Vert d'Haricoville-Curassair Biography (literature)

Early life
In the heart of the Tundras and Ice Spikes, where the everlasting winters held sway, there lived a being like no other. Vert, descended from a rare mix of Shylie and Meyderlie, bore a body that defied the norms of their his species. His skin, once a blend of lush green and stone, was a testament to his unique heritage.

As a child, Vert's existence puzzled his elders. He could take on a humanoid form, a trait more common among Meyderlie, but the subtle decay in his stone-like flesh hinted at an inevitable return to his plant form. While he struggled to find his place in the colony of Meyderlie, who thrived in large, interconnected groups, Vert felt a longing for the solitude and underground life of the Shylie.

One fateful day, when the winter winds howled and the frost crept deeper into the Tundras, Vert made a choice that would shape his destiny. He left the Meyderlie colony behind and ventured into the caverns where the Shylie dwelled. It was there, amidst the rocky walls and the soft shine of the glow berries, that Vert found a sense of belonging.

Among the Shylie, Vert learned the art of camouflage, blending seamlessly with the cave walls. He discovered the secrets of tapping into the earth's nutrients through his roots, thriving in isolation. With time, he grew both physically and spiritually, forming a deep bond with the Shylie who had accepted him as one of their own.

As Vert delved deeper into the life of the Shylie, he found himself truly at home among these reclusive beings. The camaraderie he developed with the Shylie was unlike anything he had ever experienced. They shared their wisdom about the underground world, teaching him how to harness the subtle energy of the glow berries to sustain himself when nutrients from the soil were scarce.But as Vert embraced his new life among the Shylie, the decay that had lingered in his stone-like flesh began to advance. His skin, once a vibrant blend of green and stone, turned pale and brittle before the moss that covered his face reverted to a mud-like form. The slow but steady decline of his body worried his newfound friends. They rallied together, pooling their knowledge of ancient herbal remedies and the healing properties of the cavern's unique flora to try and halt the decay's progress.

Despite their efforts, Vert's memory began to deteriorate. It was as if the very essence of his being was being consumed by the disease. He struggled to recall his life among the Meyderlie and the colony he had left behind. The moments of his childhood, filled with questions about his unique heritage, became fragments in a fading memory.

Still, Vert remained resolute. He knew that the Shylie had given him a sense of belonging he had never known before. In their underground sanctuary, he was not defined by his mixed heritage or the encroaching decay. He had become one with the subterranean world, a part of its ancient rhythms and mysteries.

As the seasons turned and the caverns whispered their timeless secrets, Vert's existence became a poignant symbol of resilience and adaptation. He might not have found a cure for the decay that threatened to claim him, but he had found a family among the Shylie who embraced him as one of their own, regardless of the challenges he faced. And in that acceptance, Vert discovered a profound sense of purpose and identity, even as his memories continued to fade into the depths of the earth.

However, his memories continued to fade, and he found himself remembering his previous families less and less, causing immense confusion. He often found himself wandering through the lands of Sparwood - looking for something not even there. And that was what led him eventually to the gates of Esaqu before he collapsed.

Esaqu
Vert's life took an unexpected turn when he was discovered at the assumed age of 20 near the entrance of Esaqu. A kind-hearted emperor welcomed him into the community, providing him with a place to live and a sense of belonging. As time passed, Vert developed a keen interest in the art of brewing alcoholic beverages and began experimenting with different drinks.

Filled with excitement, Vert hurriedly went to Henri's palace, eager to showcase the fruits of his labour. However, Henri, the emperor, noticed something peculiar about one side of Vert's face—it had an unusual, dirt-like texture. Concerned for Vert's well-being, Henri promptly sent him to the Medbay for examination.

To their dismay, the doctors revealed that Vert was afflicted with an exceedingly rare and seemingly incurable condition. This affliction caused his body to gradually transform into dirt. Overwhelmed by despair, Vert hastily made his way to the royal bridge with the intention of ending his suffering through drastic measures.

Fortunately, Henri intervened just in time. The compassionate emperor managed to persuade Vert to confront his condition and endure the accompanying pain. As a gesture of support, Henri offered Vert a position in the army, providing him with a sense of purpose and distraction from his affliction.

As Vert's thoughts swirled one cool winter morning, he realized with a start that he didn’t actually know how he got to the gates of Esaqu, so he went on a reflective walk through the towering forests of east Sparwood, the ancient giants loomed above him, and as he stared idly at a lake - watching the fish dart around the cool icy lake, he thought that he should consult Henri about his past, for so far in this world he seemed to have very few true friends.

Vert entered the palace, greeting Henri on his way in. After a little chatting, he brought up the main topic of his visit. Henri heard out Vert and notified him that he was unfortunately unaware of how Vert reached the gates of Esaqu. He did, however, recommend that Vert should give it some time and not worry about it too much. Vert left soon after this, both disappointed yet grateful for the Emperor's advice. He supposed it was possible that his amnesia would subside given more time, though he couldn't help but feel a bit confused as when he arrived at Esaqu, he somehow knew how to speak and all of the basics but very little else. Perhaps if he carried out a variety of activities, one would spark his memory?

Military career
So to distract himself, Vert delved into his newfound position as a member of the Yvres military. After a few weeks of training, he found himself getting speedy promotions due to his natural efficiency and methodical thinking, which allowed him to plan out the best strategies to use in many situations. His speedy promotions came to a sudden halt when he reached the rank of Sous-Lieutenant. He was faced with a new challenge: the training of a new soldier.

Vert's life had taken a series of unexpected turns, from his origins as Vert, a being with a unique blend of Shylie and Meyderlie heritage, to his arrival at the gates of Esaqu and his subsequent journey as a member of the Yvres military. Despite the fading memories of his past, he had found a sense of purpose and friendship in this new chapter of his life.

As Vert settled into his role as a Sous-Lieutenant in the Yvres military, he faced a fresh challenge - the training of a new soldier. It was a responsibility that required not only his tactical prowess but also his ability to impart knowledge and skills to a novice. Vert approached this task with the same determination and diligence that had earned him rapid promotions in the first place.

He took the young recruit under his wing, teaching them the art of strategy, combat tactics, and the importance of discipline. Vert's methodical thinking and ability to plan out effective strategies proved invaluable in shaping the new soldier's abilities. They trained together in the harsh winter landscape of Sparwood, honing their skills and forging a strong bond.

As the days turned into weeks and months, Vert's focus on training began to bear fruit. The recruit showed remarkable progress, a testament to Vert's dedication as a mentor. Their skills in combat improved, and they grew more confident in their abilities. The camaraderie they developed mirrored the bonds Vert had formed with the Shylie and later with Emperor Henri.

In the midst of his training duties, Vert continued to grapple with his amnesia. The mystery of how he had arrived at the gates of Esaqu and the fading memories of his past still weighed on his mind. He followed Henri's advice, allowing time to pass and hoping that his lost memories would eventually resurface. Meanwhile, he immersed himself in the daily routines of military life, finding solace in his responsibilities and the friendships he was building.

Vert's journey from a being with a unique heritage and a fading past to a respected member of the Yvres military was a testament to his resilience and adaptability. He had faced challenges and uncertainties along the way but had always managed to find a sense of purpose and belonging in the communities he joined. As he continued to train the new soldier and navigate the complexities of his own identity, he remained hopeful that one day, the missing pieces of his past would be revealed.

After successfully training the new soldier and witnessing their growth into a skilled and confident member of the Yvres military, Vert's dedication and leadership qualities did not go unnoticed. He was promoted to the rank of Capitaine, a significant milestone in his military career. This promotion came as recognition of his exceptional strategic thinking, methodical approach to problem-solving, and his ability to inspire and lead his fellow soldiers.

As a Capitaine, Vert assumed greater responsibilities within the Yvres military. He was tasked with not only leading his own unit but also assisting in planning and executing larger-scale operations. His calm demeanor and analytical mindset made him a valuable asset in the field, where quick thinking and effective decision-making were often the keys to success.

Despite his rise in rank and responsibilities, Vert remained humble and approachable. He continued to mentor and guide new recruits, ensuring that the knowledge and skills he had acquired were passed on to the next generation of soldiers. His commitment to the well-being of his comrades and his dedication to the mission earned him the respect and admiration of those under his command.

While Vert's military career flourished, the mystery of his past still lingered in the background. His amnesia remained a perplexing enigma, and he couldn't shake the desire to uncover the missing pieces of his history. In quiet moments, he would contemplate his origins and the circumstances that had brought him to Esaqu.

Vert's life had transformed from the enigmatic being named Vert, descended from a mix of the Shylie and the Meyderlie, to Capitaine Vert, a respected leader within the Yvres military. Yet, the journey of self-discovery and the quest to reclaim his lost memories continued to be a part of his ongoing narrative, even as he excelled in his new role and found a sense of belonging within the Esaqu community.

Relationship and marriage
Vert's visits to the Cuirassier household became a regular occurrence as he spent time talking to Claude and getting to know the other members of the Blu-Tack Man family. Among them, Lira, with her unique appearance and captivating personality, stood out to Vert in a way he had not anticipated.

Lira, possessing a face unlike the other Blu-Tack Men, exuded a charm that drew Vert in. Her playful yet deadly nature added an intriguing layer to her character, and Vert found himself falling for her in a way that transcended his previous experiences. It was as if the mystery and allure of her presence spoke to something deep within him.

As their interactions continued, Vert and Lira's connection grew stronger. They shared stories, laughter, and moments of quiet reflection together. Vert admired Lira's strength and resilience, and he felt a sense of warmth and belonging in her presence that he had rarely experienced before.

Their relationship blossomed amidst the backdrop of Esaqu, a place that had become Vert's second home. The two of them found solace and comfort in each other's company, and Vert couldn't help but be captivated by the woman who had stolen his heart.

In the absence of Emperor Henri, Vert and Lira's bond deepened, and their love for each other continued to grow. Vert's journey, from an enigmatic being with fading memories to a respected leader in the Yvres military, had taken an unexpected turn as he found love and companionship in the most unlikely of places.

As Vert and Lira's love story unfolded, it became a testament to the enduring power of connection and the ability to find love and acceptance even in the most unconventional circumstances. Their relationship added a new chapter to Vert's life, one filled with love, hope, and the promise of a future together in the ever-evolving city of Esaqu.

Vert and Lira's love had blossomed and deepened over the course of several months, and they decided it was time to take the next step in their relationship. With hearts full of love and a strong desire to formalize their commitment to each other, they made the decision to marry in a beautiful ceremony held at the church in Esaqu.

The ceremony was conducted by Cardinal Fazen, a prominent figure within the Orthodoxy of Light Incarnate. As they stood before the altar of the holy furnace, surrounded by friends and well-wishers from the Esaqu and Grand-Castell Lozhar communities alike, Vert and Lira exchanged vows that reflected their deep love and devotion to each other. The church was filled with an atmosphere of joy and celebration as the couple exchanged rings as symbols of their commitment. The words spoken by Cardinal Fazen resonated with the gathered crowd, emphasizing the significance of love, unity, and the bonds that bring people together.

As Vert and Lira exchanged their vows and were pronounced husband and wife, a wave of happiness and love washed over them and the congregation. However, their joy was short-lived as Vert's health took a sudden and alarming turn for the worse.

Vert, who had been battling the mysterious decay in his stone-like flesh for so long, collapsed right there at the altar. The patch of moss on his face had worsened, and the decay had intensified, taking a toll on his fragile form. Gasps of shock and concern echoed through the church as the congregation realized the gravity of the situation.

Lira, filled with panic and fear, rushed to Vert's side, cradling him in her arms. Tears welled up in her eyes as she pleaded for help from anyone who could offer it. The Cardinal, Fazen, immediately began to assess Vert's condition, calling for medical assistance from the congregation.

The once-celebratory atmosphere in the church had turned somber and tense as everyone watched with bated breath, hoping for a miracle that would save Vert's life. The couple, who had just exchanged their vows of love and commitment, now faced an uncertain and perilous future. The fate of Vert, and the love story he had shared with Lira, hung in the balance, and the congregation could only hope that they could find some way to save him from the relentless decay that threatened to consume him.

Meeting Riegan
Late at night, Vert leaves the Drunken Duck slightly drunk from a night of lone drinking. He is not sure what happened to his old drinking partner, Viktor. *He stumbles* over to the library of Gaular, *loudly barging open the door* and *walks* over to the brewing section, *hoping to find ideas* to inspire him with the creation of new brews. During his prowl, *he hears* the sound of a person sleeping. *Surprised, he turns* around the shelf he was looking at to see a tall, thin, and bony man in a dark blue and white suit, face down with paperwork scattered around him. Worried and slightly confused, *in his stupor*, Vert *stumbles* towards this stranger and roughly *prods* them with his rocky index finger. "Ow ow ow, okay, I'm up!" *exclaims* the stranger with clear dissatisfaction at being awoken. Vert, still slightly worried for the stranger's well-being, *asks*, "Are you okay there?" The man, still looking exhausted due to visible dark shadows under each of his eyes, *stares* up at Vert with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth and *grumbles*, "Yeah, yeah, I'm..." before pinching the bridge of his nose and continuing, "I'm fine."

Vert, making up his mind that the stranger desperately needs sleep, *insists*, "You should really get some sleep." However, the stranger *protests*, "I still have work to do!" Grimly, Vert *slams* his fist on the hardwood table over the man's most substantial pile of paperwork, leaving a slight crater in the oak. "Perhaps I was not clear enough... you are going home to get some sleep." Clearly unbothered, the man *takes* a long drag of his cigarette before continuing to write as he had previously intended.

Vert, spurred on by the slight alcoholic influence on his mind, *proceeds* to grab the man's pen, *breaking* it in the process, and more gently *picks up* the sheet of paper that was being written on. Even more unimpressed, the stranger *looks* up at Vert and suddenly has both the paper and a brand new pen in his grasp. Now beginning to get mad, Vert *yells*, "If you want to play that game, I will take the table," before *snatching* up the table. Exasperated, the stranger *looks* up at Vert, reasoning that taking the table would reflect badly on Vert as it would surely upset the librarian. *Slamming* the table down, Vert agrees with this but *accidentally breaks* the leg of the table. Ashamed, he decides to double down on this action, *exclaiming*, "This game can be played in other ways," before *mumbling*, "Damn Betula is gonna kill me." The stranger *concedes*, returning the papers to his slightly weathered brown suitcase and *asks*, "Now who even are you, why are you bothering me?"

"I'm nobody, just a dryad with an interest in books who believes you desperately need to get some sleep," *Vert grumbles*. In response to this, the stranger *pulls* out another, seemingly longer sheet of paper and *looks* over it. "Vert de Haricoville-Curassier, right?" Vert, shocked that this stranger seems to know who he is, hastily *attempts* to grab the paper, which is *snatched* away before he reaches it impossibly fast by the stranger, who *yells*, "I think not!" The stranger, it seems, is now fully alert. "Why is my name in your papers and just who are you!?" *bellows* Vert, clearly now in distress. "I'm Gascoigne Riegan, and my papers have information on everyone, so don't worry." Slightly relieved but starting to become drowsy, Vert *asks*, "Very well then, but what do you have on me?" Riegan reads through the mysterious paper before listing off various information, including Vert's relationships and other assorted details. Suddenly excited, Vert *perks* up. "Wait, is it possible you have any information on my parents? They were both dryads, if that helps." Riegan once again looks through the paper before apologetically *muttering*, "Hmmm, nope, sorry. Well, I have a meeting, so I will see you around." Vert, disappointed, does not attempt to stop the man from leaving and *catches* a brief glimpse of something that seemed like a golden scale out of the corner of his eye. However, by the time he turns, whatever it was, as well as Riegan, are gone. He dejectedly *trudges* back to Esaqu before *collapsing* into bed.

An issue with the Librarian
The next morning, Vert awoke and *began brewing* himself a small pot of tea when he noticed a letter which had been *slid* neatly under the door. It curiously bore the insignia of Gaular. He *picked it up*, curious because it was addressed from Gaular, and carefully *read the paper*. His eyes widened with worry - he had been summoned to appear in the Drunken Duck by an unknown party. Vert, ever cautious, *gathered everything* he could possibly need for self-defense, including his armor, katana, and some herbal drinks to supplement his strength. He quickly *ate some lunch* before setting off. It was late afternoon by the time Vert arrived in Gaular. *Traveling in his armor took far longer* than walking, which normally took him just half an hour. Upon arriving in town, he *headed straight for the designated meeting spot*, warily looking around for possible threats.

He entered the Drunken Duck, *moving carefully* to make little noise, hoping to catch anyone planning a trap by surprise. He walked into the main area. *As he walked across the bar floor*, he heard a sudden noise behind him and *spun around* to find... the friendly local librarian, Betula. *Betula greeted* Vert, "Vert! How are you?" while *drawing slightly closer*. Vert *warily replied*, "Good!" before *questioning*, "You?" It was at this point that Vert *noticed* a gleaming blue sword sheathed in Betula's cloak. Betula *replied*, "Oh, I am doing well!" before *following up with*, "There have been some little... temporary setbacks, though." Vert, *surprised*, *responded*, "Oh my, what happened?" before *remembering the previous night's events* and his breaking of the table. He *decided to act friendly*, hoping they would be less aggressive if he was apologetic. He *removed his armor* while *listening to Betula* mention some recent trouble in their library. He *suggested* it may have been the new person, Riegan, who he distinctly remembered as seeming rather shady, though he was not sure why he thought this. Betula *raised an eyebrow* and *remarked*, "It is funny you would say that actually." Vert, *not noticing this*, *continued*, mentioning how Riegan was new in Gaular in his sorry attempt to portray Riegan as the scapegoat of this issue. An eyebrow still raised, Betula *continued*, "I am, as you are no doubt well aware, very protective of my library and I ensure I am up-to-date with any issues that arise."

With a slight tinge of nervousness in his voice, Vert *responded*, "Yeah... I would not want you to catch me messing around in there!" Slightly grinning now, Betula *responded*, "What an... interesting choice of words," as Vert's eyes *flicked to the doorway*, as if he was contemplating an escape. Betula's grin *widened significantly* before they said, "I believe you are aware a table was broken last night, yes?" Feigning innocence, Vert *dramatically responded*, "A table broken? Oh my! What terrible news!" Impossibly, grinning even wider, Betula *demanded*, "Why yes, isn't it just... you owe me a table, Vert." Vert *tried one last time to feign innocence*, "I do?" Humorlessly, Betula *responded*, "Yes." Finally conceding that Betula was sure of the previous night's events, Vert *questioned*, "Of what variety?" Betula *responded* with a notoriously rare and expensive variety of cedar, fine Viratayn cedarwood, *hovering one hand over the sword* that had been inconspicuously placed within their robe. Defensively, *roots shot out of Vert* and began intertwining with the floorboards of the Duck. Not yet noticing the roots, Betula *continued*, "I know, as I bought it from a town there myself." They then *noticed the roots*, steadily branching out from Vert, and *reasoned*, "My apologies, I should not have brought my sword indoors," and *continued*, mentioning there were two options to resolve the issue. He could either pay them a total of 2000 for a replacement table or he could fix the table to a satisfactory standard. Having just paid off a large loan, Vert *was very short on money*, so he decided to repair the table instead.

Betula then *indicated* that Vert should follow them and *walked into the library*. He *pointed out the table*, which was now propped up on a stack of books, the leg leaning off a nearby wall. He *picked up the leg* and removed the books, *fusing the leg to the table* using some roots, with a concerned look on his face, as something felt wrong. Getting up, he *informed Betula* that there was both good news and bad news. The good news was that the table would be fully repaired after a small sanding, and the bad news was that the chair was a fake and was not carved from fine Viratayn cedarwood or even basic cedar wood. Betula, understandably enraged by this realization, *shouted*, "I'm going to strangle that grinning..." before going deadly calm and asking, "... do excuse me. Could you please tell me what the table is in fact made of?" Shrugging, Vert *responded*, "With the ease I was able to fix it with? I would say it is likely regular spruce." Betula *continued fuming for a moment*, then calmed down slightly and *asked*, "Could you at least check everything else?" Vert *extended some roots* and *checked the rest of the furniture* in the room, which were all genuine, before *apologetically leaving* to return home.

A journey to the past
The scenery was stunning; *a cool breeze could be felt from a far entrance.* The trickle of the surrounding waterfalls was interrupted only by the familiar laughter of those he called his family. *He could not remember how long it had been since he had returned to these caves;* the past seemed but a fuzzy image in his head. *Today, he was learning the mimicry arts of the Shylie.*

* The surrounding caves were filled with sounds of joy and laughter.* Vert smiled - *after all, he would never have to leave this place.* As he continued on, *something was wrong;* his once lush and blooming moss was withering away and had a tinge of brown. *This issue grew rapidly, and submerged in worry, he did not notice until it was too late.* *The sounds of laughter had faded,* and that cool breeze was no more. He looked around him and saw the frosts of the Castellan heartland looming above him. *But he had just been in the cave; how could he be here?*

* Panicked,* he reached out for the memories and *awoke to find himself in his bed.* Concerned, Lira asked him, "What is wrong? Is something bothering you?" Vert, *remembering his surroundings,* wearily shook his head. "It's nothing important," he told her reassuringly, before continuing, "I will have to depart on a journey for a while tomorrow. I have to see something." Seeing his resolve as solid as the stone-like material that made up his skin, *Lira decided not to attempt convincing Vert otherwise.* *The next morning,* Vert left Esaqu with supplies and a horse.

(3 weeks later)

It felt like it had been months since Vert had left the shelter of Esaqu. A blizzard was afoot, and snow swirled around him. He could feel the frost on his face deeply freezing; some bits had already chipped off. The horse had died of frostbite, he thought, earlier that day. *Why couldn't he have stayed in the shelter of his home?* He wasn't upset or anything. All he knew was he wanted to find those he had grown up with. Just as his legs gave out beneath him, he felt warm, very warm. It was as if he had been whisked away from the icy terrain of Sparwood.

Groaning, Vert opened his eyes, feeling like he had been asleep for a long time. He saw that he was not in the icy plain anymore but was in a cave. He sat up and looked around, *wondering* how he was here and how he was still alive; he did not know these things. Looking around, he was reminded of his dream—the quiet trickle of waterfalls and the lush growth on the rocky walls. However, he noticed a few differences: the sounds of laughter had faded, and that brilliant sunshine was enveloped in what seemed to be a sea of black. Stretching his arms out, *Vert exited the hut and found the cave to be empty. However, faint footsteps echoed from a nearby passage, leading him to walk and meet the mysterious character behind them.*

As he passed through the passage, he *tripped on a particularly large root*. Vert steadied himself after stumbling and took a deep breath, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit cave. The echoes of faint footsteps had faded, leaving the cavern eerily silent. *Dusting off his military jacket*, Vert ventured forward, his curiosity pushing him deeper into the depths of the cave. As he walked, the walls seemed to whisper secrets that hinted at lost memories. *They were adorned with shimmering crystals and vibrant lichens*. The faint glow of mushrooms cast shadows across the cave floor, guiding his path. He wandered down the passage, the sound of his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. The cave seemed to stretch endlessly, and Vert couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, although he saw no one.

Finally, he reached a larger chamber, its ceiling soaring high above. The air was thick with a damp, earthy smell, and a faint breeze carried the distant sound of trickling water. Vert glanced around, *his eyes adjusting to the sudden burst of light being given off by much bigger mushrooms*. In the center of the chamber lay a small pool of crystal-clear water, reflecting the sudden luminescence of the mushrooms. *He took a break to rub his eyes*. Approaching the pool, Vert knelt down, cupping his hands and taking a sip of the cool water. Refreshed, he gazed at the pool's surface, mesmerized by the way the ripples distorted the reflections of the cave walls.

Coming around a corner, Vert spotted a faint light emanating from a distant chamber. The footsteps seemed to originate from there. With cautious steps, *he advanced*, his rocky heart pounding in anticipation of what lay ahead. Just as he approached the chamber, a loose stone underfoot shifted, causing Vert to stumble forward. He regained his balance, a bit embarrassed by the mishap, and turned to glance back at the passage he'd just navigated, only to be met with the sight of a figure emerging from the shadows. It was someone he hadn't seen in years, a familiar face from his past, but the details remained obscured in the dimly lit cave. Vert's breath caught in his throat, recognizing the silhouette of a long-lost friend waiting at the entrance of the passage.

As Vert drew closer to the shadowed figure, *their shape and details* became clearly visible. It was one of the many Shylie he had left behind when he departed the caves. This particular individual was an older specimen, easily pushing his thousands, yet *he appeared* reasonably healthy for his age, with only small parts of his moss looking withered—an early stage of decay that told Vert the elder had little time once it caught on. A raspy voice emerged from the character, "Is that you, Sibirica?" Confused, Vert questioned the name. The elderly Dryad explained how they had found him back in his younger years in the snow, almost dead, and named him Sibirica after the tree they believed he hailed from. Vert chuckled before responding, "Well, I go by Vert now. Nice to see you again. Is there anywhere we could catch up? So much has happened since we last saw each other."

* They returned* to one of the many waterfalls Vert had passed through earlier, now filled with dryads and the familiar laughter of Vert's childhood, and *sat down* mere meters away from the water's edge. *They spoke* for many hours, the exact passing of time made unclear by their depth within the cave. Almost begrudgingly, Vert bid the elderly dryad farewell as *he collected* the few supplies he had managed to keep, as well as a vibrant collection that had been left for him as a gift from his old village. He had greatly enjoyed the brief but deep visit he had made here and intended to return in the future, perhaps with a few of his family members or those he considered his friends. Viktor and Claude came to mind in this train of thought—he wondered if they would find a trip to his homeland worthwhile or perhaps even enjoyable.

* He then strode* out of the cave into the cool but sunny plains of summer. *He blinked*, clearing the dust from his eyes. Wait, summertime? He had left in the middle of winter—or he thought he had... was he really away for so long? His pace, at a leisurely stroll, immediately sped up to a brisk stride. *He realized* he had spent a long time talking to the elder in that cave. He had to return home and check if his family was well. Just a few days later, *he approached* the walls of Esaqu, though he feared he might be far too late.

He *burst* through the doors of his house to see Lira relaxing at the table. When she sees Vert, *a look* of heavy relief washes over her face. She rushes over to check if he isn't harmed before inquiring, "How was your trip?" with a slight twinge of emotion that Vert cannot place, as all he can see is the relief seemingly plastered over her face. He *smiles* and replies, "It was so good; I have a lot to tell you!" Then, remembering how long he was gone, he *asks*, "Are you okay?" Lira faces him and begins speaking, icy calm, "Well, we have been fine." Reassured, Vert *responds*, "Oh, that is good." Lira suddenly *interrupts*, now shouting, "Did you really think we were alright? You left for five months, and we had no sign of you! The kids and I have been worried sick! I had to ask Viktor for help with them," before calming down and finally settling into a chair. Surprised by the exact amount of time he had been gone, he reassures her in an effort to *apologize*.

After they have both *taken* a seat, Viktor comes around the corner, followed by a young-looking girl. She seems frightened by the size of Vert, so Viktor has to *reassure* her before she continues forwards. Vert does not see her at first and *says*, "Hey Vik, how are you doing?" before he sees the girl and *questions*, "Who is this?" Viktor *responds*, telling Vert about how he found her locked up at a cultist compound and is now *looking* after her. Vert *kneels* down in an attempt to be less big and scary and *says*, "Hey, little one, how are you?" Hecate, *looking* at him, her pupil still slightly shaking out of terror, quietly *whispers*, "Good." Vert notices this and *tries* to reach out to her by means of food. He *tears* a small bit of moss off his face, wincing slightly, and *reaches* out with his hand, "Here, try this - it is good!" Seeing the scary man tearing off what seems to be his skin, Hecate *shies* behind Viktor and has to be *encouraged* out before she feels the moss.

Upon *feeling* the moss, her eyes go wide, and she *rushes* toward Vert, *giving* him a hug. Vert *turns* to Viktor, "You are going to have to *tell* me the full story later; for now, I'm going to get some food." When Vert *tries* to move, however, the young girl *sticks* to his leg like glue, *making* it rather difficult to walk. To *counter* this, he *picks* her up, after which she *feels* the moss on his face before *saying* one word, "...soft."

An issue in Gaular
It was pitch black in the middle of the night. The gate guard hadn’t seen anything peculiar, so he figured it would be another uneventful night in a myriad of uneventful nights… that is until he heard the *clack* of a pair of shoes approaching on the stone road. “At this hour?” he thought to himself. He *peered* into the darkness and saw a lone figure slowly walking towards the gate with his hands behind his back. As he got closer, he made out more of his features. He was impeccably dressed with a long red velvet coat, a black and red undershirt with a matching vest. He wore circular sunglasses with dark red-tinted lenses. His hair was dark blond, and his skin looked oddly pale. Perhaps it was just the trickery of the moonlight, but his teeth seemed to be shining. He *approached* silently, and the guard said, “Halt, state your name!” The man *strolled* up to him; his blood-red eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. “Arthur Pentecost, my good man. I’m simply here to visit.” “Do you have any identification?” the guard asked. “Of course, sir. Allow me.” Pentecost *swiped* his hand, and a black mist briefly shrouded it. The guard let him in, no questions asked. In fact, he *apologized* for holding Mr. Pentecost up. Arthur *strolled* past the gate guard and muttered under his breath, “Now, dearest mother, why are you so interested in the city of Gaular…?"

Citizens would only ever see this individual at night, wearing that red coat with dark red sunglasses. Even though it would usually be around midnight, it was strange. Whenever someone interacted with him, he would simply introduce himself as Arthur, and everyone just so happened to forget the rest. Although one detail remained: bright red eyes, always bright red eyes. No matter what time or when they would see him, his crimson-colored eyes would be the only thing they remembered besides his name. Something more supernatural is going on here. Although one witness did report something suspicious when walking in front of his estate on their way back home. They *heard* the sound of something, or possibly someone being dragged behind his estate. Something supernatural is definitely happening, and it might not be good.

The gate guard *runs* to the door of Viktor's house and *knocks* in a panic. “Mister Viktor, please come out. We require your assistance!” But walking to the door, dressed now in a white shirt with a black necktie is Hecate, her hypnotic yellow eyes *staring* deep into his. “Oh, um… where is Viktor? Do you know? We require his help with…” The girl simply *says*, “Stop,” and mid-sentence the guard *freezes* and turns away, feeling compelled that he could handle the situation. He didn’t need help from Viktor; he should go elsewhere. Be careful; it’s a common practice in that family to disguise your true self…

Arthur's plans were going well. He is infiltrating high society rather *smoothly*. Another week passed without any issues until a vampire agent *rushes* into his office. Arthur *perks* up, expecting good news, but he is given horrible news instead. “Sire, they’re back! Both of them dealt with the elder and his assassins!” Arthur's eyes *widened*, and he *looked* out the window to see two people walking in through the front gates of Gaular: a well-dressed man with a golden pin on his chest and a muscular man with a scar on his lip. Viktor and Riegan are back.

Viktor lay there *slumped* against a tree with blood dripping from his chest. Those vampires got him good; he was too tough for them to kill him, but they were able to injure him quite seriously. He *winced* and *clutched* his chest. Viktor wasn’t one to complain, so all he did was sit there in silence, trying to stop the bleeding. That is until he *heard* what sounded like footsteps. His eyes *darted* over to where he heard the noise, still alert from the amount of adrenaline coursing through his body. He saw a person with short hair and a strange black mark over their eye. He *stared* in confusion for a moment before they *noticed* him. Despite their seemingly youthful appearance, they had a singular streak of grey hair running through the middle of their head. Viktor *tried* to spatter out words, but the blood had gotten to his lungs, his vision began to fade, his knees *weakening*. With a heavy thud, he *collapsed* to the ground, and just before his sight turned to black, he saw that it wasn’t a normal person, that *entity* walking towards him.

His eyes *snapped* open and *darted* around, still dazed. He *sat* there wondering how long he had been out until he *heard* a soft voice call out to him. “Hm, barely took you any time; you recover quite quickly, Mr. Lozharo.” His eyes *shot* over to where he heard the voice, and again there was that, he had no clue at this point, but the black marks on their skin had spread to different places. Viktor *spoke* clearly, his injuries having healed from his extreme durability. “…And you are…?” They *looked* surprised. “So your mother never mentioned me? That’s a shame. I suppose you were too young when she passed away.” Viktor was even more confused. They claim to be older than him when they don’t even look a day over 20. “Well… why don’t you tell me now?” Viktor *asked*. They simply *smiled* back and said, “Uriel, Uriel Tempest.” Viktor *furrowed* his eyebrows in confusion. “And… I’m supposed to know you?” “Who do you think it was that kept those old bastards from throwing you out for that long?” Viktor’s eyes *widened* in realization; they had been the one to halt his execution when he was younger? How old were they? Viktor *asked* hesitantly. “…You were there in my childhood?” They *responded* plainly. “Oh, I’ve been around much longer before your childhood, dear. If I remember correctly, I am… 3000 years old, yes, that’s it.” Viktor was really surprised now. How did they even find him? They *got* up and gave him a *pat* on the head. “Now you rest and recover; trust me, dear, nobody will find you here.” Viktor couldn’t find it in himself to sleep, so he *did* all he could, and that was wait.

Viktor *sat* there, unmoving as Uriel simply *milled* about, not really doing much. He was actually about to fall back asleep until he *heard* a familiar hissing sound; those vampires, the ones who tried to kill him, they were back. *Springing* to his feet, he saw the three of them, weapons and claws brandished. He *readied* himself for a fight until Uriel *placed* a hand on his shoulder. “You sit back down, dear; I’ll deal with them.” Viktor *looked* hesitant, but based on the look in her eyes, she seemed serious. He *sat* back down, and what happened is surely going to stick with him for a while. With a wave of their hand, Uriel *tore* the three Camarilla agents to shreds. They didn’t even have to touch them. Viktor’s eyes *went* wide, but he quickly composed himself. Clearly, there was more to this mysterious being who claimed to know him. He just didn’t know it yet. He *sat* there tapping his finger on the ground impatiently until Uriel finally *said* something. “Done resting, dear?” Viktor *nodded* silently, and before he could speak, Uriel *cut* him off. “Yes, yes, you want to get back to your family; I know.” Viktor *froze*; Uriel just read exactly what he was thinking, and before he could react, Uriel *waved* and said, “Goodbye for now, Mister Lozharo,” and *snapped* their fingers. Viktor was back at Gaular’s gates. Again, he quickly composed himself and *walked* inside. Would he ever see Uriel again? Maybe… maybe not. That one was curious and unpredictable, but for now, he just had to keep going forward, like he always does.

He *sat* down, *staring* at the shining cup of tea in his hands. He *saw* that his face was starting to wrinkle; he was getting older. While he may only be in his early forties, he knew as he *stared* down at his reflection in the tea, he didn’t have much time left. Just as Viktor was about to get lost in the reflection, he *could* hear a commotion from the downstairs living room. At first, it *sounded* like talking but quickly transitioned to shouting. *Wary* of a possible threat, he *motioned* for Hecate to follow behind him — that way he could protect her. Upon going downstairs, he found his long-lost friend in what seemed to be an argument with his wife and immediately *dropped* his guard, *motioning* that Hecate should go say hello. She was clearly terrified though, so he gave her a little push, finally convincing her that the large rocky man may not be her enemy. After a quick conversation with Vert, he *put* Hecate - who now found the soft moss of this mysterious man to be the softest thing she'd ever felt - to sleep.