First Netherworld Post

   Occupying an open patch of land on the northwestern periphery of the Crucible Town's hub is the Town's own Hall, a mottled stone building of two stories. Its glass framed doors and Tudor arched windows gave it a rustic charm. Shadows from branches that hung overhead shaded it, the massive tree from which they were born towered over the hall, planting its roots firmly in the ground behind it. The sight of such a tree wouldn't have been especially odd in the nearby forest, but it stood out quite plainly within the Town's hub. On the Town Hall's lawn, an elderly man clothed in a long sleeved ornate green and yellow robe could be heard addressing a small group of seated men and women.

   The wind was blowing softly, rustling leaves above. Rays of light from the still rising sun poked through its canopy, shining on the beings below. The group sat cross legged on grass still wet with dew in a hushed silence, listening intently to what the grandly dressed white haired elder had to say. He spoke in a stern tone, his voice deep and imposing, yet telling of his apparent age.

   "The underlying natural order of the universe. The laws that guide the stars of the cosmos, the judgement of nature, and the societies of man. This is the Dao. Whether it be your way, road, path, course, speech, or method. These are all in and of themselves Daos." The elder paused for a moment to ruminate on his own words, cupping his hands behind his back as he wore a frown. The wrinkles on his light bronze colored face gave away that this was common occurrence.

   "Remember. The goal of what I have taught and will continue teaching is not meant to harm mine or your adversaries. Neither is it meant to be something to protect you or your allies with. What I teach are merely the foundations of your future way of life. I fully expect for you all to be honing and applying the Martial Daos even on your own time." He snorted, saying his next words with discernible contempt and perhaps a hint of envy. "Even the supremely talented will fail to achieve their Dao if you let your aptitude lead you to depravity and laziness."

   It was about 7 years ago when this elder, Boetius Millicent, had awoken in the Netherworld. He was full of regrets at that time, his memories of being slowly dismantled and pulverized by that sect elder for what had felt like hours fresh in his mind. If he had stopped being so vehemently against joining a proper sect or similar organization, wouldn't he have avoided such a fate? But he knew in his heart that he wasn't particularly talented nor of the mind to brown nose and therefore wouldn't have been high on anyone's priority lists when it came to resource allocation. It was likely that he wouldn't have been able to live as long as he did without taking the risks that he did. So how was he to correct his mistake in this second chance at life?

Boetius thought to create a sect. If he had people under his command, wouldn't he not only be able to preserve his life, but turned the tables on his past situation? Thus, when he had happened across the Crucible Town, he didn't waste much time in forcibly evicting what previously passed for its management. It seemed the town wasn't entirely prepared for such a conflict, as there wasn't much of a reaction to the development. Though the sentiment changed by quite a bit after Boetius had personally enforced something of a mandatory conscriptment shortly thereafter to drag a intact fully grown tree he had judged to have potential to become a magical treasure halfway through the massive forest. He had dragged nearly a hundred people into the event that ended up lasting over three months after various difficulties. Said tree being the one that currently hovered over the Town Hall.

He'd also taken personal control over the guardsmen, teaching any promising members and recruits one or two secret arts as well as a cultivation technique that focused on the regeneration of the Qi cycle, [Charybdis Breath], its successive transformations working to support that aspect. Though the technique reached rank 3, Boetius took a note out of the books of sects and would withhold rank 3 from those whose loyalty he found questionable. He could have tried teaching his own technique, but this was done in hopes that studying the 3rd transformation of this technique would help open his own path to rank 6.

Presently, the elder's expression softened for but a moment as he gazed at the group he was guiding. In the Netherworld, cut off from the resources of his previous world, their advancement was as good as his own. Only if they broke through, would he have a chance at achieving his Dao!

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It had been some time since Odius had been walking aimlessly within the Nether. His head hung while stepping through the streets of this lake town, a crow perched stiff on his shoulder. The shackles among his wrists gave a light jingle with each step. He didn't have any destination. Coming to the Nether was a confusing event for him. Not knowing himself or the past was hard enough waking in a land where pieces of memories had no discernible recollection made it even harder. He didn't even have a clear goal or desire to commit to something. The only thing so far was this crow.

He had hoped that this place would have something for him to start with, but was not finding anything that stuck out to his mind. Not that it would be easy, as he was hollow inside. Emotions and mentality were not filled with anything in particular. Thus, was the growing stance of Nihilism in his heart. Though, that thought dashed away quickly when a stern voice could be heard from the distance where he was within town. He wasn't close enough, but he was able to catch the words 'martial' and 'dao'. "A martial artist? Giving a speech?" Of course, that would seem strange when going through lifeless topography for a long period of time only to realize a strange land to live in.
He walked towards the sound, finding a brittle stone home of what appeared to be a once uprooted tree? It was hard to tell, and Odius was not wanting to question too much of this world so early on. Rows of seats were laid across the front with members of men and women within the pews listening to this man speak. He didn't want to sit among the rest nor did he perceive if it would be acceptable to. He only stood within the back, listening carefully to the older robed gentleman speak. Maybe if he just stood behind the back seats, it would not cause an issue considering he was just some walking bystander.

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   The arrival of the gaunt figure warranted a silent nod from Boetius as well as a few head turns from the modest assembly. Placed at the head of the group were several individuals clad in iron reinforced leather armor, though the majority wore things like stockings and sleeveless tunics, including those that sat in front of newcomer. The elder scrutinized his face for a second, clearly trying to recall it, but quickly moved on. It was a regular occurrence for people of the town to come and sit in for a class or two, so Boetius didn't mind it for long. The elder in colorful robes drew the attention back to himself with a light cough.

  "Before I continue with today's session, does anyone have any questions? Perhaps you have one, child?" He pointed a finger out in the arrival's general direction, letting a short lull pass before he continued. "Mitch Norwood," he said, rolling the name out slowly. "Don't think that you can hide your misdeeds from your master just by sitting a little farther away. Come."

  A fair-skinned fellow with shiny black hair, wearing the same armor as those in the front, nervously stood up from the middle of the gathering. He complied, walking as if he had heavy weights on his feet while clutching his left arm in a tight embrace.
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  The young man yelped as Boetius wrenched his arm from his hold, unveiling the bruised and discolored limb to sight, a number of gasps ringing out. "Don't resist," he barked. Formless spiritual sense flooded out from the elder's dantian, from below the navel, enveloping and seeping into the lad's arm, giving Boetius a clearer picture of the issue.

  He scowled, "Two fractures, three blocked blood vessels, poor circulation." The elder took a deep breath, irritation infecting his voice. "Although I do encourage the pursuit of the Martial Dao, the [Fisherman's Duress] is not something to be used carelessly. Especially not for the sake of impressing that lady friend of yours," he chastised. Motioning to the stone building behind them, the elder instructed, "Go see if we have some ginkgo lying around. It'll help with your blood flow. If there isn't any, you'll just have to go out and forage for it yourself."

  The fair-skinned young man nodded, trudging off to the mottled stone building like a wounded animal. Boetius turned his gaze back to the crowd, "If no one else has anything, I'll have my disciples," the elder waved his hands, indicating the armored front row, "take you all through some basic movements. If you're new, you can look forward to having this Primordial Daoist personally enlighten you on discovering Qi later on."

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Odius had his eyes fixated on the child at the front, being chastised for the misuse of something. It didn't entirely make sense to him, though he did understand that someone was injured. He moved from the back seats, curving around the people that were paying attention to the man speaking. As the boy tried to go near the side of the building for some reason or another, he cut him off in his path.

"Ah!" came out of his mouth, moving with a quick response to Odius being infront of him. The form of the attack was good, but the sturdy body of an undead would not be so easily pushed. His arm came up to block the attack, keeping the boy's arm perfectly still in motion from stopping the blow. In a quick motion, the other arm came up with what Odius could recall was injured and grabbed it firmly. A dark glow immitted, and they both stood locked in place for some moments. "You should protect yourself better." came from his mouth, his hand slowly grazing off the boy's shirt cuff. The child looked and saw his arm was in much better condition than before. Not completely healed but no where near as bad as it was earlier.

Odius stepped passed him, and watched Boetius instruct those under his care.
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  The boy's bright black eyes widened in wonder. The magically able weren't an extremely rare thing, and this was true even more so for the Crucible Town as it was closely located with a veritable gateway for foreign visitors, The Forest. Still, to meet one like this was a cause of great surprise for most, and the youth was no exception. The gleam in the boy's eyes changing from one of surprise to one of admiration, he bowed in thanks, stating his name, "Mitch Norwood."

  Not including the boy, there were six of such armored individuals sitting in the front row. They rose from their positions and guided the back rows into six different groups of 6-7 people, hearty green grass crunching underfoot. They handed out dark brown wooden training staffs to those involved, the silence breaking with a soft clamor of staffs whipping through the air. One could hear a cacophony of phrases like "Move your foot a bit', 'Don't twist your hips so much", and "Put your back into it".
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Odius's focus was taken from the old man, back to the boy he just assisted. The kid spoke in a sporadic and odd way suddenly. It took a moment, but he realized he was giving his name. It has been awhile since anyway has give Welsh the time of day or even tried to converse with him. For a moment, he wanted to say his own, but became conflicted. There was his 'old' name, but that was no longer him. Well, atleast it felt like he didn't have the right to be referred to as he used to be.

"Odius," is finally what came out of his mouth, thinking this new persona he accepted was suitable enough. Though, he couldn't find what other words to echo. They seemed to have customs that were beyond his knowledge, and healing the boy's arm, to himself, was just something that felt like had to be done. Odius was growing tired of watching the group train and wanted more out of the situation, but a wandering soul couldn't be picky. He asked, "Why do they all practice so heavily?" It might have seemed like an odd question, but this group didn't come off as a school nor did their physical apperances come off like they were greatly related in a social sense. So the qiestion was more as why there was a martial arts session in town to begin with.
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  The youth flashed a lively grin, eager to please the gentleman that gave him the much needed helping hand. The previous gloom that hung over him was like memory of years past. "Oh, them?" He questioned, words beginning to charge out of his mouth like they were racing. "To hang out? Health? Self defense? Nothing much dangerous happens out here besides a couple o' stray animals and some drunkards, so it beats me. Wasting their time on not working to fill their stomachs, is what I say."

Leaning in to a careful whisper, he proceeded, "I'm here because the gig pays well enough, I thought it was cool, and Master Boetius," he offhandedly aimed a finger at the white haired old man adorned in fancy robes, "said something getting immortality. I don't believe a word he has to say about living forever, but I feel do feel a little stronger since I started."
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The assembly's practice session came to an gradual stop as the red winged man carrying another young man neared and landed on their location. Even in the Crucible town, magic users couldn't be considered common, and one that could fly to such a degree was even rarer. Thus, they were a cause of great discussion, a hushed whisper overtaking the crowd. Who were they? Where did they come from? Why were they here? A particularly nasal voice audibly voiced the question as to whether they were a couple.

It wasn't clear who started it, but one footstep after another led one to follow one, the congregation grew closer to get a clearer look at these new guests, halting at a respectable distance of around 10-15 feet as it appeared that they were doing something important. An notable commoner among them, a feeble old man that appeared to be on his last moments of life, seemed as if he wanted to stand uncomfortably close to the red winged man to get a good sniff, though was stopped by someone that looked like she was his daughter.
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One could hear a distinct voice full of cheerful laughter a notch louder than the mutterings of the common folk. "Excuse me, pardon me! Lemme get through!" A fair-skinned youth clad in iron reinforced leather armor pushed and prodded his way past the hesitant mass of people. The lad known as Mitch didn't waste a second, asking with a grin, "Odius, ya did yer heal thing? How's he?" Though the pungent stench of blood forced him to shut his mouth, his stomach threatening to give up breakfast.

Yet this question was all it took to break the dam that held what was on the tips of the commoner's tongues back, a torrent of chatter quickly following the youth's.

"That's amazing! How did you do that!?" a gruff middle-aged man praised.

"I'm gonna fly like you when I grow up!" a little girl cried, fawning eyes fixed on Connor.

"Have you two done *it* yet?" questioned the nasal voice, making a reappearance.

"Who is he? I don't recognize him!" yelled a swarthy lady, pawing her way to the front of the pack.

"I know him. Last time I saw him in town that kid was with him," replied the feeble old man, his mouth of missing teeth and gums in full view. "They sure do grow up fast," he said with a euphoric look on his face, apparently having gotten a mouthful of the Sanguine Slayer's aftertaste.

The whole crowd wasn't focused on Connor however, Odius received attention as well. Healing was an impressive feat that would drive many mad.

"What was that glowing thing?" yipped a somewhat potbellied missus.

"Did that Mitch boy say healing? Can you have a look at my knee?" said a tall and lanky fellow.

"Is your arm okay, Odius?" Mitch added, having no intent on easing the situation.
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Odius held up his hands, surprised at the sudden attention he was getting. Even the young boy, Mitch, was in the crowd speaking with him. Was this really so uncommon? These lands were weird. He flexed his wrist to the boy, showing he was completely fine. "Yes. I'm durable." The crowds continued to surround both him and winged character. Even the winged man was troubled, and it seemed like there was no way to settle this. Well, without having to make a scene. Maybe that could control this crowd. His arms extended, beckoning those around him.
"My will is to ease sickness and harm. The knight against the sins which plague men shudders to my blade. Bring me your ill, bring me your fears, tell me your enemies, and I will cleanse the plague against you!"
Even when trying to act out a speech and talk himself up, his inflection still seemed void of emotion.

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Flight was inevitably far flashier than Odius's actions, so his declaration fell on little more than a few ears. Yet this only served to drive it to a more personal level, even visibly resonating with the lengthy fellow. One could tell from the dumbstruck expression on his face that when he went home today, he would tell his friends and family about this moment, reciting Odius's speech word for word.

Before the crowd could throw yet another pile of questions on, a light cough infused with thick qi resounded, putting a lid on their excitement. The cough was soft, but even so was amplified enough to silence the congregation. The rabble parted like the sea, opening a path to a white haired elder, his ornate green and yellow robes in stark contrast with the attire of the common folk.

The elder took his time coming through, his hands cupped behind his back. He positioned himself in front of the crowd, a good 7-8 feet from where Connor and Odius were standing. "Welcome. This Primordial Daoist's name is Boetius Millicent. To whom does my class owe the pleasure?" he asked, a hint of anger brewing within his voice.

Around this time, dawn was giving way to the light of day, the sun finding a high perch in the clear sky. A grassy plot of land the mottled stone town hall sat on was set bit out of the way of the town's hubbub, but one could see the it coming to life. People were walking to and fro buildings, the smell of cooking food wafting out. A couple of merchants were preparing their goods on a shoddily built wooden stand, ringing a bronze bell and pandering to possible customers. There were even a few children running about flaying some odd looking toy about.

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Boetius took silent note of the magical pressure Connor gave off. Was the Netherworld capable of creating someone of this caliber? He didn't think so, as he had been trying for a few years now. Though he wasn't intimidated - He knew that the quantity or special qualities of one's Qi pools didn't decide everything. The specialty of his own cultivation base was rooted in its sturdiness, rather than strength or magnitude; Something not easily noticeable from a glance. It was this that had allowed him to guarantee his life against those he considered his betters for all those years.

"Eldigan. Odius. You can consider me to be the authority over this territory." The elder paused for a moment, directing a hand towards the mottled stone building that stood in the backdrop. "That's the Town Hall. It doubles as my place of residence."
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Boetius gave a cordial nod to Odius. "Both this town and I welcome outsiders. Especially respectful ones like yourself." Without missing a beat, the elder frowned at Connor.  Speaking, the displeasure was undisguised in his voice. "I was going to give you some face and invite you to wait, but if you're done interrupting my class, then you may leave."

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He scowled at that, shaking his head. "One who teaches but openly displays hostility seems ill fit for the position. If my arrival is enough to break your composure I can't begin to wonder what might happen if something more were to happen." He replied, oblivious to the now dropping of his glamours. As if on cue after his words, the markings below his eyes appeared, his horn on the left side of his skull burst into existence, and the skin on his left arm decayed to a light gray color.

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Boetius was exasperated. He didn't mind the words so much - Similar things had been said to him before when he ousted its previous management. It was the reveal of his. The common folk didn't understand the peculiarities of battles beyond the mundane; If he tried to send him off now they'd think him weaker. It'd affect the moral of his guardsmen before he could even send them into an actual battle. The only solution was to respond to the transformation in kind.

His ornate green and yellow robes billowed outwardly as his cultivation base churned, sending massive amounts of qi shuttling through his meridians. Blood pumped his veins full, his flesh bulging with vitality. Broad stalks of semitransparent pale green qi sprouted from his pores, splitting off into thin rigid threads that enveloped Boetius from head to toe in accordance to the first stage of his self created [Threefold Bulwark Pelt] defensive technique, the ground hair.

The spectacle of the two caused the mass of people to back off in alarm. "Mitch," the elder called, startling the youth that was trying to blend in. "Please escort our guest off the premises," Boetius requested. The kid in question chuckled nervously, looking like he was caught with his pants down.

"Uh, uh, uh. Sure, Master Boetius," the youth responded, full of trepidation. Mitch crept towards Connor as if he was a disloyal partner afraid of wooden floorboards creaking and setting off the other.

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Connor raised a brow then, figuring this was a threat. He sprouted the wings again, withdrawing his left hand from it's pocket. The grotesque and half-healed limb clenching as he grinned. "I don't think anyone will be escorting me anywhere. I'm not one to start useless arguments, but I will not be one pushed around." Connor's left hand reached up, the jagged claws of his demonic limb piercing his chest. He punctured his skin easily, inflicting a self-wound on his chest. He knew his magic was mroe than enough to cause onlookers to retch. Blood magic had a finesse to it, along with a shock factor agianst those who had never witnessed it. Withdrawing his palm, coaxing his blood out of his chest in a thin form. It undulated in the air for a few moments before solidifying. A plain red bastard sword was clutched in his hand then, the sunlight glinting off the crystaliized sanguine substance. He mildly wondered how the crowd and Boetius might react.

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A number of horrified gasps were drawn out from the crowd as the Sanguine Slayer committed self-mutilation. Mitch himself was no better, witnessing flesh give way to claw in close detail, blood spilling from the gash. It was a difficult matter to find those experienced in the bloodshed of warfare in the Crucible Town, and even after training on the guard force for a number of years, Mitch couldn't be counted among them. His stomach that was still unsettled from the earlier whiff of blood succumbed, the youth stumbling to his knees and spewing his morning meal upon grass below.

The elder's gaze turned grave. "This Eldigan practices the demonic arts?" he questioned aloud. Though, what Boetius meant by demonic arts was techniques that were demonic in mentality. They were as ruthless to oneself as one's enemies. He'd met a few of such practitioners in the grounds of the [Wayan Forest]. They were always harder to deal with than others of their rank. Why? Not because they were stronger, but because one never knew to what extent they were willing to go! Trading flesh for flesh, bones for bones, and blood for blood in equal measure! One didn't even have to mention the more nefarious means of combat, like employing the use of poisons, bugs, and souls. Although Boetius believed in his defense, he was reluctant to fight someone like this.

Still, the elder wasn't willing to be outdone yet. Tapping deep within his dantian, three differing spiritual intents of powerful magical beasts laid dormant. There were two cards to play here, the [Milk Willow Gazelle] crossed off as he wasn't willing to drop his defense in the face of a blade. His flows of qi and blood slowed like muddy water as Boetius allowed the intent of the [Black Ironwood Sloth] to seep into his cultivation base. His pale green qi solidified, turning into a black and silver pattern. This caused the elder to appear as if he were a shiny Sasquatch. If one was sensitive to the presence of souls, they might sense the remnants of one now flowing within his qi.

Boetius was hoping this would end soon. Although the Town Hall was a ways away from the center, it was far from out of sight. The situation was already starting to catch eyes from the town folk going about their day.

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he raised a brow, shaking his head. "Practice? Old geezer... I am a demon, through and through. Born on the bloddiest battlefields and molded into a man unbound by any right of mortals. Your energy reeks of one long dead. Tell me, do you consume souls like a close friend of mine?" His knees were bent now, stance shifted to that of a man ready to go to battle. Though he really did hope through his bravado he'd get this bellyaching old man to back down. Then, a thought struck him. Perfect....
His posture loosened for a moment, and is voice changed. It had the twinge of a younger girl, no older than twelve at most. "Hehehe... Hahahha! You let me out!? You idiot, I'm going to eat!" His grotesque right hand began clawing at his face. The bony, sinewy digits raking at his cheek skin. Rivoulets of blood running down his cheek, and he licked them right up. "Old man... You look tasty. Lemme just have a bite!" Connor had given up slight reins of his body to another demon in his conciousness, knowing full well if she went too far he'd be able to reel here back almost instantly. Still, the Rose posed good enough scare tactics for most.

Once Connor was using Rose, Indigo instantly knew what he was going for. But was it enough to discourage the old man that confronted him? The old man seemed daring, and that was for a good reason.
Yet, he shook his head in denial that Connor would be a demon. He did not know what they looked like and knew he should not judge by only their deeds. He glared at Connor, beginning to question his sincerity that made him Connor's "debtor".
He threw away his bias and approached them, scowling at them with his hands pocketed, sick of his own passive behaviour. "Can I ask you both what this is about?" His eyes scanned the two. "You are very willing to fight..." He mentioned to the old man. "...Though he is not willing." He then looked to Connor. "Shall we ease this tension? He did help me get here, and I do not think he has any evil tendencies, no matter how demonic he seems."

Odius stood next to Mitch, raising an arm down and pulling the boy to his feet. Not to be mean, but to shake him out of his shock. Odius was a strong one, so lifting off the ground by the shirt collar and to his own legs standing was an effortless feat.
"You need to watch this." he spoke, emotionless and fixated on both the older man and winged character. "There are forces out there like this. You might have to come face-to-face with them. Think of this as being prepared for that day." Sure, Odius wasn't the teacher of fighting. He was more a person that hardened minds. To him, one half of the battle was confidence alone. If this random event was to occur, he atleast wanted it to be productive. Odius didn't plan on stepping in unless it got out of hand, his longsword staying sheathed and patient.

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Mitch muttered a word of thanks to Odius in between retches. Unwilling to let the magic man down, he did his best to keep his watery eyes trained on the encounter.

The elder's frown deepened at Connor's change of voice. What game was this supposed demon playing at? Though it didn't move Boetius; As long as it wasn't visual, he didn't feel the need to match it.

The elder didn't take action despite the Sanguine Slayer's provocation. When the [Black Ironwood Sloth]'s spiritual intent was active, his movement would be impaired to a large degree by the solidified qi barrier as well as his slow blood flow. Moving may give away that information, therefore he didn't. His intention was to take a blow or two from his opponent to help judge his strength, relying on the rigid protection the [Black Ironwood Sloth] offered.

It was then that the boy came back onto the elder's radar. He recognized him to be the young man that Eldigan had brought over. Was this boy's words another game being played by this demonic practitioner? Despite his thoughts, he played along. It would be in his interest if this situation could be resolved peacefully. He didn't want to let the world know all of his cards and wasn't keen on trading injuries.

"Both this town and I welcome those of the myriad races. Natives and outsiders included," Boetius responded, nodding at Indigo. "You are welcome to either join my class in exploring the Dao or wait for today's session to end." Glaring at the Sanguine Slayer, he continued, "I do not take kindly to interruptions, but I can give you some face and forget about this matter."
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Connor's glare stifened at Boetius's last comment, his voice shifting again. As if Connor were playing round-robin with who held the reins of his body. The depth of his voice befit that of a demon lord, an undertone of crackling within it. "You think I need to have the forgiveness of some worm!? Were I not trapped inside this wretched husk inside this inescapable realm I would have ground you to dust and poured your blood into my well. Your agony would sustai- hrk.. ggahhh." He rubbed his forehead again, sighing. "Nope, too dark father. Too dark... Well, that failed. Let me make it clear now since you won't be shoved off so easily. I don't care what sort of class you were teaching, nor if my arrival interrupted or not. I don't trust that you're some sagely tutor only here for the betterment of a people who haven't known anything other than this small abode. Think you're in control all you like, but know this. There are games being played here on so many levels and you're blind to all of them. I suggest you retire for your own good. Old bones make not the dogs of war, it's why the governors of Sparta were always the oldest men who had clawed their way through war's bloodiest of gardens."
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Boetius laughed grimly, his temple throbbing in anger. He had thought earlier that this kid was just feeling indignant because of his earlier slight. Now he knew! This bloody kid had come here with the aim of inciting him! "Thank you for your 'kind' intentions," the elder responded, trying to keep himself from doing something he might regret. "However, you needn't be concerned. I've gone through my own fair share of trials and tribulations to reach my current heights."

As for what this Eldigan had mentioned about there being higher level games? Boetius didn't pay it any mind. He was already doing everything he could to unlock the road to rank 6. In the face of absolute power, what did it matter what games others were playing? If there truly were groups that could send people on par with the Sanguine Slayer to his doorstep at any time just for the sake of infuriating him, then this Primordial Daoist may as well just self destruct and destroy his Dao right now!

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Mitch coughed weakly, wiping the remains of his puke off his chin. Checking both ways, relief was apparent on his face. "T-Thanks again, Odius. I don't think anyone is paying us any mind right now. That was really embarrassing. You think Master Boetius would be mad? I think so.  I just could *not* believe someone would do that to himself." Every word came out faster than the last, the youth seeming to regain vigor with every syllable. "Say, you from around here, Odius? I feel like I would've at least heard about a magic man like you if you were," he questioned, only now taking a breath.
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Mitch listened to Odius, nodding solemnly when he mentioned his past, though was struck dumb at the final question. Sheepishly smiling, he rubbed the back of his head with his good arm. "Ahaha, you caught me. Mah pa is a laborer, he was always busy'n himself out somewhere in town to help me and mah ma. Didn't have time to take me out huntin'. I support the house now though, so pa can be at home with ma sometimes."

He speaking pace was subdued when he spoke of his parents, but quickly revved back up as to topic changed. "Master Boetius has some drills out in the forest every now and then, so I'm a little alright with seein' them furry critters get bloodied up, but people are bit different." Pointing to his still bruised left arm, he said with a laugh. "It's fair game if I can't see it."

Stepping closer, Mitch rested his bruised limb around Odius's neck. "Speaking of ma and pa, you wanna come meet 'em when I'm off duty? You can stay the night if you aint got no place to go. We'd be happy to have ya," he offered.

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Boetius coughed lightly, giving a reassuring wave towards Indigo. As the [Black Ironwood Sloth] returned to his dantian and qi withdrew back into his pores, he said aloud, almost jokingly, "We're running a bit behind schedule, so we're skipping ahead. I hope that reveal of strength was enough excitement to get your blood pumping, because the body's Qi is intrinsically tied with your blood, and this is especially so at its early stages." With his hands cupped behind his back, he took a dignified posture. "Those that are new here are welcome to join. This Primordial Daoist will personally guide you in discovering Qi," he beckoned, beginning to walk casually towards the large tree that rooted itself behind the mottled stone Town Hall. It wasn't a that long distance from their current location out on the Hall's lawn, around 40 yards away.

Many from the group of commoners took this as their queue to leave, rousing a roar of heated discussion as they all went on their ways. One could be sure that by the end of today, the whole town would know the name of Eldigan. Among the crowd, a man with bumpy maroon red skin stood a head taller than the vacating rabble. His eyes focused on Odius, glowing with careful thought as he too left to tell his friends of the great news.
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Indigo looked at Boetius with a surprised look.
"...Skipping ahead... I hope I will not be too far behind then." He said as he then followed the old man to the tree calmly.
He was still shook up about the demon, which helped him. The demon may try to take down Boetius. Indigo definetely did not want this scenario to occur.
He then arrived by the tree, where the man stood to wait for him.
"...So where do we start...?" He asked.
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Mitch waved a goodbye to Odius and the lady he'd begun speaking to, joining the 6 guards that left with Boetius. These guards all revolved around the beginning to intermediate stages of the Rank 1 [Charybdis Breath], with 3 of them not even having any qi training at all. It would have been foolhardy to rely on them to protect The elder's elites were all out on missions or patrolling the territory That encounter served as a warning to Boetius. He would make sure to bring along at least one of his elites around in the future. The next time they met, he would be the one to make the first move.

The tree's height became a lot more clear from close up, 90 meters high. The sun twinkled through its leaves, a spattering of sunlight fluttering on the grass at its base. After getting nurtured by the elder's care for a few years, the tree had begun to show signs of its potential. Magical currents drafted lazily towards the tree, getting mercilessly sucked inside, albeit at a snail's pace. The extent of change ended there, however. Boetius thought that its transformation to a magical treasure could take anywhere from one year to a hundred thousand. Nonetheless, the phenomenon made it an ideal place to sense Qi.

Aside from Indigo, the little girl that had fawned over Connor as well as a young couple had come. Boetius taught them a unique hand symbol, its effect to help guide your spiritual energies into becoming sensitive to qi. Though it had no effect until one when through a gradual process of quieting the mind, relaxing the body, and heightening the internal awareness. If one was able to sense and circulate their internal qis, they'd have discovered qi. Of course, without access to a qi manual, it's difficult to move from there.

After the day ended, Boetius sent a notice out for an elite guard to stay on notice at the Town Hall - Aelina Sengbusch -  a rank 2 practitioner with a strong constitution gifted to her from her birth in the wastelands. She was a talented child, and Boetius made sure she was well supported with the resources they could offer.

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Mitch's home was a common lime washed home in the hub of the Crucible. They had lived someplace outside its walls before, but Mitch's salary as a guard allowed their family to move to a more desired location. His parents warmly welcomed Odius's stay, doing their best to make him feel at home.

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The sun had risen once more. There were few clouds in the sky. The Crucible Town's residents welcomed the new day with the racket of their day-to-day activities, even as the white dot on the horizon drew closer and closer...

The town was in a stilled silence when the 70ft long white-furred dragon that had a wingspan to match arrived, hovering over its square. What was this thing? Some knew. Some didn't. The dragon's deafening roar and quaking descent that soon followed broke the townsfolk out of their stupor, sending them into a scramble.

A stampede of residents vacated the square. If one was perceptive, they might've even spotted a couple of the town's guards blending into the fleeing mass-such an event was outside their pay grade. Others were either too scared to run or were unperturbed, pointing at the dragon in good cheer. A few others took up arms, a decrepit old man with a mouth of missing teeth joining them, wielding a rusty pitchfork that looked just as a frail as he did.

"HoooWEEE! I've been training my whole life for this!" the old man shouted as he made his entrance, exiting an alley that led to the open grounds of the town square.
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The dragon's words had given the aggressive townies pause, yet that didn't stop the decrepit old man. He had a crazed look in his eyes; As if he were looking at his destiny. The old coot didn't seem to mind even as he became the only one making any movements towards the mighty white dragon. **"I wanna taste me some dino blood!"** he yells with a strained voice.
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t'resh looked up at the old bastard. He didn't appear to move but the saw in his hand started to hum aggressively.

"back off old man i just got comfortable. and i don't appreciate interruptions"
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The old coot's attention was fully focused on the white-furred dragon. What was that patchwork doll tryna say? "I called dibs!" the old man insisted. The frail rusty pitchfork curved through the air with a swing, but alas, it wasn't able its arc as its wielder's face crashed into the ground, taking an untimely nap.
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 Occupying an open patch of land on the northwestern periphery of the Crucible Town's hub is the Town's own Hall, a mottled stone building of two stories. Its glass framed doors and Tudor arched windows gave it a rustic charm. Shadows from branches that hung overhead shaded it, the massive tree from which they were born towered over the hall, planting its roots firmly in the ground behind it. The sight of such a tree wouldn't have been especially odd in the nearby forest, but it stood out quite plainly within the Town's hub.

The Crucible Town Hall occupies an open patch of land on the northwestern periphery of its hub, adjacent