“I’ve not mentioned it before, but the fact that your Tablet uses the four-attribute format was more telling of its make than the fact it’s a stone slab. I’m nearly certain that my Force is simply too specialized towards swordsmanship and lack of physical strength in other areas drives the overall rating down.”

“C’mon we all know why your one-handed swing is really as good as it is!” Zef heckled from behind with a laugh. Makhus looked like he really wanted to be mad at that, but just didn’t have it in himself to go to that place emotionally, so he instead just chuckled at the non-joke the way one would chuckle at a pun so bad it became good.

“Excuse though it may be, it’s still a fair point. Grab another stick and let’s go again. If the Tablet can’t be relied upon I’ll just have to figure out your fighting myself,” said Zel in an attempt to motivate him at least a little bit, but he was ever the pragmatist. He suggested, “I can just tell you how I was trained and how I fight, y’know.”

“That’ll be nice, but I’m still gonna make you fight me,” the slayer shot back with a toothy grin.

Unfortunately for either of them, they were interrupted by the door opening again, Sigmund’s bald head poking through like a polished hardboiled egg as he looked over the scene, his gaze landing on Zelsys as he began: “There’s someone out front claiming you owe her a share of the hoard, says that you’ll know what I mean. Short ginger hair, face remarkably similar to yours, just more scars and much more serious. I think she’s got full plate on.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Zel nodded.

Makhus took this opportunity to follow Sig out the door, telling them that, “I’ll go do some cleanup in the meanwhile. Yes yes, I owe you another round, I know.”

They came to stand face to face, the two of them, staring one another down in that yard. Both measuring up the other. Zelsys felt a change in her counterpart, as if some immaterial shackles had been undone. The everpresent stiff professionalism was… It was still there, but imperfect, not like the golemic stiffness the Inquisitor had displayed when wearing her gas-mask.

Her armored coat was gone, in its place a long burlap cloak that parted at the front to reveal a charred suit of plate armor. The sword which hung at her hip, too, was different, its crossguard wrought of metal briars and its scabbard scorched… And somehow, Zelsys knew it was the same sword she had seen used in the dungeon. Zel was deeply curious about what had happened to inflict such pervasive change, what arcane process had been involved in the changing of the Inquisitor into a Renegade, but she chose to forego such questioning.

Alcerys looked upon Zelsys, her gaze briefly lingering on the slayer’s newly-reattached left arm before she met her gaze and simply stated: “I’ve come for my share of the hoard and to let you know that Strolvath would be around soon with news from the governor.”

No hate, no angst, just a vague sense of business mixed in with relief. And indeed, her share she did take, claiming exactly what she had said she would, and to the surprise of all present, storing it in a Tablet of her own. It was a heavy, metal thing, carved with simple glyphs rich in right angles, its projections mirroring the same. It seemed to be operated with a mixture of physical buttons and direct mental control, the projection flat and uninteractive.

Her share of the hoard ended up being a number of smaller jade pieces, several hundred Huén, some aether crystals, a jar of golden paste, a few pieces of jewelry, as well as some of the lower-value items like a few articles of clothing and various trinkets. A great deal of money in both tender and valuables, simply put. Comparing what she claimed against the rest of the hoard after she left showed that she had claimed noticeably less than a quarter of it, even if the true value of the plunder could not reasonably be ascertained.

Zelsys decided to bring up the changes while she held her Tablet’s fog vortex upside-down to drop entire strings of Huén directly into the fog vortex of Alcerys’s Tablet: “All these changes - the armor, the sword, the eye gem on your wrist that feels like it’s constantly staring at me - is that because you’re a Renegade now?”

With a slight reluctance the Renegade looked up at her and just nodded, then looked back down to her own Tablet. Before she left, Alcerys said simply that she had a contract and that she would likely return to Willowdale in a few weeks.

“Hopefully before that blue moon,” she said, stowing her Tablet away into a leather holster that she had attached to her armor’s right side at the waist.

With a chuckle Zel asked, “Why, you want to be there when I pound Ubul into the mud?”

For a moment, Alcerys closed her eyes, letting out a sigh as if trying to decide whether there was any point to explaining herself. Then, she decided that there was: “I wish to be there in case your confidence proves to be unjustified. Ubul was a monster in a time when people of your caliber were not a rarity, and you would be wise to avoid fighting him on fair terms even if his time in the stone has diminished him to a tenth of what he once was. If he were to escape that battlefield he could recover and build himself back up.”

“I never said I planned to do that,” grinned the beast-slayer. “I just have a strong hunch that it’ll be me who puts him down for good.”

“Good,” said the Renegade, turning to leave, only for Zelsys to grab her attention once more.