Drache

The Calm Before the Storm (Ebonfort)

True to Shadaraliax's word, the weather was clear for the remainder of their journey, though it wouldn't be fair to say that the going was easy. There were still miles of the winter-locked wilderness to traverse, and the unnatural storm, in spite of being swept away but the God of Ice, had left damage in its wake. Even so, Rilana knew this land, and with no other major hindrances the Moon Fey was finally able to let her survival skills shine.

It was on the last evening of the year and the expanded party had set up camp, the scent of fresh meat roasting filling the air. The intricacies of the blessing given unto them by the dragon were still being discovered, but having food delivered to them by wild predators was certainly not unwelcome (though Rilana secretly fretted that the slinking wolves and golden-eyed cave lions leaving bloodied carcasses out for them were going hungry themselves!)

Kona healed quickly, the ice-arrow wound on his ribs more painful than life-threatening, and he served as both Rilana's mount when they were on the move, and a scout when she could spare him. The Druid had generously given up Bruin for some of the statue people to ride. Putting their slowest travelers on ram-back helped the group move faster as a whole.

It wouldn't be long until the glittering spires of Frigmount came into view between the white peaks of the mountains. Not long until they would see the flat permafrost plains where mammoth and wooly rhino wandered in small herds. Not long before they would all see the immense blue-green wall of the glacier that seemed to glow in fantastical colours even at night. Not long until Rilana would have to face Juloya and the hateful creature imprisoned within her, and help Svarak to kill her.

Staying busy helped keep her mind off the uncertain future. And the fact that a change had come over Svarak. He seemed less distant, less aloof. Rilana liked that, but Kona wouldn't let her forget what she had seen with her hand on the sword.

And Rilana was glad that the null shard was back in the Charr's possession. The cut on her hand was painful but healing quickly, the homunculus medic had made sure it was healing. At present, Rilana was stashing her longbow in her tent after spending some time practicing with it, her complete failure during the events of the tower still fresh on her mind.

Standing upright, she froze, feeling someone large and solid standing behind her. Kona was resting nearby and lifted his head, staring with wide blue eyes at Svarak, though he didn't growl.

"Come, join me."

He walked past towards his own campfire and Rilana hesitated, glancing at Kona, who twitched his ear-tufts and whuffed disapprovingly.

Oh, stop it. Can't you just let me enjoy myself before...

There was no need to finish. Rilana followed the huge charr and sat down, sighing, realizing that she had been on her feet all day. "Thank you. I've spent so much time worrying about everyone else I keep forgetting to feed myself. That smells really good."

She glanced up into his leonine face, her gaze lingering along the shape of his horns for a moment before she looked away again. "I can feel the shield. I couldn't when I passed this way last time. I guess I'm expecting it." That her own awareness had strengthened in the intervening months didn't occur to her. "I think the sky will be full of lights again tonight. I haven't seen them since the night we danced."

She reached for one of the knives, her stomach rumbling audibly. She could see the crystal mark on Svarak's bicep as she took a mouthful of rich meat. Her own mark was hidden.

[Ebonfort] A Little Bird

Since you haven't replied in almost a month I am marking this RP as inactive and unsubscribing from it. If you would like to continue please PM me to reopen. Thanks. @RomanAria

[Ebonfort] Out of the Pan

We hear you. We are coming. Help us or keep quiet! Drache thought sharply, intensely, towards the frightened presences, finally realizing that if she could hear the screeching in her mind, perhaps they could hear her as well. There was little comfort or softness in her tone, just like there was little that was comforting or soft in a dragonkin, but her intent to make good on her offer to help was clear enough.

The noise stopped, but it might have just been good timing with the trail she was literally blazing behind her. Without the tortured wailing dragging at her mind as viciously as claws through her scales, Drache breathed deeply and let out a growl. Dark smoke streamed from between her bared teeth and her nostrils. Her chest burned with the fire bubbling up from somewhere around her heart and her pulse pounded in her ears. Anger. She felt anger like a stinging all over her scaled flesh. Her eyes gleamed, and for once it wasn't just a reflection of the embers rising from their stirred torches and shallow pools of oil. The scent of burning swirled upwards, and the rising heat filled her golden wing membranes, the heat making her grin savagely.

The hellish glow of fire sprang up the walls of the cavern, a rising of light and colour that brought some semblance of what the temple had once been to life. Shadows wavered and darted across the intricately carved buildings and rocks, bringing motion and life to the sinuous shapes of flames frozen in the stone. Shadow and flame.

"Sirik!" Wherever he was and whatever he was planning, now would be a good time. It was strange to have faith in someone else, even if her faith was for his loyalty to his fellow Kvaren rather than herself. Because if she knew drow at all, she knew he was Up To Something.

The dragonkin powered through the air towards Laurel, racing the surging water below, each leathery thump of her wings bringing the longest phallanges so close that they touched each other above and below on each stroke. The flapping dictated her breathing, her lungs only able to fill when her wings were stretched up and back.

"Laurel, spin your fire, girl! You know what to do! Kraven, well done. Do it again!"

Drache landed between the other two with such speed that her momentum carried her forward on her talons a few steps, her wings raised high behind her. Her long tail lashed threateningly as she eyed the creatures and the roiling water. The half-dragon's eyes narrowed as she concentrated and threw her claws forward, shoving heat and the anger out through those wicked black points and sent a sizzling white fireball down the main boulevard into the oncoming water.

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

The Moon Fey Druid clenched the null shard sword unfeelingly, the razor edge parting pale skin of her fingers to allow a trickle of blood to stain its smooth surface. She slumped forward on Kona's back, and the tired gryphon chirruped concernedly. The images that flooded Rilana's mind did not pass through their Bond to him. Her thoughts went dark, blocked by the power of the null shard, darker than they ever were even when she was asleep. It was what Kona would expect to feel if Rilana died, and it terrified him.

Rilana? Rilana!

But she did not answer him.

It was like being in a dream. A dream where she knew things that she couldn't possible know. Where she was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar thoughts in her head, but somehow they made sense. Of course she couldn't be seeing out of Juloya's eyes. That was absurd. But yet, she was.

Juloya? It was difficult to think of someone she was less enthusiastic about having inside her head. The woman Svarak loved so much and who, according to him, never returned the feeling. The woman who needed to die so that everything else would be safe from the cruel red-eyed God.

And yet, Rilana couldn't help but feel a note of sympathy for the woman, of respect, because she could feel the truth of Juloya's sacrifice. The truth of the pain she was enduring and had endured all this time. Killing her wouldn't be a murder, it would be a mercy.

Make sure what?

Fiery pain jolted through Rilana, a burning so hot that her eyes saw searing white behind her lids. The Moon Fey cried out and nearly slipped from Kona's back, throwing her hands out to clutch at his feathers and keeping herself mostly upright only by sheer luck. She left a smear of crimson across his feathers and stared at it blankly.

You saw the woman?

"Yes." Her voice was breathless.

We are committed then.

"Of course." As if Rilana hadn't already been willing to see this through to the end because of Svarak.

They managed to pass several floors of eerie statues before the shrieking mindspeak rang in Rilana's ears. Somehow she knew that the screaming woman was another Moon Fey, and that she was screaming at Alya, and those two facts together served to focus her mind on something other than the visions of the shard.

Hurry!

Kona pounced forwards, but before they could make it to the top level the glint of blue scales flashed by the window and the tower rumbled joltingly at the impact of the massive ice mage. Rilana hesitated to join the the confrontation above, and Kona fled from it completely, scrambling across the shuddering snowy floor and bursting out of one of the windows into the open sky.

By the time he circled back, the presence of the hovering, floating dragon seemed to fill their sight. The awesome power in its voice in her mind made it nearly impossible to think about anything else. The creature looked magnificent, proud, powerful. Nothing like the wasted, drained creature she had rescued from the pit. It occured to her that she should be terrified. It was only through Ortha's faint and random thoughts that Rilana knew Alya was safe.

"...what?" Rilana stammered to no one in particular upon seeing the white glint of the familiar raven alighting on the dragon's snout. "Drat that bird!" There had been plenty of times on the trek from Green Falls (it seemed a lifetime ago now) that she had been tempted to try Bonding with the white creature, but now...

The voice commanded her to look down, and Rilana's eyes fell on the dark shape of Svarak, apparently alive and well enough to be petting a random dog. "Oh." Relief, on many levels, flooded through her. Kona sank down towards the ground as the dragon disappeared, landing heavily in the snow and swishing his tail exhaustedly. Beaten and bloodied, Rilana and her Familiar just leaned against each silently for a moment.

Ortha scurried down the stairs like a horrible mutant cat and bounded out into the snow, her black plated skin stark against the white ground. By the time she reached Rilana, there was only one book left, and the Moon Fey had to brush it off carefully to avoid being affected by the balauradons dangerous saliva. "Well done, little girl," the Druid approved, patting the two heads while Ortha grawped and gurgled disgustingly.

The mutter of voices as the formerly frozen people began to emerge confusedly from the tower reached Rilana's ears and she moved towards Svarak, Kona limping slightly behind her and eyeing the Charr sternly. For a moment Rilana was distracted by the look on the Lord Knight's face and didn't know what to make of it. Finding herself in Svarak's arms was sudden but certainly not unwelcome. In spite of the snow, he felt warm, and in spite of his armour his fur was soft. She reached up to tuck her arms around his neck, pressing her face against Svarak's chest, and his breath in her ear brought a touch of pinkness to her cheekbones. It felt so good. Even so, when he the wonderful moment was over there was something sad in her pretty eyes.

Which God?

Turning back to the congregating people, Rilana took a deep breath and sighed. There was still so much to do. Many more people meant many more mouths to feed, and Rilana was infinitely glad that she had insisted on so many extra supplies. They would still be cutting it close, and they would likely need to send a few people out to hunt while the rest of the party continued towards Frigmount, but with the promise of good weather she was less worried.

Some of the statue people and creatures disappeared of their own accord, and while Rilana worried about them striking off into the wilderness, she had no right to stop them. The rest she divided into groups and assigned a knight to watch over them. At one point she stomped up to Drisecya and angrily demanded that she unload all the books from the rams, insisting that the valuable mounts be used to move people, not loot.

"You can't be serious. Put all that back in the tower and bar the door! If it's still here when we come back this way then we can pick it up then. Better to haul it back to Ebonfort from here rather than taking it to Frigmount and back this way again, and we can easily get a wagon from the city rather than overloading the poor rams."

She even conducted a brief funeral for the nameless statue people who had died while under Leandra's spells, entombing them in cairns of stones since the ground was too frozen to dig graves.

They celebrated as much as they were able. Rilana found Alya so that they could trade their sides of what had happened in the tower (and hopefully the songweaver would wrap her hand for her). The Moon Fey felt Svarak's eyes on her and wanted to talk to him alone, but what would she say? It felt like there was something more between them now, but she knew his heart belonged to someone else. She had felt it.

Once satisfied that Kona had been patched up and all the people had been settled down, Rilana passed out in her own tent with a lazy balauradon and a grumpy gryphon to watch over her.

[Ebonfort] Days of Grass and Dust

The Swordmaster was glad to see Verissa's spirit seem to brighten when they arrived at the Healer's tent, and he noticed that the new slave already forming a friendship with Shenzi. It was slaves who found a place, a niche, that tended to do well, and Asher decided that he wanted Verissa to stick around.

He had already turned away before she asked him to wait, but he paused and turned to face her, searching her face curiously with his stormy eyes. Being thanked was not what he expected, but it was nice to hear, even if it made his brows twitch together in a frown. Thank you for what? For bringing her to the Healer's Tent? He wasn't sure what she meant, but didn't press. He disappeared into the crowd and went off to do whatever Swordmasters did.

Shenzi looked up at Verissa and nodded in acknowledgment. "Of course. Not that it was difficult, mind you. Asher is not a complete fool. Healing is a craft always in high demand and your skill will reflect well on him. Just as his position reflects on you. Don't forget that."

After that little tidbit, the aesenshi let Verissa wander among the patients, though the vixen didn't let her out of her sight. Neither did the other slaves and kvaren Healers, mostly women, who had clearly been living among the tribespeople for a while. Not only because of their clothing, but they were all speaking the Kvaren language, watching Verissa out of the corner of their eyes to see if she was following as they gossiped about her.

Most of the patients in the tent were unconscious, as those who could move around preferred to go back to their own tents to be treated there. Now and then some of the more established healers returned to the tent to drop off or pick up supplies and check in with Shenzi before heading off to their next assignment. The fox-woman was giving a lecture on suturing, explaining the different patterns of stitching and when to use them, as well as naming different materials other than thread that could be used in a pinch. Most of her speech was in Kvaren, though she tended to go back and repeat herself in Common for those who benefited from the switch.

When Verissa asked about the feverish slash-victim, Shenzi wandered over, forcing the gossiping women to come with her and learn.

"Ah yes. This is Fergus." An impish grin spread across her canine features. "Alright ladies, and Zazzik," she added with a nod to an olive-scaled reptilian youth whose gender and race was anyone's guess, "Let's start with the basics. We have a victim covered in many shallow slashes. What kind of weapon do we think caused this?"

One of the girls answered quickly in Kvaren, and Shenzi translated smoothly. "A sword, yes. I think that was pretty obvious, can we be more specific?"

"A rapier," Zazzik said, and the creature's voice didn't give a clue to their gender either.

Shenzi translated 'rapier' into Kvaren for the others. "Yes, most likely a rapier. Now what will our main concerns be after we address blood loss?"

Another of the girls answered, and this one appeared somewhat more haughty than the rest and kept glancing at Verissa with a sneer.

"Yes, Briea, keeping the wounds covered and preventing infection is the secondary goal. Now, tell me what substances you would use to prevent infection. Let's let Verissa answer this time."

She repeated herself and then group turned to look at their newest member expectantly. Even the patient, who was still unconscious and unaware of himself being used as a training tool, seemed to breathe lighter as they waited. Shenzi hadn't actually answered Verissa's question, but a twinkle of knowing glittered in her eyes.

--

Asher made his way through the busy campsite, moving much more swiftly without being encumbered by Verissa at his side. His wounded shoulder ached even at the slightest jostle and he gritted his teeth against the discomfort, but didn't realize he was doing it until his jaw started to ache.

Before he could even think about sorting out his own belongings, it was his duty to assist with organizing the packing and shipping of the weapons and raid gear shared by the tribe as a whole. Everything from keen-edged blades and masterwork bows down to the simplest wooden training staffs would have to be accounted for. As Asher met up with his fellow Swordmasters, he remembered a time when he was the one doing the grunt work, but as they delegated to the younger fighters Asher was glad for the reprieve.

The hours slipped by as Asher helped with bundling up weapons and armour, loaded into carts, and helped break down the light fencing that outlined the training pits. The flat expanse of dirt remained when they were done, with a small stack of more worn bo staffs laying discarded in the grass.

It was only then that Asher was free enough from obligation to take care of his own business. He meandered through the communal cooking area towards the far side of the camp where the livestock were kept. Creatures like goats and pigs were kept in pens, and the riding raptors were secured even further with chains. Only the horses were allowed to roam free in a herd, their wranglers posted among them to keep watch.

It was to one of the wranglers that Asher approached, lifting his good arm in greeting.

"Torrik, hello!" He had to wait until the mounted man trotted his painted horse over to him. Torrik looked down, shielding his face against the sun. He had dark, weathered skin and a white muttonchop beard.

"Ash, my lad. What can I do for you?" The wrangler was polite enough, but obviously had little time to chat, which suited Asher fine.

"I need a horse for the move tomorrow," Asher started, but Torrik's snort interrupted him.

"Yeah? You and everyone else. You shoulda been here yesterday, I mighta been able to help you out."

"Don't give me that shit, Torrik. There's still plenty of good beasts out there and you know I can pay. I just need something that can pull a cart."

Torrik scratched his thick fingers through his messy beard, considering the young Swordmaster. "Well, I might have something. I'd be happy to trade. I heard you brought home something really pretty last night. Fancy a swap?"

"Like hell," Asher growled, his face turning stony. "No woman is worth a single horse."

"No slave, you mean?"

Asher hesitated but remained silent, glaring openly at the Wrangler, who eventually smirked.

"Alright, alright. I don't have any cart horses yet but I have a nice draft mule that will do just fine, and a cart to go with him."

Asher nodded and the two men haggled about the price for a while, mostly as an exercise. Eventually, Torrik agreed on an amount. "Hang out here and I'll get him hitched up for you to take back to your tent."

The man turned his splotch-coloured horse and trotted off. Ash had gotten what he wanted, but couldn't help feel that he had come out of the conversation a bit worse off.

(Ebonfort) Strangers in a Strange Land

Their trade started with long looks from them both, it seemed, though the only conclusion Drache came to was that Raffey wasn't unused to travel, clearly wasn't unused to hunting, and wasn't hard to look at. Her pupils widened and contracted visibly as she looked him up and down. He wasn't nearly as big as some of the massive walls of brawn she had met among the Kvaren, but with a grin she told herself that size wasn't everything.

"I'm not one to pass up fresh meat." Her ear-frill flicked at his thick accent, the dropped articulations making it tricky for her to understand. She didn't move until he beckoned her, and then her bare talons carried her quietly over to where he was working. "As a matter of fact, I do. I also have a tent and bedroll that is plenty big enough for two." It was stated encouraginly. An offer, if he decided to take it. She dug a black claw into the waxed cork and unstoppered it with a glassy pop before setting it down within his reach.

It was hard to not drool at the scent of the roasting meat, and Drache's nostrils flared widely as it started to smoke. But she would have considered it rude to eat before the hunter and waited for him to begin, reaching out only to help adjust or turn the pieces as they cooked so that he could finish with the carcass. She paused only to poke through the entrails to find the heart Raffey had discarded, and added it to the rest to cook for herself.

There was something lovely in working close to the flames, and the firespinner directed the flicking tongues with her mind so that they cooked the meat evenly without charring some pieces or leaving others still raw in the middle. It probably wasn't necessary, but any excuse to play with fire wasn't something she would pass up.

Crouching down, she finally sat down near the human, perched mostly on one hip as it was more comfortable that way than trying anything fancy like sitting cross-legged. Her tail twitched idly in the grass, and her scales glittered red like blood.

"She? Someone you were separated from?" She knew he had been a captive but it hadn't occured to her that some of his party might have eluded the Kvaren. The nomads seemed to be incredible good at acquiring slaves. To avoid staring, Drache unfolded one of her wings and inspected the membranes, scratching fussily at a spot that tended to get dry in the cold wind.

[Ebonfort] Out of the Pan

It was lucky for the half-dragon that the riddle of the dwarf-carved stone was not much of a riddle at all, or she would have never puzzled it out. Half of Pyresian citizens were dwarves so things like shop and street signs all used the dwarven alphabet (which was, frankly, far more practical than using draconic) so "three stomps" was enough to get herself and Laurel down into the tunnels with Kraven and Sirik.

The half-dragon hissed and coughed at the dust, landing hard on her tail after the unexpected drop. She was shaking her horns to get the debris out of her face and ended up blinking blearily at an irritable Kraven. "Ah...eh...sorry to drop in," the dragoness chuckled, reaching out to pick some dirt out of the man's hair.

The darkness around them was little more than shades of greyscale. Unsure if the alufiend posessed darkvision, Drache kept her close with a clawed hand on Laurel's arm. The closer they got to the opening to the main chamber, the more she could hear and smell. The rushing and dripping of water matched the soggy wetness Drache could feel against her hot scales. It was a slimy sort of feeling that she didn't appreciate. It rained a lot in the jungle, but the flooded underground smelled much different than the sunlit showers on the hot mountain.

She couldn't suppress a shudder, but her eyes widened as the temple came into view. It wasn't hard for the archeaologist to envision what the place had been like in its prime, and while she usually felt a twinge of regret when observing a ruins at having been born too late to know it when a place was alive, the fiery motifs and intricate flame-shaped carvings spoke to her on a much more personal level. Seeing it flooded and abandoned made her tail droop until it rested briefly on the cold stoney floor.

"Such a shame," she intoned quietly. Ordinarily the tomb-raider would have begun exploring at once, but the agonized shrieking forced her hand in another direction. Laurel broke free and tore down the steps before Drache could stop her.

"Laurel wait, it could be dangerous!" She barely got the words out before the swilling water reached up and slapped the woman down, the sight of which earned a shocked snarl from the half-dragon's throat. Drache immediately began looking for a way down that wouldn't involve having to hop a stream of the water, but the options seemed few. In looking, she spotted the Elemental and glowered hotly as the creature made its way towards Laurel.

"Oh no you don't," Drache grumbled under her breath. It was hard to explain why she suspected the creature that appeared had been behind the attack on her friend, but she didn't stop to question this assumption.

There was plenty of room in this place to fly, so the half-dragon opened her wings and took a few brief flaps just as Kraven tried to run down the stairs. The wall of water spouted upwards to block his path.

"Kraven, use your magic!" It was the second time today she had given the man this same advice. The sheet of surging water was similar to shapes Drache and Laurel had been able to forge with fire, and Drache knew that Kraven could sometimes defeat them.

But to what end? There was water everywhere. Could this creature control it all? Were there more water creatures? It was hard not to imagine the rippling dark surface of the water hiding many, many more. And even if there weren't, the one creature had plenty of fuel for its piercing jets and walls.

"Let's even the odds, then," Drache muttered to herself, lifting from the stone and sweeping around away from the wall. It hurt to leave Laurel lying on the ground, but putting herself in danger wouldn't be helpful. Focusing on an ornate row of torches along what may have once been a sort of street, the half-dragon took a deep breath and fire bubbled up out of her mouth. Most of it shot down towards her target like a swirling cone, though some dripped like flaming spittle down behind her. The heat raced along her veins even as the messy orange torrent fell upon the torches, the wood sputtering and hissing smokily before it caught. The braziers were easier, the oil lighting with an audible Whump, the flames flickering blue before growing into a more light-giving orange and white. One breath was enough, and the Elementalist used her power to light more, leaving a red glow in her wake as a small section of the village seemed to come alive behind and below her. With fire and heat above and dark floodwaters below, the some of the buildings had an appearance of ships burning at sea.

All the water here seemed so wrong.

As the cavern started to warm, the half-dragon turned back towards the others, emboldened by the heat. "Leave her alone!"

In spite of the fires, the screaming still made her spine feel icy.

(Ebonfort) Strangers in a Strange Land

The half-dragon didn't always put her tent up at night. For one thing, there didn't usually seem to be a shortage of bedrolls open for her to share, and for another thing it seemed such a monatonous waste of effort when she would have to just pack it up again in the morning.

But tonight it seemed that her usual more-than-friends were preferring to cluster among themselves, the kvaren and former slaves more seperate than before, leaving a lovely half-dragon a bit lonely. It was still winter and the cool, steady breeze toyed with her black hair and the loose membranes of her wings.

Busying herself, Drache set up her own tent between the trees, which was just as plain in colour as those used by the Kvaren, though the silk clearly marked her as an outsider. As she worked, she could feel it when the others started their fires, a few smaller ones rather than one large communal one, plus the occasional lantern or torch. Practicing daily with Laurel had sharpened her senses dramatically. The hungry heat of the flames was like a voice, a pull.

The half-dragon's head jerked up sharply when the thick iron scent of blood hit her nose, her nostrils flaring. More than just meat ready for cooking, it was the gory smell of someone stripping a carcass, and it brought the hybrid's hunger into focus.

Fire-amber eyes found Raffey and she watched him work for a while, sitting in the entrance of her tent with her journal open in her lap, casually sketching a likeness of the human on the thin parchment. She considered what she knew about him, which wasn't much. A slave, freed at the Gathering by Keelie, armed but apparently missing much of his things. She didn't even know his name.

Drache shoved her journal aside and prowled quietly until she was standing across from the foreign human, eyeing the dangling deer with her horned head cocked slightly, tail weaving back and forth behind her. Her claws drummed softly against the thick glass of a bottle of red wine tucked neatly against her scaled hip.

"There's a lot of meat there for one man," she started, her voice low. They both knew there wouldn't be time to smoke it before the group broke camp in the morning. "I'm weary of dried trail rations. Perhaps we might make a trade?" Her claws drummed on the bottle once more, but there was something about her posture that implied she might have more to offer him.

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

The moon fey tried to ignore the grinding, cracking sounds of Svarak's battle with the stony golem creature. It was difficult enough to stay on Kona's back without any kind of saddle to help secure her. Gripping his fur with her thighs was growing tiring, and doubley so with her head pounding from her brief bout with unconsciousness. She couldn't even lean forward to clutch Kona's feathered neck because it took two hands to keep the crystalline sword from accidentally killing them both.

For his part, Kona flew beautifully, though the injury to his ribs caused a sharp ache when he turned a certain way. At least it had stopped bleeding freely, the blood crusting and blackening against his monochromatic hide.

"Well done you two!"

It was a compliment. A recognition. And not only did it make Rilana's heart swell, it served to galvanize her and stave off her flagging determination. How silly to be excited about so simple a comment. Kona's back arched, the beaked face of the gryphon turning to follow the path the huge stalactite had taken as it barely missed crushing them, and together the druid and her familiar watched the mighty charr charge towards the golem.

There was a blue flash and a deep sound like ice cracking heard from within a glacier. A painful icy light swept through the bottom of the cavern and Rilana screamed, feeling the dangerous cold of the deadly rimefire even from a distance. "No!"

The concussion shivered the immense cavern, and Kona watched as cracks jerked their way up the walls, chunks beginning to fall in slow motion but gaining speed even as the devastation spread. Fear lanced through him, his instincts urging him out of this deadly underground trap. The need to have open sky over his head was almost maddeningly overpowering.

We must go. Now.

Rilana could barely see Svarak lying far below, his shape fractured and obscured through the transparent but deadly shards of ice. The full comprehension of what had just happened dawning slowly.

...no. "No! Kona, we have to do something..."

Her eyes flicked back and forth over the opening to the pit, looking desperately for a way down, but every inch seemed as ice-locked as the last. Fear and...something else...began to fill the moon fey's chest and she nearly dropped the sword.

There is nothing to do. There is no way down, only a way out. We must go or we will die too.

"Don't say that!"

He can't be dead. He can't. She would have clenched her fists if her hands weren't busy.

They both knew that Svarak had a task to do. A task that, by all reasoning, seemed to be something only he could accomplish on behalf of everything else in the world. Rilana could barely begin to comprehend what would happen if the un-named God with crimson eyes managed to break free of his prison before Svarak could kill her, but the moon fey knew it would be Bad. Her own life meant nothing compared to that.

But more than that, Rilana couldn't bear to see Svarak dead. There was so much more she wanted to...

Not yet. It's to soon!

Too soon for who? For him? Or for you?

Kona ignored Rilana's wish to dive desperately towards the pit to save the Lord Knight, his majestic form circling only once before powering madly towards the opening that promised safety from the deadly falling stone that rumbled deafeningly as they began to strike the floor below.

Her Familiar's chastisement sileneced Rilana, shamed so strongly that it nearly made her sick. Of course, the gryphon was right, as he usually was. Three hundred years was a long time, and the yearning for something to bloom new between her and the charr was just her selfishness and naievette showing. He could see Kona's wisdom, and if only because of the others, she let self-preservation reign.

That still left her with the puzzle of what to do about Juloya, and as Rilana glanced down at the sword in her hand she felt a sick sort of dread. Her despair was roiling so strongly that she almost missed the strange voice of the tired dragon and it made her breath catch in her throat amid the jarring thumps of Kona's wings. She clung to the distant voice, clutching at it as ineffectually as trying to grab at smoke.

Please! Save him, if you can! He...he means much to me. The dragon's mind was strong and Rilana was not used to protecting her thoughts from others, having no need or desire to do so from her Familiars. So the unfortunate dragon would be subject to everything Rilana felt about Svarak, as confused and convoluted as it might be.

There was no way to know if the beautiful creature had heard her, and she doubted she would ever see it again, though she would certainly never forget the sensation of its thoughts in her head. Gritting her teeth against the confused and distraught tears on her face, Rilana leaned as close to Kona as she could as the gryphon folded his wings to blast through the opening to the tower.

Trying to tear her thoughts from handsome charr and crystal swords and saving the world, Rilana focused on her other Familiar and protecting her friends. She was supposed to be an Envoy, curse it, and this journey had been nothing more than one disaster after another! She'd lost Lyle, she'd lost the other drow, she'd possibly lost Tricia. And now Svarak which felt worse than the terrible cold of the magical cold that had been plaguing her for days.

Apart from the distant subterranean rumble, the tower seemed fine, though the statues had in the main floor had been moved around. Rilana cast out her thoughts for Ortha, sorting through the disjointed impressions from the two-headed beast.

"Upstairs. Something has happened to Alya." She didn't know what, and Ortha's general apathetic attitude towards just about everything didn't help assuage her concern.

Oh Alya, where are you? She thought, her mindvoice pained in more ways than one.

Kona was already moving, claws scraping the cold stairs as he prowled, wings folded along his sides.

"Wait a minute. I have to do something with this sword. It's heavy and I can't just keep holding it up like this." That was an understatement. It was nearly as tall as she was and trying to resist the urge to let it touch Kona's back to keep it steady was overwhelming.

The gryphon stood still, watching Rilana and eyeing the statues suspiciously as the druid threw the sword on the ground and slid off of his back. Digging through her bag, the moon fey found a length of extra fur and wrapped it around the blade. She had no scabbard, no rope, so she wedged the weapon between her back and her backpack and climbed gingerly back onto Kona's back. It was uncomfortable and started to slip. Reaching back to adjust it, she accidentally curled her fingers around the sharp edge and made a soft noise of surprise.

--

Ortha made a bunch of noise, scraping her armoured body around where she was wedged under the boarded up ceiling, her plates bumping hollowly against the cheap blockade. She could smell the old blood and both her mouths salivated as the balauradon leaped somewhat clumsily back down the stairs.

The creature essentially ignored Chartrose. Being no smarter than the average predator, the only words she knew were the commands Rilana had taught her, and she was even less likely to obey the other Druid than the Moon Fey. Her tail lashed back and forth as she watched Becker appear and then take off down the stairs, but ultimately she loped purposefully towards the bloody book and scooped it up, now carrying two of them. Her tongue scraped all over it, relishing the crispy, gory remains, one set of eyes on Drisceya as if daring her to challenge her possession.

Ortha could sense that Rilana was on her way, and could hear her voice in her heads.

They Have Returned (Ebonfort)

The day slipped by while Drache and Laurel waited outside near the shifting saddlehorses, both of them keeping an eye out for strangers who might approach them. While both ladies were at risk of becoming targets of the strangely aggressive townspeople, Laurel would have been able to pass much easier than a scaled and winged half-dragon like Drache.

She kept her hooded head bowed slightly, though an ember-like glow of her eyes flickered now and then as she glanced around. It was difficult to keep her long, snake-like tail from swishing back and forth under the hem of her cloak so she stooped briefly to dig in her bag, coming up with her journal and a pen.

The half-dragon had covered nearly half a page with her observations and was in the middle of sketching a figure in the bottom half when Raffey emerged from his tent. The hybrid hollowed him with her eyes but didn't try to impede him as he approached the guards on the road. The sound of her pencil hissing smoothly across the paper continued, but her attention was mostly on Raffey's interaction with the guards, her ear-frills flexing under the cloth of her hood.

They were too far away to hear what the guards were saying, but the snatches of their tone that floated back over the distance were far from friendly. Drache quickly sketched one of the petal tattoos she had seen, with Laurel helping correct her since she had gotten a better look.

The half-dragon glanced briefly at the tavern, wishing she knew how to mindspeak to her allies so she could find out what was going on inside. When Raffey finally came back and spoke to them, her hidden snout was slow to turn back in his direction. He wasn't the only one who was distracted.

"Ruins?" Not only was that right up her alley, it was potentially part of what Peridiath had hired her to find. Wanting to be away from this hostile town, the dragoness agreed eagerly, though she didn't expect Laurel to be so ready to leave the rest of her people behind.

"I was considering striking off on my own anyways, it will be nice to be away from..." there was a subtle wing-motion under her cloak towards the guards and she made a silent hand-motion that technically meant "scavengers" but with a focus on the creepy watchfulness. "They're making my scales itch. Besides, you could do with someone to watch your back."

It only took a few minutes for Drachiathoryx to secure her belongings and join Raffey, watching the land around them. The monster hunter didn't seem keen on conversation so Drache quashed her inclination to flirt with him. She didn't notice the beetle tracks. Or more accurately, she didn't recognize them for what they were and was resigned to her unfamiliarity with the creatures in this land enough that she didn't bother to mention their strangeness. Knowing now that she could, she let another level of awareness surround her, feeling for things like torches and campfires that might betray the presence of those they might want to avoid. "It occurs to me that if you wanted to escape the kvaren who enslaved you, now might be a good time." There was simple curiosity in her tone, puzzling out a stranger.

Yet even with the town and guards behind them, she couldn't help but feel watched, and finally dispensed with her cloak in the interest of being unencumbered by it. "Did the guards give you any indication of what kind of ruins they are?" She asked finally, moving close so that she could keep her voice down. It sounded almost sultry and purring when she did that.

She thought she saw gleaming canine eyes in a bush and paused, her head moving back and forth slowly to try to reproduce the glint.