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Like most Jorgenskulls, Florentina spent her adolescence attending to the community's needs. Her emerald eyes filled with fantasies of joining the illustrious group known as the Red Sap. This enigmatic faction was the right hand of the empire, agents serving as an extension of the Dynasty's dominion. Her childhood years were quaint enough, getting in trouble while striving to manifest her hereditary powers over the flesh. The fruits of her labor budding soon enough, albeit in the most trivial of demonstrations. The warrior labored profusely in secret and in public, as every conscious moment was funneled into honing that most ancient craft. The golden mane beauty, envying her sister Bersia, who seemed naturally gifted with such pursuits.


From that rivalry came minor friction, which inspired competition between the two siblings. And while Florentina couldn't match Bersia's expertise with a bow, she promptly identified her inclination toward martial combat. Not wanting to settle as an imitation, the bold teenager invested countless hours into the arena. While the inquisitor might try to persuade others how effortlessly her brawn emerged, the truth defied such a fiction. But, if the third in the line of succession was to hold any claim to the throne, she needed to vindicate herself as a reliable asset. Tityana had her guns and puerile antics, Bersia her bow, but what they lacked was the intrepidity to confront their foes in close-quarters combat. Their mother, Valerna, seeing her potential, procured the still blooming warrior a proper mentor.


For ten arduous years, the emerald-eyed giantess poured that vehement heart and soul into this dance. Her shortage of natural skill guaranteed the aspiring soul needed to work doubly as hard then her sisters. Florentina mastered her body, pushing the vessel to its very limits as her agility, tenacity, and versatility continued to unfurl. One day, much to her mother's dismay, the defiant monk enlisted in a tournament, hoping to catch the attention of a Red Sap recruiter. There, within that arena, competing amongst her peers, approximately two decades of struggles had finally paid off. One by one, her opponents fell to a barrage of well-placed, swift blows. The veracity of her fighter's spirit on display, coupled with that absolute animal-like tenacity, elicited the desired eyes.


Unfortunately, the monk was deemed too short and offered a single solution to gain entry. The Goatkin studied the AETU's unique armor, melding the south's ingenuity with the inestimable commodity of bone and spider silk. The body was forced to undergo a series of experiments, ingesting many tonics and drugs, as the muscles were forever augmented. That voluptuous exterior, shielded by chitin-like bone armor, produced from her bosom lactation and the Chieftan's arachnoid threads. The suit became a part of the mortal coil, as the heart stopped and had to be resuscitated several times throughout her training. 


During the human rebellion to the south, her duties were temporarily paused, where she toiled directly under her sister Bersia. While opprobrious, the turmoil of the south established itself as a fitting enough platform to promote her virtue as a combatant and officer. She was eventually rising within the special forces' ranks, commandeering a position of jurisdiction, and, once the conflict quelled, retreated toward her original duties. Florentina now spends her time on classified operations. Endeavoring to secure artifacts, erudition, and eliminating would be opposition before they can root themselves properly. Unlike Bersia and Tityana, this child cares little for romance or self-indulgences, chasing after the next accolade as she secretly hungers ravenously, for one thing, the Chieftans position...



The sea proved tranquil, as that carcass of a ship rocked due to the sparse slamming of waves. Within the corpse's bowel tucked safely from the harsh elements, with nothing but the creaking to acknowledge the resilient soul. The golden-maned agent rested on those knees as the buttocks remained settled against the heel of her feet. Florentina, depriving this world of those emerald jewels, the voyager persisted within taciturnity. The discord of nature, the tumult of the sailors, doing little to whittle away her concentration. For all its boasting of grandeur, life was but a simple yet fickled thing—the notion of security, peace, these shoal concepts unable to ward off the clutches of atrophy.

​Through the thick foliage of her motherland, the analytical inquisitor noted what prowled within the umbra. The ravenous reality of their world, omnipresent, abating the adolescent need to conjure forth delusions. While most yearned to see the light within men's hearts, Florentina spurned such trifling temptations. The concordant signed was just a parchment with dried ink. Its influence was only able to persevere for as long as both sides bequeathed the document power. Skulking just beyond these bony walls, while marred, this arid world endured as the perfect testament. The anecdote that stood as a monument to their sins, one needn't agree with her. They could fancy this servant as being afflicted with pessimism. But, no matter how much one strived to refute the obvious, one only needs to gawk beyond these barriers to observe the epitome of such wretchedness.

​However, the agent wouldn't blame these denizens too harshly, for the jungle itself wallowed within rot. The leaves blighted, the shade of its towering trees' respite, also failed to mollify this exasperating epiphany. The illustrious mind roused from stupor, torpidity molted, while the eyelids opened, unveiling those jaded ponds. These sailors were perturbed by their guest, noticing her standoffish approach to be unnatural. Their bewilderment is a transient variable, one whose reach established itself as frivolous as a tiny cock or a barren womb. Whatever they might think, ignorance was a luxury this monk was long since deprived. Their idle bantering transferred to keen ears, yet the tempered heart would not distort due to their abrasive utterances.

​The lady of golden locks rose gradually, standing upright, while she meandered through the vessel like an apparition. The sea's air differed from their departure, an enervated hint that they were deep within the bosom of the desert. Briskly, the bone garbed inquisitor ascended the stairs, transcending to the deck of the vessel. The eyes squinted, as initially, they struggled against the luminosity of those binary suns. Thankfully, after a few seconds, those verdant orbs acclimated to the outside. Those nostrils were broadening, taking in the invigorating air, as the curvaceous wanderer gaited toward the edge of the craft. Those nimble digits were grasping the railing as she inspected the sandy coastline of this humble domain.

​Florentina, being a seasoned soldier, had visited this dolorous wilderness before. However, that sea of dunes seemed different, given the lack of blood varnishing their cascading knolls. Many lives were squandered as the Dynasty toiled as interlopers within the affairs of a primitive kingdom. A gesture that the agent supposed was shared with equal fervor from the other side of that conflict. Within the distance, the breadbasket known solely as Sandslout sprouted into view as speedily the ship made its approach. The front of the transport cut through the waters as the otherworldly craft passed numerable farmlands. Those who were toiling away at the fertile soil, desisting their labors. Only to present but a glance at the approaching boat before returning to their mundane duties.

​A stoic expression, unfaltering yet equally unamused gaze resided on the umbrella maiden who waited by the docks. Florentina peered from on high as the anchor touched the sea's bed, and ramparts were dropped tethering them to the harbor. Whether or not the Tiefling matched her stare would elicit no external response. They both were somewhat informed, each having their assignments. Life's expiration was a commonplace occurrence, only pushed to the forefront given the victim's proximity to the Eternal House. While libel, those slanderous accusations against her people did necessitate action. Notwithstanding the inquisitor's philosophy, this wayfarer could compartmentalize the possible ramifications if left unchecked.

​That voluptuary deputy held no qualms with vaunting her shapely figure. The way this temptress strutted and how those curves bounced with that advance to the docks. They were exposing the soldier's repletion and assurance concerning her sexuality. The agent ceased her movements, standing but four feet away, as the fingers rested along her waist, observing the Tiefling this land dispatched with mild curiosity.

​Her roving gaze wouldn't elude comprehension, nor would its libidinous proclivity to remain fixated on her bosom. That or Florentina supposed this Tiefling was appalled, curious, or resentful toward the bounty of her curves? No matter such trifling opinions, hopefully, it wouldn't rear itself during their time together. After gawking like a moth to the flame, the stick in the mud representative finally roused from her trance. While comical, the agent suspected this ruby woman wasn't predisposed to such dazes. Those immaculate brows unfurled, elevating themselves heavenward as Odette referred to the common rabble. What twaddle! Or were the people of this land that spineless?

​It didn't matter. They weren't Florentina's burden to bear. That curse belonged to the tailed escort and her egotistically titled "Eternal House." For now, she'd trail along the woman's side, keeping up with her pace rather effortlessly. Her momentum was so wanting that the delegate was tempted to whisk her off those feet. And do this little stroll for both of them.

​Odette's honestly was applauded; regrettably, it presented little succor. There were few things as disconcerting as ignorance, especially within their line of work. Still, the feasibility of disinterring a widespread conspiracy was a tantalizing prospect? Was she coquetting? Maybe, though small talk alone would bridge that divide. If they were to operate as one efficiently, some cordial bonds were required. Whether or not this headstrong lady cared for such antics would prove quite...intriguing.

​That stroll went at a leisurely pace, forcing the bold inquisitor to languish under those unrelenting rays. The air's arid nature, those blasted specks of sand. A reminder as to why she loathed this southern territory. The two approaching the structure, the sentries posted outside a dead giveaway that this was the alleged crime scene. Thankfully, Odette squandered little time on pleasantries, proving relatively efficient with her methodology. The dogs of her house, establishing far too lowly to merit much of an acknowledgment. For now, a homely nod of the head, while dull, would have to suffice.

​Her companion opened the door, gesturing and vocalizing that Florentina should enter first. Those skeletal adorned shoulder shrugging, as long yet muscular legs carried the foreigner forward. The threshold lacked the height for her stature, prompting the vertically imposing agent to hunch over less she banged her head. Once inside, those observant eyes surveyed the scene, quickly deducing the victim was someone financially well off. Why these sand apes fancied gold and other such trinkets over the might of bone and flesh was a mystery to this detective? Odette, marching through, securing that flimsy door before strutting across the lair of the deceased. With the information concerning the actual location of the murder in hand, Florentina ascended those stone steps advancing to the second floor.

 The information that Tiefling presented, having no visible impact on her. She had gathered roughly his vocation already, and expiration via smothering contributed little. The golden-maned woman descended to her knees within the center of the crime scene before removing a waterskin from those broad hips. The pearly fangs were clenching onto the seal, uncorking it while gifting Odette a stare.

​The leathery flask rested against parched lips, as within that container wasn't water but a reddish sap. A few sips were all that was required before resealing it and fastening the unusual fluid back onto the body. Across Florentina's body, veins became noticeable, throbbing, as the orbs widened. A carmine glow, like that of a bloody haze, outlined her curvy shape. The pupils shrunk as drops of blood fell from the nose onto the floor, leaving behind a thin trail of vapor.

​The world around her seemed so much more alive. Those sounds, colors, and scents, all vastly more prominent as she walked around the room, suspiciously scrutinizing the surroundings. There was little indication of a struggle, was he drugged perhaps? If there had been blood, even if scrubbed, this heightened state would bestow her with insight. Any such bodily fluids would emerge as a gentle glow to those judicious eyes. Florentina pivoted, facing the woman, as the once milky color of her eyes littered in red veins that illuminated in the shade of this abode.

​Their time together, spent rummaging through this heinous crime. The Eternal Houses advocate wasn't much of a talker, neither was Florentina. They found a ledger and gathered the lack of a tussle to indicate familiarity between the victim and the assailant. Cross-referencing this newfangled information, Odette's intimate knowledge regarding her faction demonstrated an inestimable asset. Tracking this ruffian down, who turned out to be a Tiefling rival within the space of commerce. The two ladies waited till dusk before entrapping the suspect within the sanctity of their residence. When confronted, the male espoused a myriad of lies. However, the possession of property countered his fabrication.

​The purveyor of coin infuriated that his ruse was untangled by two ladies, lashed out in a despondent ploy to evade the hands of justice. Florentina's armor of bone and webbing, deflecting the hidden blade as Odette immolated the failed usurper. Under their otherworldly customs, the act of homicide wasn't a crime, rather his failure to get away with it all. The two women of justice, feeling a kindred sense of relief, as they each bowed. It seems despite being born across the world. Their comparable vocation served as a mediator to disseminate respect. 

​For now, they returned to their original paths. And as Florentina meandered through the streets of Sandslout, a smile crept across her face. A single line divorcing itself, whether or not what roused within was mutual, persisted as obfuscated.

"Two souls, forever toiling within a similar heart. Be it together or apart. May we meet again little Tiefling, and on that day, I pray it is as confederates and not adversaries..."

"Kindred Souls."

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Oh, how the heart is a fickled thing. With the slightest plucking of its strings, the most resolute of men will dance like marionettes. Sexuality, like any tool, had its place within an agent of the Red Sap's arsenal. While often frowned upon by those fabricating moral superiority, Seduction was preferable to the spilling of blood. Her monarch had charged Florentina with the infiltration of the Eternal house with the directive to collect intelligence. And so, without an exact method in mind, she roamed that arid wasteland. Her endeavor to procure a pawn through her friendship with Odetta had failed. However, not to be defeated, she shifted her attention toward the lesser gender. 


Cairo, the prince, would suffice as the new object of her ambitions. While a paltry lover by giant standards, his birthing and affluent proximity to Queen Samara made him the ideal candidate for such a scheme. His appetite for the carnal arts was known; such a fault in his appalling character presented itself as the perfect avenue. It didn't take long for the self-proclaimed "alpha" to succumb to her bewitcheries. His body, like clay, was hers to mold, and that mind settled itself as equally malleable. The agent was forced to endure his insufferable repartees and boastings. Such gloatings and quips did little to elevate him within her eyes. No, the man was prey, a plaything to facilitate her mission and appease her voracious appetite for domination.


The two traversed those blanched dunes, delving through the carcasses of the former mer dynasty. Secrets concerning their collapse were unearthed, and while feasibly tantalizing to a scholar, their story scarcely held any merit within her emerald lanterns. Still, this tablet would be collected after the undead guarding their former overlords' abode were dispatched. While she pummeled and pulverized their decaying vessels, Cairo struggled to prove of use, and while his efforts weren't futile, the results were anything but gratifying. This, however, didn't bestow an iota of prudence to the boy. Haughtily, he unveiled his bravado once the dust had settled. Having secured this artifact, and with the mongrel of a prince by her side. Florentina finally petitioned for an audience with the leader of his house.


This assemblage, while long sought after, would present itself as another hurdle. Samara, his mother, was an insufferable hag. The shriveled noble dared to place herself above Florentina when it came to beauty and glamour. Ultimately, this bred mild friction, the sparks of which formed a schism between the enamored pawn and his maternal guardian. With that door now closed, the inquisitor needed to scour for an alternate route to achieving her mission. The prince implored for her hand in marriage, which was almost enough to make her vomit.


Nevertheless, playing with his emotions, she'd agree under the condition he could snatch his parent's journal. Like a good dog, the sex-driven hound was off. Shockingly, he returned with the "dowry." Cairo was keen to commemorate and gambol about, assuming himself to have won control over this unyielding monk. What a fool he was. How can one subdue what was ostensibly a goddess? What a tremendous and intoxicating innocence. How could one be so naive? Lamentably, there would be no retreat for this lout. No spell could undo the passage of time, or release the toy from those chains. 


And so, Cairo was awarded his request. He'd accompany the inquisitor to her homeland. Perversely for him, he would soon ascertain the extent of their relationship. Not once would he be treated as anything but a pet. No matter the protests or acts of defiance, the lesser organism wouldn't be bequeathed any measure of leniency. His time within the jungle was arduous. His body experimented in ways not suited for recording. Those wails were music to her ears, as the markings of his lashings eternally marred that lackluster canvas.  


Back in the sands, he was a prince and a renowned artisan. But here, within her hunting ground, he was just a morsel destined to languish under the weight of a cruel mistress until one day he expired. Eventually, she'd let him go, having defiled and grown bored of her marionette. Whatever became of him, Florentina couldn't care less. If she had to venture to imagine, Cairo ran back home like the spineless man he was. Though, she doubted any sanctuary would emerge given his treachery. Ironic, his avarice was so potent it blinded the Tiefling from wisdom, driving him to sacrifice wealth, security, and prestige for the opportunity to claim beauty as his property. And, by the end of it all, he was left with nothing. 


How befitting. To be gutted on the tabernacle of your failures, only for the bridges you've blazed in the past to toil as the instrument of one's demise. Whether the prince of ashes was alive or dead didn't matter, Florentina was dispatched to the swamp to ensure an alliance with the Turzien people. Though, before she left, the princess might have "allegedly" snatched an artifact. A symbol of power, one she surmised was essential to secure her claim to the throne and evolution.

"The paltry prince."