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6 Ответ от Ishnginn
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8 Ответ от Bo
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[Song of the Venturing Owl] Ballad Part 19

New to this story? Click here for the Beginning
Previously on Song of the Venturing Owl Donations to my Patreon, paid for this image of the Captain drawn by this artist (A warning, they have an nsfw twitter as well, and I don't claim to have any input on what they draw.)
More Side characters, said the great beasts of industry, their maw lined with a thousand teeth like gears. More Side characters, said the audience, charmed to follow along by the gleaming signs that told them what to think. More Side characters, said the author, lines of text like an IV to his faltering heart.
“Shush both of you,” The Captain said. “Let’s just get this over with.”
So we made the long climb back over the mile long pier. Vali may have been right that it was easily defendable, but dealing with the hike was a definite downside, my seventh or ninth time out. This time, we didn’t divert from the path, just ducked through the ships tied and roped together buildings until they became thicker, and thicker, and the beat came hotter and thicker. The Captain’s talons always fell perfectly on step. Thyn’s lagged an instant behind, and I was pleased to note that Sampson at least had as much trouble as I did adjusting to the gradual tempo change.
The buildings cleared out.
Here, there was just a bridge. Every surface of the wooden beast was covered in paint and dripping with color. It smelled sweet like fruit juice and thousands of tiny bells hung from the side, the lowest of which were corroded to the point of uselessness. As the wind blew through, they rang like a perfect little symphony. She paused, and I walked past her, giving her a look.
She looked sad.
Thyn bumped her, and she shook her head, walking ahead to the beat again.
We hit the other side like a bullet, and everything linked up at once. The Beat became a drowning roar, something that you couldn’t help but move to. I tried not to, and my body refused. Like clockwork we all moved as one, stepping by each other. On the street corners trumpets were brandished like muskets and guitars hung from windowsills where masked men played with nimble fingers. Women swayed and bobbed to the beat, carrying their market place treasure. The Captain’s hips swayed to the beat as she stepped, and Thyn bobbed. Sampson’s wings twitched distractedly.
It wasn’t quite terror building in my throat, but it was something like it, forced to dance to the pulse of another thing entirely, distant. Perhaps it was the fact that my Heart had been successfully drowned out entirely, leaving me with only my four other senses. Every person wore a mask. Most were plain and porcelain, and those were more likely to go back to the way we came. Others bore more splashes of color, more personalized notes, and they did as they pleased.
We passed by a square and the entire area was a winding river of precision, like the hands of a clock, each person waiting their turn with all the grace of a great astrolabe. In the center, a spider sat playing a small set of drums, his fingers striking the skins at the exact moment someone else strode across. His masked features stared at the Captain’s bare face. She shot him a grin and bared her teeth. He recoiled, nearly, but not at all, missing the next strike of the drum.
The Captain broke pack and rank, and we followed after her, using her ability and area to pass through the crowd. She stepped through glass and flowers that bobbed to the beat (and how it only got louder as we followed her path, as toxic and pulse pounding as it was) and then across the street even further, into a building that might’ve been a ship before the wood had sprouted roots and bonded with the great coral below.
The doors opened, and then they closed, and I hit the ground like a cut puppet. Sampson did the same a moment later, gasping for breath. Thyn shook.
“Four,” The Captain said, addressing the woman behind the desk. She wore a mask, but this had hair attached to it, long elegant blue curls that looked less like anything a mortal ought to wear and more like the hair of a particularly petulant goddess. Her eyes flicked over to us, first to Thyn, and then Sampson, and then to mine.
Something looked at me from behind the eyes of the mask. Bloodshot eyes, and more than that, the bizarre feeling of something more. I could fall into those eyes and end up elsewhere.
I’d braved the daemons and found them uncomfortable, not because they were horrifying but because they were awful. Here, I could fall forever more and be watched the entire time.
The Captain clicked her talons off beat, and the woman’s head jerked hard enough to pop her neck before fixing those eyes firmly on the siren. I felt a wave of gratitude towards her, but now I desperately wanted to know.
How the hell was the Captain so used to looks like that?
“Eyes up,” The Captain teased, leaning forward. “There’s a Spider looking for us,” She bared her teeth like a cat might.
“There’s a backroom,” the woman said, breathless. “The password is Serendipity.”
“Good,” The Captain said. “Keep your eyes off of the crew, Loquat.”
I blinked at the name. The woman’s head bobbed, and the eyes were gone, replaced by pale blue things that were pretty if only because they weren’t so awful. “Enjoy yourself here.”
“I’ll enjoy myself when that god forsaken beat is gone,” The Captain muttered under her breath, and deliberately stepped out of beat as she moved into the next room. Every eye in the room landed on her all at once, and then with a sluggish muffled kerthump, people struggled back into the beat. Against the walls, fingers plucked at strings, and brass instruments swayed back and forth. Someone was singing, but the voice was so low and hypnotic that it felt more like another instrument.
Soon enough, the eyes slid off of us, driven away by the Captain’s general discord. I wanted to glare at her, given she’d told me to avoid the very thing she was doing- but the eyes weren’t on us anymore. If anyone looked our way, they noticed the Captain, not the three others following her.
She was doing it to keep the eyes off of us. It was one thing to feel protected in battle where the Captain was a living lightning, flashing through with her guns and booming voice. It was another for her to protect us here, in a strange and foreign land, especially when I suspected that she was quietly terrible at doing anything except making a massive display of herself.
At the other end of the room sat a man that looked to be carved out of the very same coral that the island rested upon, chitin and claws upon a body that might as well be chiseled stone. “Serendipity,” The Captain hissed, and the man stepped to the side.
We opened the door and stepped inside.
The Spider sat, done up in airs and a well tailored coat that was different from the one he’d been wearing just the night before. His eyes slid over to Sampson and I before settling back on Thyn and the Captain.
“Spider!” The Captain said, spreading her wings. “There you are. My newest favorite business partner.”
“I’d like to point out that I’m being coerced into this,” The Spider said.
“Paying your debts is coercion now?” The Captain asked. “Seems like half of your kind’s deals should fall through.”
“Please,” The Spider said. “If there were any justice in the world the capital would’ve fallen into the sea under the weight of the captured truth. But there’s not.” He crossed his arms, the rest of his bulk laying across two couches. “I see you brought extras.”
“They were there when we first met,” The Captain said. “How could I deny them the presence of your form?”
“Easily,” The Spider said. “Send them back out onto the floor so we might talk at length.”
The Captain flicked her eyes over to me and Sampson, and then back at the Spider. “Bear in mind that I’ll take it very personally if you try and pull something with them,” she warned.
“Of course you will,” The Spider said. “Your temper is legendary. As are other things…” He paused, looking down at her hips. I couldn’t tell if he was checking her out or admiring the heft of the revolvers that she’d brought along.
“My aim is very true,” The Captain said, leaning forward. “You shouldn’t test it.”
“Send your two extras out onto the floor,” The Spider said, his eyes falling on mine. “Rest assured that the Loquat will see no harm done to them.”
“On your word?” The Captain asked.
“On his,” The Spider said. “I may be mighty and powerful, but I am not that mighty and powerful.”
The Captain sighed. “Charm, Sampson, if you would give us a few minutes? It shouldn’t take long at all.” She looked over at the Spider.
“Not long at all,” The Spider said, crossing his arms.
I looked over at Sampson. He shrugged, and opened the back door. We slid back out onto the floor.
“Now-” The Captain said, and the door closed behind us.
The beat wasn’t so bad now that we’d been in the inner city for longer. I could think unsyncopated, at least, and the twitches to my muscles were easier to ignore. Sampson looked at the door a bit lost.
“Well,” he said. “What do we do now?”
“Dance?” I suggested. The hall was a whirring mass of bodies and skin, and the mask of my head was already starting to feel impractical next to the deliberate over display of color.
Sampson shrugged and took my hand. In the next moment, the music switched from the bright vibrancy of the trumpets to something harbinged only with the cloudy noises of the baritone. The beat skipped about before settling on something only a hair slower, and our feet moved before our minds did, trailing us onto the floor with the others.
My foot moved to the left, as did Sampson’s, and I squeezed his hand in no small bit of fright before he spun, gently, and then the beat slammed home and I forgot who I was entirely.
In the muddle there was only us, in the middle there were only movements and a dazzling array of patterns, not unlike a great equation being solved on the blackboards back at the Academy. Feet moved like mighty variables imagining the greater world, trying to solve for Ephemera. I could hear Hearts pounding in many chests, driven to the very edge, and I flowed through them like water through a net. At once, I was with Sampson and then with another and another and another and another, a great symphony of singing muscles and flesh, and in the very next moment I was at the edge, face flushed.
A woman in a mask stood next to me, her wings in my hand, and we danced to the side, a tangent, a side note to the greater thought piece, a moving gestalt heavy with drugged attention and acclaim. She was blue, I remembered that much, very blue, and then in the next moment she was Sampson again, and we swam across from one another, masks dull and ungiddy.
Then we were at a painter, who dabbed a slash of red across mine, and a slash of green across his, and I threw him a handful of talons which he weighed on a scale until he was finished, and from the club came the square with the spider and his drums, and a great distant roaring of some deeper darker and more melodious beat which we found ourselves in.
But we swam like fish through the air as thick as the ocean and then there was another club, and the blue siren followed us like the Venturing Owl followed the Living sea, a staccato clatter of talons across wooden floor and cobble stones. There was a fountain, and drinks, and the thought continued and continued, a great writhing mass of music and fancy and dreams and syrup sweet enough to seduce god.
At some point my legs gave out and I hit a bench, and I stared up at the setting sun for far too long, quietly shaking and feeling the edge of whatever had seized me tremendously happy and finished with the thoughts it had demanded my body work out.
The sun dipped below the horizon before I abruptly remembered that I was supposed to be waiting on someone, and that they hadn’t happened to have surfaced.
I grunted.
Sampson rolled over, and grunted back at me, his eyes unfocused. One wing twitched to the distant beat. My fingers shook, numb, unused to being at my control, and I dragged it into my robes and across where my heart hung, and I squeezed it. Slowly, with the pounding of my own exhausted body, not too unaware that it had been played as a puppet in deliria, I rose to my feet.
The blue bird snored on the bench, the gentle rise and fall only broken by the movements of her mask, painted black with blue stripes under the eyes. It only covered half of her face, revealing the other half to be splashed with blue paint, giving even her skin a blue look.
“Samp-” I slurred, and glared inwardly. My arms felt like rubber. I reached over and gave him a shake, and his eyes rolled like billiard balls until they focused on me.
“Wha-?” He asked, his beak opening and closing. I didn’t blame him. The tempting edge of exhausting was closing in.
“Cap-” I slurred.
His eyes narrowed, and then he very narrowly avoided passing out and slid himself to his feet. “Cap!” He chirped.
“Cap,” I said.
“Cap,” He said back, clearly still muddled. He gestured at the blue bird. “Cap-”
I blinked at him. He blinked back at me, and then looked back at the siren. “Cap?
“Cap!” I hissed.
He looked fairly alarmed, for a moment, that the siren next to us was not in fact the Captain, but some poor creature that we’d danced away with.
He gestured at her. “What do?”
I blinked back at him, then looked over at the siren, and the gentle rise and falls of her chest, and then at the night falling on us. I grabbed her scaled foot and shook it. Her spine arched, and her mouth opened, and she rolled over to stare at us. “Mm?”
“Where?” I asked.
“Dunno,” she said, and rolled back over. I squeezed her foot again, and barely avoided the edge of her talons when she flexed them. She rolled back over and shot me a bleary glare.
“Where!” I repeated, mouth feeling like rubber.
She looked around for a moment, then rubbed the sleep out of the eyes of her mask with her fingers before squinting. Her eyes settled on both of our masks for a moment, and then, almost sleepily, she stretched to her full height. “Don’t know.”
I growled at her like a wild dog, so she sent me an offended look, spreading her wings. Tiny little pops from her joints went off like distant gunshots, and then she bent forward to stretch out her spine. I tried not to stare at her limbering routine.
Sampson shook his head. “Ship!” He said.
“Ship?” I asked, biting my tongue to get more feeling into it. “Club!”
“Club,” Sampson grunted in agreement, and then we both turned to look at the blue jay.
“Club!” She agreed. Then she did a running leap up onto the bench and then leapt into the air, her wings catching the wind and tugging her away. I stared at her blankly as she flew off.
I narrowed my eyes and looked back at Sampson, who was also watching her. At least the pause and irritation gave me enough time to rub feeling back into my body. There was that at least. My skin tingled like sand, and the hairs on my skin stood on end as sensation steadily came back. “Well,” I said.
“Well,” Sampson grunted in return, and then decided to do the same stretches that the blue bird had done. Since it seemed to make him feel better, I gave them a try.
At the end of them, when I no longer felt like driftwood, the blue bird returned, landing in front of us. “Club!” She chirped brightly.
“Take us there?” I said.
She nodded her head and held out her hand. I fished around in my robes for something to give her and found a wrapped caramel and put it in her hand. She blinked at me a few times, and then just grabbed my hand, flicking the caramel into her other hand. She unwrapped it and tossed it into her mouth, then offered the hand, wrapper and all to Sampson who took it. Then she started walking away, bodily dragging us behind her.
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10 Ответ от Nuargas
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[Conflict] Italian Defensive Plan

Due to the completely unexpected and unprovoked nature of this attack, Italy has decided to not give the French a reason to fight.
The current Italian plan for invasion is to form a dug in defensive line on the eastern borders of Piemonte, and evacuate the region to the rest of Italy. They are told not to fire unless fired upon.
The Italian air force will return from Romania to blow up roads and rail lines in the Alps and Piemonte, and perform interceptions and escorts against French and German planes.
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1000 APCs
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At the same time, Italian men and women have volunteered throughout the nation to defend their homeland. These have been named the city defense.
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