[spoiler]Sitting on this too long. Not as happy with it as others but it'll do.[/spoiler] As the elevator doors slide open Balen and Winnow are met with the stench of rotting meat and loud music. Balen's private workshop is a sub basement of his tower, a large chamber of sterile white stone and checkered tile with high arched ceilings and bright florescent lights, of which only those along the walls are activated. Said walls are lined with various metallurgic stations and workbenches with shelves and drawers of tools thankfully untouched by Nil, who wasted no time making the rest of the place her own. Cloak and boots discarded to a nearby chair, Nil sits on the floor at the center of the workshop among a scattering of armor and metal. The tables shoved aside to make room for her mess are lined with cadavers, save one covered in loose papers and notebooks. Balen flips a pair of switches and fans roar to life along with the remaining lights hosting dangling effigies of bone and thread. "Sup," Winnow pinches her nose, "What's with the chandeliers?" "Ambiance," Nil replies, omitting their function as ward against spirits. "Doing some smithin?" As Winnow approaches she notices a bowl of blood beside Nil, whose sleeves are rolled up her rail thin arms revealing ancient scars. "Finger painting actually," Nil twists and wiggles bloodstained fingers with one hand while holding a helm with the other, a dim red glowing rune visible through the bottom. "I forged the armor," Balen states proudly, then leans and adds more quietly, "She hasn't left the workshop since the meeting." "The one like a week ag- ah!" As Winnow steps closer to Nil, electronic screeching comes through her ear piece. "Sorry, those things don't work near me," Nil rises, "I think it's related to my not having a reflection or showing up on camera?" "The stereo is controlled by a tablet, how did you-" Balen spots the tablet on a workbench near the wall with a severed hand beside it, standing on its fingers like a spider, wrist bobbing to the music, "- I see." "That's Jeff," Nil smiles, then calls to the hand, "Turn the music down please!" The hand flicks a finger and the volume lowers, "Thank you Jeff!" "Weird," Winnow looks up to Nil, "So you been down here a week? Where do you sleep?" "I'm not picky," brushing bangs from her eyes Nil leaves a red smear across her forehead. "I've a lot of work to do. Eddie's got an army; human soldiers, the Draug and Coven vampires, Shadow Elf witches, Dark Elf assassins... we got like twenty knights and a handful of Gorlok's slayers." "Plus my Ferals," Winnow turns her chin up proudly and Nil smiles politely, side eyeing Balen. "That's what she chose to call her people," Balen explains, walking to a nearby sink to wet a rag, "They had no Scion, so i've written a contract naming her Scion-Elect of the 'Feral Brood,' giving her authority over her people and recognizing them as our kin." "He also said it'll keep you from killing me," Winnow smirks and Balen flinches as Nil snatches the rag. "Only after I sign it in blood to give it that Fey Oomph," Nil smirks back, giving Winnow's nose a bloody boop before wiping her hands off. "That won't be necessary, it was written into older contracts to-" Balen points to his forehead and Nil wipes her own clean, "- details aside, it's done. So assuming even a quarter of them still live that's several dozen guerrilla fighters who know these streets better than anyone." "And your butler here promised free drinks and lodging," Winnow punches Balen's shoulder and his jaw clenches, "so it shouldn't be hard to round em up!" "Cool beans," Nil never blinks, "Is that all or can I get back to it?" "One more thing," reaching into her pocket Winnow produces a gleaming scarlet card, "My old boss wants to meet with you,  alone." The gold print upon it reads 'Nero's Lamp' along with an address that magically changes before their eyes. "You've been working for the Djinn?" Taking the card, Balen examines it, "How much have you told him?" "Pretty much everything," Winnow shrugs, "Told him about you, Gorlok, the baddies, and the Red Queen here, but this was my last job for him!" Their conversation is drowned out by a swarm of buzzing flies in Nil's ears. She stares at one of the bone chandeliers, failing to come up with a mobile version and having a not so mild panic attack at the thought of leaving. "Why not meet here?" She finally squeaks, interrupting whatever argument the two were having. "He can't leave his club," in a blur of motion Winnow swipes the card again, "Look, he kept me and mine fed so long as we kept him fed with juicy gossip. He said he wants to help us. Give him a chance!" Taking a step beyond the influence of her wards Nil waits a moment. When nothing happens she turns back with a forced smile, hand extended, "I'll pay him a vist. What's the worst that could happen?" "Perhaps we could use his assistance," a pouty Balen summons the elevator,  "but choose your words carefully around him kiddo." Nil takes the card and a subtle enchantment activates. A flood of memories flow into her mind having previously been sealed away, flashes of images and faces, faint conversations within a red room. One memory stands out, Nil's own voice answering a question: "[i]Balen would try to stop me.[/i]"