"Ah, Young Man, I've heard you were back." Brewbrt greets, his sentence ending peculiarly. Did he have something else he wanted to say? A cut-off thought? Or, more likely, a withheld one...

Looking away from the shrine of Motrtha, I catch the silvered glow of his emerald hair in the temple's darkness.

"I did not take you for the kind of man to spend time with the First Mother." he comments, coming to a stop near me. Moving my head away from Motrtha's enshrined hand, I stand up. Moving my jawbone about, I try to lock it up to hide my natural habits. In a busy street I might get away with it, not in a place like this. Not in a chamber where echoes come back.

I gulp, "I didn't think I would have, either. But life has led me to some peculiar places over the past few months. I am on a course that makes old comforts impossible to find. Only the newly discovered ones are within reach."

Brewbrt seems to get where I am coming from, and the glow in his eyes outlines his soothing expression. He nods in understanding and offers his own little prayer to the Goddess of Love and Motherhood. A simple gesture, one that mimics the cradling of a child, then a bow. As Motrtha did when she came into existence to nurture Thurnmourer, crying in the nothing-before-creation.

"Aye... Aye, I can understand that, Young Man. I can understand that very well," he says, his arm gesturing me to follow. We arrive at the shrine of the Civilised One. Italcihom, God of Cities. Of Home...

Blinking harshly, I try to return my mind to this god's other focuses. All things towny, crowded and man-made. Lots of overlap with the God of Thunder for Creation is what leads to Cities. I suppose Brewbrt honours him as he is the head of a town? Makes sense to me that he would hold Italcihom in high regards because of it.

With a mixture of paranoia and religious understanding driving one foot back, my mouth opens, "Would you prefer if I leave?"

He clearly knows something about the ryphurgok incident, something about me. What he did at the end of all that trouble, he wouldn't have done it if he did not know. Yet, rather than allowing me to leave with an answer as beautiful as 'yes,' he shakes his head. Staring at his raised hand carefully, I try not to let my worries tremble my form.

Shifting my weight between my feet, a claw goes behind my head to rub it. Brewbrt's eyes lock onto the shape of my bicep, hard from shell and not hard-worked muscle. My other claw scrunches up my cloak, hiding my legs. I retreat as much as I can behind it.

"No, no, you stay. I've been meaning to get your final word on what I asked you before, anyway. Now that you're back and all."

"Regarding the osibindah?" I question, cutting straight to the meat of the topic. A slight wideness to his eyes comes about.

He nods while sighing, "Yes, that issue."

"I... I will help. Someone won't let it go otherwise."

"Rose'lhia, was it?"

"Yes, yes, it was her." I answer, huffing at the laughter that starts to come out of the old man.

It begins to become a dry chuckle, "Aelenvari are good for that, fickle when proven wrong wholesale. But very assertive in encouraging your strength whilst they maintain faith in you."

"Well, she is certainly very much something. I'll give you that much." I breathe, barely able to avoid a single amused huff. My thoughts focus on the red rose-haired, needle-legged woman. That unbelievably gorgeous woman. Such a strange thing, so very different but so similar as to still agree with the taste of a man that has not known of her kind for decades.

While she has had a habit of being quite annoying with her frankly slutty antics... I am still glad she chose to come along with me, even if it means I am exploiting something I don't believe in. I may not love her, but I appreciate her being a familiar face for me to talk to and be with. She genuinely wants to see me improve, even with how her uptightness would give off a distinctly lesser impression.

"So, Young Man. Your help. How far does it extend?" Brewbrt asks as we move again. We arrive at the shrine of Defiance to the Moons. The God of All-Defenders, Guareroisncer. My eyes leap about the many worn shields that decorate the edges of the statue. Are they Brewbrt's old ones or do they belong to the guards of the town? Hm.

"As... As far as it is needed, why?" I answer, moving my mind and focus away from the distraction by staring off into the dark.

"I am growing concerned. The valley-riders have found nothing to hint at a nearby hive. Only tracks that suggest movement. Lots and lots of tracks. Yet, too many out of nowhere to simply be a hive."

My heart begins to hurt, a cold wave freezing up the rest of my body, "Maybe they're still looking for a place to establish a hive?"

"I have pondered that, yes... But if that is the case, I am left to wonder what drove them this way. I've been alive long enough and have dealt with them enough to know how sneaky they are. So long as they are able, they will flee beneath the earth, not above it," he says, his hand snaking towards one of the Guardian God's shields. Worry plasters his face in moments and he brings his hand back, tightening it into a whistling fist.

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The wisps spawning out of it spook me, forcing the distance between us to grow a step.

"I... I may have an answer to that." I tell him and he looks my way, expression stern in a way I've only seen from Vapooliar. I suppose, given her profession, it is a soldier's gaze. A veteran's grimace.

"Tell me," he demands. I nod slowly.

"The flower Rose came from, they stopped a few days' trek away. Specifically, they did so to purge a hive in search of seeds and missing people. They've probably been so thorough that..." I point out, recalling all the details about the upset to the hive's ecosystem. But I can't find it in me to talk about my own efforts and that of the initial escape.

"Oh? That is calming. Somewhat. But is there going to be any means for you to know if this is the same hive of osibindah?"

"I am not versed in bugs, I am afraid. I don't think there is really anything I can point out to make that clear."

"What if we were to find the earth shaman of the hive? Would you be able to figure out then?"

"If it is still alive, then... A top, a shirt, vest, tunic, whatever. Clothes made of rusty, crushed helms and threaded with about much the same." I explain, my hidden eyes growing distant as memories flash in my head. Gnashing jaws, the feelings of pain across my body. The rush of it all. A fight for my very life.

Never mind what it made of my countrymen. I still do not know why they turned out like that. Why the earth shaman never killed me is all the clearer, now that I am what I am. It wanted me to turn out like them, a warrior for an evil cause. Thankfully, I got out of there before the creatures could enthral me.

All thanks to that little insect with a skull-shaped shell.

"That is not good at all. If that is your detail of remembrance, then I cannot risk sending the valley-riders out. They'd be slaughtered in a faceoff with such a bug."

"I did beat him... Once... I think... He ran off, but so did I, I guess." I mutter, my want to at least get the truth out being a bit too loud. He clearly hears me.

"You beat an earth shaman of such infamy? You laid the Eater of Towns low?" Brewbrt asks, and my head shakes instantly.

"N-N-No, no, no, no. An eye of his alone. I know I did not kill him. I... At best, all I did was scare him off."

"Hm, how did you beat him? With a weapon I have yet to see, a spell that I'd love to spectate?"

"No, no... No, all I had at the time were my c- hands." I answer, coughing as that 'c' catches too harshly in my throat. What in the name of the gods is Brewbrt going to think about a man calling his claws what they are!?

"HAH! HAHAHAHA!" he roars, his mood changing in a way I did not anticipate.

Stepping back, he notices.

"Oh, hohoho. Don't mind me. I'm just an old man, happy to hear tales of the young acting just like I used to."

"Uh... Heh?" I let out awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

"So, anything else you want to elaborate on?" he asks, his mood changing again.

I recall what I spoke to Rose about, "The earth shaman cannot cast magic without his staff. At least, that seems to have been the case."

"That is very helpful to know, actually. In fact, it opens up the possibility of the valley-rider option again."

"It does?"

"Yes, yes indeed. There are many good shots within the local valley-riders. Have to be out here with how easy it is to find trees and rocks. Many have chosen to settle down in town, as well, so there's more to be called upon. Just give them the window and they'll shoot his damnable staff right out of his filthy claws. Then you go in and finish that fight."

"You make it sound easy..." I mutter, thinking of what it was like last time. The earth shaman beat me within a hair's breadth of my life. I do not know how I survived that night, not with what I had to do on the way out.

"Nin, listen carefully, from an experienced old man to a youth like you. Very few things in life are easy, especially not fights. But nothing is more helpful to future ones than easing the worries away. Fights begin inside of the mind. A confident fighter is a victorious one."

"To let go of all concerns will just get you killed. Overconfidence is lethal." I remark to him about a topic my mind is not centred on. It's not the same at all, but I've seen enough people become a workplace fatality trying to rise higher back home. The climb of progress in Tobaballe cannot be sped up, it must be done day by day.

"Then, it is a good thing you are still cautious, no?" he goes, almost confusing me with how it brings me out of my thoughts.

"I guess... So, am I to assume you will be wanting me to be going out soon-ish?"

"First light if you were the soldiering type, but tomorrow after breakfast is just fine." he smiles.

"Guess I will hold off on breakfast." I dryly remark under my breath.

"Then I'll spill you and your friend out onto the streets until you come back with the head of an osibindah!" the old man laughs with a bouncing chest.

"You hope we will find them soon?" I question, not particularly eager to spend extensive time with strangers chasing bugs. Not when it's so easy for them to try to kill me and go back with a lie.

"Of course, but not so soon. I want you to mostly use tomorrow to get to know who will have your back. Only the important ones. You'll know which ones by how extravagant their cloaks are compared to the rest."

"I understand. I'll try and get along with them." I answer, Brewbrt's arms suddenly guiding me out of the temple. We reach the exit and he puts his hand on the door, turning back to face me.

"Don't worry too much about that. Just... Don't make them glad to be rid of you," he warns and my claws curl into fists. Is he aware of what I might be thinking or is he suspecting they'll figure out what I am? But, again, does Brewbrt know what I am? Does he...?

Guess I won't know. He's already gone. Putting my claws to the closest palm, I scratch my shell. My circumstances drown out all other thoughts. It's impossible not to think about them.

Do I need to be more careful for now...? It's bad enough being near one pair of well-trained eyes. To be near so many more which have been explicitly trained for spotting and taking out fine targets on the move... It's a terrifying thing to consider.

Will I be safe going out with them? It's too likely they'll know what I am if I spend too much time with them. Especially when their instincts are so attuned to what we are fighting. They'll see the imagery, one of them will. How I match their shadows, the posture of the osibindah... Someone will find out.

When I meet them, perhaps I am best off keeping it short-lived and simple? A basic 'hello,' not going over or away from it. I need to keep it to things that keep me away from them. Though, my time with Rose has shown me some people can be quite clingy, outlier though she might be.

Glancing up at the night sky, I mind the light of a still busy street, "No sense in staying here, I guess. Maybe I should go back to the room or...?"

The tapping of my feet accents my thoughts. They start to linger in the centre of the temple. I start to move back into its confines, hoping to seek out a few more words of comfort and reassurance. The sound of drunken laughter fills my ears and I snap my attention towards it, the door squeaking as its metal is abruptly strained.

"A joyous night out, huh?" I remark, shrugging my shoulders and walking after the noise. I was on about being homesick earlier. Maybe seeing an old, familiar behaviour will help?