ghost shifted, as if its brow had rose at the statement. "I think I get what's going on here... You're trying to stop a fight ring, right? But whenever you stay away, they start back up..."

"How did you..."

"Not the first time." Even Lysandra gave him a look of "really?" Aang chuckled. "I'm the Avatar, a bridge between Spirits and Humans." The Haunter's face turns into a look of surprise.

"Tacky robes... Blue arrows... bald head... You must be a friend of the Face Stealer." It was no hidden matter that just the name made Aang's very soul shiver. "Yes, he mentioned you... right before he stole my face. Tell you what... Avatar... I will make you the deal he refused."

That did not sound good. "I will hear your deal..."

"End the wicked soul that enables such cruelty here... and I will reward you with something... special."

"That's what he just off--"

"Nono... The Avatar would find a nonviolent way... what I request is a painful demise for a soul bathed in the blood of others. I want to meet this bastard in the Spirit World and see the damage you have done." Aang's face paled. Chakravartin and Lysandra were both staring at the Avatar now, knowing this deal would not be accepted.

Chakravartin chimed in at this point, almost protective of the Avatar. "Aang will not accept your ... quest. The original deal is on the table. He will make sure the fights end... After that, he walks away, with a clear conscience." Aang was oblivious to Chakravartin's words. He heard the kind and protective nature, but there was a second layer the best-wishing Avatar did not catch.

Doc did. A wicked smirk grew across his face, and his irisless pupils drift between Aang and Chakravartin. Lysandra was glad the gaze never landed on her, though that did not stop her from wondering why .She was here too! "I... accept this deal. I will be waiting at the bell tower every night at Midnight. Don't get caught..."

[Larfleeze]

Chakravartin grinned, the deception was a simple one. But one that would allow him quite a bit of freedom. It would also be good to kill again. 

He wasn't especially bloodthirsty- or at least not by his own standards. But dealing death had been a part of his every mortal life. It was one of the few pleasures that made mortality something attractive to a god. Ending the life of another was the absolute exertion of one's own agency over their own. The ultimate violation and ultimate validation of someone's dignity. It robbed the victim of all freedom- forever. 

Well, except for Saru. And Primes, Chakravartin thought with a smile. He had felt weak for several days now, and he was tired of it. It would nice- even momentarily, to get a sense of control over fate for a bit.

The passing thought- that Doc, the ghostly creature before them, could become a General was one that he had not been expecting. He wasn't even looking for Generals. But a ghostly creature immune to his punches? One capable of changing shape and becoming intangible? It'd be a useful power at the very least.

The creature vanished from view.

"What bell tower-" Lysandra asked, before a ringing went out. 

"That one, I guess." Aang said, looking conflicted, "So, we need to find the person who enabled these fights, and get him to stop."

"The owner lady?" Lysandra suggested. 

"She's a weakling. And she seemed unaware of the existence of the dog fights. I think she might only be the most recent owner." Chakravartin said, "But I was unable to find any paperwork supporting my suspicion. No, we're looking for an organizer. If these fights have been going on for a while, and there are only rumors- well, it would also be someone stealthy. Someone who can get people in and out without leaving any suspicious traces."

"So, what, we look for someone sneaky?"

"We look for someone who has a key." Aang said.

---

It took two more nights. Chakravartin had been tempted to just call the whole thing quits. After all, there was a Primes-only tournament in the works soon enough, and that was more important than anything to do with the town around them. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he wanted to.

It was a passing whim, but he felt he could do it. And he needed something to separate himself from Lysandra and Aang. A secret would be a nice thing to have, along with a powerful creature owing him a favor. The two humans were quickly becoming far too familiar, both with him, and Chakravartin with them. He wasn't afraid of becoming soft- he was a god of war. He wanted True War, more than anything else. He didn't regret his genocides and murders in the slightest. When he thought back to the millions that were slain in his name, it was with fondness and a sense of paternal pride in his warriors. 

No, he was afraid of becoming attached to something useless. He had allowed himself to become attached to mortals in the past- he had done so with Ozo, and her wives, and with many of his hosts. What would be the point of having all this power if he denied himself the pleasures of communicating with people he enjoyed. The only issue is that Aang and Lysandra weren't the type to accept being his pets, or his generals, or even warriors. They wouldn't ever see Chakravartin as their god, because he honestly wasn't.

If Chakravartin allowed himself to become attached, they would consider themselves... his friends. As if they were equals. If it wasn't for Aang's annoying pacifism, Chakravartin would have been almost tempted to accept the Prime as an equal- the avatar of a god, like him, stolen to Omni's world, like him. The wielder of a similar level of strength. But no. Aang wouldn't ever aid him in bringing about True War. 

So he needed this. To keep him from getting attached. Besides, his patience was paying off.

Chakravartin watched as the carriages strolled by, from his position on a roof with a half-decent view of the rear of the Crescent Moon Alehouse. Aang watched from a roof on the other end of the street, with a different perspective. 

The owner woman was standing outside the entrance to the cellar, holding out a lantern. A man got out from the carriage, along with a whole team of followers. They were all men, scarred, and large. They seemed to be quite happy to be here, stuck working in the middle of the night. 

The first man began to speak with the owner woman, and he gestured to the carriages, filled with barrels. Some of them quite large. 

"The shipments of new barrels? Yeah, they come in every so often." The drunkard leered at Lysandra, who simply giggled, not breaking character, "Mostly though, is, is they take a barrel urp, the empty ones, you know? So that they can sell em' somewhere else. And they replace em with fresher barrels. Crescent Moon ain't a brewery, it gets its stuff from farms, you know?"

"I didn't know that!" Lysandra said, "How interesting."

"Yeah, yeah it... urp, yeah it is. Isn't it?"

"And when do they usually come and bring in the new barrels and carry out the old ones?"

"Oh, it happens just about errey two weeks. On uh, on Fridays. It's the old owner's son, y'see. He's in the merchant trade now. Good kid. Lot of fun at parties, he tells the raunchiest jokes, if you get some beer in him. Bit of a temper though. The boy's been handling the whole thing every- ever-ry two weeks. He goes in with a bunch of his workers, they make a ruckus for a few hours, loading everything, and then they're off."

"And the owner doesn't check in on them?"

"Oh, she's been friends with the old owner for years. The son probly' knows more about what's in the cellar than she does."

"Well, thank you for your story!"

"How about I tell you about the-"

"Oh! No, I can't, sorry. Just ran out of time."

"Time?"

"You know! Got to catch a ride, out of the city. You know how it is. A smart guy like you."

"Y-Yeah, course I do. Cause' I'm smart..."

Lysandra was an excellent actress, when she needed to be. And people tended to be a bit more willing to talk when they're not of their right minds. 

The owner woman took her lantern and left, and the man in charge of the carriage group unlocked the door to the cellar, throwing it clear open and entering into the dark room, his men beginning to carry barrels down with them. 

Chakravartin grinned, sliding down from his perch and running for the group of carriages. He relied on his nose, and it didn't lead him astray. 

He punched one of the men guarding the second of the three carriages, and jumped into the darkened wagon. Men began shouting in alarm at the sight of him, but only two chased after him. He created two Palace Hands, and had both choke his two attackers, lifting them into the air until they were wheezing, and at the edge of unconsciousness, before almost throwing them down into the wooden floors. The other men, outside the carriage, were thrown into a mass of chaos by Aang, who had dove down at the same time as Chakravartin. The Bender would be spurring the men away, to drive away any reinforcements for the main culprit- the man who had kept an underground dogfighting ring in the cellar of the Crescent Moon Alehouse running, despite his father selling the bar.

He sniffed the air, and turned to four of the larger barrels, with great handles on every side. It was designed to be lifted by six men together- very heavy. It was also greatly reinforced, and locks and chains held the top- on an iron latch, rather than being closed permanently. 

It was a barrel meant to transport something strong. One that could be opened and closed. He rubbed a golden finger across it, and smelled the mix of fresh, and dried blood. These barrels had been used often. 

He pressed his head against them, and listened to the heavy breathing of a sleeping Dire Wolf. Taking a step away, he turned to the next smelliest thing in the room. Another locked wooden container, but this one more of a chest. He activated his lightsaber, and burned a hole into it. He reached in, and drew out the smelling salts that the men would have used to awaken the wolves, when it was time for them to fight. 

Passing the lightsaber to a Palace Hand, he sent it flying forward, slicing open chains and cutting holes in the Dire Wolves' containers. 

He then threw the smelling salts. 

The chaos Aang was causing outside among the other workers was a fine thing. But the chaos he had just unleashed inside the carriage was something entirely beyond it.

Chakravartin smiled.

Must speak with the owner of the tavern: Accomplished.
Must examine the grounds and ask around about odd sightings: Accomplished
Must conduct research on the history of the tavern: Accomplished
Must wait until nightfall and convince the ghost(s) to leave by whatever means possible: In Progress

Aang: 4,630 words, 25,550 characters (including Astral Realm Posts).
Chakravartin: 3,920 words, 22,034 characters.

8,550/5,000~10,000 words.

[Alex Mercer]

Aang had bundled up in a wardrobe of black. Though he was doing good deeds, to the outside world he appeared to be a vandal. This subterfuge was not his usual method of problem solving, but Zuko had implored him to take care with his identity after the war. It was a delicate thing, his reputation, and if faith in the Avatar crumbled, so did all the alliances that the Avatar helped forge. In the Omniverse, it was namely so that he, a new Prime to this world, did not receive a poor reputation before he could complete his first good deed.

Once in battle with various secondaries, he employed his usual tactics. His broad, sweeping gestures channeled powerful blasts of air this way and that, sending the weak men toppling head over heel. They were easy to knock down and sluggish to stand back up. Expecting no troubles within the city walls, they had no weapons on their person. Chakravartin would notice a pair of heavy crossbows left unattended with the chests.

Those with swords needed to get in close. Aang did not allow this, and even when one did, Aang's evasive maneuvers were superior to their attacks, and the little gusts that pushed the weapon out of the way made it seem as if the secondaries were truly horrible at fighting. It almost looked like a badly choreographed fight.

As quickly as this brawl began, it came to a grinding stop. Growls from inside the carriage Chakravartin was in had the hearts of the secondaries pause out of shock, then hammer as fear set in. They could tell this man in black was only keeping them back, but they knew that the owner of that growl would not be so kind.

The sound did not pass Aang by. Just as the flaps of the carriage flew back, Aang had lept out of the center of the fight and landed on one of the other carriages. He hardly had time to blink before the massive wolf sank its teeth into the nearest human. The monk felt an instant wave of nausea take over his senses.

"CHAKRA!" This was not the plan. They were supposed to find the crates to CONFIRM the suspicions, not release the hounds. "People are dying out here!"

Chakravartin was surprised as Aang was. He had planned to cut the rest of the chains off, but with just the few he had melted, the massive wolf managed to break out. It was almost luck that he managed to drop to the bottom of the carriage prior to the wolf's escape and Aang's... current displeasure.

The monk's response was quick. "I'm sorry, boy!" His arms moved in firm, rigid gestures. The Stone Gloves clinging to his belt leaped to life, then raced towards the wolf. They slam into its back, forcing it to the ground. It yelped, but actual damage seemed to be minimal. "CHAKRA! What are you DOING?!"

With the wolf pinned, the various secondaries took the opening to try and strike at the beast. Cut their losses, if you will. Aang jerks his hands, using the Stone Gloves to drag the beast out of the way, completely bowling through two of the workers. The wolf tried to take a snap at them, but missed by inches. A few others had jumped out of the other carriages after hearing the ruccus. They had grabbed their crossbows. "Oh boy..."

Dodging a blade was pretty easy, but bolts were fast. Aang managed to sway out of the way of two, but a third caught him in the shoulder. He could not release his hands, or the beast would stand back up, so he lashed out with a broad sweeping kick. One of the archers is thrusted to the side by an arcing current of air. An archer found an opening in Aang's attack, and used his chance to sink a bolt into Aang's inner thigh. Aang may be a Prime, but over a dozen Secondaries, not including the massive Dire Wolf, easily overwhelmed him.

[Larfleeze]

Chakravartin was surprised as Aang was. He had planned to cut the rest of the chains off, but with just the few he had melted, the massive wolf managed to break out. It was almost luck that he managed to drop to the bottom of the carriage prior to the wolf's escape and Aang's... current displeasure.

Or so Aang thought.

It was almost disappointing that only the one Dire Wolf had broken free. He had expected at least four of them to be enraged enough by the salts waking them up. As it was, only the largest of the four had actually struggled out of its bonds. Chakravartin had been banking on the wolves fighting each other long enough for him to escape the carriage and spin a story about them getting loose while he was checking if they were really there. But since only the one had properly gotten out, he had to escape, as he was the only target for the monster at present.

He escaped out into the night, and watched as Aang began trying to take hold of the chaos. Aang gripped the wolf with two of the stone hands, and tried to both protect the animal from the damage being done to it by its former owners, and protect the people from their snarling former prisoner.

"CHAKRA! What are you DOING?!"

Chakravartin sighed, none of this was going according to plan, he supposed. It was too late, thematically, to go back and release the other three. He would have to get Doc's bloody revenge with a different method.

The men began to get more and more organized, and Aang found that the crossbow wielders were troublesome. Chakravartin sighed, he might have to track down the main instigator himself later on. He was dressed all in black, similar to Aang, as he didn't want to let a poor reputation stop him from joining the tournament later on. He began grabbing enemies with his Palace Hands.

He flung men into each other, delivering punches and kicks to those that got too close, and the two orbiting hands provided a bottleneck. Most who tried to get close to him were smacked away by a Palace Hand, and the few who weren't were far too few to overwhelm him.

He kept an eye on Aang- it wouldn't do to let him get too injured, and began to make his way to the Avatar, wading through the battle.

And it was a battle. Men tried to punch him, sneak up on him, slash at him with knives, bottles, and swords. He even winced as a few arrowhead bolts hit his body. He was tougher than a human, he could tell, and the arrows didn't penetrate very far- compared to Aang, he was practically immune, but they still hurt like hell. He couldn't imagine what Aang was going through, with two buried in him.

"Aang! Are you alright? Can you still fight?"

"What the heck, Chakra? How'd the wolf get free!?"

"I thought they were sleeping! I was melting the chains just a bit- to open it up and see its condition, but it woke up and I couldn't grab it in time."

"Fine, but what do we do now?"

"We need to get the main instigator. The one who was speaking with the owner woman." Chakravartin said.

"The wolf is a bigger problem right now." Aang grunted, the stone hands moving the wolf yet again, saving it from a sword strike while simultaneously keeping it from biting the head off of a man who got too close. "Can you- grab it with the hands?"

"I could, but I don't have as much range if I want to keep moving while I'm doing it. I might as well carry the wolf myself."

"Ugh!" Aang felt another arrowhead hit him, this time in the lower back. It didn't damage anything too vital, but it was close.

"Which, now that I'm thinking it, might be a good plan." Chakravartin grinned. "Let the wolf go."

"It'll attack the people!"

"We'll trap it in the cellar." Chakravartin explained.

Aang, despite the chaos, despite the pain, widened his eyes, "In the place where they were doing that to him?"

"Aang, it's that, or we try to force him back into those barrels. It's even more horrible, I promise you."

"...Fine."

Chakravartin kept himself from smiling easily, "I'm going to try and guide it toward the cellar- hit it with an air blast if it's getting too far off course."

"Got it."

The stone hands release their grip, and Chakravartin jumped forward, melting into liquid gold for the first time in front of Aang, he splashed across the wolf's back, before hardening in the form of thread. A living spiderweb of gold spread across the wolf's body like a wireframe sculpture, and the wolf began to struggle, only for its legs to be quickly released. The wolf used its limited freedom as best it could, and ran in a straight line. Chakravartin's threads tightened, turning its head, and the wolf turned towards the entrance to the cellar.

It was strenuous and disorienting, in this form, and he could barely hold the cohesion of the threads, trying to keep the wolf from simply busting through his web with its strength. He could only redirect it slightly, cause it to trip up or look away, to lead it toward his target.

Chakravartin knew something Aang did not know.

The instigator- the child of the first owner, had entered the cellar already. 

Soon the strain became too great, and Chakravartin was shrugged off, the web's threads snapping and leaving him on the ground. The wolf barreled ahead, crashing through the cellar's back entrance and tumbling down the steps. Aang let out a sigh of relief. 


Chakravartin reformed, letting out a pained sigh. It was somewhat exhausting, holding such complex shapes while disassembled. "Get out of here!" Chakravartin called to Aang, "Contact the City Guard about the other wolves!"

Aang looked back and forth between Chakravartin and the carriage, as well as the panicking men, "What about you?"

"You're more fragile, and more mobile. I'll catch up!" Chakravartin said, waving him off, "You're injured, too. Don't forget that."

"Got it." Aang darted off, using airbending to propel him, but even just moving regularly, he easily outclassed the other men. 

"Y-You!" one of the men growled at Chakravartin, "Why would you do this?!"

"I could say it's because the ghosts of those wolves you torture to death in your fights are asking for vengeance." Chakravartin said, before grinning wide, wider, until a savage sharp-toothed grin had spread across his entire face, many times larger than his actual jaw. The men began to back off, muttering about monsters, "But that would be a lie."

'Wh-What?"

Chakravartin took off running, towards the last carriage. The men followed him, screaming at him and calling him a monster. In the cellar, the sound of splashing, growling, and breaking glass hid the sounds of just about anything else. 

He climbed in, and the men began to follow him in, until they realized just what was in the remaining three barrels stored within this carriage in particular. Chakravartin, without a moment's hesitation, activated the lightsaber once more, and began working at the remaining chains. The men closest to the wagon's back turned and ran, but they just bumped into the rest of the gang behind them. 

The three barrels burst within seconds of each other, releasing their massive prisoners. 

"Fine. Very fine." Chakravartin spoke, before dropping back into liquid form. The monsters blasted through him, splattering him across the floor and sides of the carriage, but he didn't bother hanging on to them. 

He listened as the gang of dogfighters screamed and tried to run in a mass panic. 

He pulled himself together, and oozed out of the carriage, before reforming and screaming out "THE CELLAR! HIDE IN THE CELLAR!"

If they had taken a moment to think, they would know there was already a wolf down there. 

"IT'S SAFE IN THE CELLAR! THEY'D NEVER GO IN THE CELLAR!" 

But a mob's IQ is that of its dumbest member, divided by the amount of people in the group. He wasn't quite sure who said that, originally. 

The ones who weren't torn apart by the Dire Wolves first dive forward rushed for the assumed safety of the cellar. 

Chakravartin tossed smelling salts in after them.

And he stepped out of the way as three more Dire Wolves, in an enraged fury, chased the group back in.

He locked the door behind him. 

His evil, toothy too-wide grin began to regress to a simple satisfied smile. "Oh, what a tragedy." Chakravartin said, his tone of voice suitably sad, "The others were so enraged that they broke free, and it was all I could think of to lead them into the cellar too. I couldn't hold them back enough to keep the dogfighters from getting attacked, and the wolves dragged some of them into the cellar behind them." he shook his head, "What a tragedy. But I suppose the wolves were only trying to get justice, weren't they? Attacking those who attacked them. It's so sad, but at least the dogfighters won't hurt any more of them. And on the bright side, the ghosts of the wolves they've killed will finally be able to leave in peace."

Chakravartin let out a satisfied sigh, "That's what I'll tell him." the owner woman had fled as soon as figures in black arrived, she wouldn't be able to identify them. Neither would any dogfighters who escaped. 

He had his secret, and he would have Doc's favor.

Not too great of a reward. Perhaps not even worth the two days they had wasted looking into the alehouse. 

But it felt damn good.

Must speak with the owner of the tavern: Accomplished.
Must examine the grounds and ask around about odd sightings: Accomplished
Must conduct research on the history of the tavern: Accomplished
Must wait until nightfall and convince the ghost(s) to leave by whatever means possible: Accomplished
5,306 words, 29,206 characters (including Astral Realm Posts).
Chakravartin: 5,496 words, 30,847 characters.

10,802/10,000 words.

[Larfleeze]

Aang let out a sigh of relief and irritation both as Chakravartin finished his deceitful explanation.

"..."

"Aang-"

"They died, Chakra."

"Yes, they did. And it was horrible. It was also an accident! I admit I shouldn't have opened the first barrel. I don't know how the other three escaped." The Saru raised a bushy eyebrow, "I take it you heard from the guards, then?"

"They're planning on putting down the Dire Wolves."

"We can solve that with Appa easily-"


"I'll solve that." Aang said, "Somehow. The animals are clearly sick in their minds- I don't know. They mentioned something about the arena. And that's just an even bigger bloodsport." Aang sighed, the older man pinching the bridge of his nose, "You went completely off the plan, Chakra. I thought you were millions of years old! What possessed you to let the dogs out?"

Lysandra wisely chose to not say anything, not wanting to get between two Primes with tensions rising. 

"What possessed me? I assumed that if they could be transported in any kind of subtle fashion, they would be absolutely out of it. When I opened the barrel I was just checking to see if it was what I thought it was- and to see if they were even alive. How would I have known it would wake up so soon after the lid opened?"

"..." Aang looked away, "I need to fix this, somehow."


"We could-"

"I" Aang interrupted, "overestimated you."

Chakravartin briefly saw red. He could not be overestimated. He caught himself a moment later, so that all Aang noticed was a momentary expression of shock, "You what?"

"I only knew you for a few days, and I put a lot on your shoulders. I shouldn't have. This is my responsibility. As soon as we're done here, I'm going to see what I can do about the souls of the dogfighters who were hurt because of our mistake."

"No need to worry about that." All three turned, and at that moment the bell struck midnight. Standing before them was the great purple ghost, Doc grinned wide at them, tongue hanging out menacingly, eyes glowing red. 

"Doc." Chakravartin greeted.

Aang frowned, "Are the souls of the Dire Wolves at rest?"

"They've been sated." the Ghastly said, sounding more than a little satisfied himself, "Consider the alehouse unhaunted."

"By you maybe." Lysandra muttered.

Doc waved it off, "Either way, I'm grateful to both of you. I've also got something for you-" the pokemon Prime summoned two orbs of pure Omnilium. A substantial amount, each. The belltower glowed with rainbow light. Chakravartin greedily took his own immediately, and Aang hesitated for several seconds before taking the offered prize. "And that's not all. While I was haunting the place I found something pretty useful, and pretty expensive." the ghost procured two bottles, holding them out for them to take. Chakravartin once again accepted without a word, but Aang was feeling curious.

"What does it do?"

"It's a restorative, I heard from the grapevine you're martial artists. This stuff is supposed to help you regain spiritual energy quite a bit faster than you would normally."

"Useful." Chakravartin commented.

Satisfied that he had paid them fairly, Doc clapped his claws together, "You both deserve it. You more than met my expectations. I'll leave the alehouse, and the spirits who were trapped there by their painful memories should now be free." Aang scowled a bit at that.

"If there's anything that my life has taught me- it's that violence doesn't solve anything. It's an endless cycle, malice breeding malice. Don't act like the problem was solved because the dogfighters were killed, for all we know they'll be haunting the place next, and they'll need even more wolves to die in order to satisfy their own grudges."

"Nah." Doc said, and Aang blinked in surprise, "It ain't a cycle, kid. Well, I guess it can be, but not this time. The Wolves were wild, they were caught, they suffered, and their torturer wasn't getting any justice. Now he has. He was in the wrong, and now he can't do it any more."

"You don't get it." Aang said sadly, he looked to Chakravartin's impassive face, "And neither do you, do you?"

Chakravartin frowned, watching the Avatar. 

"I... I need to take some time, Chakra. I know it wasn't really your fault- you were trying to do what you thought was right, but you... aren't bothered, are you? You don't care that they died."

"I care." Chakravartin said truthfully, "But I'm not saddened by it."

Aang shook his head, "That's... sad, but fine. Not everyone can be monks. You were trying to do the right thing, and that's what matters. I think we should spend some time apart, for now."

"Why?" Chakravartin asked.

"I need to meditate for a while- I might miss the tournament. And all this business has put my stomach off fighting anyway. You go ahead and join, and I'll join you if I've taken care of everything."

"I suppose that's fair then." Chakravartin said, carefully concealing his disappointment. 

"Lysandra, do you want-"

"I'll stick with you." she says to Aang, before looking at Chakravartin, feeling a little ill. She had seen the aftermath too, then. Chakravartin thought. 

"Lysandra." Chakravartin said, before she could turn to head to the stairs.

"There's no hard feelings, right-"

Chakravartin tossed the lightsaber, and she managed to catch it, before her eyes widened at what she was holding, "Are... you sure?"

"I can make more blades, I'm a Prime. Just something to keep with you, in case we end up not meeting again."

"I'll... thank you." she said, and Aang gave him a slightly more-pleased nod, before both turned and left, heading back for the farm where Appa was being kept for now.

Doc watched them go, before hovering lower, smiling evilly at Chakravartin, "You don't disappoint, kid. I asked for blood, and you gave it. Poetically too."

"Your client was pleased then?"

"Absolutely. He would have been okay with anyone tormenting the jerks to death, but having Dire Wolves do it? Ones that they had been holding captive only minutes ago? Heh, done deal."

"I'm glad you were pleased."

"Sorry about your buddy arrowhead there."

"He's not a buddy."

"No?"

"He could never be one, after all."

Doc looked away, slowly, "You're pretty mad about being left behind by people who 'could never be' friends, kid."

"I'm-" he was about to say that he was older than the ghost, but who knew if that were true, and it'd be petty to correct something like that, "-not mad." Chakravartin said instead, just as dishonest. He was livid. Overestimated?! Such a blow to his pride- it wouldn't stand. 

"Yeah?"

"I might have considered him a potential equal, once. But now I see we have irreconcilable differences."

"I guess so." Doc said, beginning to fade away, "Spend the OM on something useful."

"I likely will." Chakravartin said, before Doc was simply gone. Back to the Astral Realm, perhaps. Or perhaps simply just invisible. Chakravartin didn't know or care, as he took the orb of Omnilium into his body, he began to climb down the stairs. He would join the tournament immediately. 

He wanted to prove he was better than someone. Anyone.

And he would do it by beating people into the dirt. 

His hands each glowed with concentration, featureless, incredibly sharp, blades began to take form in both hands, carved from rainbow light over the course of four minutes. Soon, the two swords hung at his sides. He was ready for Dante's Abyss, he decided.

Wine, Ale & Spirits
Location: Camelot (Minas Tirith)
Requirements: Not be Wanted in Camelot
Difficulty: Moderate (5000-10,000 words dependent on writing quality)
Reward: Increased fame in Minas Tirith, +100 OM and 1 Elixir (Consumable Item)

Strange things have been happening at the Crescent Moon Alehouse during nighttime business hours. Patrons have reported furniture moving seemingly of its own accord, tankards emptying right before their very eyes, and strange whispering emanating from the wine cellar. What the owner of the alehouse originally thought was just the silly ramblings of drunkards has become a serious problem that is bad for business.

Quest Stipulations: Must speak with the owner of the tavern. Must examine the grounds and ask around about odd sightings. Must conduct research on the history of the tavern. Must wait until nightfall and convince the ghost(s) to leave by whatever means possible.


All Stipulations met!
Total Words: (According to wordcounter.net) 12,251 words.
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