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Unable to answer the Magistrate's questions, Lisa tightens her grip on her blade's smooth, white handle. She's tired, frustrated, confused, and beyond terrified. Now is the wrong to ask her armor-piercing questions.

It takes Adriannu's brutal reasoning to make her consider backing off. Then Raven chimes in: "Liz, you've been up shapeshifting and frantically combing the countryside for me all day, probably without eating." She waits a moment for Lisa to confirm that and takes her friend's silence as a yes. "What I'm sayin' is you're not quite sane right now."

Silence. Then Lisa steps away from the Magistrate, sheathing her dagger and bowing her head in a silent apology.

Raven, the one creature who can call her crazy and get away with it, hops off the table to butt her head against Lisa's leg. Lisa crouches to pet her, and they both speak at the same time: "Good girl." Raven starts giggling. The chimera allows herself a quiet chuckle. She picks the cat up and holds her close.

She closes her eyes and lets herself relax for a few seconds while Adriannu continues to speak. As the child's raving winds down, Lisa chances a cold glare at the Magistrate, showing her suspicion still thrives, her dislike of him further fueled by Adrainnu's apparent situation. An orphaned girl with no one to trust or even talk to, reliant on her shard's powers for survival, with a terrible responsibility suddenly thrust upon her by a stranger who can't- or won't -provide legitimate aid beyond his initial warning...not to mention the nature of that threat looming over all their heads. She doesn't speak up- yet, figuring she should finally let the Magistrate explain himself to the child.

Lisa sets Raven on the floor and waits. The cat makes a beeline for the bowls on the table.

This time, Drake tries to enjoy the ride. The wind blowing in his shoulder-length hair, the blur of the blue sky and the green trees blazing past them, the threat of the enemy reaching them at their most vulnerable, the rapidly approaching ruins lining the coast...

And just like that, any pleasure he could have found slips through his fingertips and disappears with the lovely forest-scape as they approach a fire-specked coast side. A fishing village- or what's left of one -appears on the horizon.

"Ooo...hic...'ello, lass! What'sa pretty girl like ye doin here? Isa rough bar...hic...and a right awful one too." He bangs his glass on the table and roars at the empty space behind the bar. "'Ey! Ye lousy escuse for a 'keep! Git yer ass over 'ere an' fetch me anuther drink!"

He's met with silence, as no one is manning the bar. That doesn't seem to matter much to him. He growls in anger. His cherry-red face scrunches up in a ferocious snarl as he stands and shoves past Evelyn to go hunt down the barkeep himself. "OI! 'KEEP!" Evelyn can probably do whatever she wants to the other man and this raging drunkard will pay her no mind.

"Miss Adriannu, I appreciate the soundness of your logic as to my identity, and assure you that I have no intention of taking the shard from you. In fact, your desire to keep hold of it is ideal. Now, if I may, I would address your other concerns," he says politely, with not a hint of condescention or anger in his voice.

"We had barely an hour to prepare for the Sorceress's landing. Moving my ships into orbit, establishing our observation network, and detecting the shards took much of that time. At the same time, I recorded the main part of my warning, and we assembled the payment. For us, gold is simply mass, a kilogram of gold worth no more than a kilogram of lead or dust, and any of those is easilly assembled from raw energy in moments. We know that to most people here it is of value and use, and so, having minimal chance to research, we presented it while we learned of each of you enough to eventually provide something of more personal use. Once we were able to look at Omniscience data to learn of your world's history, -- I will not even attempt to explain hypersynchronous information giganetworks at this time, before you ask-- and what we could find of your pasts, I recorded the specifications you recieved using the last few minutes before we warped the packages down. Our logistical limitations even resulted in the one un-owned shard having those objects deposited near it," he explains calmly, "Compensating you more usefully is part of my purpose in coming here."

He then continues, "As for the technology, multiple factors come into play. For one, we have laws with very specific exceptions regarding granting technology to less advanced cultures. Rewards, given to those deemed appropriate to bear them? Acceptable, so long as we retrieve them upon that bearer's demise and prevent others from taking it. A boon given to allow you to fight our battles essentially in our names? A warcrime, as we would be considered to have forcibly conscripted you as our soldiers by arming you appropriately, rather than simply warning you of a threat and offering raw resources to alleviate difficulties such as transport and equipment as you attempt to deal with it. The Death Fleets, very aptly named, would not tary to ...resolve the issue, most likely including those who were given our gifts. Offering things available on your world can be argued as philanthropic assistance, and would at the very worst only end in my demise, not yours. Next, we did not have the capacity to train you in using or maintaining much of the technology properly. An example," he says, placing what appears to be a solid, jeweled, silver bracelet on the table, "I assure you that this is a single-handed ranged weapon, cleverly concealed in a charming bit of jewelry. If you damage it too much while trying to activate it, it may detonate and kill all of you. My magic and shielding would protect me, but it would leave you all burned and broken. Also, it is worth quite a lot. I would become irritable if you attempted to steal it or did break it."

"Regarding what I expect you to do in the face of the sorceress, I did partially explain that in the message," he points out, "That light you saw? The fires engulfing the coastline? That is a side effect of her response to something she considers a legitimate threat in spite of her indomitable ego. I could have tried to send soldiers after her, as I had said in my warning, but she simply would have slaughtered them all. No games, no exhibition of her hubris, merely execution in the night or purification by fire. Even I, as a somewhat powerful wizard myself, would not want to engage with her. Her specialty, in a sense, is being more dangerous to more powerul foes."

He sighs, "You hunt efficiently. Unlike you, I suspect, some predator's hunt for amusement as much as nourishment. She is that way. A prey that is obviously a threat, a large beast with sharp teeth and claws, is not a game. A scorpion, small and unassuming, if you don't know of the danger in its tail, can seem like one until it is too late. You all are a scorpion. My people are the beast. At least to her eyes. That said, your stinger could be improved."

He reaches into his large sleeve and draws out a belt with a pair of knives in it, with more child-manageable rubberized grips, and holds them out to her. If drawn, the blades are an odd grey colour, not like any metal.

"They are enchanted to respond to your intent and accelerate your strikes, as well as allow easier recovery from overextension, thus increasing your functional reach. They are made from a ceramic that will make steel seem as flexible as skin and as easily broken as dried tree bark. They also will not need to be sharpened within your natual lifetime. While these are the most I am permitted to provide to you, understand that they are also among the least I would be able to provide to you were all options open."

Seeing the distant damage incites Victi to make her bike go even faster, up to the point that bugs and dust sting the face, even on glancing contact.

She slows down a little ways outside of town, far enough that her high-tech ride isn't visible. Her mana siphoning, both from her body and her charms, have gathered enough mana together for her to create an illusory disguise, letting her present herself as a blonde chimera woman, matching Drake's species fairly closely after a few quick corrections.

That done, the two go to work.

A few hours pass, going from town to town along the scorched swath of land, where they help in bucket lines, aid in moving debris to free people trapped in collapsed rubble, a certain amount of magic use on Victi's part to guide water to where it was needed, and, of course, what first aid they could offer. By the end of it, Victi's first-aid gear would be worryingly reduced. She did not use any of the nanotech, however, telling Drake that "Travelers coming by to help? Maybe a bit surprising, but not a huge deal, we're probably not even the only ones. People will just be thankful. Miracle healers appearing not long after a disaster, restoring sight to the blinded and letting the crippled dance? More likely to bring trouble that we frankly don't have time for." Though she was also likely hoarding it.

By the time all is said and done, both are likely tired and somewhat sore from the heavy work, and the moon is high in the starry sky.

The last village they'd arrived in had seen fairly little damage, her spell having pulled up and a ways out over the ocen by that point. A dockside tavern had seen the brunt of the damage, much to the sorrow of the old man who ran it, but there were no injuries, which is why they had figured it was okay to stop there.

Upon deciding their work was complete, Victi flopped down onto the night-cooled flagstones of one now-quiet street, sprawled out ungracefully, still hidden by her disguise. "Okay, partially-repentant deeds done. What's our next move? You said something about contacts or something?"

She sighs and sits next to the sleeping one. She looked around once more to make sure she was alone. She grabbed his neck and began to sink her fangs into his neck. She began to drink from him. She didn't mind the taste. She eventually finished when he was dead. She sighed and left the bar. She licked her now bloody fangs. She hummed as she began to leave the town quickly. She wanted to be in shade by the time the sun came up.

The drunkard lets out a sudden, pained gasp as Evelyn's fangs sink into his flesh. He struggles feebly for a few moments, yet still drugged up on sleep and alcohol, he can't do much but let out a strangled cry for help that goes soundly ignored. The vampire sucks the life from him in minutes and can safely move along.

As the sleeping man's body, now pallid and slack, slumps to the floor, the other drunkard turns around and totters back to his drinking buddy. "Oi, Max! 'Elp me find this damn 'keep. *hic*! Uh...Max?"

He crouches, then falls on his butt, next to the other man. "'Ey, wake'p." He shakes Max's shoulder. Nothing.

"Max?"

With a mighty grunt, he rolls the fresh, fat corpse over. His hands brush the two ugly flesh-wounds dug deep into his throat.
"Wha-!?" He draws his hand away and sees that his fingers have come off painted with fresh blood. He stares at the blood, then at the corpse, pale and unmoving, as he finally sees it for what it is. Dead.

"Oh no..."

Horror does a great job of sobering people up. He still teeters back and forth as he stands, but his hiccups disappear and he's much less concerned about getting another drink. "Who coulda' done this to..." The beer-induced haze in his mind slowly begins to clear as he remembers a young, almost ethereally beautiful lady with strange pink hair. "That witch! She killed ye, din't she? She suck out yer innards!"

"I'll kill 'er. I'll kill 'er if the last thin' ah ever do." The old drunk man stormed out of the tavern and out into the street. "VAMPIR'! AH'LL FIND YOU! YOU ROTTON SON OF A-" His slurred cries of anger fade with distance as the man tries to convince every nearby person that there's an evil vampire in town. Most people mock him or hastily turn the other cheek, as he is a raving drunkard. Others treat his story as plausible but don't seem eager to comb the woods for a vampire thus far only seen by a crazy drunk man. A few believe him easily and eagerly agree to take up arms to destroy this menace. His number of followers start to grow rapidly when he realizes he can show folks the body Evelyn had left behind. Not to mention that everyone is on edge after witnessing Victi's destructive but too-distant light show; several townies latch onto the idea of a common terror they could actually deal with.

So as Evelyn skips town, an enraged, grieving drunk gathers a mob to hunt for her.

Drake accepts both her illusionary disguise and explanation for hiding nanotech without question. He is all for drawing as little attention to themselves as possible, and besides, she looks great as a member of his own species.

After they finish town-hopping to aid survivors, they retreat to a minimally damaged town where Victi flops onto the cool street. Drake chuckles and sits cross-legged beside her, staring up at the star-spangled night sky. "I can probably get a message out from this town that we have a job for any nearby mercs. A tough one at that, but for the right amount of gold or gear, someone might be willing to divert whoever's tracking us." He follows her lead and lies on the pavement, exhausted. Also starving, as she'd promised the nanotech healing would do, but he can afford to chill for a few minutes.

"Ugh, watching them, I saw a strong demonic energies on... I think two of 'em," she says, exhausted, an arm flopped over her eyes, "People here get jumpy about that, right? You sure any of them are willing to deal with that coming up on them?"

She pauses for a moment before adding, "ideally, one that we might be able to get food off of? I need some real bad."

"Oh, yeah. That woman, at least, was totally a full-blooded demon. I'd honestly be real hesitant to take on a job that involves taking her alone."

His stomach growls obnoxiously as if to say "me too" and Drake continues. "I doubt we'll find anyone kind enough to feed us AND get involved in our business like that, but I think there's a seedy tavern downtown where I can at least let someone know we're looking to hire."

"Perfect. For once, though, I'd like to avoid too too much trouble," she says, forcing herself to her feet. She brushes her illusory-and-constructed hair back over the shoulders of her apparently simple but evidently high quality travel clothes, also illusions, and stretches. "You willing to lead the way?"

She felt refreshed after her drink. She felt kinda bad but she was a vampire and she needed to. She kept running. She put the hood over her head. She wasn't worried about being found. She ran into the forest quickly and slowed once inside. She sighed and kept walking. She touched her snowflake hairpiece. "God, I hope nothing comes for me." She quickly sighed again.