A plan that can do the can-can!

I hate this plan.

It had been a few hours since Ariel explained his 'brilliant' plan. It was now our first night in this new body; this new world. I had gotten dressed in the new clothing that our angelic ally had brought, which consisted of new tan wool trousers with a pre-made tail-hole, a white linen shirt with long sleeves with holes for my tiny useless wings, and a pair of brown leather work boots, similar to what I saw worn by the lumberjack I had fought earlier today. The pack he had brought was given to Gabriella; these damn tiny wings got crushed by anything touching my back.

"Prehaps we could shift our body and remove them?" Logic suggested. "Like when... It... changed our arm?"

Not worth the pain, besides, I've only ever set something back to what it was. I might end up killing us if I shift incorrectly.

Arguing with my selves while I sat on my bed, I watched the other occupants; my companions for the journey to come. Gabriella was polishing the Alm atop her staff, muttering to herself about how she can't wait to head out. Ariel, her brother, was currently off in the heavens once more to find out as much as he could about the current whereabouts of Sarmenti and Tomoko. Cilla was checking over her writings and sketches, comparing notes with books she was somehow carrying in that crimson cloak of hers; that thing has to be magic, right?

"Ooh, guess who you never descriiibed~" Logic sang out; I hear the lazy pressing of random piano keys aside his voice.

Ugh, fine you weird pianist.

The gentle yet sharp features of Cilla's face are mostly covered by the hood of her cloak, but I know she bares a three-pronged scar across her face, reaching from forhead to chin, crossing her left eye and the left side of her lips. The scar itself hides that she seems to be quite young despite her apparent knowledge; she couldn't be any older than twenty. As a hybrid of some kind, her ears are more like an animals, pointed and covered in fur. Her stature is something that you never spoke of, Logic, as now I can clearly see she is around Ariel's height, only an inch or so shorter, leaving her at a five'two or five'three. Her figure is...

"Hehehe"

Shut it, Urge, you horndog.

"I'm you, pal. We're both pervs."

Yeah, keep telling yourself that...

She's athletic, slim, and is nowhere near as curved as Gabriella.

"Flat as the paper she writes on. Nice butt and thighs though."

Gods damn it.

Whatever, she's wearing knee high brown boots, dark green silk tights and matching shirt, both of which are protected in vital areas with studded leather padding. All of this is covered by an enormous blood red hooded cloak, which conceals her entire body if pulled closed. Across her missing eye's socket is a simple brown leather patch.

"Wonderful, simply fantastic." Cries out Logic, giving metaphysical applause.

I'd like to sleep now, maybe then you two will stay quite...

Before my head even touches a pillow; I spot through the small window built into the door three familiar faces that have just arrived outside the little pleasant abode we've been afforded. Soot, Ashes, and the silent guard whose name I never caught. The silent one knocks, and it seems the others didn't notice their approach, as Gabbie jumps in suprise, and Cilla hides her papers. Soot enters first, followed by the others. Strange, they aren't wearing their armor; maybe they are off their shifts?

"Alright ladies and... uh... gentleman." Soot says, losing wind once he lays eyes on me. "Our quill-pushers have done their thing, you've been logged in as guests. We've been tasked with guiding you down into Saltmoore proper as our last bit of work for the day... night. Whatever."

"Please, collect your things and follow us." Ashes says.

Logic makes a little 'ooo' noise to indicate he wants me to describe them.

Not now, I'll be staring at them for another hour if I do.

We pack up what we own, and accompany the trio out of the stay-house, past more defensive structures.

"Where will you be parting from us?" Asks Gabriella.

Soot replies, giving our priestess a very non-wholesome, unholy look. "Oh, you can stop following us at the lift, but if you want to come with Me to the Inn and have a few pints..."

Ashes smacks the man in the back of the head, saying. "Keep it in your pants, Soot."

The silent one then smacks both of them on the back of their heads, before moving his hands in a variety of ways.

The pained female guard then says. "Ugh... fine Slag. Since you guys are new here, Slag said he wants to show you guys around. Seeing as he's a mute, you'd need someone who knows sign language to go too."

Cilla hisses out to herself. "Damn it! I never did manage to buy that book on sign language. So bloody expensive."

"It's fine, I'll go too!" Ashes says, continuing with "I've always wanted to talk to someone from a Runacathy, plus, Slags not very good with girls."

Silent Slag rubs the back of his head, his face turning red, before staring daggers at Ashes.

"We're here!" Calls Soot.

Looking past the trio of guards, I see another large gate in our way, with Soot waving up at tower not unlike the one he was in earlier this day; but far closer to the ground. Within moments, the doors slowly began to creak open, allowing us our first look at the town of Saltmoore. It was however, quite the distant sight, as the town was seemingly built deep into an old quarry; with a edge so steep, that the prior mentioning of a lift made quite a lot of sense. I could see a variety of buildings lining the walls down bellow, although from this distance, diserning their purpose was impossible, as even then people were but ants at those depths compared to ground level.

Ashes turns to us, presenting the deep township as if she were selling it off "Welcome to Saltmoore, one of biggest exporters of raw materials on this side of the mainland. Watch your step!"