Checking In [End]

[Okoye]

Okoye, though considerably weary from her mission in Hojuku, wasted no time embarking on the next leg of her journey. She needed rest.. she knew that.. But she had no intention of returning to Helidor, or stopping at all for that matter. She remained resolute, despite the benign injuries she incurred during the previous battle and the relentless pace she had maintained for the past twenty-eight hours. There was a glazed look behind her crimson eyes that conveyed there was no consciousness walking along the golden grasslands. That was because Okoye was consumed with the notion of her growth– in particular her knowledge of the Unseen. And honing the techniques she developed along the way.

-- During her extended convalescence beneath the protective mantle of the Gilded Fangs, Okoye's fascination with the arcane transformed into an all-consuming obsession. Within the revered confines of their Athenaeum, she delved deep into a vast repository of esoteric wisdom, immersing herself in a labyrinthine maze of ancient tomes and scrolls. She convinced herself that the power she needed to usurp the B'halian Throne could be found within mastery of its secrets.

With unwavering dedication, Okoye meticulously dissected the cryptic writings of powerful warlocks and elven sorcerers old enough to recount the distant epochs of the First Turn. Many of their techniques and research were shrouded in foreign languages or concealed behind intricate ciphers, initially presenting formidable obstacles to Okoye's pursuit of knowledge. Yet, undeterred, she devoted countless hours and days to unraveling their mysteries, decoding ancient ledgers and committing their secrets to memory with relentless determination.

Among the countless luminaries whose works she devoured, one name shone with a brilliance that surpassed all others: an Ovan Hellgate. Renowned throughout the realms as a paragon of wisdom and insight, Ovan stood as the preeminent authority among a collective of sorcerers devoted to the study of the Unseen. Despite his reputation as a nomadic wanderer, Okoye made it her solemn mission to seek out this enigmatic sage, driven by an unquenchable thirst for enlightenment and understanding.

Her research toward locating the esteemed sage directed her toward the distant reaches of the Tarakan Plains. She'd never been before today, but she definitely read up about the territory before she continued. At first glance, the region looked to be a sprawling landscape of undulating gold, complimented by a mesmerizing panorama of rolling hills and sweeping valleys. But the plains themselves however were rugged and diverse. As she ventured deeper into the heart of the territory, the air grew colder, biting at her skin like the sharp edge of a blade. The ground was cracked and weathered, and the occasional boulder punctuated the horizon, falling from the cliff sides of the imposing Hyperion Mountain above. Trees were scarce, their presence a rarity in this harsh environment.

Yet, despite the sparse vegetation, the Tarkan Plains teemed with life. Every creature that called this wilderness home possessed remarkable natural camouflage, and were capable of blending seamlessly into their surroundings. Okoye treaded cautiously, mindful of the hidden dangers lurking beneath the golden grasses and behind the weathered boulders. She was dressed appropriately, but she felt as if her body was going to give way at any moment. Her Naten reserves were exhausted and her vision was starting to blur. And it didn't help that Dusk was approaching soon.

—

Luckily, Okoye navigated her way through the wilderness and found a small, reclusive settlement just outside of it. She thought it was too remote to be considered a town, but not bigger than any tribe or small village. However, as she analyzed the architecture of the buildings, her eyes fixated on what looked to be an inn located at the edge of the quiet kept community. “.. just one night.” She bartered with herself. Every bone in her body wanted to continue forward with her search for Ovan, but her mind was beginning to shut down. She thought it best she get some rest and start fresh in the morning.. She could use some of the money she accrued from her mission with the Spectral Fang and buy herself a room. So she made her way through the nameless town and walked through the door of the tavern.

[Diamond Dust]

"Welcome in! Take a seat anywhere and we'll be right with you."

Frances traced the tavern floors toward a table with a family seated at it, sipping tea and lemonade. She unloaded her tray one by one and departed with a smile, twirling the empty tray on the top of her finger. She made her way through the rest of her tables, checking in as she skirted each party. And like a well choreographed dance, she made it to the front of the the dining room where the new guest arrived, looking very clearly well traveled.

"Thanks for your patience! I have a spot for you right over here."

The new guest didn't seem like she was from around these parts, her brand of tired read like a journey of a thousand miles rather than a got days work. The locals were fairly simple folk, used to the harsh conditions of the region they call home. Hyperion's namesake mountain range hosted unforgiving terrain, brutally cold and windy climate, and creatures more than well enough equipped to thrive under those conditions. Man and mouse of Hyperion were cut from the same formidable stone, and this foreign woman looked hewn from one just as tough. She could definitely use a nap.

Frances led her guest to a booth close to the bar so she could have a bit of privacy and they could keep an eye on her, just in case she turned out to be trouble.

"The booklet has our menu and programming in it'" Frances began, motioning to the leather bound booklet in the center of the table. It was embossed with the Diamond Dust sigil on the front and center, with the cover itself appearing quite weathered, but still well taken care of in the same way a warrior maintains his blade. Frances placed her hand on the menu for a moment to give the guest pause before they just dove right into the song and dance of service, "And we have rooms upstairs as well if you need a rest. Let us know what you need and we'll take care of you." It wasn't just an upsell, it was the Art of Service, anticipating the needs of others and providing support the best you can. Frances gave a warm smile before opening the menu for the guest and stepping back a bit.

"Let me know if you have any questions, yeah?"

[Okoye]

"Welcome in! Take a seat anywhere and we'll be right with you."

Frances traced the tavern floors toward a table with a family seated at it, sipping tea and lemonade. She unloaded her tray one by one and departed with a smile, twirling the empty tray on the top of her finger.. "Thanks for your patience! I have a spot for you right over here."

Frances led her guest to a booth close to the bar so she could have a bit of privacy and they could keep an eye on her, just in case she turned out to be trouble. "The booklet has our menu and programming in it." she began, "..we have rooms upstairs as well if you need a rest. Let us know what you need and we'll take care of you."

Okoye took a seat and removed her hood after Frances led her to her booth and replied with a weary smile. Her journey had indeed been long and taxing, but Okoye was grateful for the warmth and hospitality of the Diamond Dust waitress. With an appreciative nod She opened the booklet and pointed to what looked to be a glass of tea with a shot of whisky. And then also gestured for a single room for night. Instinctively she used VSL, but if Frances indicated she didn't know it, Okoye would simply point with her fingers.

[Diamond Dust]

"Oh!"

I hope you don't mind my VSL is rusty.

Frances signed using mostly common letters to spell out her words, but she hoped she got her point across. Rather she misspell a word than misspeak and offend their guests. Being a front line server, Frances found her niche in communications within the organization. She was a polyglot, easily introduced to conversational level speech in over a hundred Vescrutian dialects so she welcomed everyone home in close to their native tongue.

I'll grab those for you and get your room turned. Then we can talk about food. Can I get your name? Mine's Frances.

She had practiced that sequence over and over again, knowing it would be one of her conversational staples at he employ. She motioned back to the bartender some signals to get the drinks started and the shuffling of glass bottles and porcelain insulated their silent conversation. Another sign to another person across the room and they disappeared up the stairs to turn the new guest's accommodations for the evening. Cold Frontier was a well oiled machine providing a necessary service to Vescrutia like clockwork and right now, Frances managed it like a orchestral conductor.

[Okoye]

"Oh!"

I hope you don't mind my VSL is rusty.

Frances signed using mostly common letters to spell out her words, but she hoped she got her point across.. "I'll grab those for you and get your room turned. Then we can talk about food. Can I get your name? Mine's Frances."

"Okoye."

She introduced herself before acknowledging Frances' excellent hospitality with a nod. Frances' proficiency in VSL was a pleasant surprise, facilitating easy communication.

Okoye smiled before signing, "Well, you're better than anyone I've encountered outside of my homeland." Which wasn't exactly a high bar to surpass, but Okoye wanted to express her gratitude nonetheless. It then struck her that Frances might be her best chance at locating Ovan sooner rather than later. He was famous after all. So if a celebrity had been seen in the area, hopefully word would have spread to this tavern. Besides, the chances of finding someone else fluent in VSL would be slim to none.

It was then her eyes brightened behind her lenses, as if a lightbulb had gone off in her head. "Actually, perhaps you could assist me with something else? I'm searching for someone—an Ovan Hellgate. Does that name ring a bell?"

[Diamond Dust]

"Why thank you!" I don't get a lot of chances to use it so I get a little nervous sometimes.

It was then her eyes brightened behind her lenses, as if a lightbulb had gone off in her head. "Actually, perhaps you could assist me with something else? I'm searching for someone—an Ovan Hellgate. Does that name ring a bell?"

While she signed her question, Okoye's drinks arrived on a tray escorted by nobody and landed gently on the table in front of her. The teapot was warm and fragrant, a soft blend from the southeast that everyone swears lifts their spirits with its smell alone. the whiskey on the other hand brought a hint of sweetness to the aroma between them, a great choice to start with after what seemed like a long journey.

“Ovan? Everyone’s always looking for him. I’ll let you know right now,” his autograph kinda sucks.

Frances laughed while she signed, having seen Ovan’s signature more than a few times from individuals who met him during his journeys from atelier to atelier. He had quite the following by himself, even without the banner of Diamond Dust behind him or his work. Ovan was in a league of his own when it comes to the insights and discoveries he made so his celebrity was rightfully due, but Frances liked him more for his down to earth character. Ovan made time to cook a meal for everyone whenever he was in town with some local foods from wherever he returned from and Frances blushed just thinking of their last dinner.

I think he’s in the dojo getting a tuneup. I can let him know he has a guest when he’s done

[Okoye]

“Ovan? Everyone’s always looking for him. I’ll let you know right now,” his autograph kinda sucks.

As Okoye observed Frances sign her response, a sense of anticipation filled her. She took a moment to appreciate the warm aroma of the tea and the inviting scent of the whiskey, both offering a comforting embrace after her journey. She took deep exhale.

"Thank you." And signed with a nod of gratitude. Frances's familiarity with Ovan and the casual way she spoke of him presented a rather down-to-earth nature that resonated with Okoye, piquing her curiosity even further about this enigmatic figure. She was really happy that she didn't have to go on some lengthy man hunt to find him, and it seemed as if he was more than willing to meet with those familiar with his work. However, from every note of literature she'd collected about him, she didn't know thr scholar to be a fighter. The fact that it was also a dojo within this establishment was also surprising.

"I look forward to meeting him." She signed before grabbing her tea from the hovering tray, ready to enjoy the warmth it offered while awaiting news of Ovan's availability.

[Ovan Hellgate]

“Auuuuuugh!” He groaned, taking every pained step up from the basement. Ovan was dragging himself up the stairs covered in sweat and dirt. He looked beat up, battered and bruised, trembling, ready to collapse on each step, but he persevered and summited the steps.

He could barely hold his head up, crawling on the floor from the hallway behind the bar, but he made it to the main floor of the restaurant, crawling right past Frances’s leg.

“Uuuuuugh,” he grunted, crawling up into the booth opposite Okoye. He laid back in the seat, heaving like the aftermath of a marathon. The dojo was the last thing Ovan ever wanted to do as a part of Diamond Dust, day to day in the restaurant of Cold Frontier, he could handle. The intensive training for off-site events he avoided like the plague.

“Frances… They’re gonna kill me down there.”

Ovan laughed, knowing he smelled lightly of gunpowder and smoke. For a training session, they put him through the ringer with a gauntlet of high intensity circuits chopping onions and flipping beds. The onions spit fire on every strike, the beds were slabs of earth he had to carve himself, and this was only the preparation for the rest of the Leviathan Circuit he requested. He had no idea what to expect if this was where he stood at the starting line. Passing the trial to become the Horus Crown threatened to make a king of him yet, but at what cost?

[Diamond Dust]

“Perfect timing, friend!” Frances yelped while she watched Ovan bring himself to the table. He looked like the training was going well, he survived and had the energy to make it up the stairs. Most people who go through the Leviathan training pass out on the floor of the dojo their first run through. Frances wiggled her finger and another, smaller tray slid over and left another teacup and bottle of water on the table. “You have a guest Ovan, so pull yourself together.” I’ll grab y’all some snacks since you’re staying the night. Back in a bit.

Frances giggled as she left to get the food for them.

[Okoye]

“Auuuuuugh!” He groaned, taking every pained step up from the basement. Ovan was dragging himself up the stairs covered in sweat and dirt. He looked beat up, battered and bruised, trembling, ready to collapse on each step, but he persevered and summited the steps..

“Uuuuuugh,” he grunted, crawling up into the booth opposite Okoye. He laid back in the seat, heaving like the aftermath of a marathon. The dojo was the last thing Ovan ever wanted to do as a part of Diamond Dust, day to day in the restaurant of Cold Frontier, he could handle. The intensive training for off-site events he avoided like the plague.

“Frances… They’re gonna kill me down there.”

As Ovan wearily ascended the stairs, each step a battle against fatigue and soreness, Okoye couldn't help but feel a surge of concern wash over her. Her eyes traced his journey, noting the bruises and dirt that marred his once-pristine appearance. Every movement seemed to echo the grueling trial he had endured, a testament to his unwavering determination.

As he finally reached the top, Ovan collapsed into the booth opposite Okoye, his labored breaths filling the room with a palpable sense of exhaustion. Okoye longed to offer words of comfort, but she knew her silence spoke volumes, conveying her admiration for his resilience.

Frances's lively exclamation of "Perfect timing, friend!" snapped Okoye out of her reverie, drawing her attention to the tray of refreshments Frances deftly ordered to the table. Seizing the opportunity, Okoye poured Ovan a cup of tea, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

"...you look like you could use it." she signed, her hands moving with fluid grace. She didn't bother questioning Ovan's knowledge of VSL; she knew he was fluent in countless languages, a testament to his scholarly prowess. Yet, despite his intellectual demeanor, Ovan's youthful appearance belied his wisdom, leaving Okoye momentarily taken aback. He looked younger than she did! But somehow housed enough knowledge to fill the shelves of a million Athenaeums. Something wasn't right..

As she handed him the cup, a thought crossed her mind: There's no way he's actually human.

"What exactly are you training for?" Okoye signed, her curiosity piqued by the notion of a renowned scholar and self-proclaimed pacifist honing his mechanical skills in such a rigorous manner.