"Should be just around here," Faceless hissed to its companion, awkwardly lurching its way down some stairs. Then it launched into a frenzy of seemingly nonsensical movements: here a slash of its tail, there a high kick from a two-toed foot, and even an impressive 720-degree backflip while windmilling its mantis-arms around.

The doorperson somehow seemed to know exactly what Faceless was doing, matching its movements like they were an Olympic synchronized swimming duo. There were several slapping sounds as their limbs blurred through the air, and when the secret handshake was over as suddenly as it began, flashing rainbow light and loud, obnoxious music blared from an open door. Sounds of screaming and cheering drifted from the arena veterans partying inside, and an empty drink cup flew at Faceless' head.

It stepped delicately out of the way, and nodded, beckoning its companion forward. "Bet someone here knows something. Should pick one of the old-looking ones to ask--maybe one that's less drunk," it added, as a neon beast stumbled past it, slurring its words together and nearly falling when it stepped on a discarded pastry.

The colors on its face shifted with a moment of thought as its stomach suddenly growled, and it shuffled forward to snag an armful of some kind of fried bird meat from a platter. "Want one?" it asked, holding out one crispy golden piece to East as it gobbled up the rest.

@East

The Deathmatches were over. The bloodthirsty had triumphed, the dead had been swept away from the sands of the arena floor, and the drunken crowd had cycles ago blundered off in search of more entertainment that would sate their cravings for violence. No doubt they had found some eventually after combing through the ruins their unhealthy appetites had caused. Or maybe they'd simply returned to their mundane lives with barely a thought spared to the ones thrown away for such mediocre rewards as glory in battle and fleeting infamy. Whichever, the craze that'd gripped Orion should've ended, the cave sinking into tomblike slumber once more.

And yet here, as his current companion had informed him, status quo failed to be heeded. Time's march onward was a delicate tiptoe here if heard at all, drowned out by thumping bass and screeches only considered as music by tone-deaf harpies. Brawls of varying friendliness were scattered throughout the gathering, attended to with gleeful bays and howls. The smell of hard drink lingered in the air, and those less appealing did as well, the most intense of the partiers having found their snacks had a tendency to crawl back up their gullet.

Overall, the scene was the sort that made East's throat run dry. If not for the pulsing lights doing a fine job of reminding him what a hangover felt like, nabbing refreshment would've seemed a good idea to numb the nerves and prevent his own bile from contributing to the stinking fumes permeating the premises.

"Sure," was his response to the offered bit of food. Although a poor substitute for liquor, it would have to serve well enough as a distraction from the surroundings' assault upon his senses.

A break from the busy flap of wings he had to maintain to avoid alighting upon the ground, the bird chose Faceless's forelimb as a temporary perch. With a precise peck, he snatched the piece of fried meat away. The instinct of a bat hunter threw his head back. It disappeared in a single swallow and the clack of a closing beak. He then scanned the area, eyes bright and focused, before letting loose a exasperated sigh.

"I'd say scars equal age"—maybe experience, if not that—"but here that'd make as much sense as a fish with wings."

Just as likely to grab a hothead instead of an old-timer in a rowdy joint like this. Nevertheless, he had to try.

"Eh, how 'bout that one over there? Rough, gruesome, and sturdy." Feathers fanned out as he gestured a wing at the being mentioned. "Standing well enough, so I'd say either he hasn't had a sip of giggle water or that stern look of his chased all the fun out of it."

@Faceless

Really, that rough, gruesome, and sturdy monster that East is studying just owns a mean mug that's perpetually set in a foul rictus. Vakornol has imbibed plenty in this impromptu party of "not very many", and she can partake in as much as she wants as long as she snacks enough to soak it up and keep it from metabolizing straight through her body.

"That's no way to speak on a lady," crows the hideous beast when she inevitably hears gossip on the wind, grin widening through only the upward squint of her eyes. The gripe hangs for only as long as she can bear it before she barks laughter, "aw, nah. I'm pulling your leg. I'm too old and notorious to care about gender or to not keep an ear to the ground about myself."

Vakornol tilts her massive snout in the general direction that East and his partner occupy. "What're you after here? Some surly bodyguard that doesn't drink on the job? HAH!"

Please feel free to tag me (Bunny!) on Discord! I'm bad at checking for onsite tags these days :pensive:
@Faceless @East

Faceless blinked several times in rapid succession. The purple-and-green beast's words confused it--it had not grasped the Gembound language enough to learn what "notorious" and "gender" meant, even after cycles of trying to learn. Having one's ear to the ground didn't make much sense, either--what would the use of that be? Being antisocial had its downsides, one of which was lack of regular exposure to varied vocabulary. Even East's reference to giggle water had been more understandable, given that its first language had been a bizarre mix of some unknown tongue and exclusively terrible slang words.

Thankfully, Vakornol's next questions were more comprehensible. "Yes!" it chirped enthusiastically. "Well, like, kinda. Not a bodyguard, but not drunk, definitely." It nudged East with a mantis-arm. "My bestie, East!" The use of the word bestie might be questionable considering how recently they'd met, but Faceless truly had not had more social interaction with anyone in the caves than it had had with the bird. "He found a mysterious book. And a mysterious voice. We're, like, trying to solve it."

A flash of inspiration struck it--what was the best way to get someone to help? The promise of a reward, of course! "There's probably, like, an awesome reward at the end. Or something like that. Can you help us? --He can explain the details and stuff, I don't know much."

Having shoved responsibility off onto someone else for the time being, Faceless shuffled toward a table and grabbed another armful of fried bird-meat. It seemed to have no compunctions about eating at a party organized by the same people who had organized the event where it'd gotten electrocuted into its chrysalis.

After all, even if it'd 'died', it'd come back in the end, hadn't it?

@East

A bird, much like a timepiece, had delicate inner workings. Their bones, light, were the root cause of their flight and just as easily their downfall if the arrogance of battling gravity caused them to make reckless moves, leading to terrible mistakes. Their senses, keen, could throw them off their game when overwhelmed or disrupted, a sudden wedge driven between gears knocking precious seconds off what should have been a swift response. One had to be careful, especially as a predator in a world of larger ones, when such a thing happened; the moments lost could spell out an epitaph, inscribed earlier than expected.

This was what East had to avoid, the remainder of an explanation to this comparative giant dumped entirely upon him. And dumped was the proper operating word, as his own name had been with an inelegant tug of the cloak of anonymity from his being. He dodged being the subject of such a thing a third time as Faceless made a move for more food. Its limb no longer a steady perch to stay on, the air was taken to as soon as an idle sway too much nearly caused a topple to the disturbingly sticky ground.

A flutter of wings settled him back onto the hard surface of a table close to his subject of interest. At first angled away from her, a blank judgmental stare was cast across the way at the skittering creature snatching their fill of the all-you-can-eat buffet. Then a pivot directed his eyes to where they would be put to better use. Contriteness shone there as sparkling and false as Orion's famed ceiling of starlight.

"Don't mind my friend here. I'm afraid hunger's worn a hole in their memory." Into tact, further still. "Name's West, if you pardon the mix-up. I'm only East if I'm turned to the right of North."

The opportunity had passed in the wake of Faceless's clumsy outline of the duo's intentions, but beak turned up to that landscape of a face, East could appreciate a good rejoinder to his hasty assessment. Wealthier in silence than in conversational partners, a bit of banter was a rare gem to covet, even if its source wasn't ideal. He offered this, glee etched into his voice, before proceeding to business.

"And nah, no bodyguard. Just passing through to find someone old enough to blow the dust off of and whose drink hasn't mushed past and present into one fun time. You seem to be doing well enough," he said, nodding at her. "Don't have a speck on you for your age. But y'see this, ah, book I've got isn't so well-maintained. Wouldn't think so when it has its own personal minder, always talking over it and around it, but seems they don't give a whit about proper care. Probably since they don't have the hands to give it."

"I found it a step away from Orion and a stumble next to Monoceros. Seemed curious, so I had a look-see. And this voice, out of nowhere, decides that's something to talk about. Seems to get a kick out of me running my eyes over it. Wants me to explore the contents for whatever reason, but won't say why."

He had his theories as to motivation: simple amusement for one, compulsion or duty for others. None yet he'd managed to get the Narrator to slip up on, them too dedicated to their job of speaking past him to drop an actual answer from on high.

"Haven't been getting anywhere with that, so I figured I'd do some rooting around, get a hold of a voice that can actually say the whys, whats, and wheres. That's seen enough, knows enough to explain a book that comes with its own invisible promoter. So here we are—me flapping my beak 'til it falls off, you hopefully still listening."

"So"—he tilted his head—"are you? Or has my incessant chirping deafened you worse than the music here?"

@Vakornol

sorry for the delay - if there's continued interest, Vakornol WILL post again!

East had perfectly chosen whom ought to be approached. And his demeanor, despite his words (which clearly confused the two about to be described) seemed proof that he was completely to-be-trusted.

The two in question were Valkhounds, a typical tangle of spines and hooked talons. Never before had they been seen in this era; perhaps they were freshly awoken, or maybe they simply lurked down here. Either way, both wore grinning maws, one of which was drooling incessantly; both had far too many gleaming eyes. One was a bright, rich violet on thick scales, darker than Vakornol's and studded with onyx spikes. The other, a tad smaller, was a hideous banana yellow and slimy-skinned, long and slinky, its eyes enormous and newt-like. (Wouldn't a witch love to get her hands on that.)

They crowded in close, cautious as if almost afraid, one to each side of Vakornol--apparently the leader of their little clique, or maybe they just adored her. Her greatest fans, perhaps? And they sniffed at East and at his book, casting glances at Faceless, peering puzzled at this new Thing of Interest.

"What is it? What is that? A book? A book? -What is a book?" hissed the Newt.

And the purple beast hissed in thought, drawing closer, cutting Vakornol off before she could speak. "Where is the mystery?" it grunted, seven eyes narrowing as it eyed this book over.

Both were clearly interested; as was, most likely, Vakornol. Perhaps the Valkhound trio could help... with a little more information.

@Faceless @East

Whether flying, earthbound, or dweller of ocean depths, all manner of beast had an uncanny sense of danger lurking in their midst. One might call it the sixth, ridiculous as that might sound. East used a far less fantastical term: good old-fashioned prey instinct. The feel of a multitude of eyes surrounding you in an infinite void? That was it. And in this particular case, the aforementioned void had been nixed in favor of a more distracting sort of cover, rainbow and flashing in sync with the current caterwauling song choice dominating the background noise.

Feathers caught their presence before surface thoughts could even register them, so many gazes like the prods of stubby fingers all over his back. Each sleek black tip raised in response to the pressure, only smoothing back down once both grinning goons had passed him to flank either side of their rough warrior queen. All together, they made quite the audience—a whole conference where there'd been a business meeting for two. It seemed he would have to adjust the sales pitch accordingly.

"A book," he said, opening its dusty leather cover to the first page, "would be this. A bunch of sheets held together and marked all over. Y'see?"

A talon traced over the current illustration of interest; starting at the outermost, the path of each circle was followed before jumping to the next innermost, ending with a tap of finality at the dead center of the entire grouping.

"And this... is an image of a sorts. There's more. Different ones."

He flipped to the second entry and its depiction of white flowers, angled the book in one direction and then the other to better showcase it to the trio. Another rustle of pages, and sketched scenes of tunnels and caves stared out from aged paper. Then afterward the strange circle built of stained red stone.

Since whoever responsible for creating Gembound had shortchanged him out of a few dozen extra eyes, watching for any sign of recognition was an exercise none too appreciated. There was a limit to how often someone could glance side to side without jarring their brain in its case. A shake or four more, and he'd have about reached it.

"Each one's paired up with this, well, scratch. So I figure they're related. Problem is, I don't know how or where any of these things are, and the voice missing a face doesn't want to spill on that either."

East's judgmental stare was wasted on Faceless, as it currently had its back turned as it hunched over a large piece of fried chicken. It was very crunchy, and left the beast feeling a bit thirsty, so it snagged a wine glass and tipped the entire thing down its throat to wash it down.

Its hunger sated for the time being, it would skitter back to the bat hawk's side as he was finishing his explanation. Two new Valkhounds--more helpers! It was delighted. They looked very garish and alien, their eyes gleaming with a lurid glow, so Faceless was sure they must be some of the Old ones. And surely with age came knowledge that would help them solve the mystery.

"I think there's gotta be a story here," it added when the bird had finished. "A, an ominous-seeming event of some kind. Mysterious. We just gotta put the pictures together with what the Voice is saying, I think. It was talking about, like, the history of this arena and how it's all connected to life and death and all that. Very grand and cynical-seeming. I don't get it," it admitted with a shrug of its spiked shoulders, "But would you guys happen to know some stuff about any of this?"

godemoting vakornol with permission

The three leaned in--studying this "book," its strange pages, the illustrations therein.

It was Vakornol's grinning maw that opened for the concentric rings. "Ain't that the Transcendence door?" she asked, eyeing it over. It didn't sound like a certainty--maybe because this was but a drawing and that, in black and white. "Off in Polaris, that one-" but before she could continue, the little Newt was widening its far-too-many-eyes.

"The flowerssss!" it hissed, reaching out to touch one. "By the palace!"

The big, purple beast to its side narrowed its eyes, staring down at it. "...What business've you got with flowers?!" it demanded, and at Newt's hateful (and embarrassed) glance upward, it broke into laughter. "I won't question it, you know that? Flowers..." It shook its head and turned away. "I'm still listening, for one, but I don't know about any of that other shit."

Newt backed off, seemingly ashamed at its knowledge of flowers, and bar muttering a protesting "But they glowed," it added nothing more.

Vakornol, though, did study the pages briefly before adding a thoughtful comment. "Seems a little weird. I don't get the connection, but... There's free drinks here, if you want 'em!"

It wasn't exactly related, but... it was something, again, at least.

@East

For some, the observations shared might have been barely a drizzle compared to the absolute drought of ignorance they needed to end. This information might have trickled into the dry valleys of their brain, only to find the soil there barren and incapable of sprouting new threads of thought and inquiry. For East, the case was quite the opposite: from what'd been clouds of confusion, uncertainty, poured the makings of a flood. The mental landscape grew lush with the promise of possibilities. To those crowded around the book, and consequently the bird who possessed it, the straightening of a back could have been noticed alongside a considering head tilt, casual posture overtaken by a growing sense of purpose.

Flowers by a palace—despite the violet nightmare's dismissal of its fellow monster's botanical interest, the comment was one to note. A location to match a catalogued item, though not the main one his eye rested upon at the moment. Perhaps separate from the judgment of others, further discussion might be pursued; over a couple of those aforementioned free drinks, he reasoned, the warmth of flowing alcohol would loosen inhibitions so that tongues might wag more than shame ordinarily would allow.

An avenue to explore later. Now a more pressing question took priority.

"Oh, I've half a mind to have one," East said, regarding the mention of taking a gulp or dozen of the available beverages. Talons dug into wood grain as he let interest tense toes and lean him toward Vakornol. "Probably will. But the other side's a little stuck on something. You said Transcendence door—you all right with humoring a twittering moron on what that is?"

@Faceless