Airships Over Aranor [Prose] :: 5--Furious Red

[Xindaris]

Let's back up a bit to about the time Verra arrived at another leg, and join the Eagle woman for a moment. She waits in another bedroom, this the one that the blind Neshobe was sleeping in earlier. She has already taken the liberty of moving all of the furniture up against a wall on one side to make slightly more room for her wings, which are folded against her back for the moment.

Before long, two people emerge from the pipe that has punched a fresh window into the wall of the room. One of them is a green-skinned orc weilding twin short swords. He roars and charges at Ann while the other, a female Neshobe with white fur (White Grass--we'll talk about them later) aims her repeating crossbow at the eagle-woman. Ann responds by flapping her wings directly toward the pair, using magic to amplify the slight breeze produced into a gust strong enough to blow three crossbow bolts back into the face of their owner, and then stepping forward and using the long reach of her axe to smack the Neshobe in the forehead with its flat side. She collapses, out cold, while Ann blocks an attack from one of the orc's blades. He tries to stab under the axe, but he has to abandon the strike when Ann pushes against his other blade so hard it nearly cuts his ear off. He hops awkwardly backwards, trying to regain his footing, and Ann steps forward and aims another flat-side axe blow at his side. He turns to block this attack, using both blades and both arms, and his whole body gets pushed along the floor a few inches as a result.

Ann keeps pressing the axe against the swords, and despite his best efforts the orc can't keep up with the strength. He ducks aside at the last possible moment and tries to dart in and stab Ann again, hoping that she won't recover in time to block. She swings the axe back and catches him in the side with enough force to knock him over before his sword quite reaches her stomach, and then swings the axe around so the blade is hovering just barely above his neck. To his credit, his face looks determined; Ann, however, merely glares at him.

"You are pathetic." Then she spins the axe to catch him across the face with the flat side, knocking him out.

Whyskars is sitting on a bed in a guest bedroom for overnight passengers, whose wall was breached by another of the spider's legs. Two pirates, a female black-fur Neshobe and a satyr man, lie unconscious on the floor, while another one, a human woman, is wielding a quarterstaff with excellent technique in a battle against thin air.

You're probably wondering why the crew of the Farran are generally trying not to kill their armed assailants; well, most pirates are worth more bounty alive than dead and, other than Verra, this invasion force is full of people that will likely prove easy to keep captive. Anyway, the Fylenis addresses the human in another room. Captain, there were three of them from this entrance. Everything is clear here, but Verra is on the move. How are you doing?
Great. Two here, one down already. Poor fellow must have been new to the pirate racket, he fainted from a shot in the knee.
Our blind friend is occupied with one who came behind Verra. I haven't checked on Ann yet.
Do so now, keep me in if you will.
Ann. How are things in your room?
Unworthy.
Not very many of them?
No.
This is suspicious...they should have had an assault team two or three times this size for a job like this. I think Verra has something up her sleeve. Do you sense anyone up there, Whys?
Huh..you know, I don't. Nobody but Callor. For all we know she might have found some way to prevent my detection, though.
Hm..Ann, those pipes go up as well as down. Do you think you'd fit through the one near you?
Uncomfortably.
Well, if you can, go up and take a look around her ship. Maybe break a few things and see if anyone comes out to stop you. If that doesn't work, try going to the front and confronting the pilot. I hear she puts a lot of stock in that man, she would never leave him unguarded. It'll probably keep you safe from her anyway.
Understood.
Oh, and if things go sour, get out of the ship however you can and fly back to the Farran.

Whys, do you think you could slow Verra down a little bit? I need to finish this lackey before I can deal with her.
Should be no problem, captain. Catch you later.

Whys calmly moves to a quadripedal standing position and leaves the room, pulling his illusory double behind him, and the woman fighting it follows. He moves quickly, but not at a run, through a few different narrow corridors until he sees Verra at the end of one, running his way at that. He places an illusory double behind her to speak for him. "Verra. So nice to finally meet you in person."

"So you're the one who's been keeping me from my work," she says, not turning around. She stabs her blade backwards, halfheartedly; the false Whys dodges to one side.

"I've always wanted to meet you," he 'says', "like any good Cat, I know the rumors. A pirate and criminal, breaking even our laws, and getting away with it."

"You know you can't touch me." She grins, showing off some of her teeth.

"I know the King's mark as well as anyone else. His word is law. I know I can't punish you for your crimes. But there is plenty I can do." The double slashes at her back with a clawed arm, and apparently the cut is rather deep. Verra flinches slightly, but ignores the pain; firmly rejected by her mind, it goes away.

Then she frowns. "You should know I can't stand cheap tricks." Her left eye glows with a pale yellow light, and she looks directly at Whyskars--the real one, despite his magic projecting empty space where he actually is to the optical input of her brain. "I have no trouble seeing the truth."

I see--or rather, you see. A unique spell of two Clans...Is this why the King is so interested in you? She doesn't respond, instead shifting the sword to the form of a curved bow, drawing an imaginary string back and then firing a bolt of lightning at him like an arrow; he knows the attack from her mind before she begins it, and dodges. Then he brings in the double that is fighting the pirate, and has him stand in Verra's place. So you can see the truth. But she can't. The woman tries attacking the image, and in turn Verra, but she dodges and looks the woman directly in the eye. Then, in spite of the full Fylenis' best efforts to shield the woman from it, Verra uses her favorite trick.

Specifically, she takes control of the parts of the woman's mind that link it to the control of her body. This is known as 'puppeteering', and it is a Fylenis crime because it violates free will. She prefers to call it 'manipuleightion'. This skill she has always had quite an aptitude for was the one that allowed her to feed people to her monstrous 'guardian'. This is also how she can casually throw crew members off of her ship without a fight, and how she can easily hijack most airships without so much as setting foot on them. Being so well practiced, she has developed the very specific coordination necessary to control multiple bodies, including her own, at once, and has been reported to fight rather skillfuly with as many as five bodies at once in the past.

Whys uses the pause required to do this to stand upright on his hind legs. When the woman, now controlled by Verra, moves directly toward the real him and tries to crack him with the staff, he dodges around and kicks her ankles out from under her. She isn't quite agile enough to dodge the swipe, and Whys pounces on top of her, knocking the staff against her head and using the brief moment the body is stunned to pull it out of her hands. The puppet gets back up and punches at him, while Verra herself fires another bolt of lightning at him. He dodges both by ducking into another corridor, and when the closer one follows he hits her stomach with the tip of the staff and a lot of force, knocking her back and into a closed door on the other side. She collapses, unconscious, and then her body pulls her back up. Verra, meanwhile, runs up in front of her and slashes at him with her sword. He blocks with the staff, which happens to be made of wood, and immediately flips it back around to knock her in the head. She dodges back out of another swipe of his and the puppet moves in, now holding a spare knife that Verra perhaps gave her, and starts stabbing at him. He dodges to a side from the first shot, then on the next one smacks the side of the staff against the tip of the knife. With the tip stuck slightly into the staff, he deftly spins it back toward him, which pulls the knife and hand holding it for just a second, long enough to throw off her balance slightly. Then he his her wrist as hard as he can with the staff, and it audibly breaks. The puppet's hand is useless for holding much of anything now, and the knife drops to the floor.

Before she can pick it up, he cracks her leg on the other side, not quite breaking it but bringing her to a knee for the time being. Verra responds with another lightning bolt, which he dodges to one side. She abandons the puppet then, jumping over the collapsed body and swinging her sword at Whys, again and again. He blocks every strike, not even losing any ground to her.
Tell me. Do you know why pure Fylenis don't like to really fight?

Whys catches the next blow and spins the staff around to crack Verra in the left shoulder, and she winces, grimaces and attempts another stab, which is promptly deflected to above his shoulder. It's because we believe it's foolish, yes. But if that were not enough... He feints a jab at her stomach, then spins the staff around her block to hit the same shoulder again. It's always either too easy, or life-threatening. And I'm the kind of guy who doesn't take risks he doesn't have to. I just have a different philosophy from you, I suppose. He blocks another side swipe, and then aims for the shoulder again; this time he hits ice, which wasn't there before, and shatters it. Verra, looking positively furious, starts magically condensing more of the moisture in the air into numerous little ice shards. There we go, now you're actually trying.

Whys hops back and moves the staff, not quite spinning it but rather positioning it to catch as many of the shards as possible at each particular time, based on which direction Verra is concentrating with them. He still gets several light cuts across his fur from the ones that do get through. She starts making more of them behind him, and is about to fire them his way when he plays a somewhat dirty trick: He places the sound of captain Conall's voice behind Verra, which says, "Not so lucky now, are you?" Verra turns around to face the voice, and in surprise drops her concentration; all of the magically-levitated ice falls to the ground, and Whys drops the staff to the ground and makes a run for it on all fours, darting through one of two nearby doorways. "The thing about just seeing the truth? It's not enough." He projects a sound like his voice coming from both doorways, behind her, above and below, and doesn't stop running.

The small ship isn't exactly a maze, but Whyskars' audio misdirection is enough to lead Verra the wrong way..and toward where Conall is. I hope you're almost done. She might be a little ticked, by the way.

That is for the best. He is not quite down, but I shall manage. Thank you.

I think we know who we're going to see next. But if you have any more suggestions, now would probably be a good time to put them in.

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So this is the 'eye thing' they were talking about, or more accurately, both of them. The truth-seeing light is less famous because she hasn't fought very many Fylenis.

Injury Tally--
Neshobe: Palm of right hand severely burned by electric shock.
Whyskars: Several small cuts from shards of ice; might take a day or two to heal without magic.
Conall: ???
Verra: Took a couple of punches and now has a sore tail bone.
Severe bruising on left shoulder, making it painful to wield the sword/bow with it.

[deificAnuran]

Barreling into the second page!

This might be more applicable later on, but

> Callor: Have your grumbling monologue interrupted.

[momatoes]

Ohh, this is getting exciting.

> Conall and Verra: Attempt to outwit each other in banter before getting down to business.

[Vancho1]

Verra and Conall, be ex-lovers torn apart by different ideology. Conall also needs a mirror shield, to deflect Verra's gaze.

[Xindaris]

Conall has only shot a couple of bolts from one of his metal crossbows, the left one, and has since placed that one back in its holster. After the first intruder passed out from the shock of a shot to the knee, the other one, a merman wielding a scythe of all things, managed to dodge Conall's shot. Preferring to preserve ammo, the captain then led the pirate on a wild chase around the ship until they got to a smaller hallway where the use of the latter's weapon is rather limited. (Merfolk, it should be noted, are quite capable of shifting their lower bodies between fish and human appearance; there are a few subtle differences that mark them as not human even in 'human' form, however.) Now Conall is busy throwing fireballs in his opponent's general direction, forcing him on the defensive; fortunately, this particular hallway doesn't have much wood in it.

The merman drops the scythe and, still dodging the projectiles, begins condensing and gathering moisture from the air, storing it in front of each of his hands. After he has a fairly sizable amount, he combines the two globes of water and reshapes them quickly into a long, continous shape: A whip of water, held solid enough by magic to do damage, but easily dispersed should someone else try to take hold of it. It was around the time the whip finished forming that the Fylenis contacted Conall.

Now, if he were so inclined, would be the time for the captain to smirk and laugh. Instead he simply, calmly stops throwing fireballs and casts a different spell. This one is similar to the one we saw shortly before discovering his name, but rather than simply surrounding his hands with fire, it surrounds his whole body with it. Immolation, it is called. And then he charges forward, the end of the merman's whip evaporating with every attempt to hit him, and finally channels all that momentum into a burning punch straight to the merman's gut. Predictably, merfolk don't get along well with fire or excessive heat, so he develops a rather severe burn in the location and, though he manages to stay standing, is now holding his gut in pain. Conall turns off the immolation spell (that's what it's called), and smacks the merman on the head with the back end of a rapidly-drawn metal crossbow.

It isn't quite enough. The merman grunts, then roars and jumps at Conall, who just barely manages to dodge in time. He lands near the scythe, rolls and picks up the weapon, and by the looks of things is about to do something drastic when a fair-size rock hits the back of his head, knocking him out and landing him straight forward on the floor. Edward, in the bridge on the other end of the hallway, turns back to the ship controls. "My thanks."

"No need. Let me know when it's time."

Meanwhile, Ann doesn't find anyone on the Gran Daora. She wanders through a number of holds and few rather cramped crew's quarters, clearly only big enough for one person but outfitted with beds for eight, but doesn't find anyone. So she eventually locates the engine room, where one engine is connected to eight pipes each leading out to one of the spider's legs. One wall has a painting of Verra hung on it, no artist signature. Whys. No one's here. Found the engine room.
Hmm..judging by what you're seeing, and the way you're facing, I'd say the front is the side with the painting on the wall. While our ships are attached, we need their propulsion along with ours to keep us afloat...but it wouldn't be a bad idea to prevent them from blowing fire into the Farran if they get desperate.
Smash it?
Yes. Smash it. Then continue toward the front end, see if you can find their helmsman.

Ann proceeds to smash the connections to the front four legs of the spider using her axe. The engine isn't actively spewing flame from those outputs right now, since people had to walk through them, but if it ever does it will do severe damage to the entire engine room, instead of the Farran as it would usually be. Then she leaves the engine room and heads toward the bridge.

I'm all done here. How is Xach on his end?
He's through. Verra's almost where you are.
Tell him to come this way, ready for a fight, if he is able. You are close as well, I assume?
Naturally. Also, Ann hasn't found anyone and has smashed half the engine connections on their ship.
Excellent. Hope she can handle the infamous first mate. If we can manage this feat it will more than pay for the damage done here.

Before we continue, I should probably explain Aranoran magic properly. All forms of magic, obviously, require both the fuel (that which dragons emit), and the exercise of will and physical exertion to shape the fuel into the desired results. Skillful or powerful use of magic is just as tiring, if not more than, hard physical exercise. The magic that elves, eagle folk, merfolk, and even some humans use is called 'elfin' magic, because elves are the most talented at using it. It involves direct, free manipulation of a single element at a time, though someone who's good enough at it can use multiple elements at once. The races other than elves tend to use an element that 'gets along well' with them, such as eagle folk and wind, merfolk and water, etc. Verra used elfin magic (as she is some part elf) in making lots of ice and throwing it at Whys. Fylenis, as you know already, have their own brand of mental magic. They cannot use any other magic, and nobody else can use their magic. Neshoban magic is more concentrated than elfin magic, with a single Neshobe (depending on which of the six kinds (known commonly as 'Clans') he or she is) having only one to three spells, all of the same element unless he or she has a mixed heritage. Ekim magic is all originated from their soul-weapons, and orcs channel magic through any weapon they hold. Dwarves channel magic into objects, be they anything from weapons or airship engines, and the nature of the enchantment used determines who can use this imbued item and how.

Humans are different from most of Aranor's races. There is no unique human magic, and while possible, it is very difficult for humans to learn elfin magic. However, humans have an unusual ability to absorb magic, like sponges, ever growing in the capacity of magical energy their bodies can hold and even passing especially high levels down to their children. They are able to expend all of their magic at once in one great burst, to a few different and incredible ends, but once it's used it can take several lifetimes to build up as much again. Not all humans, however, are so limited.

A very long time ago, using magics long since forgotten, the Neshoba and elves worked together to grant six humans an unusual ability. Each of them was given the power to copy the spells of a single Clan of Neshoba, and use them him- or herself. All that is needed is the knowledge that the spell exists, and a working understanding of what it does. These six humans' descendents possess the exact same ability, completely intact since it isn't precisely genetic. The original six, and their descendents, are collectively referred to as 'Dragoons', because the original intended purpose of their powers was to gain the edge in a desperate battle against dragons. The line of one particular dragoon is royalty in the country of Rithara, and has survived as a very, very long series of dynasties since the country's creation. The others are sometimes considered a kind of nobility, but it really depends on who you ask.

Conall is a descendant of the one who was blessed by the Red Claw Clan, and as such can use such spells. He also benefits from an unusually high store of magic, since the non-dragoon side of his heritage consists of a very long line of humans who never spent their collected magic. As such he has some overflow issues as observed before--unconsciously casting spells and the like--but when he can use lots of fire, it's generally there for him.

Now that that's out of the way, Verra reaches a hallway not far from the bridge (though not the one directly in front of the bridge) with Conall in it. Her eye is still glowing, so she can tell it's both the real him and really him. The unconscious merman was hastily hidden in a nearby storeroom as a precaution, even though all accounts of her puppetry power indicate that one must be conscious at its inception or it won't work. By now he's leaning against a wall, as if relaxed, with one of the M-C's in his right hand. His right hand is immolated again, but fortunately the weapon is small enough that the fire just goes around it, treating it as 'part' of the hand. "So glad you could make it." She replies by firing a lightning bolt in his general direction, which he dodges under. You have my full permission. This may be the only chance we get at something like this. "Hmm. You know, that must put quite a strain on your arm. I can't imagine it's easy to aim while fighting through pain." He raises his gun, while Verra briefly falters in another attempt to draw back the bow (due to the very pain mentioned). I hope you've got it by now, Whys. "What was the plan here anyway?" Then, he takes a shot.

In a flash, Verra's weapon has returned to sword form and is sparking with energy, directed to repel the bullet away from its location, and held up in front of her face. It isn't quite fast enough, and for some reason magnetism doesn't effect the bolt. It ricochets off of the blade's edge and grazes the left side of her face, just barely missing the eye but coming close enough that she has to close it in pain. When the bolt hits the wall and clatters to the floor, it becomes evident that it was also on fire. "You know, funny thing, I was conversing with a blacksmith the other day and he said, it's an awful waste to use iron in these bolts when anything small and round, like a piece of wood, would do just as well."

The pirate doesn't answer. Not in words. Instead, she makes a sound somewhere between a roar and a howl and charges at him, sword blazing. Conall blocks with both crossbows (the other one was quick-drawn, and looks away, staring at a nearby wall. "What's the matter?!" She disengages, steps back and forward again, and aims another slice in the space of about half a second. Long enough to pause for breath between questions. "Ceightn't even look your opponent in the feightce?"

"Oh I can, I just don't want to. Too bright with all the lightning and fire." Conall steps back at the same time Verra does this time, and takes another shot in her direction. This time she manages to block it, and takes advantage of the way Conall had to point his face for aiming to look him in the eyes. And...nothing happens. Verra appears to be in shock for a few seconds. Conall gets an unnatural--and somewhat disturbing given his usual disposition--toothy smile for almost as long. "What, were you expecting something? Two can play at that game, Daora-majou."

"RRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaghhhhhh!!!!!!!" Then the entire hallway is full of electricity. Verra starts hacking at Conall, who is now quite unnaturally laughing through the mild pain of such an unfocused shock while dodging and blocking the series of blows.

Meanwhile, Ann finds the bridge. It's just as unguarded as everywhere else, and no traps set, either. She walks into the room and looks around, and finds nobody but Callor. He hears her, of course. "Thtep no clother." It's hard to sound threatening with a sever lisp, but he somehow sounds serious at least.

"Or what."

"Thith thhip'th engineth are keeping both of uth in the air. Thethe controlth are too complekth for you to even begin to fathom, and too thmall for your hands to control, judging by your weight. And if you think it'th thtill worth the rithk..think again."

"I can fly."

"Maybe. But you can't dodge ekthplothionth. Nobody hath ever theen nor heard of my thpell, becauthe it would be too great a rithk on an airthip over the othean. But if you get too clothe, I might jutht dethide to uthe it anyway, and take you down with me. Don't think I won't do it."

The electricity and Verra finally stop, the latter panting heavily and clearly on the brink of exhaustion. Conall is much the worse for wear, with scorched clothes and minor burns all over his body, but not a single cut from the blade thanks to the Fylenis' expert control of the situation. "What'd I say, eh? Too easy. Especially if I don't have to feel the pain."
She's on the ropes, Edward. Disengage the other airship, Ann should be able to get back now that I've opened up the hangar.

"Hhh...hh.."

"What? I can't hear you."

"I hate you! ALL of you! I swear I am going to track every one of you down and tear your hearts out and eight them. If I have to keightll myself to finish you off I swear I'll do it. If I find any family or friends of yours I will personally tear them limb from limb. I--aagh!" She yells not out of frustration or rage, but from the pain of a rather deep set of cuts across her back. These are courtesy of the Shadow Fang, his claws now out. She whirls around and slashes at him with more ferocity and energy than someone who's just spent five or six minutes on a sustained electrified hallway should rightly have. He dodges, but barely. Conall takes a shot from behind, aimed at the back of her head and on his own control this time, and somehow she happens to duck under it at the last possible instant by performing a lunging attack. Xachariah is already low to the ground, having been warned of the attack by the Fylenis. Conall lines up another shot.

The Luck spell is one of quite dubious results, like most Shadow Fang spells. However, its effects seem so much like coincidence that there are doubts as to its actual existence. Most people in recorded history who have used it have died horribly in what seemed to be complete accidents. Very unfortunate deaths most often result, and not necessarily just those of the casters, but sometimes of their close friends or loved ones, or just random people who were nearby at the time of casting as well. Neshoba who are discovered by a Choneiji to have the spell are warned specifically against ever casting it, and the ones who have followed this wisdom have generally lived longer for it. Shadow Fang dragoons dread the spell and try not to even think about it for fear of using it by accident.

Not Verra. Verra is one of two or three people in all of Aranoran history to have used the Luck spell and gotten a good result. She is quite literally the only one to use it habitually and get good or, at worst, neutral results every single time. The point is, once she had calmed down enough to start screaming revenge at Conall and Whyskars-in-Conall, she cast the Luck spell. And, perhaps what follows may be considered the result. It certainly seems enough like a coincidence, anyway.

On the Gran Daora, the eagle woman takes Callor's threat seriously. It isn't unbelievable that a part-Red Claw would have the power to blow things up, in some kind of fiery explosion. However, she doesn't take him quite seriously enough. She tries to charge at him, get him before he can react. While she is more agile than anyone with her choice of a giant axe as a weapon would seem to have any right to be, speed is not her specialty. There is enough time, between the decision to attack and the sounds of her starting to run, for the Neshobe to turn around in his chair, sigh mentally at what fools everyone on Aranor is, and then cast his spell. As a result, a chain of explosions fire straight through Callor's line of sight, extending some twenty yards or so in distance. His line of sight also just happened to be inclined slightly downward. The impacts catch Ann straight in the front--though she does have the presence of mind to hold the axe flat in front of her and thus block some of the damage--and propel her with them straight through the floor of the Daora's bridge, through the ceiling of the Farran, and nearly out the latter's floor. She crashes straight into Xach, and they both get knocked through the end of the hallway, just barely avoiding falling through the new hole, through which the chain of explosions continue to go.

The noise and shock of the explosion rocks the entire ship, knocking Conall to the ground. Verra is somehow still standing up, and she grins the most vicious, hateful grin that has ever been grinned, due in part to effect of baring her sharp teeth and in part to the gleam in the one of her catlike eyes that's still open, and then jumps onto the roof of the Farran, and from there back into the bridge. Callor is out cold from the exertion of casting his Explosive Sight spell, and Verra shoves his unconscious body out of the way and takes the controls of the ship. The Farran rocks back and forth at that moment (thanks to Edward's efforts), knocking the front four legs out of the holes they made. Verra isn't as good at piloting the ship as Callor, but she's the one who built it, and she only needs to work the back four to propel the Gran Daora off at an angle to the right of the other ship's course. Said other ship had accelerated in preparation for the shaking maneuver, and their courses diverge rather quickly. Anyway, their crew are much too busy with other concerns to give chase.

Now, who should we follow as we return to the Farran to see the damage done?

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When I got into the middle of writing this sequence (that is, posts from when the legs smashed into the Farran to here), it occurred to me that I was doing something really, really strange. It turns out that, in fact, the antagonist in a situation can be very poorly prepared and reckless, and even suffer the consequences for it. I guess maybe it goes to show that even the bad guy can have serious character flaws when they're all sapient entities and you aren't fighting creatures from outer space or something. Maybe it only strikes me as weird because I'm so used to video games, where the good guys start at level 1 and the bad guys with personalities are almost always the toughest to take down.

Also, the more upset version of Vriska's quirk, where she replaces several vowels with 8's? This post contains a demonstration of how I always read those.

Injury Tally--
Xachariah: Palm of right hand severely burned by electric shock.
Front of body bruised some from impact.
Whyskars: Several small cuts from shards of ice; might take a day or two to heal without magic.
Conall: Most of skin has first-degree or so burns due to sustained weak electric shocks.
Captain's outfit scorched.
Ann: Front of body bruised and a little burned from explosions.
Wings and back a little bruised and cut up from crashing through debris and slamming into Xach.
Verra: Took a couple of punches and now has a sore tail bone.
Severe bruising on left shoulder, making it painful to wield the sword/bow with it.
Serious cut/burn on left side of face, near eye, enough to probably leave a scar.
Fatigued beyond all belief from excessive magic use.
Four deep gashes in back from Xach's claws.
Callor: Knocked unconscious and will be blind for a couple of days or so as a result of casting his spell.

Edward: None.
Arizan: Didn't even know there was a fight going on.

[deificAnuran]

> Whys: Assess situation

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Yes! Update!

On the subject of villains, there doesn't necessarily need to be a clear-cut bad-guy. Even Vriska is arguably on the good side sometimes.
Although if she IS a bad-guy, then I'd say her video game counterpart is Gary Oak from Pokemon.

[momatoes]

I actually really like both Verra and Callor as characters and not just villains. Though I am rooting harder for them...

Let's go to Arizan. Maybe her discovery of the shenanigans might offer some nice break from all this action..

[Xindaris]

Whys is in the back of the Farran, closing down the door again. He is away from the others, but he can easily survey the damage along with Conall. There's a hole in the roof and floor, but nothing critical was hit along the way since most of the engineworks are in the back of the ship. There are also the four holes in the sides of the ship, and all six together do make the ship unfit for passengers and somewhat less aerodynamically efficient. Xach has a severe burn on his hand and now numerous bruises on the front side of his body. Ann is tough, but her wings are going to be out of commission for at least a few days. It's going to hurt Conall to touch things for a while, including his own clothes. Even the Fylenis managed to get injured in all this.

The captain, who knows Whys is still listening in, speaks. "Well, I suppose there are two ways of looking at this situation. I would say, everyone has been injured, the enemy got away, and after swearing the worst kinds of revenge on all of us. On the other hand, my sister would say we fought with everything we had, nearly got her...and now we've confronted Verra Kriset and lived, twice. Heh." He's almost, sort of smiling. Just a little bit.

Come on, I'm sure that's not all the encouragement you've got. Anything original?

"...Certainly. Whys, get those pirates we did capture to the brig. I have little doubt at least some of them will be worth some bounty, enough to pay for repairs and medicine at any rate. In light of their loss and our gain this ought to be at least as good as a tie."

Better. And will do. And, uh, you got company.


An hour or two ago, the dragon Arizan was asked to hold on to something, to brace for some upcoming turbulence. Some half hour or so ago, there were loud crunching noises from the sides of the ship. A minute ago, the clear sound of an explosion rocked the entire ship. Dragons fly, and dragons are generally large enough to have an experience similar to what that of a sentient airship (if such a thing existed) would be when moving quickly at high altitudes. Dragons know what turbulence feels like intuitively, and they know that it generally doesn't cause explosions.

So of course she stormed out of the engine room and on her way straight to the bridge, the last known position of anyone else on the airship. And, after navigating a couple too many cramped hallways again, she comes to one close to the bridge and finds a giant hole in it, not to mention the captain covered in what looks like severe burns. The natural reaction to confusion for certain dragons is anger because they are usually big enough to just kill whatever makes them angry, and something that is confusing has a high risk of being a threat. Arizan is one such dragon, and is naturally furious enough at this development to nearly spit fire while talking. "What. Is. This."

Not even Conall can resist a literal interpretation. "This is a giant hole in my ship."

"Okay." There is a brief pause. "WHY IS THERE A GIANT HOLE IN YOUR SHIP THAT WASN'T THERE TWO HOURS AGO?!" It's really amazing when a dragon manages to spit fire and talk at the same time. Of course, it isn't a directed shot or anything, so it doesn't do much more than raise the temperature several degrees and aggravate Conall's burns a little more.

The human answers quickly and forcefully, without any pause longer than a breath, to suppress the dragon's protests until he finishes speaking. "We were attacked by pirates who, given the right circumstances, could very well have killed all of us, yourself included. I thought it best not to inform you of their attack in order to reduce the risk of their knowing you were here, since their captain is particularly insane and might have killed or kidnapped you if she knew you were here. Yes, she could have done that, last time I checked Fylenis powers work on dragons, too. Also, the captain got away with the ship after swearing vengeance on all of us, but since she did not know you were here you should not be in any danger from her. You are welcome."

There is almost enough time to mentally process all of that and form a response before he starts talking again. "Oh, and since our efforts to evade the pirate required us to move faster than usual we will be arriving at port in only a few more minutes. Once we get there this ship will have to be repaired, and if you still feel you need protection I will ask one of my crew to keep an eye on you during shore leave."

There is a long awkward pause before Arizan officially accepts Conall's defense and reasoning. "...Very well. I will decide when we get there." Conall nods and turns around, heading back to the bridge. The captain belongs on the bridge, after all.

Nothing important happens on the rest of the way to Rysinth, the airship port town that is and has always been the Farran's destination. Suddenly you, the reader, are suffused in so much free will and oh I can't do this. Let's just say that you can pick anyone currently on the Farran, nameless pirates excluded, and follow him or her on shore leave for a little while. Each of them is certain to meet someone exciting and interesting, share stories of things seen or heard long ago, and maybe even go on some small adventure all their own (since it'll take at least a couple of days to fix all the holes, not to mention the injuries). You may also suggest whether Arizan decides to consider the crew's work of protecting her complete and leave them be, or insists on an escort around town.

So, what now?

End Chapter 1

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Warning: Long commentary is long
I really wasn't talking about Vriska in this case, since honestly there's too much interpretation involved for Verra to be considered all that equivalent. She's more like my idea of what Vriska would be like with a similar upbringing and certain opportunities on another world entirely. It's always been my opinion that Vriska is a very interesting person, and in the right circumstances (like, a world in which she didn't murder lots of people) I could actually consider her a likeable fictional person. Of course, this version went completely in the other direction: Verra is unequivocally chaotic evil here. Whereas killing lots of people is considered okay under the right circumstances on Alternia, Aranor as a whole has a higher moral bent. Also, I'm not gonna lie, my longest-term plot trajectory at the moment has her attempting, possibly with some success, to fulfill the promise of revenge she spoke just before escaping.

Callor is what I like to call "apathetic neutral", that is, he doesn't particularly care about order/law or morality one way or the other, only his own benefit, and that's another part of what makes him a perfect subordinate for Verra. As long as he stands to profit, he won't question anything morally reprehensible she does, but at the same time he won't act like some pirates who would scold her at times for not being 'evil enough', so to speak. Clearly there is lots of interpretation in place here as well, Callor is something like how I think Sollux's bipolarness might resolve as he grew to adulthood in an entirely different world under the right circumstances. Hn...I wonder if anyone noticed the buried reference to a childhood friend of his and "cynical, caustic anger"...any guesses who that might be?

Anyway, it's hard to make a good (sentient) villain who isn't an interesting character first, right?


I feel like I have no idea of what exactly the scale of a typical 'small' airship ought to be, nor have I any clue how the interior of the Farran is actually arranged. So spatial inconsistencies may well abound in the future, if they haven't already.

I have shore-leave 'friends' picked out for Xach, Conall, and Whys, which leaves between 1 and 3 other characters to come up with...any suggestions based on what you know so far of the world?

[deificAnuran]

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Oh man lots of stuff I apparently missed
I have to assume Callor's friend is Karkat Rattakat, but only because you basically said it. Oh well.

> Arizan: Stay with them, they seem nice.
> Conall: Exposit on sister, but coincidentally and in a nice, smooth, plot-appropriate manner.
> Ann: Run into another winged person while finding some healing balm for your wings.

Or, y'know, something along those lines.

[Xindaris]

(Not an update, I just felt the need to do this out-of-canon-yet-still-in-character thing if/when I got the opportunity.)

> Conall: Exposit on sister, but coincidentally and in a nice, smooth, plot-appropriate manner.

She is alive and well at the moment. And somewhere on Aranor. She could literally be anywhere on Aranor right now.

And I am just fine with that.

Just.

Fine.

(But seriously, we will actually find out about her in a bit. Probably. Maybe. I need to re-read a certain discontinued adventure to get some things straight first.)

[momatoes]

Always follow the telepath.

>>> Let's see where Whys goes.

[Xindaris]

Chapter Two: A Day on the Town

Some cities with airship docks were built specifically for that specific purpose on wide swaths of formerly useless land, and have massive yards and several runways to house larger passenger and cargo ships. Others were already along major trade routes, and adapted a small dock, not enough for the huge ships but enough for the private ones like the Farran or smaller shuttles to larger ports. Rysinth is the former, a center of trade even before the continents knew of each other, when humans and dragons were the only ones to pass through. The streets are more crowded and busy than they ever were then. The charm and curiosity of magic users and creature-folk has long since worn out for the descendants of the natives, and the slow but steady influx of immigrants from the other continent leaves the crowd here looking no less varied than that of, say, Rithara's capital for instance.

One may well wonder how, without a method of remote communication analogous to radio, airships are able to land in anything like an organized fashion on a limited number of runways, and indeed this was the greatest hurdle to their more widespread use for a number of years. However, a system has long since come into practice to deal with the trouble. A flare of a particular color is shot into the air from a tower where four people watch the four directions for incoming ships at the precise moment a ship is noticed; the ship is to fly to a certain position to claim that color, and if two ships arrive at roughly the same time there is an order of right-of-way, but I'll not bore you with that. The next time that same color is shot off, the ship it belongs to lands, and the color is allowed to be reassigned to another ship. Of course, in a busy port this quickly consumes a great many flares, but magical means of producing a flare-like effect are widespread and not terribly difficult. Once the ship lands, the proper authorities are called to apprehend the pirates in the brig, all eight of them; three of them are recognized as higher-priced heads, and otherwise the standard reward for pirate capture is tendered for the rest. After paying in advance for repairs and medical treatment, Conall splits the rest of the money--not much, but at least it's a profit--evenly among the five crew members.


Whys leaves earlier than most of the others, forgoing medical treatment of his rather minor wounds. And he walks the city of Rysinth, using his magic to appear to those around him as a human. This is normal for Fylenis, who have always been secretive, rare, untrusting of the motives and future actions of everyone around them. Even in the present days, where the king has increasingly encouraged their joining the world at large instead of continuing to hide in little holes and obscure sections of forest for centuries on end, most still would not show themselves to people they don't already trust. So while it is no longer so uncommon on Aranor to have seen a Fylenis walking the streets, it remains extremely rare to know that you saw one, rare enough that a Fylenis not hiding his or her true form might draw a few eyes. In other words, Whys doesn't care so much that people know he is a Fylenis, but hides anyway to avoid wasting time and getting stared at. As for what sort of human he looks like, well, that depends on who's looking. Suprisingly, it's easiest to just pull together an image of an 'unremarkable person' from each person's mind and superimpose that on one's one appearance than to try and broadcast a single, constant image to everyone. It has to do with three-dimensional perspective. Besides, a 'nondescript' appearance is far more difficult for one's enemies to follow or properly identify.

Whys isn't looking for anything in particular, simply reaching out with his senses for a familiar pattern of thought, anyone he happens to know who happens to be in town at the moment. Sort of like what a blind Neshobe might do with scent. After a good twenty minutes or so of walking he finds someone in an old two-story tavern, and enters. It's early afternoon, so the tavern only has a few people in it to begin with--it's not hard to find who he's looking for.

An elf, with pointed ears, fair features, a little slimmer and taller than your average human. A woman, athletic and petite but not without a kind of beauty to her. And, like most elves, she looks young; her mind alone betrays an actual age of nearly a millenium. She sits alone on a stool in the middle of a de facto stage--no raised platform, but no tables in it--legs crossed, idly strumming a small harp. She is wearing a bright-colored blouse and ankle-length skirt, both unusually clean for a constant traveler; a tan cloak hung over her shoulder is the most likely explanation for that.

Whys walks up to the woman. "Well, it's good to see you again." She looks up to acknowledge him and he drops the illusion for her. Then she nods, smiling. "I see you actually found him." Here Whys sees things that most people don't, for any Fylenis can pierce the illusion of an equal or lesser one without much trouble. She nods again. "So what about Khazu?" She chuckles.

"That wolf pup turned 'fraidy-cat once the old man showed up. Fear of change is only natural if one isn't out looking for it, I guess. He'll show up sooner or later, he's too tough to get eaten by a few monsters."


Meanwhile, the others remain in a hospital for treatment, Edward to help out the healers. Water makes up much of the human body, and this is a trait which remains true for all of Aranor's demi-humans as well; as such, water magic is generally the most useful for both healing and examining. The Blue Tail Neshoba are particularly well-equipped for medical work, even when untrained, for in addition to a single unique spell, each has the 'Heal' spell (which puts out fires as well as working to repair surface wounds of a person's body) and the 'Diagnose' spell (which gives the caster an impression of what wounds or irregularities are in the body of whoever it is casted upon). Of course, magic is a shortcut best foregone in the case of more severe wounds, since knitting a wound hurts and doing it more rapidly hurts even worse. Conall's burns are largely soothed by a merwoman healer, the worse ones (which are on exposed skin) bandaged, and after changing into a fresh set of clothes taken from the Farran before it was sent to a yard for repairs he sets to the streets in search of a place to eat.

It isn't very long before he comes upon a familiar voice. A very familiar one. With the emphasis on the first three syllables for pun's sake. Two people of particular interest to the captain, one of them the source of the voice, sit at an eatery composed of a kitchen building, a long window, and outdoor seats and tables which are presently exposed to the sun, but presumably would be covered by an awning in unfavorable weather.

"--But she said, 'We will not help the cause of a weak people. You must prove your strength.' And that was when Xindaris challenged the Black Earth's alpha to an arm-wrestling contest--to the death! Or until one of them broke an arm. And she was so sure in her strength she accepted. But they didn't have any tables, so..."
"Err, milady--"
"...Then Elestari suggested they just use a big block of ice made with magic. But it had to be raining for her magic to be strong enough to do that. There was the scent of a rainstorm coming, but it would still be a few hours before that happened. So everyone just sat around waiting..."
"that isn't quite, exactly how--"
"..and it was really awkward for the first few minutes, since none of the--"
"Charlotte." Conall chooses this moment to put his hand on the storyteller's shoulder and interrupt the exhcange. The woman in question, a human with the same color hair and eyes as the captain, wearing a green conical hat, a vest of the same color with a black jacket over it, and black pants with a katana securely sheathed on one side, very nearly draws said weapon and swipes at him, but sees who he is first and relaxes again. "I know it is not very often you get a captive audience, but you might pick a tale he does not already know the true version of."
"Bro? You look like a dragon sneezed at you. Siddown, I gotta know how this happened!" Charlotte pulls Conall to an empty chair and he sits down, wincing slightly.
"S-sir Conall! It is most excellent to see you again." The other one, a young male Neshobe with a very dark blue color of fur, is visibly relieved at the change of subject. He is mostly Black Earth, with maybe one Blue Tail ancestor several generations up to explain the unusual coloration. Conall knows him mostly as a friend's friend's friend, though he did take one trip on the Farran to get to this continent. His name is Khazu, and he isn't quite a century old (which, for Neshoba, is a fairly immature age in a certain sense).

Now, the Black Earth Clan (the word "Clan" with a capital C, in case it wasn't clear, is the usual term for one of the sub-kinds of Neshoba) is, of course, capable of magic that uses rocks or dirt or the like. They are also the most physically strong, even more than the Shadow Fang, and pride themselves on this fact. They value raw physical strength in choosing their leaders. The traditional attitude of the Black Earth has been negatively characterized as greedy or stubborn, but really they simply have a peculiar sense of honor and prefer to be brutally honest about things. This sense of honor involves favors and repayment: Allowing someone to do something for you, without repaying them, is considered highly dishonorable to traditional Black Earth thought; hence, they do not help others without settling on some manner of payment beforehand as a kindness to others, and if one feels one has been dishonored in this manner unwillingly, he or she will often attempt to come up with some kind of repayment. If the dishonor seems particularly intentional, the repayment attempts will likely be the bare minimum that the Black Earth feels can be gotten away with, if not outright bad for the person.

Khazu considers persons of noble birth or position to be considerably better than other people, and in fact, more worth being around and knowing. He is about the closest thing to a believer in the divine right of kings that Aranor could ever have. As such, he tends to claim that merely being in a noble's presence is worth helping them; whether this is his actual belief or merely a way to circumvent Black Earth ideas without outright breaking them is unclear, although if it is all an act it is quite an impressive one. The dragoons qualify as nobles of a sort since Rithara's royal line are the descendants of white one (associated with the White Grass Clan, that is), and the other five's descendants have the kind of distinction and rareness that often comes with nobility, even though many of them are neither terribly well off nor in any sort of political position. So it isn't hard to explain what he's doing listening to Charlotte's heavily embellished and modified version of a part of his own race's history if he clearly doesn't want to.

As for Charlotte, yes, she is Conall's sister. His younger sister by three years, to be exact. The two of them fit the contrasting mold of a protective, responsible, somewhat uptight elder sibling, and a wild, adventerous younger. For three or four years the two of them traveled together on adventures largely decided upon by the younger, while the elder tagged along in an effort to make sure she didn't end up dead. Their teamwork in fighting monsters was said to be matched only by their constant arguments on where to go and what to do next, most of which the younger won through sheer persistence. Whatever he may think of her present lifestyle (wandering, taking odd jobs, slaying monsters--which is a legitimate if highly dangerous occupation--and chasing after rumors of abandoned treasures and the like), Conall owes Charlotte a debt he could not possibly hope to repay, nor does she particularly care to collect on it. So they have a kind of mutual, friendly relationship at the moment. Also, she is quite capable with a katana, having learned swordplay at a young age from a White Grass Neshoban trainer who may also be held partly responsible for her love of the well-told-if-not-necessarily-true story, and the most inaccurate parts of her knowledge of certain historical events.

So Conall relates the events of Verra's attack in as factual and direct a manner as possible, at the least requiring any future embellishment to come from Charlotte herself. Obviously if he tried to lie about it or declined to answer it just would have been delaying the inevitable. No matter how much he might want to keep the story of Verra's near-defeat out of the rumor mill to avoid provoking the insane and highly powerful pirate any further than he's already done by fighting back and surviving, his sister's hunger for more stories is simply insatiable and ultimately undeniable. Well, at least if she's telling the story there's a pretty good chance it'll be told in a way nobody would believe. It would be entirely different if the same account were given to, say, a scrupulous peacekeeper aspiring to catch Verra herself.


Wings are remarkably susceptible to healing improperly and then ceasing to function in their intended manner. Ann's were quickly immobilized after the injury was done, and after a rather long checkup they are still mostly immobilized, just set in better positions to heal. There are no major fractures, so it shouldn't take but a few days; to a more free-spirited, flight-loving eagle person this might as well be a few months, or few years, but to Ann it doesn't matter so much. Walking is fine.

In any case, she is the last one to leave, and also happened to be the one who agreed to go with Arizan. The dragon is predictably impatient about the delay and noisy about said impatience, but Ann is very, very skilled at the art of ignoring without reaction, for a very. Long. Time. It helps, because if a Fylenis walking the streets and not hiding is unusual, a dragon in a conspicuous fully-scaled humanoid form like Arizan's is far, far more so. Numerous heads are turned by the sight, then promptly turned away by the fire dragon's constant glare and the eagle woman's apparent nonchalance at the whole situation. Unlike certain others in the group, Ann had no prior plans of meeting anyone on today's arrival, and just heads for a restaurant she knows and has been to a few times before now.

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dA--Wait, which stuff are you thinking you missed?? Also, to quote a certain other adventure-author whose work I am a fan of: "This is an admittedly liberal interpretation of your instruction. I hope you will not be disatisfied."

The six kinds of Neshoba can be divided into three pairs of opposites, each of which can be conveniently if incompletely described in terms of a simple dichotomy: Emotion/Logic, Deception/Honesty, and Serious/Playful. If I'm not mistaken I've introduced all but one or two of those so far.

Yes, there is a historical person on Aranor named Xindaris. He was pretty important for a while. I'm not sure whether he's dead or just missing at this point in time.

So we're clear, none of the airship crew covered in this post actually knew the person they met would be where they found them, or indeed anywhere near Rysinth at all.

I'm curious if anyone can guess which troll Whys' friend is modeled after before I say any more about her. I'm making some interpretations pretty liberally here.

[deificAnuran]

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ankle-length skirt ... cloak ... 'fraidy-cat

Nepeta.

I was just saying I thought I had missed something because you mentioned that there was a reference to Callor's childhood friend.

Oh and don't worry about following my commands to the point -- I tend to make weighted suggestions. Speaking of which...

I wonder what Whys' telepathic range is.
> Whys: Tell Nata where Khazu is.

> Charlotte: You desperately need Conall's help for your upcoming escapades.

> Ann: Have events unfold around you. Make sure to continue withholding all fucks.

[Crumplepunch]

Shit yes, now my characters are being written by other people and I am being quoted. I should keep a list of these wonderful things.

There was pretty much no way this wasn't going to happen:

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So this is fanart which includes an alternate universe version of my own character who appeared at my invitation. This is just going to get more complicated. It's a mobius fandom.

Also this means Conall is mirror universe Odhren. I hope you can live with that.

Charlotte: fangirl over dragon.

[Xindaris]

Ann and the dragon get to the restaurant before too long. Of course Arizan has something to say. "What kind of place is this?"
"Food."
"So...they serve food here?"
"Yes." I should probably note that Arizan's ignorance of normal humanoid culture is basically characteristic of isolationist dragons, and not a product of any mental deficiency. When one is born and raised and then lives for about two or three centuries in a seismically active, volcanic section of land where nobody other than dragons could possibly hope to survive for very long, leaving only to hunt food and even then not going very far, it's only natural to be a little confused by the concept of a restaurant. Just another good reason to take things in stride, not that Ann particularly needs one. The eagle woman leads the way to an empty table with two seats, both wit very short backs to better accommodate winged persons.
The dragon picks up a menu on the table, which is actually much harder than it sounds due to this form's hands ending in long, sharp claws. Obviously she can read, but most of the named dishes and descriptions have words or phrases she hasn't even heard of before. "Is this the kind of food I would like, then?"
"They have good meat."
"So you just automatically assume that all dragons like meat?"
"Do you or not?"
"...Yes."

After a few minutes of what is most likely a heated argument in the kitchen, a particularly brave waiter comes to take their order. He's still kind of hesitant about approaching the dragon, but Ann saves him the trouble, ordering both their meals in full before he can even ask what they want to drink. Then there are about five or six minutes of awkward silence, not just between the two but also a general lowering of voices throughout the restaurant. It was there before, but less noticeable when they were talking. Arizan seems to want to converse but clearly has no idea what to say; Ann is not one for starting conversations in general, but wouldn't know what to say even if she wanted to. The vacuum of conversation is so awkward that it's becoming quite awkward for me to even write about it. Let's move on to somebody else, shall we?


"Well, my wounds are not from a dragon, actually. They are from a pirate. But...Ironically enough, we did encounter a dragon before the attack."
Charlotte leans forward. "Oh? Do tell."
"Well, one minute we were on our way here, everything steady as she goes, and the next Whys said there was a red dragon behind us aiming her breath in the Farran's general direction. I am getting ahead of myself, but this is entirely Raoclem's doing."
"S-sir Conall, do you mean Choneiji Raoclem?" A correction is implicit in the Neshobe's voice. Khazu is obviously being the sort that would never leave off any title, especially one prestigious enough to have only belonged to seven or less individuals at once at given point in all of Aranor's recorded history.
"Sorry. He insisted we drop the title on the flight over here, even Xach. It made a habit that is hard to break. Anyway, apparently he gave this dragon another vague prophecy that implied we might be responsible for her death. Whyskars suggested that it was meant to imply we would save her life somehow, but to be perfectly honest I do not think that anything like that happened." Conall explains how Arizan decided to get on the airship and was subsequently sent to the engine room.
"So she rode all the way here? Where is she now? Does she know any ancient dragon stories?"
"Calm down..honestly, you sound like Xach's protégé. As this dragon seems to be in a perpetual state of either rage or looking for reasons to become enraged, I am not exactly sure your meeting her would be good for the health of anyone allergic to being on fire."
"I'm sure I could calm her down."
"With what, one of Aurica's stories? About dragon slaying, perhaps? But to answer your question, she wanted to stay with someone of the crew on some of our shore leave while the ship is repaired, so I asked Ann to go with her."
"Ann? You mean that brick wall you took on a few months back?"
"Yes. I am hoping brick is a little harder to burn. So after the dragon was in our engine room, presumably helping the engine's function, Verra decided to show up."


Conall describes the events of the attack from there, not leaving out the promise of revenge. I won't bore you with repetition here. Once he's through, Charlotte appears to be thinking for a few seconds or so. "Hm..so, Callor's explosion spell. You think it's a half-Clan spell like that thing that let her see through Whys' illusions, or a pure Red Claw?"
"I have little doubt it is the latter, but it would be extremely dangerous for one of us to imitate it. For one, burning that much magical energy at once would probably knock one unconscious for a good two or three hours, and leave one tired and drained for a few days afterward. Then, of course, there is the fact that it seems to come through one's eyes, which cannot possibly be good for vision. Even accepting all of that, he obviously still did not want to cast it on an airship, and it is not hard to see why."
More thinking. It's never a good sign when Charlotte is this thoughtful. "Well. In that case, you obviously need something to tip the odds in your favor. Maybe if you got an Ekim weapon of your own you wouldn't have so much trouble fighting her."
"Lately I have barely been able to keep the ship running and pay her crew the contract minimum for their wages. How would I even begin to afford something like that?"
"Maybe you don't have to buy one." She pauses for dramatic effect and leans forward a bit. "Five or six hours ago I was talking to this guy, called himself Bernard, said he was a dignitary of some western country and native to these lands. He said there were legends from thousands of years ago, about a king who fought off every dragon that entered his kingdom. Supposedly he had a shapeshifting weapon, but wouldn't let his idiot son inherit it, instead having it sealed in his tomb at burial. The dragons came back in and took revenge on his family, but they couldn't find his tomb. Some humans supposedly found it later on, but couldn't get it open. Some kind of weird inscriptions on the front that read like gibberish. Bernard said he got a look at those runes, written down in a book once, and said it looked a lot like transliterated Neshoban." She produces a small scrap of paper from a pocket somewhere and hands it to Khazu. "If you don't mind?"
"Oh! W-well, as I told the madam before..it says something like 'only by presence of two of the blessed slayers of dragons may I open and bleed the formless one'. That is..a little rough, however, I am not an expert in the language."
"Bernard had to run, some kind of official business, he said, but said to treat this guy to some food in his stead. Anyway, doesn't it sound great?"
Conall is thoughful for a moment. "It sounds...like a remarkably well-put-together scam. Did he happen to mention which western country he was from?"
"Maybe? I wasn't really paying attention until he mentioned treasure."
"Did he say exactly where the tomb was?"
"Yeah, he gave me the directions that were in the book with the rest of the text. It's south of here, maybe a few days' walk."
He looks at the Neshobe. "Were you with him before they met?"
"Yes, sir..briefly. He looked noble so I thought he might be willing and able to help me find a friend of mine who I had, err, rather shamefully left behind a few months ago. I had heard she was going this way and wanted to make amends for my prior uncouth behavior. He said he hadn't seen her, but also that he was sure I'd find her eventually...then he accosted Miss Charlotte out of the blue. I am fairly sure he never did specify exactly which country he was from, but he certainly bore himself regally."


"Well, he did an excellent job, I see. Exactly what you said you wanted?" What Whys is commenting on is, again, hidden from most eyes. By Fylenis magic. The young woman he is speaking to is part Fylenis, mostly elf; this was not the case the last time the two of them spoke.

"Indeed. And he was very kind, treated me as a guest for a little while."


Leona Aptenei has long expressed an interest in the abilities, the furtive secretiveness, and particularly the history of the Fylenis. This very interest was the reason she and Whys got to know each other in the first place, he being a younger, more liberal and open-minded Fylenis, and she an elfin actress who had already experienced quite a bit in life. A few years ago she decided to seek a change to make things a little more fresh and interesting, and by the looks of her ears and tail, she found it.

There are two beings on Aranor who are believed to be quite ancient, and who possess a power nobody else does, at least not so fully. They are both elves, technically, but instead of being able to manipulate the usual elements such as fire and water, they possess the "element" of transformation. Elfin magic in general is divided into "positive" and "negative" aspects, the former of which is directed outward (such as in attacks) while the latter is directed inwards (defense or healing, for example); this unconventional element behaves similarly. One of the two beings is The Transformer, a reclusive old elf who hides from the world and is exceptionally hard to find. He has the ability to change the shapes of others rather precisely, down to fine details, but not himself; the other one, known generally (and even referred to by name) as the Doppleganger, has the power to radically change its whole form at once, usually taking on the appearance of other people. The Doppleganger is able to completely imitate the magic of whoever he or she is currently mimicking; the drawback is that frequently changing one's form seems to leave one's memory in a state of extreme disrepair, and he or she has little real sense of identity separate from an imitated personality based on the present form. She or he has usually been on the side of good, when his or her mark on Aranor's history has even been known at all. The only beings the Doppleganger cannot imitate, and the Transformer can neither alter nor alter another to, are dragons.

I say that to say that the latter is who Leona, with Khazu's help, sought and eventually found. Khazu was spooked by old stories of him changing people completely against their will in some sort of experimentation to determine the extent and nature of his powers, but as Leona found out he had long since completed that endeavor and merely wished to be left alone. Still, in exchange for promising not to say where he was found, and in recognition of her rather extensive efforts to find him, he did as she asked. They were both very polite and all was as a proper visit.

One might accuse an actress using the illusory powers of the Fylenis of a sort of "cheating", using magical powers instead of genuine talent for a performance. Leona, however, is immune to such criticism; she has worked with numerous traveling troupes throughout the years, picked up all kinds of tricks and a great deal of practice and experience. She is perfectly capable, without the help of newfound Fylenis magic, to create extensive and convincing illusions with elfin light and sound magic; and perfectly capable of taking on just about any role and playing it as convincingly as one of her stature can.

I should probably point out that actors (and performance artists in general) on Aranor who are not lucky enough to be sponsored by a wealthy person generally make a nomadic living, and as such need to be fairly good at defending themselves against monsters. The ability to make a flashy battle of quite real swords and sorcery without actually harming one another is also useful to an actor's craft. Leona prefers to wield close-in weapons that depend on largely on speed, such as claws or knives, in real combat, but is a very capable swordswoman.


"You should know that having our powers makes you subject to Fylenis law."

"Oh, I know. But I can't do anything terribly dangerous anyway. Declawed, you might say?"

"I knew that from a look, but I have to say it anyway. More importantly, I should probably show you where and how to look for territory marks so you won't step on anyone's toes..especially the King's."

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dA: Yep. And here in this post are the remaining things about the Nepeta-expy that I suspect would have really given it away. I figure roleplay-->acting is a sensible replacement. Also, Whys doesn't know Khazu is even in town. Fylenis are mind-readers, not omniscient :P

Crumplepunch: All the awesomes. All of them. Also, I re-read sections of the original Undercity thread in an effort to get Charlotte's character a little better, and laughed like crazy all over again.

(And yeah everyone, that's what I was trying to describe Charlotte's clothes as)

The other two people are still available for looking into what they're doing, just so you know.

Slightly more explanation on how "Positive" and "Negative" aspects work--
Say you had an elf who uses fire magic. If they use the positive aspect, they use the magic to throw fire around and burn people (or monsters). If they use the negative aspect of it, they might use fire to create warmth, cauterize wounds, make light..so on.

[deificAnuran]

Ah, I figured Whys just kept mental tabs on the crew while they were out. What kind of range does telepathy have? I suppose somewhere between the radius of a boat and a city.

> Arizan: Turn some staring eyes away; strike up a conversation about meat.
> Conall: Adamantly refuse.
> Charlotte: Adamantlier goad.
> Edward & Zach: Do stuff together

[momatoes]

Conall: give in to Charlotte's adventure idea. You know you can't win against her!

[Crumplepunch]

I'm going to refrain from giving any more instructions to Charlotte, because it would be unreasonably self-indulgent of me, but between a quest for a magic sword from a shady guy she met in a tavern and stories about arm-wrestling to the death, you pretty much have her down.

I haven't commented much so I'm going to be responding to a couple of older posts as well:

Seems to me like neshobans might be a bit prickly about being referred to as "demi-humans". Haven't seen that term since D&D first edition. (I found it at an auction, I'm not that old.)

On villains, yes, I always think antagonists should be characters first. Fantastically powerful characters who's motivations are essentially pure evil have their uses (muahaha), but they should either be limited in their appearances or be put in situations where they have motivation to act as something other than pure antagonists. Better fleshed out characters like Verra and Callor, who represent a danger, but not an insuperable one, make for a much stronger story and better rivals. Also the sections of (slightly) sympathetic POV make the conflicts that much more meaningful. Zuko in season one of Avatar is a good example of this.

Anyway... Xach: meet with your protégé.

(Incidentally, Xachariah was the name of a blind archer who was a former companion of the Nameless One, protagonist of Planescape Torment. If you haven't played this game, you need to do that.)

[Xindaris]

Well, let's join the two Neshoba who are traveling together in the city of Rysinth. We now join Raoclem and Aurica..uh...

Wait, that isn't the two I was talking about at all. Oh well, I suppose we could watch them for a moment. Raoclem is currently in Rysinth for mysterious reasons of his own; I may as well give a little bit of background information on him. He is a Choneiji; as has been mentioned before, the word very roughly translates to 'prophet'. However, Aranor is entirely without a concept of deity, as you may have surmised based on events and conversation so far. The Choneiji (the plural is the same as the singular) are seven Shadow Fang Neshoba who all have the same spell, or at least a set of extremely similar spells with only slight nuances separating them. This collection of spells allow one to communicate directly with a collective entity known as The Spirits. They are the closest thing to a deity Aranor has, but they neither inspire nor request any form of worship whatsoever beyond basic respect.

The Spirits are the souls of the dead, and their existence is conclusive proof that the people of Aranor actually have something called a "soul" separate from their bodies (not that there isn't proof elsewhere). Souls are suspected to be extremely dense concentrations of magical energy, though this does not explain why having one imparts sentience and self-awareness. Some elves have even displayed the ability to briefly use their own souls as fuel sources for their magic, and using only a very small fraction of an even smaller fraction of its potential done things that were thought absolutely too much to be possible. When people die (except for Ekim with their soul-weapons currently drawn), their souls are released from their bodies; for reasons not properly understood, disembodied souls tend to be attracted to one another, and form some kind of collective consciousness whose awareness somehow appears to transcend time somewhat. While it is accurate to say that everyone appears to go to the same afterlife--as a member of The Spirits--upon death, it is entirely unclear what this is like; there is speculation that the morally good will find integration considerably more pleasant than the morally evil, but the jury is still out on that point. Though The Spirits are a collective entity, there is some evidence the individual souls do not lose their individuality by becoming a part of the whole.

The Spirits speak to Choneiji of the past and the future, and the Choneiji use their discretion to decide which pieces of information to pass on to who. It is a weighty responsibility, but Raoclem is relatively young and has an unusual outlook for a Choneiji to help him bear it. Usually there are seven Choneiji; in exceptional cases there are less. Each Choneiji is understood to be assigned to a single Clan of the Neshoba, except for the youngest, the wandering one, who is supposed to take care of anyone not covered by the other seven and see as much of the world as he or she can before an inevitable death succeeds him or her to one of the other positions. The Choneiji of the Shadow Fang is invariably the most powerful, though not necvessarily the oldest; that one discards his or her original name and becomes known only as "Ichoneiji", literally "THE Choneiji", which is quite possibly the most honored and respected title the Neshoba have available, at least equal to that of "Grand Alpha".

The powers of a Choneiji are not restricted to fully Shadow Fang Neshoba (or indeed even full Neshoba) and Raoclem takes only half his heritage from that Clan. The other half he takes from the Yellow Moon, the polar opposite of the Shadow Fang. (Verra has a little Yellow Moon in her as well, in case you were wondering.) Those of the Yellow Moon Clan usually have spells relating to physical light, though a few have had spells of the opposite side of the coin, which give shadows physical existence and make use of them. The Clan's traditional attitude can be summed up in four words: Life is a game. To expound, hunting is a game; eating is a game; battle is a game; conversation is a game; raising children is a game; everything is a game. They tend to have a very positive outlook on life, preferring to be good sports. After all, everyone loses the game of survival sooner or later, so you might as well enjoy the playing.

His companion is Aurica, a White Grass woman who once taught Charlotte a thing or two about swords and tales. I don't care to go into detail about this Clan just yet, since I just got through introducing another, but suffice to say that they love to mess with people. Aurica currently has human-looking ears (possible due to White Grass magic, which again I shall explain eventually) and is wearing a bright kimono that hides her tail, which together make her look like a human to most onlookers. She also has a sheathed katana, her weapon of choice, concealed in the robes. The two are presently standing in the streets near the hospital where the crewmembers of the Farran are receiving or have received treatment. "So," she says, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, "What are we waiting here for?"
"We are waiting to see something truly unbelievable. Well, you're waiting for that anyway. I'm waiting to experience it."
"Then we can get back to my story?"
"Yep." They wait a good two or three minutes in a silence made less awkward by the general noise of the streets around them. Then Edward walks out of the hospital.

He is the last one out, having volunteered to help stabilize a severely injured orc until more of the hospital staff proper was available to help her out. He washed his hands off, but his shirt still has a few flecks of dried blood on it. He sees Raoclem with an apparently-human companion he doesn't recognize, walks calmly up to the two and then a pace or so from the front of the Choneiji. Then he deliberately draws a fist back and punches him in the mouth. Hard. Raoclem is knocked down and back by the blow, but recovers quickly and sits up. Edward, shaking his hand in an effort to alleviate the painful effects of the equal-but-opposite rule, says, "You are lucky I am not predisposed to violent outbursts. That would have hurt considerably more."
The Choneiji takes it well; in fact, he laughs. "Hehehahah! Wasn't that great?" He's asking the question of his friend, who just grins.
"I suppose it was, but I'm not sure I see what was so unusual about it. Especially considering your reputation."
"Are you kidding? How often do you get to see a Blue Tail lose his cool, eh?"
Edward raises an eyebrow while the woman helps Roaclem up. "Is stereotyping wrong, or are all persons of mixed heritage prone to mental deficiency and emotional confusion?"
"Ooooo, that's a low blow. What was that for, anyway?"
"You sent a dragon to attack our ship. You gave a fire dragon a prediction that led her to attack a ship largely built of wood. I do not think I need to elaborate further."
"Oh, that? I was just trying to keep up my end of Conall's post-flight deal."
Edward looks genuinely confused for a moment, to the point of having trouble forming his question. When he does get it out it's just as composed as everything else he says. "How exactly does sending a dragon to our ship constitute cooperation with an agreement not to meddle with the Farran?"
"Well, I knew I would need passage back across quite soon, and I was afraid The Spirits would direct me to use your ship again," (Every once in a while The Spirits will directly tell a Choneiji to do something. Historically, ignoring this advice has never ended well. Ever.) "So I arranged to have it temporarily grounded while I was booking passage."
Now the Blue Tail is suspicious. "Why do you need to go back to Magis? I thought you had a lot of work to do here on Draconis?"

"Oh, I did, and I got as much of it done as I could, but I couldn't stand to miss seeing a bleeding moon." Both Edward and Raoclem's companion freeze for a moment with looks of some surprise and dismay. In fact, a few heads of the nearby crowd--especially the Neshoban ones--get turned in the Choneiji's general direction. Oh, well, now I've gone and said it haven't I? Didn't want to ruin the surprise. Yes, the last time I visited Xindaris' son he was in poor health, complaining that all the future-thoughts were beginning to close in on him, make it difficult to pay attention to the present. That was...I think, about twenty years ago? Now The Spirits are getting restless, talking about how much they'll miss him and wishing he could stay just a little longer." Everyone knows Raoclem is the sort of person whose word can never be fully trusted, but even he wouldn't talk about this without at least a grain of truth to his words. I should probably explain why what he is saying is so important.

On Aranor, a lunar eclipse (in which the moon, which is larger than Earth's and thus looms bigger in the Aranoran night sky, seems to turn a crimson shade) is associated with a very specific superstition. It is a superstition which has proven impossible for astronomical advances to expel, for the simple fact that it has not been wrong once yet. "When the moon bleeds, Ichoneiji dies"; or, "when Ichoneiji dies, the moon bleeds". Nobody really knows whether one causes the other, or whether The Spirits somehow cause the two to coincide as an act of mourning, but in any case it is a very serious event for the Neshoba, and thanks to friendly interracial relations to a lot of other people as well. There are numerous less confirmable superstitions that magic doesn't work quite right on the night of a bleeding moon, because The Spirits themselves being upset and disrupts it. The other element of concern, however, is that the event Raoclem is predicting would be the first lunar eclipse on Aranor since its two continents learned of one another's existences and began sending people back and forth. Everyone on Aranor these days know that day on one continent is night on the other, and everyone who has studied their history knows that Ichoneiji only dies on the night of the continent informally referred to as Rith-Ard, and formally known as Magis (for it was the one, for the longest time, where everyone used magic; as opposed to Draconis, where dragons ruled and the only other inhabitants, humans, were ignorant of magic beyond knowing what dragons could do). So the question is, when the moon bleeds before one side of Aranor, what--if anything--happens on the other? The invention of airships run by magical engines was also a long time after the last bleeding moon, and if the magic that propels them and keeps them in the air were disrupted without proper warning it isn't hard to imagine the impact that would have. Fingers crossed, I suppose, that either that superstition is wrong or one isn't flying on that day/night.


Well, that's what Edward was up to, so we may as well join Xach next. The blindfolded Shadow Fang Neshobe is currently waiting near the entrance of a particular tavern, the sort of place one might choose for an unofficial, friendly kind of appointment. He's early; he had expected to be late and for that reason was quite impatient with the doctor tending to his hand. He was firmly chastised and reminded that he may not be able to use the hand again without severe pain if he doesn't allow it to heal properly. Now his arms are crossed, his right hand covered in bandages only just now drying off from soaking in some soothing balm intended to take the edge off. Edge. Pff. A real warrior grits her teeth and fights through the pain. At least, that might be something Xach would have said if he had been asked whether he wanted the balm or not instead of having his arm dumped in a bucket of the stuff.

Anyway, the person he is waiting for eventually arrives, sniffing the air for his scent and listening for the occasional clicking sound from his mouth, which is itself half of why he knows she has arrived. The young woman who arrives is a half Yellow Moon, half Blue Tail Neshobe with a distinctive teal color to her fur that would also be that of her eyes, if she had any. She wears a pair of specially tinted dark red glasses over her eyes to obscure the empty sockets, which she has stubbornly refused to have sewn shut and which many people find uncomfortable to look at. (In case you're wondering, keeping eyeglasses on Neshoban ears is really just a matter of practiced balance and control. It's no big deal.) She wears simple, flexible leather armor and walks with a cane, pretending to need it for her blindness in spite of training to the contrary. The cane is heavily modified to hold together as well as any sword, and to easily work as blunt, slashing, and stabbing weapon, and she is notoriously skilled at applying all three uses for it.

Her name--her true, Choneiji-given name and the only one she uses--is Arozi-Tryptei (pronounced Ah-row-zay, trip-tay), though most people only use the first few syllables to refer or speak to her. Like many true Neshoban names its meaning forms a paradox at first glance, something about seeing without eyes. She is a Peacekeeper captain, an avid supporter of changing the occupation from a loose bunch of privateers into a proper self-regulating organization with the exclusive recognition of at least some of the more prominent of Aranoran governments (which would force unscrupulous Peacekeepers to either straighten up or effectively be considered pirates). For reasons nobody quite understands, she has a fixation on dragons, to the point of having her airship designed to resemble one. For reasons everyone who knows her well enough understands, she is somewhat obsessed with justice, especially punishment. The simple fact is--she believes--that when a man unprovoked walks into a home, ties up the family, then tortures and kills the parents before the child's eyes before plucking said eyes out and eating them, it no longer matters how legally insane he is--magically-induced or not--he deserves to die. Pirates are terrified of her because she sometimes enjoys making theatrical "trials" for her own enjoyment. There is a special little "courtroom" in her ship for the specific purpose; they almost invariably end with a guilty-as-charged and subsequent hanging from the side of the airship. While a pirate's capture is usually worth more bounty than his or her dead body, both are usually acceptable. That is to say, a pirate's life is not worth much to anyone on the side of the law, so she has basically nothing to fear for this behavior beyond the same kind of revenge pirates usually try to enact on Peacekeepers.

As you may have guessed by now, Xach is part mentor in dealing with blindness (especially in battle), part father-figure to her after the tragic death of her parents. She likes to tell people they are "Blind Buddies", which name he cannot quite disagree with. "Ah! There you are. It's great to see you again!"
"Likewise. Feels like I haven't seen you in ages." The two of them often make a point to use expressions referring to sight and eyes, as a sort of joke between them; it's also meant to make other people feel a little less uncomfortable about using such language around them. The two Neshoba clasp left hands and head into the tavern.

Once they are properly seated, Arozi starts the conversation proper. "You're way earlier than I thought you'd be. I thought your captain didn't like to waste fuel on rushing."
"Oh, he doesn't. We were forced to rush this time. People to not see, a meeting to not have, you know."
She sniffs a few times. "Hence the white and black smells on your hand?" (Arozi suffers from a bizarre form of synaesthesia where smells and tastes have colors and somehow the other way around as well, due to an extremely ill-advised and horribly botched attempt to magically regrow her eyes shortly after she lost them. The young elf responsible was severely reprimanded and quickly decided to go into something that wasn't medicine.)
"Yes. I'll tell you all about it, make it an official report. Pleasure before business, though, it's been far too long since we laid eyes on one another."
"I agree." (There is a brief pause in the conversation while a barmaid comes and takes some orders from them.)
"So...how are things with Karua these days?"
"About the same. Last year was the last time I caught him in a good mood; last time we were on a date he nearly burned the table down. He's still not ready to commit, I think, but that's fine. I've got to do something great before I can really even think of settling down and having pups."
Xach nods--out of habit, since obviously she can't see the gesture. "Wise plan, I'd say. There's no need to rush things. Heh, you're already farther along on that front than I am. Speaking of greatness...did that rumor ever pay off?"
She laughs. "I wouldn't have time to hang around if it had. That guy was a clear imposter, plain as the smell of white and dye on his tail! He could've bothered to limp a little bit, or actually learn a few of the stories he used to tell. Even another White Grass would've hated such a pitiful impersonation."
"That sounds like a verdict. What was the penalty?"
"Just a little pain and humiliation, to teach him not to do it again. Or I suppose, at least do it right next time." She sighs. "Such a shame, though, I thought for sure I was on to something this time. I'm sure the old coot would support a Peackeeper union if someone just asked him. Queen Thera would have to at least respect the words of the man who's read the entire castle library, and Ardan just imitates everything Rithara does with trade these days."
Xach shrugs. "If you could find him. That's the advantage of a Fylens mate, you know. He wanted to disappear with her and by The Spirits, that's what he did. You'd have better luck tracking down the Doppleganger and convincing it to impersonate him."
"That'd be awfully dishonest, though."


"I cannot imagine this ending well. At best this Bernard is attempting to send us on a wild goose chase for some reason and we will find nothing at all; worst case, he is working with or part of a gang of robbers who lure people out into a deserted ruin to steal from them, extort money from any friends or relatives they may have, and eventually kill them. Somewhere between, it is possible said robbers are new to the trade or inept and we would manage to escape them."
"What if he was telling the truth while pretending to be someone he wasn't to make it seem more believable?"
"I think based on your description of him I would sooner have trusted Aurica's word on the best place to hunt fictional birds than his on the location of an ancient burial site."
"If it is a bunch of bandits we should just get together a party of hunters and go bust up their operation. Pirates and monsters aren't the only ones worth coin, after all."
"Do you actually know anyone other than yourself in this town who would go on a completely blind mission to fight bandits who may or may not exist, and who will know we are coming if they do?"
"Khazu here would come. Doesn't he owe you for something anyway?"
"No."
"Er, I am not so certain I would like to participate. I-I mean, I would like to find my friend first, while she is in town..."
"I'll help you find her, maybe she could join us! What's she look like?"
"Well--"
"Hold on, I missed the part where you actually gave either of us a convincing reason to do this in the first place."
"Well, what's wrong with a little adventure? It could be just like old times! And your ship's being repaired anyway, isn't it?"
"I am still recovering from lightning burns that I received literally less than three hours ago."
Charlotte is already standing up. "Bah, they'll heal. Now don't interrupt--what's your friend look like, Khazu?"

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Think I'm gonna stagger these, two or three of the crew at a time. So, suggestions for anyone not rejoined in this post after being shown in the previous post are still open.

I'll give you three guesses on who Arozi is looking for. He's someone we've mentioned but not met, and is not based on any character from anywhere else.

Crumplepunch--Grammar of the word "Neshobe" goes like--Singular, Neshobe; plural, Neshoba; adjective, Neshoban. The term "demi-human" is one I actually got from Tactics Ogre, of all things, but since for as long as anyone knows about Aranor has never been believed to be exclusively inhabited by humans, at least the common language doesn't have any bias considering "human" to indicate any form of superiority, as opposed to "demi-human" or, say, "dwarf". If you wanted to call someone an insult like Earth's "inhuman" you would go about it by saying the insultee is "not like people", "like an animal", or "like a monster", depending on the intensity intended.

dA--In general, a Fylenis' range depends on his or her amount of magical power. It can be focused to a shape or direction to extend the range one way and reduce it another, so for example a spherical range could be redirected to a more flat oval shape to cover an airship longer than one could usually cover. In any case a city like Rysinth would be too much for most Fylenis; maybe the Cat King could manage it but he wouldn't try without a very good reason. So I suppose the best non-magical way to ensure one is not being deceived by a Fylenis' magic is to be very far away from him or her on a flat, featureless plain, optimally without the Fylenis knowing about it. (Incidentally, "Fylens" is the descriptive and sometimes plural of Fylenis, depending on who's talking. The official plural form is just "Fylenis" again, like with moose.)


...Should I retroactively change Raoclem's color to something darker or leave it as-is?

[deificAnuran]

"I would like to find my friend first, while she is in town..."
...
He's someone we've mentioned

Even with the gender, I doubt I'd get it. Let's say Xindaris, Karua... that's it.

I find that Raoclem's color is really fitting to the fact that he's a giant (non-Homestuck) troll. If you want him characterized differently, changing it wouldn't be bad, but I like it how it is now.

Seeing Arozi's color without the quirk threw me for a second!

> Edward: Conall needs to hear this. Now.
> Xach & Arozi: Run into Whys & Leona (this seems like an appropriately non-plot-advancing coincidence).

[Xindaris]

Er, you quoted Khazu (who's based on Equius) for the question about Arozi (Terezi). But considering I have a nasty habit of bringing people up in conversation and instantly introducing them somewhere else, I guess we didn't have too many choices to begin with. Yeah, so she's looking for Xindaris because she thinks he would support her cause and his influence would cause other important or influential people to do the same. Also all the things mentioned about him in that conversation are historically accurate, unlike Charlotte's account.

[deificAnuran]

Er, you quoted Khazu (who's based on Equius) for the question about Arozi (Terezi).

Derp herp.

Okay I'm kind of confused about the whole Xindaris thing. Where is the name coming from? Are parts of this story taken from other stories, and Xindaris is a character that existed before you made it your forum name? Or is Xindaris a character you've had in stock since before you made your forum account, backstory and everything, and is only making his... let's say intellectual birth, now? Or some third option?

[Xindaris]

Well, to be perfectly clear, Aranor began as the first RP I made way back on Gaia Online, in some obscure guild that probably doesn't exist anymore. Xindaris began as a character in Warcraft 3 Roleplaying, and for reasons I don't remember I made my screenname at Gaia Online Xindaris when I first signed up. All my later forum-goings proceeded from Gaia online, and have generally been directed toward RPing..except this one. Then I had a character named Xindaris in that first forum RP, who was actually different from the one in WC3 (although I'm not sure I knew he would be when I first began using him). When my ideas of how Aranor is supposed to actually work as a world began to properly solidify, that Xindaris remained basically intact as a figure of great importance to a particular historical period, as well as several of the other characters come up with in that very first RP (such as Lisare and Elestari). The events of that very first RP, or at least some revised version of them, take place about a millenium prior to the events of this story; hence why it's plausible that he could still be alive.

Before beginning this adventure I knew basically what role Xindaris had in those historical events, and basically what he did after--have a kid with a Fylens, work in Rithara's royal library as a historian/archivist for a long time, rediscover lots of other legendary figures, get his leg broken doing something stupid and improperly healed for even dumber reasons...but as of the first post I mentioned him in, I wasn't sure whether he would still be alive at this point in time. I'm still not sure about that, but I have since decided to make it unknown to Aranor in general so that I could defer the decision while still liberally referring to someone who's supposed to be pretty legendary.

Even more interesting, this is my first piece of writing about Aranor which takes place after Xindaris' birth. All of the Aranoran RPs I made after that first one took place in the past, and while many of those RPs didn't get very far I still developed ideas about some other legendary/historical figures and their general exploits, which would subsequently be rediscovered in Rithara's archives by Xindaris and by this time pretty well-known. And presumably people would know about such figures because Xindaris or someone he worked with would tell their stories after studying and reading about them.

So, in light of the knot of continuity from all that, which I could never reasonably expect anyone to know, I've been trying to introduce absolutely everything in this story as new information to the readers. Hope I haven't been too vague about doing all that.

[deificAnuran]

Ah, that makes a lot of sense. It's been very clear; I was just thrown by the fact that Xindaris is also your forum name. I wonder if he'll take the form of a Homestuck expy. Probably not, but that would be interesting.

> Charlotte: As soon as you find out who it is, start spewing stories like a broken fire hydrant.

[Xindaris]

Arizan looks up from staring into a glass mug that her hand is just a little too big and claw-ended to pick up by the intended handle. "So..." Ann doesn't respond verbally for the moment, but moves her head some to indicate she's listening. "What did you ask for exactly?"
"Side of cow, cooked and seasoned." As precise and general vocabulary as possible for six words. "Do you eat them whole?"
"Well, not cows so much as, usually, wild prey. But dragons are too big to live on little pieces of animals."
"Do you need less food in a smaller shape?"
"...I don't know. But I am not exactly starving right now anyway."
"Don't use that form much?"
"No."
"Can you fly like that?"
"Well, this form is a little too heavy to really fly, but I can glide long enough to change back to my natural form."


It's a little later, from the human siblings' perspective. Charlotte is alone for the moment at an agreed meeting place while Conall and Khazu are off asking people after the latter's friend. 'Leave the recruiting to me', she'd said, and that is exactly what she's engaged in.

Unfortunately for both parties, the person she is currently trying to recruit is not very interested.
"What's the matter, you don't like adventure?"
"Miss, I'm a merchant, not a mercenary."
"You don't travel?"
"I live in Rysinth. I own a store in Rysinth. It's right over there. I left it to do a brief errand. Now please get out of my way."
Luck is a dubious thing, and randomly accosting people on the street rarely gets the kind of results Charlotte is hoping for. Still, the Spirits have an uncanny way of arranging things sometimes. An Ekim who had walked out of the store in question notes the exchange and watches for a good minute or so before coming closer. "What journey are you talking about?" Charlotte immediately turns to the newcomer and forgets about the poor shopowner immediately, and he goes about his business as quickly as his feet can carry him.

The Ekim are historically a race almost as reclusive and secretive as the Fylenis, but unlike them the Ekim do not hide as individuals, and there has never really been grounds to question their very existence. Rather, there are a few relatively large islands off the coast of Magis which have long been their home. It is something of an unofficial country, which neither Rithara nor the Republic of Ardan lay claim to, but which has no official diplomatic relationships with other countries. Only Ekim have lived there for ages, and for a very long time it was taboo for other races to even visit. Their typical isolation has rendered the average Ekim's command of Common language (which used to be known as the human language until Draconis was discovered, at which point it had to be acknowledged that there were about twenty different human languages) not as strong as most other races, but whatever humor one may derive from their grammatical errors is about the only thing funny about them.

Ekim are a kind of warm-blooded humanoid lizard folk*, usually taller than humans. This particular one has pitch black scales across her body that shimmer in the sunlight. There are differences between Ekim men and women, subtle anatomical differences which a fellow Ekim may pick up on and be attracted or unattracted to immediately, but which the more mammalian races would have a hard time distinguishing; I say that to say that Ekim women do not have mammaries, being not mammalian, so it is perfectly normal for one, like this one, to not wear any kind of upper garment. The easiest way to distinguish gender of an Ekim, for anyone who doesn't know their anatomy all that well, is usually the voice; Charlotte recognizes fairly easily that the one speaking to her is female.

The Ekim traditionally honor the ability to fight, but the restraint to refrain from doing so; this may have something to do with their unique inherent power. An Ekim soul is hard-edged, thick and tough, and may be removed from their body in the shape of a weapon. A particular Ekim's soul takes on the shape of a particular weapon when it is drawn; at first the weapon is extremely basic without any unique traits whatsoever, but as the Ekim matures it grows more stylized and unique, eventually becoming exceptionally well-crafted and well-suited to the Ekim's particular fighting style. Ekim weapons can change form, but only in small ways that follow naturally from the original form's shape, and only to a maximum of three different forms. So for example, an Ekim pair of knives would sensibly be able to transform into a single, double-bladed knife, or perhaps even a bladed boomerang, but would not ever turn into a longsword. Ekim magic is elemental, similar to the elements of Elfin magic, but it is entirely channeled through their soul-weapon; hence, even a magic-ignorant human wielding an Ekim weapon with full permission from the soul that it is can use its inherent powerful magic.

You may have noticed that Verra, wielding an Ekim weapon, made exclusive use of lightning magic through it. This is because an Ekim weapon usually only channels a single element, and that particular weapon's element was electricity.

Enough of that. Charlotte answers the question in a thousandth of the time it probably took you to read all of that. "I got a tip from a guy about an ancient treasure, but it's probably just a way to lure people out to an isolated place so a bunch of bandits can rob them. So I'm looking for some people to help us take 'em down for adventure and profit."
"Pardon, 'us'? Who else is with you?"
"Oh, my brother and another guy. They'll be back soon."
"Hm." The Ekim considers the opportunity. "It sounds good."
"So you're interested?"
"Yes."
"Great! What got your attention first?"
"Like your hat. I, try it on?"
"...No. You have to earn a hat like this." She's obviously joking, but the Ekim plays along, pretending to have taken it seriously. Calling her by race is getting a little tedious; we should probably figure out what her name is. Maybe another guessing game is in order?


After last time, Edward has learned to take Raoclem's prophecies with at least twenty grains of salt--more if they sound particularly important. Still, he would not lie about this. Then again, there isn't that much to be done about it at the moment. Conall can and probably should hear about it before the Farran lifts off again, certainly, but there is someone else he knows who would probably want to know sooner rather than later.

Edward already left Raoclem and his...friend, or acquaintance, or whatever. He walked away showing a few marked signs of anger, which was purely to keep people from getting in his way for a bit and in no way an expression of his current emotional status, and began heading toward a certain tavern. Xach hadn't discussed his plans with everyone--and of course he needn't have mentioned them to anyone, since shore leave is one's own business as long as nothing illegal is involved--but he had mentioned them to Edward once. And Edward remembers these things.

A few streets along the way to the aforementioned tavern, Edwards stops short. He had been rehearsing the conversation with the Choneiji in his head, to ensure he had the last part straight, but didn't even get that far. He was stopped at Raoclem's reason for sending a fire dragon to attack the airship by a little thing in his head that informed him, That makes no sense.

The dragon did not damage the Farran. The only harm Arizan did to Conall's airship was a scorch mark one one side, which for reference is the equivalent of chipping the paint on an earth car. There is practically no way Raoclem didn't anticipate Conall taking the diplomatic approach, since Whys made it so easy. Furthermore, the dragon was basically completely unimportant to the attack of the Gran Daora. She literally hid in the engine room and didn't even know it happened. If the Choneiji actually knew Verra was going to attack their ship and meant to do something to affect it, he should have sent the dragon after her, or come up with something better..maybe arranging for a peacekeeper vessel to show up in the area. If he were somehow involved in her attack of the Farran, that is, for some reason on the pirates' side, there would have been some hint that he was. Verra would have mentioned that she had met Raoclem when Conall brought him up during the 'negotiations'.

Quickly getting out of the way of traffic after what felt like a long period of time thinking but in fact only took a few seconds or so, Edward goes back over the conversation again, looking for hints. If Raoclem lied about his reason for sending the dragon, why? And what was the real reason?


*--I mean in the same way that Earth's dinosaurs are theorized to have been warm-blooded. Clearly this is a biological possibility and does not require magic to explain.

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dA, your command for Whys and Xach's respective groups to meet is on the roll of things to do in my next post. I wonder if you've guessed what sort of event that command will result in yet...