The Silver Sphinx

 

“We have no past and you have no future."

one of the numerous philosophies of the Revolutionary League

 

 

Second Clerk's Day of Mortis, 126 HR

Krystall strolled through the Market Ward, and the air pulsated with the energy of the countless cultures and creatures that rubbed shoulders in the planar metropolis of Sigil. Before her stretched the ring-shaped silhouette of the city, an endless loop arching over the heads of the inhabitants, finally meeting itself again. Around her, the streets were still bustling with activity even as the Last Light fell. On a street corner, a gnome in a colorful cloak haggled with an earth genasi vendor for a bottle of shimmering liquid, while an aasimar with bright golden hair strolled gracefully past them. Some quadrones approached Krystall, their mechanical joints clacking in rhythm, and a group of tiefling children darted through the crowd, apparently playing tag. Above them, a beholder floated by, keeping an eye on the happenings below, but without stopping. As always in Sigil, it was such a surreal mix of creatures that it seemed strangely harmonious.

Although the Great Bazaar was a few blocks away, almost every corner was teeming with market stalls selling exotic goods. At one stall, an elven craftsman was skillfully polishing a pendant, an apparently enchanted piece of jewelry that glowed with an inner light. Another stall offered silk fabrics shimmering in dozens of colors, their patterns constantly changing like captured sunsets. A few steps away, a dwarven blacksmith stood hammering at an anvil, creating weapons that pulsated with a faint magical energy, while a small crowd watched with interest. When Krystall turned into the next street, she spotted a heated debate between a rakshasa and a human woman. The fiend, in all his majestic, tiger-headed glory, was apparently trying to sell a scroll. The woman, however, being the Cager that she was, did not seem to be deterred by his imposing presence and countered with her own demands. Their exchange was a mixture of charm and intimidation, typical of the City of Doors. As Krystall continued on, she came across a kobold street performer juggling flaming knives, to the delight of the gathered crowd. The performance was accompanied by several pugwampis playing music – although the term “music” was certainly open to doubt here. Children of various races clapped and cheered, their faces aglow with excitement. Some vendors took advantage of the situation and offered sweet treats and trinkets. Krystall bought a bag of Elysian honey pearls, small golden balls filled with heavenly nectar. She was on her way to see Sgillin and decided that it couldn't hurt to bring a small gift.

As she turned the next corner, she almost collided with a truly unusual creature – an ethereal, fox-like being with six legs and a glittering, color-changing coat. The animal's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly intelligence, and as it gracefully hopped away, it left behind faint traces of shimmering light in the air. Krystall had heard of these creatures before – dream foxes ... They were known as mysterious wanderers between the planes, so rare that they were hardly ever seen. Some explorers supposedly spent their whole lives searching for them in vain. But one had come to Sigil and she had spotted it during a simple walk, without even expecting to. The encounter made her heart race and reminded her how unpredictable and fascinating the Cage could be. She watched the dream fox as it leapt through the alley, waited until the last shimmer in the air had disappeared, before continuing on her way. Despite the multitude of impressions - the smell of exotic spices, the cacophony of voices in a hundred languages and the kaleidoscope of sights - she felt associated. Sigil, where every corner promised the unknown, where dark alleys hid portals to other worlds and where every encounter could change the course of one's destiny ... She might not have been born here, but she had been a part of this city for a long time.

And so she knew enough of her way around to know that she had almost reached Sgillin's place. He had recently taken up residence in the ground floor of a small building near the inn Insomnium. Since his break-up with Lereia, she speculated, even though the half-elf hadn't really talked about it. But she had always been a good observer and could put two and two together. Apparently, the apartment had belonged to Morânia before, but she had given it to Sgillin as she had permanently moved into quarters at the Great Gymnasium. Giving away an apartment wasn't something one did every day, Krystall thought to herself, but it was in line with the dogma of a Lathander paladin and also proved that Morânia saw the half-elf as a friend. As a paladin of Milani, Krystall appreciated the bal'aasi's actions in any case. And as the leader of the Razor Angels, she was glad to know that Sgillin apparently had friends he could count on. Of course, in the meantime he had also gotten to know the small Anarchist cell, which he had unknowingly joined, had taken part in a few forays, when they had relieved rich merchants and clerks of a little jink. But it had only been a few months, whereas he had known most of the members of his Chosen group for much longer. She was already on her way to his front door when she spotted Sgillin. He was sitting in a nearby gazebo, smoking a pipe and watching the ebbing hustle and bustle on the street.

“Hello, handsome,” Krystall greeted him with a grin as she stepped up to his side.

He looked up, a little surprised, as she noted with satisfaction. “Where are you headed?” he asked with a smile.

“Well, to see you.” She sat down next to him without further ado.

Sgillin moved a little to the side to make room for her. “Oh, how I wished you would say that,” he replied with a wink.

She smiled. “However, I'm here on official business, so to speak ... sort of.”

“And just like that, the beautiful daydream is shattered.” The half-elf grimaced, sighing.

“I'll make up for it,” she promised. “We could go for a drink sometime soon, without obligations or prophecies.”

“That would be nice,” he replied with a smile.

“I look forward to it.” She meant it. Although she had no romantic interest in Sgillin, she did want to spend time with the newest member of her cell and the Chosen of the Revolutionary League on a regular basis, and on a personal level, too. The half-elf had been present at some of the Razor Angels' activities in the past few months, or had just come to the Alley of Dangerous Angles to hang out with the cell. But it was only in private, or at most in the presence of her friend Rianna, that they could talk about the Prophecy. Besides, Sgillin was and remained a well-integrated part of the other Chosen group. And as much as this suited the Anarchists as a whole, she still took care of binding him closely to the Razor Angels through regular meetings and conversations. But perhaps it was time to go one step further ... To steer the conversation in a corresponding direction, she asked casually: “Tell me, how have things been going for you lately?”

“Well, could have been better.” Sgillin shrugged. “But I can't really complain either. And you?”

“Oh, since the attack at the Court, all the cells lie low for a while,” she replied and offered him a couple of Elysian honey pearls. ”But we're still doing our thing. We don't resort to violence anyway ... Well, at least not that kind of violence.”

She grinned briefly and Sgillin had to smile. “I'm glad to hear that. I hope you stay on this path.”

“As long as I have a say in the Razor Angels, yes.” She playfully nudged him with her elbow. “And you should say you hope we stay on this path.”

“Right ... we.” He nodded. “But I don't have any say in the Razor Angels.”

“All the members have a say,” Krystall replied seriously. “Even if there is a leader, I would listen to everyone.”

“If that's the case, we have something over the other factions,” the half-elf stated.

Krystall raised her eyebrows. “You bet,” she said emphatically. “That's one of the points we're trying to make.”

“But I am curious now,” Sgillin admitted. “What is the reason for your visit here?”

She shrugged, feigning ignorance. “But we're just two ordinary, albeit attractive, young people sitting on an ordinary bench in the Market Ward,” she joked.

“Yes, you're absolutely right about the attractive part,” the half-elf replied with a grin.

She laughed heartily, but then dropped the nonsense. ”But kidding aside ... I thought it was time you got to know the others. You've seen them all at least once, and you've even talked to most of them. But still, I mean, really get to know them. I'm talking about the other Chosen, of course.”

“Oh.” Sgillin widened his eyes, but he seemed quite interested. “Now I'm really curious.”

She smiled. “Then come.”

They strolled from Sgillin's house towards the Guildhall Ward, their conversation mixing with the babel of voices of Sigil's various inhabitants. The architecture changed only slightly as they left the Market Ward behind, but it was a little more orderly and quiet here, as the guilds based in the ward were no longer working at this time. Nevertheless, the streets were still teeming with a motley mix of different races. A group of githzerai monks strode past, their movements fluid and purposeful, and a trio of Warforged, their bodies decorated with intricate runes, marched in perfect lockstep. Nearby, a serious-looking man talked to a group of aasimar in hushed tones, their conversation punctuated with occasional nods in the direction of the neighboring Clerk's Ward. Although less common than in the Market Ward, stalls could still be found on some street corners. One sold small clockwork creatures that scurried and fluttered about in cages. At another stall, a tiefling offered quills that wrote with shimmering, ethereal ink. He loudly assured that this ink was supposedly visible even to the spirits of the dead. Krystall wasn't sure why the spirits of the dead wouldn't be able to read writing done with normal ink, but she just shrugged in good humor. Who could possibly fathom the meaning of everything for sale in Sigil?

As they turned a corner, they witnessed a heated debate between two representatives of the Fraternity of Order and a Xaositect. But since it wasn't Krixxi, Krystall paid no further attention to the scene, headed for their destination instead. They were delayed once more when they had to give way to a sedan carried by four burly minotaurs. The magnificent cabin was decorated in Olympian style, the delicate curtains embroidered with laurel leaves and lightning symbols. When a sudden wind blew the light fabric aside, they caught a glimpse of the interior, where a woman with pink hair and three large black panthers were resting on silk cushions. Sgillin gave Krystall a questioning look, but she just shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea who the lady with the three big cats might be. Perhaps she was a member of a lesser prominent High House of Sigil, or she was a guest in the city. Since the sedan was moving in the direction of the Clerk's Ward and was clearly Olympian, she might be a guest of the Sensates or an emissary of the faction. As soon as the way was clear again, Krystall went down the last street that led her to her destination near the Great Gymnasium. When they arrived at the door of the House of Visions, Sgillin sighed deeply.

“Duh!” In response to her questioning look, he shrugged apologetically. “I have a certain dislike for this place.”

“Yes, it is a bit creepy,” Krystall admitted. ”But it obviously has a connection to you. The Chosen, that is.”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Sgillin replied a little discontentedly. “I've often wondered why this prophecy couldn't have started in a different place ... a nice tavern, for example.”

Krystall laughed. “Well, if even the Chosen don't know ...”

“Believe me, my dear ... as one of the Chosen, I don't even have the slightest idea what it's all about.“ He raised his hands in resignation.

“That will certainly calm the others,” Krystall said with a smile. “They feel much the same.”

Sgillin took a deep breath. ”Well, let's go inside then.”

Krystall nodded and opened the door, which was unlocked at the moment. She had only been here once before, when Rakalla had shown her the house. She could well understand Sgillin's feelings; the building was indeed oppressive. As always, a deep silence lay over the entrance hall, which was still completely empty. Only dark, gray stone walls and an uneven floor made of coarse tiles. There was a faint, distant smell of wilting roses, wherever that smell might come from. And in addition to all of this, something invisible, imperceptible seemed to dwell in these rooms, whose presence was nevertheless always to be felt and made the skin crawl. She looked around briefly to make sure that the gloomy room was actually empty.

“The others are probably in the back,” she then remarked.

Sgillin sighed quietly, but followed her without a word as she led him through the narrow corridor to the back room of the house. There they were, gathered as agreed: the vampire Zamakis, with her raven hair pinned-up, wearing a dark, elegant frock coat. She seemed reserved as always, not exactly unfriendly, but cool. Sgillin knew her, because he had dealt with her in the Mortuary during the Hive Strangler Murders. Next to the adlate stood the medusa Rakalla, clad in dark leather. Her snake hair moved slightly and hissed now and then, barely audible, and she wore glasses with two round, black lenses. Sgillin had seen her back then in the Black Sails when they had been on Eliath's trail. The half-elf obviously also recognized the minotaur standing next to her, perhaps rather by his horn ornaments than his face. It was Blackhoof, the factotum of the Bleakers, who had spoken to them about Eliath at the Gatehouse. He stood over two and a half paces tall and, like all minotaurs, looked awe-inspiring, although his gaze was calm and friendly. The fourth person, on the other hand, Sgillin had seen only briefly, also at the Gatehouse, as far as Krystall knew. The goblin woman Krixxi was just about three feet tall and had very large ears and bright pink hair, which betrayed the fey blood running through her veins. Next to her stood the perhaps strangest person in the room: the rooster. Figaro had a mechanical leg, wore welding goggles and carried a few other curious technical devices. He was almost as tall as Krixxi and he eyed Sgillin intently, as did the others. The half-elf waved to the group, which was unusual even for Sigil, and then gazed at the rooster in amazement.

“Oh, hello,” Krixxi called, waving excitedly.

“H ... hello everyone,“ Sgillin replied, still a little perplexed.

Krystall noticed his glance at the rooster, of course, and grinned.

“Nice to meet you,” Rakalla said. “Well, intentionally, that is.”

“Yes, same.” Sgillin nodded, but kept looking over at Figaro.

Krixxi was fidgeting around hectically and, as so often, couldn't keep still. “It's great that you're finally showing your face!” she babbled away. “This is so exciting!” She hurried towards Sgillin, followed by Figaro, the rooster with considerably more dignity than the goblin woman.

“That's right,“ the half-elf replied with a smile. “You have a fancy hairstyle.”

Krixxi giggled. “Oh, thank you!” She tried to tidy her tangled pink ponytail, but only made it worse.

“I know you,” Sgillin said with a smirk. ”I've seen you before.”

Krixxi widened her eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, at the ... what is it called again ...?” The half-elf frowned. “Madhouse?”

“Gatehouse,” Blackhoof explained, patiently and calmly.

Sgillin nodded. “Gatehouse, exactly. Thank you.”

“But it's a madhouse, too,” Krixxi remarked, snickering.

“No doubt about it,” Rakalla interjected dryly.

Blackhoof snorted softly at these comments, but apparently more amused than offended, and Sgillin looked over at him. “And we've also met before, haven't we?”

The minotaur nodded. “Yes, that's right. It was a while ago, but I remember.”

When the half-elf looked at Zamakis, she bowed slightly. “And we even worked together on the Hive Strangler Murders. Quite successfully, actually.”

“Yes, that was an exciting affair,” said Sgillin.

Figaro now lifted his mechanical leg. “It seems to me that I am the only one here who has not yet met the famous gentleman before. So, if I might ask for the honor of an introduction?“ He seemed to be speaking to Krixxi.

“What?” The goblin woman had obviously been somewhere else in her thoughts and now seemed to need a while to understand what her feathered friend wanted from her. “Oh, I see!” she then exclaimed. “Yes, sure. This is Figaro, an awakened rooster and talented mechanic.”

“I've saved the best for last,” the half-elf said with a grin. “My name is Sgillin, Mr. Figaro.”

The rooster scraped – quite literally – and bowed. “It's an honor.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Sgillin, in turn, took a perfect bow, which made Krystall smirk. The situation was amusing, but it was also nice to see that Sgillin had settled into Sigil so well that he could handle talking animals with mechanical limbs so confidently. “You're an awakened rooster?” he asked, interested.

Figaro nodded. “That's right. I was lucky enough to be awakened.”

“Have you always been a rooster?” the half-elf wanted to know.

Figaro was slightly confused by this question. “Um ... but of course I've always been a rooster. Since I hatched from an egg.”

Krixxi nodded eagerly at his words, and Sgillin raised his hands apologetically. “You'll have to forgive me for asking such questions ... as a Clueless, there's still a lot here that, let's say, amazes me.”

Krystall laughed. ”Well, Figaro is special, even in Sigil.”

“Oh, you do me too great an honor,“ the rooster replied, probably trying to sound modest. He nevertheless sounded quite proud. “You embarrass me.”

“And you are also a Chosen?’ Sgillin wanted to know.

“No, it wouldn't seem so,” Figaro answered, perhaps with a slight tinge of regret, as it seemed to Krystall. “However, my friend Krixxi, who has been close to me for many years, has decided to keep me informed about everything. Because we are inseparable, so to speak.”

Krixxi nodded energetically. “Figaro and I invent the best things only together and we also build them together!”

“Well, that's a matter of opinion,” Zamakis interjected, so matter-of-factly that it had a tang of sarcasm.

Krixxi pouted, but the vampire paid no attention to it, instead scrutinizing Sgillin. ”And now that the lost child has returned ... what now?”

Sgillin shrugged a little helplessly. “No idea. But apparently you're my actual troop ... somehow, anyway.”

“We assume so,” Rakalla confirmed. “Because without you, we're only four. And also because it just seems fitting.”

The half-elf frowned. ”You mean in terms of our ... allegiances?”

“Yes.“ The medusa nodded. “”Your faction is clearly closer to us than to the Harmonium. And also to the other factions in your group.”

“But apparently there's a reason why I'm with the others,” Sgillin said thoughtfully.

“Of course,” Krixxi replied immediately. “I mean, that's what the Anarchists do: be with someone else.”

“You surely mean the Revolutionary League,” Sgillin replied with a wink.

The goblin woman laughed heartily. “If you want to be formal.”

Krystall acknowledged the little exchange with a grin, and Sgillin laughed too, but then became more serious again. “And what are you able to do?”

“You mean our gifts?” Zamakis looked the half-elf up and down.

Sgillin nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

The Dustmen adlate looked at the others, and Rakalla shrugged. ”Well, there you go. If he belongs to us, I think he should know.”

“I agree,” Krixxi said.

Blackhoof gave a small snort, which Krystall by now knew was a sign of agreement. Zamakis, however, said nothing, and Sgillin immediately sensed the tension in the group. “Well, I can show you my gift,” he offered. “Unfortunately, I can't reveal the others’ without their consent.”

Krixxi twirled a strand of her pink hair. “Isn't that actually your job?” she asked, confused.

“No, I don't think so,” the half-elf replied kindly but firmly.

Krystall couldn't hold it against him. He had been friends with the others for a long time, but had only been a member of the Razor Angels for a few months. In her eyes, it spoke for him that he was not so quick to betray close friends. She smiled as she addressed the others. “As I said, Sgillin joined us by roundabout means.”

“Yes.“ Rakalla seemed undeterred. “You did mention something about that.”

Zamakis was less enthusiastic, and the leader of the Razor Angels could tell that despite the undead's emotional reserve. “To be honest, that's not exactly how I imagined things, Krystall.”

“Hm ...” Blackhoof scratched his head between his horns. “I'm a bit overwhelmed right now.”

“Well, I don't blame you if you don't want to tell me your gifts,” Sgillin assured.

Krystall sighed softly. She had feared that the matter of working together would not be so easy, and she had also assumed that Zamakis, in particular, would be skeptical. But before she could say anything, Krixxi hopped a few steps towards Sgillin. “Well, I would tell you.”

Zamakis' expression darkened, the ruby red of her eyes turning burgundy. “And I can only reiterate that this is not your decision alone, Xaositect.”

The goblin woman sighed theatrically. ”Man, everything's always so complicated here!”

“I'll show you my gift,“ Sgillin suggested. “I believe that we can only resolve this if the Chosen work together.”

“Ha!” Rakalla pointed at Sgillin. “Thank you! That's exactly my opinion.” She enthusiastically took off her glasses, and Blackhoof immediately took a step back.

“Careful ...” he snorted, clearly nervous.

When Sgillin saw the minotaur's reaction, he looked at Rakalla and also took a step back.

“Yes, all right,” the medusa appeased. “That was an accident last time.” She looked at Sgillin while slowly putting the glasses back on. ”Um, I usually have my gaze under control.”

Krystall noticed that the half-elf let out a sigh of relief. Who could blame him? “Oh, the medusa gaze,” he said. “I thought you wanted to demonstrate your gift.”

Rakalla laughed. ”Ha ha, no. My gift is more likely to destroy than to petrify. The point is: I agree. It's no use if we all want to do our own thing.”

“A sister in spirit ...” Sgillin smiled. “Finally. Yes, exactly. And what we have experienced so far has partly confirmed this theory.”

“What do you mean?” Zamakis asked, and a certain alertness flickered in her eyes.

“That we already had to rely on the cooperation with other Chosen to achieve a goal,” Sgillin explained. “And I'm sure our paths will cross again in the future.”

The adlate nodded measuredly. “We worked together on the Plane of Fire once. And with the other group too.”

“Right,” Sgillin replied. “I have my own theory about the Grave of the Factions that was mentioned in the House of Visions.”

Rakalla thoughtfully stroked the scales of a snake coiled over her right shoulder. “That it's the end for us – or for the factions – if we don't work together?”

“Something like that,” the half-elf said. “But more along the lines of us breaking down the factions’ boundaries.”

“Wouldn't be a bad thing,“ Krystall interjected.

“Well now!” Krixxi punched one of her small fists into the palm of her other hand. “Then let's finally say something concrete!”

The medusa nodded. ”I agree. Let's at least everyone say their name. The one in the Prophecy.”

“All right,” Zamakis explained unemotionally. ”I can go along with that.”

Krystall felt a certain relief at the way the conversation was going. After all, she had initiated this meeting, knowing full well that Zamakis was at least skeptical about it. She had managed to convince the adlate of the usefulness of such a gathering, but the vampire had probably expected Sgillin to reveal a little more about the other members of his group. For a brief moment, the leader of the Razor Angels had feared that the nascent beginning of a collaboration would be nipped in the bud. But now there was at least a point from which they could start.

Sgillin nodded as well. “All right, I'll start. I am, as you might expect ... the Traitor.”

“Great!” The goblin woman chuckled gleefully. “That fits perfectly.”

Figaro, standing next to her, turned his head and gently shook his impressive red comb. ”That was a little insensitive, Krixxi.”

She promptly put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, really?” She looked at Sgillin, concerned. “Sorry, no offense meant.”

But the half-elf just shrugged, grinning. ”I'm used to it.”

“Phew ...” Krixxi laughed with relief and took a quick glance around, but didn't wait long. “All right, now me. I'm the child whose blood makes the razor vine bloom. I'm the one through whose veins flows the blood of the gods. I am the Fool.” She paused for effect and looked very proud. ”Cool, huh?”

Sgillin actually seemed enthusiastic. “Indeed!”

The goblin woman jumped from one leg to the other like a little child and Figaro looked at her so proudly, as if he had written the Prophecy himself. Once again, Krystall smiled at the dynamic between these two so very different friends.

”All right, I'm next.” Rakalla pushed her glasses back a little. “I am the child who destroys in order to create something new. She who closes the eternal cycle. I am the Destroyer.” One could tell from her tone of voice that she seemed to like that.

“Ah.” Sgillin smiled. ”The Surtr of the Chosen.”

The medusa frowned. “Do you mean the giant god?”

“Yes, the destroyer of worlds.”

Rakalla grinned broadly. “That sounds good.”

“Well, I don't know ...” Blackhoof snorted softly and wiggled his ears. Krystall knew by now that this was a sign of worry.

Rakalla had to laugh. “Come on, you know I'm an Observer. Now you.”

“All right.” Blackhoof turned to Sgillin. “I am the child who has the gift of healing. He who eases the pain of the ages. I am the Healer.”

“Fascinating!“ The half-elf seemed very enthusiastic to learn more about the roles and gifts of the others, and Blackhoof snorted with satisfaction.

“And now you, Zamakis!” Krixxi chattered excitedly.

The vampire seemed to sigh slightly, but she hid it quite successfully in typical Dustman manner. “Very well. I am the child who knows what moves the dead. She who speaks with the passed and has power over death. I am the Wailer.”

“Creepy, right?” Krixxi whispered.

“A little, yes,“ Sgillin admitted.

Zamakis arched one of her dark eyebrows. “Death is not something we need to fear,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“I may be so bold as to see it somewhat differently,” Figaro replied politely and with the same measured dignity as the adlate.

It amused Krystall once more that the only one in the group who could keep up with Zamakis' solemn habits was a rooster.

Sgillin seemed to share Figaro's feelings. “Yes, I think that's a matter of opinion,” he remarked and then looked at Krystall again. “And how did you get to know each other?”

She smiled. “Well, the other factions all have a factol who interferes. Even in the Free League, Bria is in on it. You were in the other group from the beginning, and I assume that it should remain that way for the time being. But I still wanted to be in touch with the others, so I made contact.”

Rakalla grinned. “Or to put it another way: the Anarchists always need special treatment.”

“Hey!” Krystall raised a warning finger in the direction of the medusa, but had to laugh as well.

“But why?” Sgillin asked. “How did you know that they were Chosen?”

“Well, we had also found part of the Prophecy,” the leader of the Razor Angels explained. ”It said something about the gifts. So I kept my eyes open. And you know that the Revolutionary League has many sources of information. That's how we found you, too.”

She winked at him and Sgillin smiled. “I see. And have you already told them about my gift?”

“No,” Krystall replied. “I wanted to leave that to you.”

Sgillin nodded and turned to the others. “Since you have told me your names and I want to prove that I am really serious about working together, I will now show you my gift. As I said, I won't hold it against you if you still want to keep yours to yourselves. We haven't known each other that long, after all.” His eyes turned to Krystall. “Would you assist me?”

Krystall sensed a hint of unease at his request. They had already tested a body swap, and it had worked. So she knew what she was getting into, and she trusted Sgillin. But it remained a strange experience that was beyond her control and therefore made her alert. But she quickly covered up these feelings with a smirk. “But don't do anything stupid,“ she warned jokingly.

“Just relax,” the half-elf replied with a grin.

“That's easy for you to say,” the leader of the Razor Angels retorted, while Krixxi impatiently hopped from one foot to the other. But then she fell silent and let Sgillin do his thing.

“There is something I forgot to mention …” he explained, focusing on her. “I am the child who swaps mind and spirit ... He who sees through others' eyes and wears a thousand masks.”

“Now that sounds like something …” Rakalla said, impressed.

When Sgillin focused on her, Krystall instinctively wanted to build a protective mental wall. But she knew that it wouldn't work if she did that ... a reassuring thought that helped her to let go and relax. When she no longer actively resisted it, the swap worked – and suddenly she saw herself, just as she had the first time. There she stood, with wavy brown hair, in knee-high leather boots and a red-embroidered doublet over her white shirt, her rapier at her side.

She looked over at herself, now in Sgillin's body, and grinned. “Well?“ she asked, or rather the half-elf in her body asked. “How does it feel to be me?”

She looked down at herself – or rather at Sgillin – and saw the ranger's inconspicuous black clothing, familiar and yet strange now that she was wearing it. “Once again, it's a bit ... creepy,” she admitted.

Sgillin looked down at her body with interest, his gaze obviously wandering briefly to her cleavage. “Well ...” He grinned. “I wouldn't call that creepy.”

Krystall didn't hold it against him and laughed a little. ”Sorry, you know ... But I'm a man ... this is really weird.”

“Whoa!“ Krixxi made big eyes. “Do you really have switched bodies now?”

Krystall saw Sgillin nod in her body and Figaro pawed the ground. “Hm. What gift could suit an Anarchist better,” the rooster stated appreciatively.

“Does it work on everyone?” Zamakis asked with interest.

“Unfortunately not,” Sgillin replied. “The factols, for example, are an exception. It may depend on the mental strength of the target. They can block me.”

“That's reassuring,” the vampire replied calmly. ”Although it's probably rather disappointing for an Anarchist. By the way, we've already figured out that part about mental strength.”

“Really?” Sgillin tugged briefly at Krystall's shirt sleeve and looked at the buttons on it. “How so?”

“We suspect,” Blackhoof explained, ”that the gifts - or some of them - can only be used on those who are no stronger in spirit than you are. Or stronger in soul. We haven't quite figured that out yet.”

Sgillin nodded. “It didn't work with the other Chosen at the beginning either. But now it works, as long as they allow it.”

Krystall was eyeing the half-elf's hands, running her – or his - fingertips over the typical calluses of an archer on Sgillin's shooting hand with interest.

Krixxi clapped enthusiastically. ”You have to do that with me when everything is a bit more relaxed!”

“Absolutely,“ the half-elf assured. “I'd like to test whether it works with you guys, anyway.”

“Oh yes, me, me, me!” Krixxi excitedly held her hand up in the air, like an elements grade schoolchild.

“I can only use the ability once a day so far,” Sgillin explained regretfully.

“Oh, what a pity,” the goblin woman said, but it didn't dampen her spirits. “Next time, then!”

“It worked with your brother,” the half-elf explained to Blackhoof. “It happened in the Blood Pit. Although it was unintentional at the time.”

“Yeah, he told me a pretty twisted story back then,” the minotaur grumbled. “I thought he'd had drunk too much bumbat.”

Sgillin grinned. “No, no, he didn't. But let him believe that.” Then Krystall watched her turning her head to herself. “Do you want to go back?”

“Um ... yes, please,” she said. “It's interesting, but somehow a bit too creepy.”

She felt Sgillin break the connection between them, it went dark around her for a moment – then she was back in her own body. She sensed a certain relief as she reached for her rapier with one hand and ran her other hand through her long hair.

“I took good care of everything,” Sgillin grinned.

“And now?” Rakalla asked in her direct way. “I would suggest we sort out the situation with Zamakis and our factols, and then we can meet again and - hopefully - show our gifts too.”

“Oh yes, that would be great,” Krixxi said eagerly.

Zamakis nodded. ”So be it. You can find us via Krystall or we can contact you via her.”

“I'd love to introduce you to the others, too,” Sgillin explained. “But they'll have to discuss that with their factols ... that's a real nuisance in this city.”

“Too right,” Krystall agreed.

The half-elf seemed to be thinking. ”Now that I know you, I could contact you directly ... or is that inconvenient with regard to your factions?”

The minotaur shrugged his mighty shoulders. “It doesn't matter for us.”

“The same goes for us,” Zamakis explained.

Krixxi giggled. “We all do what we want anyway.”

“Ditto,” Rakalla agreed. “Pretty much.”

Sgillin sighed deeply. ”Oh man, I'm definitely in the wrong group.”

His frustration elicited a well-intentioned laugh from the medusa. “Take comfort in the fact that you are actually in our group. It's just that the Anarchists are always on a wayward path.”

Sgillin nodded. “I guess that's right. Good, then I will choose the unofficial channels ... if my factol agrees.” He winked teasingly at Krystall.

“Don't you dare calling me something like that!” she replied, laughing. “Yes, go ahead, do as you please.”

“Very well.” Sgillin grinned and then turned to the other Chosen. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“We too!” Krixxi replied, beaming.

Rakalla nodded. ”Indeed. Take care of yourself for now.”

“Always,“ the half-elf assured, and then looked at Krystall. “What do you say? The business part is over. Do you still stand by your word? I mean, about having a drink?”

Krystall smiled. “I'd love to, if you are free.”

 

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played January 4, 2013