Nexus Dorma

Hey if you are ever in the Uldah area, hit me up. I lead a small but potentially growing FC. I'm in Uldah most evenings on G'leo Nuhn. Message me

The other members of the G tribe are no where to be found, including the huntress that was pinned to the ground by the lance. The civilians move out of Eva's way as she walks with weapons drawn; still coughing and some shooting dangerous glances towards her. As she might proceed further into the camp, Eva may notice that Myst has made her way back to her mother's embrace, still crying hysterically. The woman glances towards Eva and nods her head; she will be able to handle it from there. As the chaos dissipates and the clutter of the mob is lessened, the G tribe, to include the large male, can be seen being ushered into the gate by one of the guards; however the three huntresses are not with them. The male throws a smirk in the direction of the camp before being led in. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Norrington stammers back into consciousness as he feels himself being dragged on the ground. His gaze flicks to the unknown man who is patting his cheek, and he pauses.... .... ... .. The drake spits a plume of fire towards the man'a ear as he rolls away from the stranger. On his hind legs, he squares the man, who hit him out of the blue, glaring at him dangerously. "Hey jackass!" Comes a shout and dagger in the man'a direction. The huntress embellishes her dagger throw with all the rage she can muster. "Next time, search the person you tie up and make sure they don't have a weapon!" She is about to leap at him again, until she spots the drake who has focused his attention on her with a snarl.

The huntress does little in the way when she feels herself being pinned to the ground. It surprises her, but she recovers quickly; swinging her arms towards the man'a face in the midst of the disorienting smoke. She growls in frustration as her hands are tied behind her back. She throws a kick towards his crotch; clearly misinterpreting his intent, but she wouldn't fall victim without a fight. The drake stirs slightly, huffing a puff of flame as the smoke begins to dissipate. The three other huntresses are nowhere to be seen. The onlookers stare confused amidst their coughing, looking for the savage Miqo'te. They as well are nowhere to be found. "Untie me this instant, you pig! You have no right!" The huntress yells at him.

((Moving down))

The growl coming from the man shocks her as she lowers herself onto the drake; attempting to drag it away by its much larger head. She, surprisingly strong for her size manages to pull it a few yalms away, but fending off the mans lance with her dagger is proving difficult. She hisses at him again as a few of his thrusts pass through her dwindling guard, slicing her arm and cheek. Her eyes glow brightly, almost familiarly if Eva would look in her direction, as she protects her capture as if her life depended on it; she wasn't going to give up unless they immobilized or killed her. "GET AWAY!" She hisses at to the man who assails her. "This beast is not yours! This belongs to my bro-AGGH!!" Her eyes begin to water as the smoke fills the air. She shuts them tightly, holds her breath, and wraps herself around the drake's neck, tail included. The other huntresses simply nod to each other as the smoke begins to rise. They pull masks over their noses and mouths, and, the few who have them, done on goggles; stench may be disorienting but these people were used to fighting in sandstorms...this was their element. Three dart quickly into the smoke using it for cover while the other five accompany the male as he walks away from the fray and immediate view. The crowd erupts into chaos around them at the sight of the smoke bombs; coughing and gagging as the fumes fill the air. Nimble and light do the G tribe move in the smoke, until the opportunity presents itself.

"A pit fighter you say?" That caught his attention. What life was devoid is now rekindled in G'leo's eyes. "You fight here as a gladiator or simply for the pugilist guild?"

Their is a loud "THUNK" as the lance slams into the head of the Sundrake. The venom and murder that were previously in it's eyes are now replaced with surprise and confusion as the drake collapses onto the ground. Myst's screams (still she vice-gripping Eva's leg) begin to attract a few of the men and women of the refugee camp who brandish their makeshift weapons; however, they do not advance towards any particular group, unsure of what exactly is going on. The Huntress sees her opportunity and vaults her lean frame over Eva's person. She sails through the air landing directly a top the unconscious Sundrake, crouching over it as a predator would its prey. A feral hiss is emitted in the direction of the Elezen and Hyur as she glares daggers in their direction; daring them now to make an attempt to seize her prize. The other Miqo'te, which have not busied themselves in involvement of any kind, simply watch the huntress. The large male smiles in a sadistic fashion, murmuring a few words to his comrades; however, they do not seem as caught up in the aggression or tension of the moment...seeming more relaxed by the outbreak of commotion in the camps. "The Sundrrrake is our prrrey, and we now have claim to it. Lowerrr yourr weapons," said to Eva and Wolf. "And no harrrm will come to you. Our quarrrel isn't with city dwellerrrs."

G'leo regards the miqo'te as he speaks. "Rough crowd? Hmm..." That would raise some suspicion for the Nuhn, but he will not dwell on it's ambiguity. "I am- well...was a traveler, or adventurer as you call it here in the city; simply roaming the lands in seek of a hunt, but recently I've been staying here in Ul'dah at the refugee camps." "If you don't mind me asking...Who are you?"

The Miqo'te's ears turn into the direction of the advancing Eva as she draws near. He regards her simply for what she intends and jumps backwards to avoid her shield. He clears a good 5 yalms as five more female hunters join the large Miqo'te male; his gaze flicking from the would be attacker, Eva, and to the lance-wielding male. Myst runs promptly up to Eva; squeezing her leg in terror. "Who are they?! Why do they want to hurt us?!" Words are exchanged between the miqo'te in their own language. A young, female huntress casts a glance at Eva; she huffs, glaring murderously towards her, as she draws a dagger. She races towards Eva with knife in hand, but even she couldn't predict the Sundrake which has charged, almost directly into Eva, and lunged in her direction with claws and teeth bared.

G'leo can't help but smirk to the ground beneath his own feet. He shakes his head, the mat of hair flaring wildly, before he looks back up to S'imba. "You wouldn't be the first one to say that, nor probably the last; I wonder what it is that makes me seem so approachable." He chuckles. "I'm in here for murder, treason, and theft. I'm guessing the Sultansworn think I'm some sort of wildling. And before you ask, yes...in a respect the charges against me are true; bit twisted for the benefit of keeping me locked up."

"We are both in the Flamr gaol. Can't say I know what you did to get yourself locked in here, but hopefully it wasn't anything to serious. What is your name?"

The sudden commotion alerts G'leo as he backs up to the far wall of his cell. "What in the blazes of Ifrit is going o-" "-EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT IS GOING ON?" The cry was loud enough to interrupt his own thoughts. The guards glance towards G'leo as they literally carry the screaming Miqo'te into the cell adjacent to him. The Nuhn watches in confusion as they depart, and only then does he approach the bars. "What has happened to you?" G'leo asks the blonde-haired Miqo'te.

U'odh nods his head to Crofte's verdict to his plea. "Everrr faithful to the law forrr which you serrrve to protect; The law we find ourrrselves all subject too...You have hearrrd my plea, and forr that I am thankful that it didn't fall on deaf earrrs." He sounds bitter, but of course the man would only wish for more for his own godson. "Thank you, Lady Crrrofte, for yourrr visit. I hope that the inforrrmation my trribe has been able to prrrovide you will aid you in yourrr searrch to find the G trrribe, and that you arrrive to yourr city beforrre they do. Please, feel frrree to use the Aetherryte to see you home safely. You go with my best wishes in yourrr success, and may the fates everrr guide yourrr blade in the rrright dirrection." He rises from his seat nodding his head to the woman. -----------------------------------------------Meanwhile---------------------------------------------- [align=center]Refugee Camps (Central Thanalan, Ul'dah)[/align] Norrington huffs a cloud of smoke in the tent he currently occupies. Myst has been doing her best to console the drake, which has fallen under a spell of depression, by stroking his large, hard scales She knows what he is feeling, for she is feeling similar...She misses G'leo, a lot. The drake has reached an unhealthy level by this time having eaten little and rarely going out to warm himself under the sun. Norrington has been grateful to Eva for not completely neglecting him. (( :B )) She'd been gone, he believes, to train with a male no-scales; he was currently keeping to himself. He raises his head to nudge Myst's hand as a sign of reassurance for the girl who smiles in response. "The scent is close! I can alrrready feel my blood boiling knowing that ourrr hunt forr the trrraitorr is overrr! I'm ready to drink this cur's blood, and cut of his tail! Death to the disgrrraced!" A chorus of cries can be heard throughout the camp as a savage band of Miqo'te move through the camps and onwards to the gate. The G tribe has finally arrived. Norrington scales begin to ripple at the sound of their cries; his belly filling up with fire as danger approaches. Myst's looks around inside the tent nervously seeing the Drake become suddenly aggressive. Her scream pierces the air as a large, savage-looking, Miqo'te male peels away the tent flap and, with a sinister smile, glares at the Sundrake. "Therrre you arre..."

G'leo's head rests against the metal bars of his cell. He's staring at nothing in particular, but by the fates above is he bored out of his mind. He had already finished his normal routine of exercising with his own personal training regiment, making it progressively more challenging to keep his form and his dexterity up, but since he finished it he's found himself with nothing more to do. He attempts to re-read the note that Crofte had given him and still finds the newspaper article written about her just as distasteful as before. Tossing it aside, he proceeds to bang his head against the bars...ever so quietly...what he wouldn't give to be outside...just for a bit.

U'odh shifts slightly. Even under the rigidness of the Sultansworn's demeanor, he has never found himself to be uncomfortable under the scrutiny of another (he's fucking fought Titan for Hydalen's sake), but his request to the woman is what stokes the sense of uneasiness that he feels kindling inside of him. "Please do not misinterrrprret what I ask of you, Lady Crrrofte. I underrrstand your position in this matter verrry clearrly, and I have faith in what that boy is doing, but I will not rrrevoke what I have said earrlier...if it werre up to me..." his voices wavers, even falters, as he speaks. "I...I would see that boy be finally able to walk frreely without being hunted forrr the crrrime of simply defending himself." U'odh adjusts his posture in his chair, trying to retain his stoic demeanor. It is unlike him to react so passionately and he knows that. U'khuba Tia sees the Nuhn's pain and places a reassuring hand on the Nuhn's shoulder, who nods his thanks in reply. U'odh corrects himself before his emotions reign free of his judgement, and looks back to Crofte. "What I am about to tell you has not been sharred except with a select few of this trribe and most trusted allies; I would ask that you would rrrespect this knowledge forrr it's lack of disclosurrre. G'leo Nuhn is the orrrphaned son of his fatherrr, G'anu Nuhn (who was my verrry close friend) and exile of the G trrribe, but morrre than that...I am his Rrrito, his godfatherrr. When his fatherrr was defeated in an dishonorrable conflict with G'rrramau Tia, who used magic to poison and overrpowerrr the former Nuhn, G'leo was subject to be hunted by his own trrribe; he was only eleven at this time and had just barrely earrned his rrright to manhood. As dirrrected by G law, any offsprrring of the defeated (in this unlawful case, murdered) Nuhn should be hunted down and killed to prrrevent the sprrread of lesserr offsprrring. This law, was instituted by G'rrramau Nuhn, who still rrrules the G trrribe with an irron fist." U'odh pauses, drinking from his cup of water, before continuing. He'd spit on the floor from just uttering that bastard's name, but he retains his composure. "G'leo's brrrotherrs and sisterrs werre hunted down one by one and killed along with G'leo's motherr who was defiled when she rresisted G'rrramau's rrright to rrrule. The boy...He trried to sneak back into the camp and kill G'rrramau, but the cowarrrd knew of the boys intent and capturred G'leo. He allowed the boy the chance to challenge him in the same fashion as his fatherrr, but G'leo was no match forrr him. G'ramau was and prrobably still is a powerrful warriorr, and, despite his outlawed use of magic in battle, was able to defeat and injurre the young G'leo. G'leo still carrries the scar of that fight acrross his chest and back." U'odh motions with his hand showing that the scar would cross from his shoulder blade down to the length of his lower abdomen. "The boy did the only thing he could think of after his defeat and rrran for his life. Frrom then on he was labeled as a trrraitor to his trrribe. G'rrramau sent his own sons to hunt down G'leo, but they werre not as skilled a hunterrr as the young G'leo was; the boy has always been verrry resourceful and managed to evade them forrr some time in the desert, but, as fate would have it, he was forrrced to face them eventually. G'leo was able to kill one of his purrsuers by taking him by surrrprrise and then stealing his weapon to face the others, and his valor caused the other pissants to flee. Alas...he was forrrced to surrrvive in the Sagolli alone forrr the next month; it was afterrr that time when I found him." U'odh finishes with a heavy sigh; he hasn't recounted that story for a long time now. "His fatherr asked me to be the child's godfatherr in the event that anything unforrtunate should happen, and when word of G'anu's death rrreached mine earrs, I stole no time to mourrn my frrriends death...I simply went looking forrr the boy...That brrrave, stupid, noble boy...Therre is no doubt in my mind that when he turrrned himself in he did so to prrrotect anotherrr. He has always been like this, always seeking to defend those he carres for, and always being stubborrnly Irrrational in his decision making...I admirrre him for that fact, but...it pains me to see how much he forrrces upon himself to sufferrr when he has alrrready sufferrred enough. I love that boy, as if he werre my own son, and that is why I ask you...if therrre is any way my tribe can unite funds to buy his contrrract, or to keep him from the hands of that madman...please, let us. What you subject him to is a fate that is worrse than death if he rrreturns there. Not only will he be victim to G'ramau's torture, but also the furrrther disgrace of his family in frrront of his trrribe. It would brrreak my heart to see his legacy end in such dishonorr."

U'odh ushers Lady Crofte to the house as she recounts the previous event over the last week. A huntress, one of U'odh favorites, brings them both water from the spring and bows as she departs. U'odh remains stoic and resolute for the majority of Crofte's tale, as a Nuhn should, but he can feel his heart sinking with each word. How did it come to this...G'leo...have I failed you? He allows her to finish before responding, "I thank you forrr showing hospitality to G'leo Nuhn, and yes I do underrstand the currrent situation you arre in; howeverrr, to answerrr yourr question on the werreabouts of the G trrribe is difficult. They rrremain isolated frrrom much of the known worrld, living farrrtherr south of Sagolli. They chose to rremain this way keep theirrr part of the worrrld excluded frrrom ours, but I do have some news that will benefit you. One of the U scouts had rrreporrted seeing memberrrs of the G trrribe moving accrrross the deserrt not but 2 days ago. By this time now they should be arrriving in Ul'dah rrrelatively soon." He pauses as his face looses some of it's temperance. "If I may ask..." U'odh's strength actually begins to fade to deep concern. "Is therrre naught that can be done to save him? To save G'leo? If therrre would be a way...I would seek it." Both of the Tia's in the room look at U'odh in shock; they've never seen him like this except in times of desperate need, and even that was only once before.

"My Nuhn! My Nuhn!" One of the female scouts runs into the house where U'odh usually resides. U'odh shakes his head as if summoned from a trance as she finishes. "One of the Sultansworn is approaching the springs!" "Prreparrre for the knights arrrival, stow away the drrakes, and lock G'leo's rrroom." The Huntress runs off at her instruction as U'odh turns to address both of the Tia's. "Come with me, we will meet her at the gate." Both nod in response. It is in a mere matter of seconds before a small clamor of life surges back into the Springs. As everyone scatters to prepare for the unexpected arrival of the Sworn, U'odh shoots a wavering glance at the Aetheryte; hoping that this time G'leo would appear. He doesn't...and this guest doesn't bode well. They've not entertained a Sultansworn for some time, and when they have ill news is sure to follow. A lump rises in U'odh throat as he walks to the gate, the two Tia's trailing behind, and takes a deep breath. Please...have news of G'leo, but most of all...Please...let it be good. U'odh raises his hand in response as the Sultansworn's greeting as she approaches the Springs. His face taking on his usual stoic but cheerful demeanor despite his worry. "Sultansworrn, it is an honorrr to welcome you to the Forrgotten Sprrrings."

[align=center]Southern Thanalan[/align] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Forgotten Springs have been void of much attention as of late. Nothing especially new besides the occasional resort goers, adventurers, and Ala Mhigans seeking respite after making their way across the desert. U'odh Nuhn himself has found these past few weeks rather droll without one of his ilk back. The Miqo'te was to return within the month. The shipments U'odh had ordered had arrived on schedule, but the young one didn't return with him. The huntresses had caught wind of his rather unsightly mood; it's never been like him to worry for this long, but nevertheless, he fears the worst. Rumors have spread, even this far on the border of Ul'dah, but he was never one to indulge in rumors. "They arrre like the sand devil, rrrumor's trruth loose powerrr as they continue along through the land" But G'leo has never been away this long without any word... He sits in his usual spot with the door open; His eyes have not left the Aetheryte all day. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That's what it says?!" G'leo exclaims in shock as the night guard reads the paper to him. "You must be fooling me. Let me see that!" The guard is doing his best to reel in his laughter as the savage snatches up the note. "Aye, hahah, that is exactly what it says Cub." He has taken to call G'leo a pet name, the Nuhn being much younger than himself, and because the Miqo'te has yet to say anything against it. G'leo looks over the paper another time in the dim light of his cell. He scrutinizes it carefully before letting the note fly out of his hands, which now grip his hair in frustration. "GAAAAH!! If only I could read the damn thing! Why did I not pursue this earlier?!?!" Another ring of laughter peels from the Guard who nearly falls back in his chair. "Oi, cub, calm yourself down before you make the other guards skittish." He walks over, scooping the paper up in his hand. "Aye, it is what it says here. You aren't mistaken; even if this article is full of shite...it's still rather entertaining to read. Oi! Don't tell Ser Crofte I said that!" G'leo sighs. "That woman is more trouble than she knows (in reference to Spahro), fates above." There is a moment of silence between them both as the guards laughter dies down. ... ... ... "Five tits tho...never would've imagined that is what is under her armor." The guard snickers to G'leo who is now finding himself trying to suppress laughter. They both end up just laughing together

"Hmm...heh...Hahahah!" He pats his chest as he laughs. He turns around to actually face her this time. "Such grand assumptions...even for you Miss Sultansworn." He claps for her, slowly. "I didn't come for you, I came for the prisoner; you, my dear, are sadly not as enticing as what we had planned for the Nuhn. As I said before, I don't give a damn about your intentions, all I care about is an answer to my question. Which...you've chosen to evade again, even if you find your answer 'sufficient'." He gradually approaches her desk, searching his pocket for a specific item. The illusion appearing as if he grows in height and size as he walks closer. "Suspicious and honorable to a cause that has you squirming like bait on a hook, even if you don't know it yet. I'll at least answer your question...I don't work for anyone but my own interest, and you have actually managed to pique that." He sets down a card in front of her with his name and an address on it: Hollyfrost Mansion, Middle La Noscea. "Continue your work then, Sultansworn, for I must return to mine. Your suspicions aren't completely wrong, but your assumptions, I'm afraid, will be your undoing. Keep the card, even if you don't want it...You'll be needing it soon enough." He turns around slowly, humming in amusement as he passes through the doorway. His servant waits for him outside, and they exchange a few words before the door shuts with the same dull 'click'. "The seeds we sow, Lord Fortomb, the seeds we sow."

A wicked smile stretches across the Roe's face. He never averts his gaze from Crofte, even as he begins to chuckle. "Amusing...really. It is Lord Fortomb, in case you had forgotten." "You're right about one thing, but that is all, I am not from Ul'dah. I find this place to be a retched pool of worms, climbing atop each other's backs, but finding only their efforts for naught; for a bird will always come...and swipe away the ones that rise to the top. You're reputation as a Sworn is not withstanding, I myself can admire the position from which you lead as a military man myself; long ago of course." He walks boldly around her desk, flanking it as he drags his hand across it's surface, even moving behind her chair as he speaks. His eyes fixed on her. "Your loyalties are not in question today, Miss Crofte, we both know what position you stand on...and that this isn't one that is earned easily. Even you have to walk on the backs of others. I don't give a damn about your false impression of me coming here today was, but what I do care for is your answer to my question...what is it you stand for?" He stops again as he stands in front of her desk, his back facing her, but his eyes still looking in her direction. "You've made your point about the prisoner, that much is clear, but I'm not as interested right now in the pissant as I am you...what is it you stand for, or rather...what is it you stand upon?"

"The immediate concern for the Nuhn is it's own well being; our intentions being purely noble a-" "Shut up, you idiot. This isn't an argument you can win by your silver tongue alone." Lord Fortomb looks to his servant in disgust. He motions his head towards the door; dismissing the defeated looking Balthamon. The Elezen rises, as he attempts to regain his composure, bows politely to Crofte, and saunters his way out of the room. He closes the door with practiced hand, leaving only a 'click' as the door shuts. Lord Fortomb turns his attention back to Lady Crofte, scrutinizing her as any predator would. He approaches the desk, resting a large hand on it as a kickstand for his frame. "Tell me Mrs. Crofte, what is it that you stand for as a Sultansworn?"

A scowl sets on the Roe's face, but it isn't directed at Crofte. His servant takes note of it, gulping as he turns to face her again. "M'lady, this is certainly a first...you would turn down the Nuhn's opportunity at a second chance. Would it not be wiser to bring the (need I remind you) prisoner who is wanted for treason, murder, and theft into a more civilized abode where he might be better educated and watched over carefully rather than in a cell which affords him no better state of living? Money, of course, isn't an obstacle for us, Lady Crofte. You merely have to name a price, and the master can pay for it. Please...explain your reasoning, I'm sure we both would like to hear why." Lord Fortomb turns his gaze back to Lady Crofte. A knowing look etched on his face; he actually seems amused watching his servant's attempt at persuading the Sultansworn. ------------------------Meanwhile-------------------------- G'leo is pacing in his cell like a caged lion. "Sit back down will you, savage. You're making mah nauseous just watchin' you." G'leo takes a breath, sitting on the hard ground. He flinches as he actually manages to sit on his own tail...Not a good sign. The guard on duty leans back in his chair; balancing somewhat expertly as he peels an apple with a blunt knife. "Yah not goin' anywheres animal, and wearin' a hole in tha ground would afford you nuffin' to overcome 'at fever ya 'ave to get outdoors. Just sit on yah arse an' be still." G'leo watches the guard rock back and forth. "Is there no way to at least get a cell with a window? Something...I don't understand how the people in the city are able to stand remaining in such tight quarters for so long." "Eh, well ya get used to it. 'Ere." He tosses G'leo a sliver of the apple, which he catches. "Tell us a story, eh? Sumfin' about where ya from?" G'leo looks at the guard. "There are many stories to tell...what kind do you wish to hear?" "Sumfin' good...sumfin'...sumfin' wif' a woman, eh?" He sounds a little bit enthused. "You lot got anythin' like that, if ya get mah meanin'?" G'leo chuckles. "Aye, I understand...Hmm...I suppose, The Nuhn and the White Rose would be appropriate. Long ago, back when my father's father was but a boy, there was a Nuhn by the name of G'usemet Rah Nuhn..."

The Roe directs a look towards the Sultansworn as he passes by his servant, but it is the Elezen who steps into the office to answer. "Pardon me my Lady, but yes, we do have some business to discuss. I will speak on behalf of my master, Lord Fortomb, as his representative." The Elezen says after an extravagantly performed bow. "My name is Balthamon, and it is quite the honor to make your acquaintance, Lady Crofte." Fortomb focuses his gaze on the Sultansworn as he attempts to assess her; it is stony, if not a bit lifeless gaze. His counterpart, however, is more enthralled by the sight of the Sultansworn's office and looks around in awe. His overly-flamboyant clothes match noting in the decor of the room. "Lord Fortomb, and myself (doesn't want to leave himself out), have stumbled upon the knowledge that you have acquired a certain select, "elite" prisoner by the name of G'leo Nuhn. He has been following his bounty quite closely, and found it...rather enticing that Nuhn would be hunted down in the city of Ul'dah. Even more remarkable enough to hear that said Nuhn actually turned himself into your custody, considering the charges pressed against him." Balthamon offers a knowing smirk to Crofte. The guards were bribed not to tell her that they both were in the prison not to long ago. "Lord Fortomb, and myself, would like to remove the prisoner from the Flame cell. The Lord offers to pay his bail, as well as interest, for the Nuhn's custody into his care."

The Roe and his Elezen companion explore the hall outside of Lady Crote's office. Both having recently escorted have waited a fair amount of time for the Sultansworn's appearance; men of their class were not meant to be kept waiting, and the Roe elite clearly wasn't having a comfortable time doing so. The Elezen was busy inspecting a painting of the Sultana in finer detail through half-mooned glasses, while the Roe stands still as a statue, hands behind in back, next to a very plush looking bench. He refused to sit on it on the pretense of finding it dusty and "lumpy-looking." "Sir, are you sure you wouldn't rather just send a letter to the knight?" the Elezen pushes his long, white hair back as he addresses his master. "The prisoner isn't going anywhere after all." "No, we will wait here until she returns." The Roe barks out resolutely. "The Flame officers of the prison were paid a well enough sum to provide us with at least a temporary service of loyalty...besides, I don't want my claim wasting away any longer in that dingy piece of shite they call a prison. The Flame's reputation for the care of their prisoners isn't glamorous by any means, I don't want them to spoil my prize." The Elezen nods his head simply with a long, over-exaggerated sigh. He really does hope she shows up soon for his master really isn't one to be kept waiting.