Goob

Kyt frowns. "The Recreance was an entirety different situation, regarding people long dead by the time it was...'broken', if you could call it that. It has nothing to do with our current negotiations."

Ooh, I would be up for this. I've done some conlanging- mostly collaborative and maybe not the best but I would be willing to help. Here's a little sample of Qugexngkad, a collaborative conlanging/worldbuilding thing I made last year during a competition thing. Never got much farther than this, but I still like how it looks. As for toki pona, can't say I've ever really engaged with it.

"You speak as if they are wild animals, desperate to escape and not our leaders who want peace as much as you do. I'm sure with some convincing we could get them to swear off their powers."

Kyt looks suspiciously at Nak before speaking up. "Maybe this one cannot speak for the bondsmiths, but you have brought the entire Radiant population of the Tower down here. I am confident that, as a group, we can convince them."

"There's a heist?!" Said Varla, Kyt's spren breaking her long silence. Kyt immediately yells, "No blades!" to signify not to use deadly force before slicking his feet and speeding towards the thieves.

"Can work, sometimes. But if you want to far hole to be large enough to squeeze through and still have your hole slide out, you'll need to cut down to the floor- but that'll make it not slide so now you need to move a 700 pound rock. And you still might not cut straight."

"Have you ever tried cutting a hole ina stone wall? Sure, you can, but then you need to get the stone you cut out. And most of the time you don't manage a perfectly straight cut so it gets hooked and... It's a mess. It's just cleaner and faster to get a stoneward.

"A Stoneward! We need a Stoneward here!"

Czokla weaves pasts the partygoers and positions himself in the corner of the club closest to the bar. The club wasn't all that busy tonight- Czokla had seen some absolutely packed fighting joints when particularly popular or prominent fights occurred. Not tonight however, as the fights seemed rather lightweight. Thus he had a rather clear view of the entire bar area. He discretely scans the array of tables before him, looking for any persons of interest. There was a great variety of people here- some wore fine clothing while others barely looked better than beggars off the street. They were all shady in their own distinct ways, but Czokla was looking for a specific form of shady, the type that bought, sold, and stole information. They had a specific look to them- and they all had that look on a pile of cash. Still, even out of this small crowd of people, it was hard to distinguish between the causal blood sport enjoyer and those who used this place as a covert meeting spot, safe from the drainfall and prying eyes. Czokla only had to wait a couple minutes before something stood out to him. Two women sitting at a table quietly discussing something. One was rather average looking with long straight brown hair and mildly tanned and freckled skin. The woman opposite to her stood out far more however with strangely long gloves and blonde hair. The latter's face seemed familiar, somehow- he had probably seen her likeness in some UOP file somewhere. Still, the duo didn't fully catch his attention until the freckled girl pulled out a not-unsizable amount of Ler and placed it on the table in front of the gloved one. Interesting. Czokla watched intently as the two conversed afterward. Clearly, the gloved one was the informant- the direction of the money, and the amount each spoke revealed that. The exchange only lasted a couple of minutes, after which the freckled woman stood, said one last thing to the familiar blonde and disappeared into the crowd. Czokla began to walk towards the table to engage with the possible informant- A risky play, but one backed by a great deal of money. Before he could reach her however, she stood and began to walk away from the bar area. Czokla only pauses for a moment before turning to trail her as discretely as possible. @ZincAboutIt @Fallapede

Touching the light as well, Kyt says "All radiants? ALL of them in the tower? By the One, what are we ALL needed for? C'mon, it seems like an emergency." He begins running, following the light.

The open sky felt an infinity away as Czokla strode through the muck of the Underground. That was the way he preferred it- the sky was far too large, for his tastes. Who knew how many enemies could be hiding in it's endless horizon? No, he preferred down here, in the dredges of New Lere, where the furthest you could run was either to the end of dark alleyway or to your boss's hideout- two endpoints that were often not all that different, and yet one was usually far safer. The alternative, of course, was likely full of criminals. Czokla kept his eyes forward and back straight as he walked. On his feet he wore a set of army boots, a reasonable piece of attire with the small river of filthy water running down the narrow road. Above his ankles, however, he was clad in far less conventional clothing- a pair of dress pants coupled with a full business suit. Certainly, an odd sight down below, and likely to get one mugged in one of the aforementioned dark alleyways. Czokla, however, seemed just as unconcerned at this possibility as he did the liquid leaking from the ceiling, his fine clothing untouched due to the umbrella he was holding over his head. At this point anyone trailing Czokla would've lost him as he turned into the narrow crack between two houses and began to weave through these tiny backroads, barely large enough to give him a foot's space between the walls and his shoulders, and the tips of his umbrella scraped on the grimy stone leaving thin scars through the dirt. These spaces between spaces made for handy and mostly safe shortcuts, as they cut between roads and were uninhabited save for the occasional rat or beggar. Still, in the corpse of Old Lere, you had to be alert, even in these isolated crevices. You never knew what sort of bottom feeders roamed where they weren't supposed to, consuming the detritus from the rich city above, whether that be money, people, or worse. Recently, however, those bottom feeders had been hunting something larger. One of their own had risen from the depths and taken multiple massive bites out of the sharks up above in their realm of light and sky, and now everyone, bottom feeder and shark alike, hunted for this impossibility of a man. The Wraith. Czokla found his way back to a street, if you could call it that. He turned left, where the path tilted downhill slightly bringing the flow of putrid water with it, down into the deeper parts of Old Lere. Fortunately, Czokla didn't have to follow the water far as he spotted his destination: stuck between an abandoned housing complex and a canal was a tiny, lit stone building, only slightly cleaner than the surrounding street. The large metal sign above the door read: OLD JOE'S COFFEE. He strode across the street, water splashing at his heels as he stepped up the pair of steps to the new wooden door, stark in contrast compared to the surrounding brickwork of the old city. He swept the door open, folded up his umbrella, and took a couple steps inside. The café was empty this late at night save for it's owner, an old, disheveled man, assumedly Old Joe himself. He was hunched over one of the tables, cleaning it as he closed for the night. As he hear the door open he stood straight and announced "We're closed." in a rough, scratchy voice before turning around to face Czokla. When he got a full look at the man, he stared suspiciously. Old Joe wasn't the brightest man around, but he could certainly tell this fancily dressed stranger was trouble. "Look, stranger, if you're here to arrest me, just know you won't be able to pin anything on me. I own a legal, respectable business, and-" "I have no interest in your crimes. I am Czkola Ahlstrom, and I am here to hire you." Czkola's voice was smooth, unwavering, yet still felt like a commander's- authoritative, unwilling to take any other response than "Yes, sir." "Hire me for what? If you want a personal barista, look elsew" "I am not here to play games, Mr. Jehrad. Your file states you're involved in half the fight clubs in the city. I require entrance to one of them, and do not have the time to trifle around with beggars and petty criminals to find out how to gain entrance to a specific one." "My file, eh? Who are you, some sort of imperial crony?" "That is unimportant. I will pay you fifty buttons to escort me to a specific club and give me entrance." He had walked closer to Joe, towering over him as he placed five blue buttons on the table in front of the man. Joe raises an eyebrow. "How easily do you think I'm bought? "One hundred buttons." He places another five blue buttons down. "You really think I'm going to-" "Two hundred buttons." This time a gold button is added to the pile of coinage. Joe hesitates for a moment staring at the money, but just before he opens his mouth Czokla slams down another gold button. "Three hundred buttons." "Alright, alright, you've convinced me. Where is this club?" Approximately ten minutes and another trip through the streets later, they reached a rather normal looking alleyway in the northwest side of the city. Joe confidently walked up to the man lurking in the darkness- presumably the doorkeep- and said some fray about wine and bottles to him. The pair then walked around the dumpster, past a large iron door and down a staircase before revealing it's true nature- a packed and rowdy bar, filled to the brim with the brightest, most polished scum Czokla had ever seen. What a perfect place for hunting.

Character. Rather happy about this one came out

The guard towered over Kreshnik. "Sir, unless you have a child, I would like to ask you to leave the child's area."

@Frustration

It was right then, unfortunately, that security arrived.

"Get a map. Pretty sure the scribes still have a pretty large stockpile of them."

Barabantha, having picked back up the bag of gold won at the tavern after Odin rejected it, simply asked "How much is the toll?"

"No."

Grace just sighs. Well, they would be kicked out shortly since the supervisor still managed to call security. Ah well, there were other Ikeas... in the meantime, however, she looked mildly confused at the piece of candy that the kid had given Kreshnik.

Grace, distracted for only a moment by Candence turns around and sees Kreshnik walking into the play area. "Kreshnik! No! You'll scare the kids!"

Speaking up, I say, "I feel like Brandon- Insight, whatever would've prepared for the possibility that one of us became a cognitive shadow. Maybe they prepared for this somehow? I mean, it can't hurt to try. If Lilliana begins to feel all stretched as we leave she can just go back."

"Not really. I think you can still buy it but I've never had any."