With dawn just a couple hours a way and a pale pink light leaking and staining the dark sky, Circe grumbled as she left the fourth tavern unassisted. For a city with profound nightlife, it would seem that she had expected too much of the shop keeps here. Each tavern had closed and barred their doors and when she had tried peeking through the window of the last one, she had seen all the candles and lanterns were turned out. Late to bed meant late to rise and she had places to be. If she didn't get a solid meal or even a satchel of dried goods, she wouldn't make it far on foot to the next town over. Circe had avoided the boisterous crowds last night, skipping dinner and choosing to go to bed early at the Inn farthest from the noise and with the best reputation she could find. She had assumed that if she left before dawn, the nightlife would still be around and she could grab some food before continuing her trip but at this rate, the witch was going to have to leave without having eaten again.

It had been over a day since she had last eaten and everywhere, people had assured her that this was the city that never sleeps! And now it would seem all the drunks had gone home and the tired keepers and bartenders were closing up shop. She doubted they would be awake before lunch and Circe needed to leave way before then. She spied a cobblestone alley behind a pawn shop and some sort of guard agency. The gloom of night clung thickly and the shadows left the place barely visible from the main path. "The Red Kings Glass? Maybe fifth try is the charm," Circe hoped out loud. She tightened her grip on her over the shoulder bag and climbed over a couple of stacked wooden crates. She didn't want to try to find the other end of the alley and run out of time, just in case. The dark haired woman approached the tavern with the smell of mead and ale tangy and sweet hung in the air like a fog. She knocked on the closed door but there was no answer.

Circe almost screamed when a heavy hand clapped down on her shoulder and her whole body tensed as the weight behind the hand seemed to pull and waver. Her hand clenched into a ready fist and she spun on her boots to see a hefty red faced man with a scraggly beard. The smell of ale mingled with the smell of vomit and she had to hold back a grimace when her stomach churned in response. "It's always open, heh, that's what I like. I can buy yer drink," said the man. Circe relaxed. It wasn't as if she didn't handle this in Rogue's Refuge and she could see patience, not lust in his heavy lidded eyes. This sod was actually trying to be helpful, loneliness worn on his expression like a sad pup. He pulled his hand away when he saw her appraising him.

"Thanks, I am departing this city though. Perhaps, another time," Circe offered with a placating dark lipped smile. The man closed his eyes and shrugged, "S'what they always say. Least, you're nice about it." He turned his scraggly face away, lifting a hand to push her towards the door and started choking. The middle aged man opened his lips and let loose a torrent from his stomach against the side of the building. Circe needed no other encouragement and pushed open the tavern door and entered. Circe looked around but her golden eyes saw no one around: tables freshly wiped and still damp, a dirty cloth resting on the bar top, a painting of a pair of red crowns hung up over the bottles behind the bar. The only light was a small lantern left behind. The smell was hardly better inside, sour and dirty, but there was a wafting warm smell of bread and maybe some sort of stew in the atmosphere. Circe had impeccable senses and detected the kitchen must have been in the next room behind the set of spring doors at hip height.

Circe waited a few minutes and then called out, towards the kitchen, "Hello? You have a customer!" She heard nothing again and poked her head into the kitchen, leaning over the spring doors. It, too, was empty. There was a set of stairs leading down and light shining from below. The witch could hear movement but didn't want to trespass either. Circe took a seat at the bar and looked over her hands, trying to pass the time. Ten minutes later and other than an auspicious thump from downstairs, there was no sign of life. She started to wonder if she was welcome at all, but the unlocked front door and the bearded man outside suggested the place might indeed be open despite the appearances. She took a breath and then made her way into the kitchen and down the stairs.

She had enough money to apologize if it was really an issue and her stomach growled loudly enough that she could hear it between the creaking of the stairs and her steps. She tried not to look embarrassed as she entered the basement where four people stood around in a circle. She leaned over from the stairs and said, "My apologies, but I really do need-" Her words were cut short. As the strangers all looked up at her in surprise, a mix of hostility, guilt, fear and something else expressed in their faces. Circe wasn't looking at them, but at the man upon the floor, unconscious, with mussed black hair. She saw a dagger clipped to his side and it affirmed her understanding: it was her previous adventuring partner Mania!

Unwary of her own danger, misreading the situation perhaps too, the witch leapt down the last few stairs, hands spread. Circe assumed this was a situation of bystanders and a fallen compatriot, or an injured coworker, or rough housing gone too far. The way they stood around uselessly angered her; she had to lead them clearly, snap them out of it! "We need a medic!" She pushed passed the strangers, who stood around perplexed, watching her like idiots, not moving to help or prevent her from helping. Were they so shocked by the presence of a person in their right mind at this hour? Circe kneeled on the floor and checked for a pulse against Mania's wrist, then his neck. She saw no injuries, his pulse was quick but steady, and the stench of alcohol was as heavy on him as it had been on the man outside. "It could be poisoning," She told the strangers, "Stop standing around! Get help!" Alcohol poisoning displayed these effects, truly, but the strangers looked at each other in a sudden panic. When the powerful hands wrapped around her neck in a chokehold, it was too late for the witch even to scream. The dim light, the tangy smell, Mania's unconscious body, everything faded away before she could even cast a spell.

Circe Vitalis had a painful throbbing headache when she awoke in the moving cart. She couldn't see much of anything and the darkness was at least a comfort to her aching as she stirred. She had tried to move her limbs, but found that they were secured together: ankles pressed together and wrists pressed together. She felt the binds with her fingertips and determined they were old fashioned cords, knotted and twisted together. It was a shame, considering she knew that if Mania was also here, he would be able to try out metal restraints with his magic. That was when she noticed the missing grimoire and staff and her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't panicked at first, but Circe had never been without the use of her magic, and that staff was exceedingly important to her for both sentimental and physical reasons. Her heart raced and her mind went blank as she struggled against the bindings. In her panic, she turned to look around, seeing a dim squint of light between the fibers with her predator-like eyes. She tried to move herself towards the light and opened her mouth to scream when something large and heavy slammed into her, knocking her head into the wood of the cart and causing intense pain.

It felt like lightning tearing through her head, streaking between her eyes and causing pressure between her brows. Her teeth grit together and her scream never came. Mania's voice came through, asking her to wake up, calling her miss. "Miss?! I daresay Mania, I ought to slap you for all this. What mage is foolish enough to drink himself into a stupor?!" Her sharp words burst out, her eyes still tightly closed as her head throbbed. She winced from her own tone. It was unnecessary to be angry with the other victim here. Drinking wasn't a crime and whatever was going on couldn't be Mania's own doing. She let out a hard tense sigh and said, "My apologies. I know you this isn't your fault, whatever it is. My head is murder and you caught me in a moment of weakness. It won't happen again." She vowed gently. The honest truth was him slamming into her was probably the best thing that could have happened. Screaming and panicking was a certain way to attract attention and if she had done so, they might not have given the two a chance to speak. Mania could have just saved her from her own idiocy. The witch took another slow breath and compartmentalized, putting her pain in a little mental box and setting it aside.

The dark haired woman tried to relax and use her enhanced senses to gain information about their situation. "Are you okay?" She asked as she focused on her sense of smell. Starchy, old, dusty. Used potato sacks probably. A grab that was more useful in the moment, less indicative of a pre-planned motive. The sounds of heavy breathing, slow and rhythmic, too slow for a person even in sleep. A purr-like growling from the throat. The two of them were not alone, probably safe guarded by a large animal, one that was currently dozing or in general disinterested. Circe felt heat, but a radiating kind. A body heat, from Mania. From the animal. Still, there was no wind, no chill. They were on a road but it could not be in an open area, too little wind. The warmth and the light from before suggested daylight. Perhaps a forest path, which would explain the bumpy ground, and it was daytime which meant they had only been passed out for a few hours. She sniffed again and focused: perhaps there was a slight sap like smell in the air, only present in a place with pine or other evergreens. So it was a forest path within a few hours of Aries Garse. Finally, taste. Circe wet her lips and took another slow breath- she tasted no trace of ammonia, no bitterness of a poison, no metallic sweet blood either. So she hadn't been harmed past the knockout itself. There was the light buzz of the presence of magic, suggesting that the restraints or the people who had placed them were more than adequate users. The pieces started to click together but it was like working from the inside of a puzzle out and a clear picture didn't make itself known.

She lowered her voice into a whisper, "Do not speak loudly. I don't know what we should do, but I do know something about our situation. We must be nearby to Aries Garse, less than a half day travel and in the forest. Also, we are being guarded by a beast so do not alert it to our state." Some people found the way she collected information to be creepy, choosing to believe instead that she had some extra terrestrial witch powers that allowed her to determine the impossible when reality was so much simpler. Circe was taught to pay attention and her senses had been honed since childhood. There was still something her senses couldn't tell her anything about: why she and Mania had been taken. What must they have stumbled into? What had Mania discovered that had gotten him into trouble? Had he found the base for illegal activities? Had he discovered a dark mage? Had Mania learned a secret about the people who ran the Red Kings Glass which would put him in danger? Her questions swirled around but Circe chose not to openly acknowledge them. The why mattered less than the how in the moment as the cart continued to bump along the root and stone path they were clearly on.

Circe counted her breaths, keeping herself steady and calm. When Mania asked how she had gotten involved it took her a moment to answer. She couldn't quite remember every detail and spoke slowly to stall a real answer until the truth might come to her. "I was leaving Aries Garse in search of a meal. There was a drunk man who suggested that the Red Kings establishment was open to customers. The place seemed empty but I went inside to wait." She closed her eyes, underneath the dusty potato sack, trying to ignore the pulsing of the pain in her head. Was there a sound that brought her to wander about or was it her impatience? Had she seen a light or heard a voice calling for her to come on in? She didn't know. She could just remember sitting at a table in dim lighting waiting. Then she remembered being in a room with a bunch of men, faces blurred together in a sea of apathy. She remembered Mania clearly lying on the floor and she asked them to get a medic. Her mouth opened as she described the scene, "I am missing pieces, I think. But you were lying on the floor unconscious and nobody was assisting you. You smelled bitter, and of alcohol; I detected perhaps alcohol poisoning and then," She bit her lip and felt a choking sensation in her neck and pain - at her collar bone. She shifted and stretched slightly and felt a soreness. Even though she couldn't see it, there was no doubt that she was bruised around her neck and upper chest. She breathed heavier and whispered, "I think someone cut off my breathing, strangling me as a vine around a tree limb. I apologize but that is all I can recall."

She allowed herself the moment of silence to collect her composure again- the idea that she lost memories, time, and someone had attacked her and she couldn't even remember that was so violating. She grit her teeth and focused on Mania's words. He too suffered from a headache but she doubted that they had needed to do anything to help him into unconscious as they did her given his liquor intake. "Probably, it is a hangover," She informed him, "But your charm, my beauty, and your speculation won't do much good against bindings like these." Circe let out a frustrated sigh. Normally, she might have been lifted and light hearted by his voice but the situation was dragging her too far down and seriousness was her default. She hadn't ever been detained or had her grimoire taken from her. "How can you make light of this with such ease?" She asked him befuddled in an afterthought.

He pushed himself until he was against her and she could feel his legs against hers in mid-lean. The physical contact wasn't something she was much familiar with either, given she spent so much of her time alone or with her now deceased mother. What would her mother, Hecate, do? She wouldn't get flustered by a man, that was for sure. Circe was glad for the bag to hide her expression and her reddened cheeks but she stiffened her posture like a prominent keeper and declared in her superior tone of voice, "You could get used to kidnapping and poisoning at the cost of sitting next to a pretty woman? You are deranged, Mania, sir." She added the sir for politeness, forcing a verbal wall between them so that this proverbial distance might give her strength to get through this mess. Still, with another sigh of frustration, Circe gave in. His idea was better than hers given that she had offered none. She turned her body until her back faced his legs and then she leaned back as slowly as she could. The cart hit another bump and she slammed into his legs, lying upon his lower half as if she were five times more familiar with him than she actually was.

Circe said nothing, feeling the bend of his knees around her forearms. A huffing sound and a chuffed yawn could be heard nearby. It seemed the hefty bump in the road had awaken the creature too. She could hear the grating of large claws against the floor of the cart and she thought that the animal must be stretching itself out and awake. Circe held her breath and lay still, praying Mania would keep his mouth shut no matter how much he enjoyed her lying across his lap. Seconds passed that felt like minutes and she wondered if the beast was watching them or if it had disengaged and resettled into a new position. There was no way to tell if it was going back to sleep but she was sure that it wouldn't be deep in rest either way. Circe had to make her move before the cart ended its journey. She wiggled slightly, rubbing her arms over his legs and trying to feel for the knife he said he had at his right leg. She heard the tiniest of 'thuds' and realized she must have jostled the blade loose and onto the floor. "I think I found it," She breathed as quietly as she could. By the way his body tensed she could tell Mania had heard the stretching of the animal's claws earlier too. She shifted into a seated position upon his lap and apologized just as quietly, "E-excuse me.."

She wiggled her fingers around the other side of his leg, near to the floor and felt something cold and metal. Carefully she used her dexterous hands to slide the sheath off, leaving the handle balanced against the floor and his leg with the blade pointed up. This time when she reached it and started cutting away at the binds, she felt its sharpness dig into her skin. There was no easy way around this part. Without being able to see or properly hold the blade, injury was guaranteed. She made a little grunt of pain as she sliced several times through her wrist and arms in attempts to cut away the binds. She felt warm trickles of blood slip down the knife and make her grip even more slippery. Blood stained a small series of circles over his pants from where it tripped. She pushed a final time against the weapon and felt a deeper stab into her forearm, diagonal and into muscle, but at the least it was enough to finish the job. She grunted again, "I got it!"

Circe jerked off the little string holding the potato sack to her head and took a deep breath of non-potato air. She pulled her arms in front of her and looked them over- they didn't look good but she would be fine, it wasn't life threatening. She turned her head to her other side and saw an enormous surprise. A very large black jaguar sat upon its haunches, its bright green eyes watching them curiously. It didn't seem aggressive, but Circe knew you couldn't trust the outward personality of a cat. "It is a jaguar," She told Mania, "But it doesn't seem to be reacting much. Don't make any sudden movements." Circe removed his potato-sack from his head and then removed the bindings on her legs. She was spotting blood all over but didn't seem overly impaired by it. She knelt beside him working to undo first his legs and then his hands. "Sorry about the mess, I'll patch it up when I get the chance."