Chapter 6 (Continued)

[Georg Elsebethson]

Antior watches Georg study the ring, eyes narrowed and searching. "I shouldn't admit to how I came to possess that ring," he murmurs. "But the circumstances are relevant. It was recently given into my care by an Obsidian operative, who had apparently acquired it by... less than honorable means to keep it from a colleague of hers by the name of Iroe Ahanei. As she tells me -- Dara Fleetwood is her name, the Obsidian operative -- it's considered a minor relic by a segment of the Vaelt population. Rumored to have belonged to an uemannala of some renown named Avaisina. I've included some of the history I've been able to piece together among the papers. According to Fleetwood, it indicated a life bond to another."

And with a sudden flood of memory, he knows why this ring is familiar. He wore it. It is the symbol of a life bond. It was the symbol of his -- Avaisina's -- life bond to Eamai.

Ahanei. Avaisina. Uemannala. Georg's dream. The story of Eamai and Avaisina. Ahanei as Iene's right hand. Iene must have wanted this ring, if Ahanei was after it. But why?

The full force of what he's looking at hits Georg right between the eyes and he fumbles the ring, only for his other hand to shoot out and catch it before it can hit the desk. It would seem he dreamed about Avaisina and Eamai—as opposed to any other uemannala—for a reason. That realization feels important, but it doesn't tell him anything about why this ring is important. It isn't the one Iene wanted in his dream, and while Georg is not qualified to judge, it doesn't feel magical to him. Maybe it's not what the ring could do, Georg thinks, but what could be done with the ring. He carefully sets the ring down on the stack of papers, a tremor in his hands. He wants to go through the papers immediately, find out what Antior knows about Avaisina, but he's probably given away all too much already with his little attack of the nerves.

Instead, for the moment, Georg turns his attention to the pieces of memory glass. The first one contains a series of dozens of images, what seem to be pages from very old books. They're all drawings or reproductions of paintings of elves, all garbed in traveling clothes, all carrying some manner of weapon. It's not hard to guess what they represent -- individuals of the uemannala. He pages through the images until he reaches one that he knows. A slender elf woman, light hair -- blonde, he thinks, her hair was blonde -- in a long braid with one black-dyed streak running all the way through it. It's when he pauses to look more carefully at the image that he realizes something. Each of the uemannala have been shown with a small box near them. A couple have held a box, but more often it's somewhere else in the drawing or painting. They're not always as detailed as he'd like, but he'd wager his sword that they're all identical. Furthermore, they're all just like the box that Iralis found. The box that activated the power core. The box that Chavon wanted so badly.

There's more on the second memory glass. In the first image, eleven of the uemannala are standing in a circle surrounding a shadowy form. They each hold one of these mysterious boxes in their hands. Whatever book held this image must have been heavily enchanted, as before Georg's eyes the shadowy form shifts and flows, morphs into several different forms as Georg watches: a deer, an elf, a snarling wolf, an uemerai. As the uemannala open their boxes, a glow begins to form... and then the memory glass goes dark.

No matter what he does, it won't activate again. The same goes for the third glass, the one he hasn't looked at yet. The first glass seems fine, but the other two are suddenly inert.

Georg grimaces as the memory glass goes dark, turning it over in his hands and tapping it against the desk in some vain hope that that will shake the magical bits back into place. "Of course these damn things would give up now." He gives the third one a similar treatment to see if he can get it to activate. He knows the action is unlikely to work, but it gives him a chance to think. They had thought that the box was a recent creation, something made specifically to act on the power cores—which, come to think of it, they had also assumed were new, for no other reason than that they hadn't heard of them before. Are the Wards even new?

As Georg's head is spinning from all that, another realization dawns on him. The whole reason they've been suspicious of Antior in the first place is because of something Lya and Iralis overheard shortly after Iralis stole the box. He needs to get to the bottom of that. Georg begins rifling through the papers again. "I suppose you'll just have to tell me what was on the third glass. What is the significance of the boxes in the second glass? I know the stories about uemannala and their swords, but I don't remember any stories about boxes."

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

There is a short hallway that opens up into the... cell? Bedroom? Living quarters? It's too pleasant to be a cell, too spartan to be living quarters. There is a chair and a simple desk, a barred window that's too high on the wall to actually see out of though it lets some natural light in. A cot is pushed into one corner and a trunk sits at its foot. Adaye is sitting on the cot, her hands balled into fists, when Asra first enters, Risine tailing close behind. She looks haggard in a way that Asra has never seen before. Her eyes are sunken, her usually warm brown skin ashy, the markings on her face a dull non-color of grey.

Seeing visitors, she rises quickly to her feet. "Asra?" she says.

Wait... Asra?

In sudden horror, Asra looks down at herself. Her real self. Her disguise is gone, and without her even realizing it. There must be a very powerful, very subtle magic neutralizing field on the room.

Risine, coming in behind Asra, also realizes that her companion's appearance has changed. "What in the name of Orien's shriveled scrotum is going on here?" she says.

It's only then that Adaye realizes someone else is here as well. "Risine?!" Her knees stop working and she flops heavily down to the cot again. "I... oh... it's been so quiet..." she moans softly, holding her hands to the sides of her head. "Are you both really here?"

She would have time to worry about her disguise, and explain its disappearance to Risine, later. She has little time to worry about anything but Adaye as her body moves on its own. Falling into place beside Adaye on the cot, she places a gentle hand on her back as if to give her physical proof that she were here.

"We're here," she tells her, cooing comfortingly. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

She doesn't really understand what came over her, given many of her previous interactions with Adaye. But in this instance, the strength and resilience of her Master seemed stripped away, and what was left was a woman who was powerless and afraid, cut off from her people and the magic that once gave her so much strength and comfort.

Casting a worried glance back towards Risine, and finding her still looking at her as if she'd grown a second head, she clears her throat and extends her other hand in greeting. "I suppose I should introduce myself properly. Asra Beachaud. Whitestone Scholar."

[78rpmlife]

"Yes, we should probably start working somewhere else. But not the Bin," Iana advises. "There are always too many other people around." And if M Fleetwood is involved in this, I don't want to take the chance that she'll see something. "There are some good out-of-the-way study rooms in the library, though. With doors that lock, even. We can go to one of those."

"Oh. Right. I should have thought of that," Garnyn admits sheepishly. "You're the expert here. But if you need someone to make proper introductions to the Baron of Paoku for you, I'm your man. Remember that," he says solemnly, and even manages to keep the serious expression for a couple more seconds before he breaks into a grin. "Come on, let's go do our research. You've a date to get ready for."

As Iana leads the way toward one of the study carrels well off the beaten path, Garnyn slows and looks back over his shoulder with a frown. After a moment of silence, though, he shrugs. "I thought I heard something, but I guess not."

Before Iana can question him further about what noise he thought he heard, Garnyn suddenly claps a hand to his right ear. "Ow!" he hisses. When he pulls his hand away, he's surprised to see blood on his fingers. "What...?" He touches his ear again, fresh blood transferred to his fingertips. Iana takes a look and sees a definite cut along the upper part of his earlobe.

"What is it? Did something... ohhhh..."

Garnyn blinks owlishly a couple of times and gives his head a quick shake. "I... am not feeling too well all of a sudden. Must just... be the blood. Reason I didn't go Granite, you know." Iana realizes with a start that his words are a little bit slurred, as though he'd suddenly become mildly drunk.

[78rpmlife]

Georg grimaces as the memory glass goes dark, turning it over in his hands and tapping it against the desk in some vain hope that that will shake the magical bits back into place. "Of course these damn things would give up now." He gives the third one a similar treatment to see if he can get it to activate. He knows the action is unlikely to work, but it gives him a chance to think. They had thought that the box was a recent creation, something made specifically to act on the power cores—which, come to think of it, they had also assumed were new, for no other reason than that they hadn't heard of them before. Are the Wards even new?

Antior growls at the back of his throat as the memory glass fails. He takes the glass from Georg and tries himself to make it work before tossing it onto the pile of papers with a grunt. "Nothing works any more."

As Georg's head is spinning from all that, another realization dawns on him. The whole reason they've been suspicious of Antior in the first place is because of something Lya and Iralis overheard shortly after Iralis stole the box. He needs to get to the bottom of that. Georg begins rifling through the papers again. "I suppose you'll just have to tell me what was on the third glass. What is the significance of the boxes in the second glass? I know the stories about uemannala and their swords, but I don't remember any stories about boxes."

Antior leans forward with sudden animation, shaking a finger at Georg. "That is my question as well!" he says, and starts shuffling through the papers until he lands on a specific one, which he slides toward Georg. "These are notes I took from a volume I was able to find in the main library. It suggested that the uemannala's sword bore an enchantment that would destroy an extraplanar entity, strongly implying that the uemerai were examples of such entities though hardly the only examples. But there were passages also," he continues, tapping one part of the page, "that described entities that would not settle on a single form. Would not or could not. Evidence of strange 'intrusions', they were called, onto a physical form. I have been reluctant to consult with many Whitestone Scholars, due to my suspicions, so I have not been able to study this as much as I would like. I am a tactician, not a scholar, in any case. The rest of the volume I read spoke of pages in a book and how they could blend into one another. I asked a librarian, but they had never heard of such a thing, such an enchanted book."

He throws his hands in the air in sudden frustration. "In any case, I came across evidence that suggests the uemannala could also control these extraplanar entities, in as much as they could force them into a single form, a single projection. To remove these intrusions. What it means, I'm not entirely certain, although I have my theories. I believe the boxes in the second glass, as you call it, may be related to this ability to control."

That much said seems to deflate the sudden energy he'd spoken with. He settles back into his chair.

"As for the third glass. It showed up in my office a day ago. No one seems to know how it got here or who it was from. There were two sets of images on it. The first, as far as I can tell -- could tell, if it's permanently disabled -- are images of a city overrun by jungle. I've been to Duchy Indari in Rhamia before, and I don't think that's where the pictures were taken. It's too lush. Too wet. The most prominent image was of what appeared to be an ancient temple absolutely covered in vines."

Antior describes the vines, and Georg realizes that he's talking about the vines that liquid Jade is made from, but far larger than the cultivated varieties found in Indari. The vines are native to the lost island of Atokanai.

"The second set of images was of the Valley of the Bear in Ardraven," he continues. "I've seen pictures of it before, so that much I could determine confidently. It's hard to forget those massive bear statues once you've seen a picture. One picture I'd never seen before was of a lake with a mist-covered island in its center. I believe it too was in that valley, simply from the terrain, though I can't be certain."

[Georg Elsebethson]

Antior leans forward with sudden animation, shaking a finger at Georg. "That is my question as well!" he says, and starts shuffling through the papers until he lands on a specific one, which he slides toward Georg. "These are notes I took from a volume I was able to find in the main library. It suggested that the uemannala's sword bore an enchantment that would destroy an extraplanar entity, strongly implying that the uemerai were examples of such entities though hardly the only examples. But there were passages also," he continues, tapping one part of the page, "that described entities that would not settle on a single form. Would not or could not. Evidence of strange 'intrusions', they were called, onto a physical form. I have been reluctant to consult with many Whitestone Scholars, due to my suspicions, so I have not been able to study this as much as I would like. I am a tactician, not a scholar, in any case. The rest of the volume I read spoke of pages in a book and how they could blend into one another. I asked a librarian, but they had never heard of such a thing, such an enchanted book."

Georg starts at the "pages in a book" metaphor and checks the notes to see if Antior wrote down the treatise or scholar that notion came from. The exact same metaphor Cayla used to describe her visits to other realities.

The notion of "blending" is its own shock. Georg has been imagining the people from other pages as being plucked up and simply dropped in theirs, like a print shop worker playing with scissors and paste. But if the pages are actually blending, that implies more far-reaching changes and might explain why no one has stumbled on their doppelganger—they're being smeared into their presence on the other page. They'd also thought, based on Drexel's reports, that this was the work of corrupted uemerai, but perhaps it is another being that resembles uemerai in being incorporeal.

He throws his hands in the air in sudden frustration. "In any case, I came across evidence that suggests the uemannala could also control these extraplanar entities, in as much as they could force them into a single form, a single projection. To remove these intrusions. What it means, I'm not entirely certain, although I have my theories. I believe the boxes in the second glass, as you call it, may be related to this ability to control."

That much said seems to deflate the sudden energy he'd spoken with. He settles back into his chair.

And apparently Georg is going to need that box if he wants to stop this entity, quite apart from whatever purpose it is supposed to have with the power cores. He suppresses a powerful urge to put his face on his hands.

"As for the third glass. It showed up in my office a day ago. No one seems to know how it got here or who it was from. There were two sets of images on it. The first, as far as I can tell -- could tell, if it's permanently disabled -- are images of a city overrun by jungle. I've been to Duchy Indari in Rhamia before, and I don't think that's where the pictures were taken. It's too lush. Too wet. The most prominent image was of what appeared to be an ancient temple absolutely covered in vines."

Antior describes the vines, and Georg realizes that he's talking about the vines that liquid Jade is made from, but far larger than the cultivated varieties found in Indari. The vines are native to the lost island of Atokanai.

"The second set of images was of the Valley of the Bear in Ardraven," he continues. "I've seen pictures of it before, so that much I could determine confidently. It's hard to forget those massive bear statues once you've seen a picture. One picture I'd never seen before was of a lake with a mist-covered island in its center. I believe it too was in that valley, simply from the terrain, though I can't be certain."

The imagery all sounds eeriely familiar—didn't Sa'ablo see something like all that when he was tripping on Liquid Jade?—but Georg doesn't think he's prepared to unpack all that right now. And that's beside the question of who would want to bring all that to Master Antior's attention in a clandestine fashion. Is someone trying to bait him into sending people out of the Wards?

Georg shakes his head to clear it. Something to follow up on later. "You said you had a theory on how this all fits together?" He's ostensibly here to hear Antior out, which at least gives him an excuse to keep his mouth shut for the moment.

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

"Oh. Right. I should have thought of that," Garnyn admits sheepishly. "You're the expert here. But if you need someone to make proper introductions to the Baron of Paoku for you, I'm your man. Remember that," he says solemnly, and even manages to keep the serious expression for a couple more seconds before he breaks into a grin. "Come on, let's go do our research. You've a date to get ready for."

As Iana leads the way toward one of the study carrels well off the beaten path, Garnyn slows and looks back over his shoulder with a frown. After a moment of silence, though, he shrugs. "I thought I heard something, but I guess not."

Before Iana can question him further about what noise he thought he heard, Garnyn suddenly claps a hand to his right ear. "Ow!" he hisses. When he pulls his hand away, he's surprised to see blood on his fingers. "What...?" He touches his ear again, fresh blood transferred to his fingertips. Iana takes a look and sees a definite cut along the upper part of his earlobe.

"What is it? Did something... ohhhh..."

Garnyn blinks owlishly a couple of times and gives his head a quick shake. "I... am not feeling too well all of a sudden. Must just... be the blood. Reason I didn't go Granite, you know." Iana realizes with a start that his words are a little bit slurred, as though he'd suddenly become mildly drunk.

Iana lets herself grin in earnest as she falls into step beside Garnyn. "Baron of Paoku. Right. I'll keep that in mind," she murmurs. But it is the other part of what he said that keeps humming through her mind. A date! She has a date!

Garnyn's first brief confusion draws only an equally brief questioning look in return: no, she does not hear anything else. But then he claps his hand to his ear, and there is blood, and in a horrified instant, Iana understands what must have happened.

For the space of a second, she is frozen, too stunned even to breathe. And then she is in motion once more, swifter than before: she grabs hold of Garnyn's arm, trying to pull him back into the shelter of the space between bookshelves - and to offer support if he wavers any more than he does now.

She darts a swift look around, instantly alert. Where did the dart - it must have been a dart! - come from? Who could have done this?

[78rpmlife]

"We're here," she tells her, cooing comfortingly. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

She doesn't really understand what came over her, given many of her previous interactions with Adaye. But in this instance, the strength and resilience of her Master seemed stripped away, and what was left was a woman who was powerless and afraid, cut off from her people and the magic that once gave her so much strength and comfort.

Casting a worried glance back towards Risine, and finding her still looking at her as if she'd grown a second head, she clears her throat and extends her other hand in greeting. "I suppose I should introduce myself properly. Asra Beachaud. Whitestone Scholar."

Adaye nods in response, expression still dumbfounded. It's such an unusual state to see her in. Adaye has not always been nice or kind and is often approachable only in the strictest definition of the word, but she has always been strong. Unmoveable. The rock around which the river flows. To see her brought to this state of dissociation is chilling.

Risine's eyebrows spike upward. "Whitestone Scholars seem to be the rule of my day," she says so dryly her words could crumble into dust and float away. "I'm going to make what I'm quite certain is not a great leap of logic and say that you are somehow associated with Georg Elsebethson and Eldarin of Falld."

At Eldarin's name, Adaye starts. "Eldarin? Are they here too?" There's such a hopeful note in her voice that Risine comes to kneel in front of her, taking her hands.

"Eldarin isn't here, Adaye. But they came to ask me to help you, and that is what I'm going to do," Risine says firmly but kindly. From the look in her eyes though, she's about ready to chew steel and spit out nails.

Adaye sags a little, but not completely. She squeezes Risine's hands in turn. "It's all right," Adaye says softly. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." She doesn't seem to realize that she's echoing, almost note-for-note, what Asra's just said to her. She looks from Risine to Asra and back again. "Does this mean I can leave? The two of you being here?"

Risine shakes her head. "Not unless your Scholar here knows something I do not. It's only through her impressive bit of trickery that I'm even here in the room. They're flouting every rule and law of imprisonment they can find, but they're no match for me. We'll have you free very soon." She turns then to Asra. "Given that you're in Adaye's college, I'm guessing you're not here to provide legal advice. Go ahead. We can talk about Adaye's case afterward."

[AftermathGM]

Georg starts at the "pages in a book" metaphor and checks the notes to see if Antior wrote down the treatise or scholar that notion came from. The exact same metaphor Cayla used to describe her visits to other realities.

It would take a little more time than is currently available, given the ongoing conversation, to find the exact reference to 'pages in a book', but Antior's notes are meticulous and well-organized. That much is abundantly clear. Given a few minutes to carefully go through the stack of papers, there's no doubt it could be found.

Georg shakes his head to clear it. Something to follow up on later. "You said you had a theory on how this all fits together?" He's ostensibly here to hear Antior out, which at least gives him an excuse to keep his mouth shut for the moment.

Antior releases a slow breath, nodding. "We have the same goal, Scholar. To protect and safeguard the people of this city, of this school. I want you to form your own theories, but by sharing knowledge and sharing ideas, we should be able to finally find the edges of this mess. Define it. Solve it." He studies Georg solemnly for a moment, then continues. "I believe that, in return for Master Iene's help, Headmaster Rothenend has promised to allow the Vaelt elves of the city and the School to return to their homeland. What form this help takes, I am not certain. However, there are several things I firmly believe to be true. One, there is someone or something that the Headmaster believes he needs to control, something extradimensional." The distaste as he says this is evident on his face. "Two, this control will bring him a significant amount of power to accomplish some great feat of magic. Three, the Headmaster knows far more about what lies beyond the Wards than anyone else in this city, and he is not sharing that knowledge. I believe this great feat of magic is meant to deal with whatever is out there. Four, I believe that Iene's role in this is causing significant magical instability within the city that puts a great many people in danger, while the Headmaster has become so focused on his need for power that he is ignoring the danger within his own Wards."

He pauses, shaking his head. "Finally, and what I am least confident in, as you will see in the notes when you've had a chance to read them, there is at least one more significant faction I cannot identify that is playing for both sides and they are in possession of some item or items that makes them especially dangerous. I've identified contacts between this faceless group and both Master Iene and the Headmaster, but I do not believe each of them is aware of the other's involvement with this group. I believe the goal of this group is the complete eradication of the Wards."

Antior spreads his hands in a shrug. "There are more specifics, more evidence, for these points within the notes. But there isn't nearly enough of either."

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Adaye nods in response, expression still dumbfounded. It's such an unusual state to see her in. Adaye has not always been nice or kind and is often approachable only in the strictest definition of the word, but she has always been strong. Unmoveable. The rock around which the river flows. To see her brought to this state of dissociation is chilling.

Risine's eyebrows spike upward. "Whitestone Scholars seem to be the rule of my day," she says so dryly her words could crumble into dust and float away. "I'm going to make what I'm quite certain is not a great leap of logic and say that you are somehow associated with Georg Elsebethson and Eldarin of Falld."

At Eldarin's name, Adaye starts. "Eldarin? Are they here too?" There's such a hopeful note in her voice that Risine comes to kneel in front of her, taking her hands.

"Eldarin isn't here, Adaye. But they came to ask me to help you, and that is what I'm going to do," Risine says firmly but kindly. From the look in her eyes though, she's about ready to chew steel and spit out nails.

As she speaks to Risine, Asra finds herself rubbing Adaye's back to comfort her. Its a strange position to be in, given their relationship, but it also feels natural to help her while she is in this state. But at the mention of Eldarin and Georg, Asra starts as well. Given the secretive nature of their tasks, and her general distrust of people nowadays, she'd prefer to hold those cards close to her chest.

Adaye doesn't give her much choice, however. Letting out a small sigh, she affirms, "Yes. I work with Georg and Eldarin quite closely, in fact. Though, as an Advocate, I'm sure you understand my desire for discretion in that matter. Not that I haven't been seen with them on many occasions, but it can easily pass as a study group given that we are all Scholars."

Adaye sags a little, but not completely. She squeezes Risine's hands in turn. "It's all right," Adaye says softly. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." She doesn't seem to realize that she's echoing, almost note-for-note, what Asra's just said to her. She looks from Risine to Asra and back again. "Does this mean I can leave? The two of you being here?"

Risine shakes her head. "Not unless your Scholar here knows something I do not. It's only through her impressive bit of trickery that I'm even here in the room. They're flouting every rule and law of imprisonment they can find, but they're no match for me. We'll have you free very soon." She turns then to Asra. "Given that you're in Adaye's college, I'm guessing you're not here to provide legal advice. Go ahead. We can talk about Adaye's case afterward."

Her face falls at the desperation in Adaye's voice. She must feel so alone. Especially as a Naucan.

But she had matters to discuss here, and with Risine's prompting, she doesn't hold back. "I've just been to see the Headmaster, actually. When the riots began, he asked me, knowing my ability to change faces, to see about facilitating discussions between the college and the rioters. As far as that task goes, I was successful, but during my task I heard-"

Her face goes slightly white at the memory, but she continues. "I heard a bit of the conflict between Master Adaye and the Headmaster. Given the supposed severity of it, I had been worried. And rightfully so, it seems. I never got a chance to ask about it, however, as the Headmaster informed me of her supposed crimes when I reported to him, and tasked me with continuing her studies into a certain device that was recently discovered."

"It was only due to that that I was able to see Adaye. Since I have little experience as a mechanist, he deemed it suitable for me to be able to have access to her for questions about her research. I jumped at the opportunity to check on her," she explains. She takes another beath, unsure if she should reveal this detail to Risine, but she needed someone, anyone, to confide in on this matter. "In his office, he had these... screens... they showed... they showed the world outside."

She lets that detail hang in the air, the look on her face telling Risine and Adaye everything they needed to know about how things looked out there.

[78rpmlife]

For the space of a second, she is frozen, too stunned even to breathe. And then she is in motion once more, swifter than before: she grabs hold of Garnyn's arm, trying to pull him back into the shelter of the space between bookshelves - and to offer support if he wavers any more than he does now.

She darts a swift look around, instantly alert. Where did the dart - it must have been a dart! - come from? Who could have done this?

It's not hard to find the dart in question: it's embedded in the spine of a book nearby. A quick look is all it takes to recognize that it's standard issue for field operatives. What sort of chemical has been applied to the tip that would be affecting Garnyn in this way is not so easy to figure out at a glance, though. Poison? Sedative? It could be anything, from very dangerous to simply inconvenient.

Iana does a few quick calculations of trajectory, given where Garnyn was standing when he was nicked and where the dart ended up, and looks off through the stacks in that direction. She can see a shadowed form on the move, but given the challenging angle and all the things in the way, it could be anyone, though she can safely say that they're too tall to be a dwarf or a halfling. Which... narrows it a little bit?

"What's happening?" Garnyn mumbles, gripping Iana's arm for stability. He's able to walk, though not quickly and not with a great deal of grace. He's followed Iana's look and also sees the dart. His eyes blink wide. "Did someone shoot me? Who'd... wanna shoot me? I'm nobody important."

Those quick calculations of trajectory tumble through Iana's analytical brain, and one result pops up with sudden, alarming clarity. Garnyn had stepped forward just before the dart nicked his ear. Had he not done so, there's every possibility the dart would have taken her directly in the side of the neck.

Which means they weren't aiming for Garnyn.