And all of them are Pro-Ebonfort?
I can think of one or two that are indifferent at best or anti-Ebonfort.
- Last Seen: 3 mos ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 673 (0.17 / day)
- VMs: 2
-
Username history
- Drache 11 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Sotiras,
SilverShades,
Vampiretwilight,
deegee,
Foster,
PuffPeace,
CloseEnough,
blindwoofer,
Nallore,
Deadlyrose9641
Status
Recent Statuses
4 mos ago
Current
Hurricane Party Time!
3
likes
11 mos ago
One of my D&D campaigns turns 25 years old this month.
10
likes
Bio
It took me 10 years to finally fill one of these out, but I finally did it. Welcome, stranger.
I'm Drache. I'm a millenial leftist living in the US deep south. I'm a queer polyamorous kinkster. You can find me at PRIDE, at Ren Fair, at the local farmer's market, and the monthly dark party. I play D&D, I play Skyrim, and I play with gags and blindfolds. I'm your elder femdom, even though my bones hurt.
During the day I'm an emergency animal medical professional with 20 years in the field. On my off time I'm a dog show enthusiast, a karaoke singer, a baker, and a volunteer wildlife rehabilitator. I'm a collector of rare houseplants, of rescued exotic birds, of books, of tattoos. I'm the most feral spouse with the most domestic skills. I'm perpetually exhausted but endlessly impulsive.
If you're looking for a partner to share in your high fantasy, in your dark themes, in your deranged kinky monsterfucking, send me a PM.
What else is there to say?
Most Recent Posts
I can think of one or two that are indifferent at best or anti-Ebonfort.
Watching Crann silently, Jimmory only stared worriedly into her eyes as she stroked her cool, woody fingers down his face. He scrunched his nose, which caused his goatee to wiggle a little, and then backed up to flump down in the leaf litter at the base of Crann's tree, draping a hoofed leg over one of the roots.
"Of course I'm distressed," he grumbled, picking up his double-sided flute and trilling a few airy notes with a deft flutter of his fingertips. The sound seemed a bit shrill to match his irritation. He resolved to wait, settling down to blow through the low drone chamber of the flute and watch the birds that tended to gather in the branches when he played. He even let his songweaving magic flow, but felt restless and dissatisfied with his own music.
A light crunching of hoofbeats announced the arrival of faun behind Crann as she made her way through the deep woods. The dark-skinned fey creature glanced at Crann a bit guiltily as he caught up to her and fell in step beside her on the other side from where she carried her staff.
"I remembered where I put my bow," he said by way of explanation, and truly the polished grapevine weapon was strung across his shoulders, the fletching of his arrows poking out of a grass-woven quiver, the fletching in blues and greens from kingfisher feathers.
Jimmory whuffled non-commitally as they walked along, navigating the rolling land between the roots of the great trees, hopping the mossy stones jutting up out of the creeks, and trying to not slide down leafy embankments. (Actually, Jimmory slid down on purpose and wasn't even sorry.)
"Not another dryad. Though I heard a rumour that there is trio like you north of Silent Rise." He glanced at Crann sidelong, curious about how his companion would feel about that. "Anyways. I wandered up to the Bahora forest for a while but the treants there seem to be a lot more grumpy than the last time I was there so I came back. There's a new human family down near Milmont. I know humans are dangerous but I stumbled across one of them a few weeks ago." Jimmory sighed woefully. "I wanted to bring him to the Midsummer Celebration later this month but with what's happening in the west I don't know..."
The going was easy for the pair, but the further they walked, the more signs of wrongness they came across. Plants that should have been flourishing seemed withered and wilted, spotted and furry with some kind of disease. Saplings seemed dark and stunted. The birdsong faded and disappeared, leaving Crann and Jimmory in the company only of creatures that scuttled and skittered furtively and untrustingly at the edges of their vision. It wasn't at all like the place they remembered.
As they rounded a huge stump of a tree that had rotted from the ground up so quickly that the boughs of its felled trunk still had green but doomed leaves clustered in its downed crown, they came across a previously cheerful spring-fed pond that was now nothing more than a soupy black mess that stank of putrefaction. Jimmory covered his flat nose and bleated in dismay, though the sound was joined by a dry rattle of a growl from nearby.
"Of course I'm distressed," he grumbled, picking up his double-sided flute and trilling a few airy notes with a deft flutter of his fingertips. The sound seemed a bit shrill to match his irritation. He resolved to wait, settling down to blow through the low drone chamber of the flute and watch the birds that tended to gather in the branches when he played. He even let his songweaving magic flow, but felt restless and dissatisfied with his own music.
A light crunching of hoofbeats announced the arrival of faun behind Crann as she made her way through the deep woods. The dark-skinned fey creature glanced at Crann a bit guiltily as he caught up to her and fell in step beside her on the other side from where she carried her staff.
"I remembered where I put my bow," he said by way of explanation, and truly the polished grapevine weapon was strung across his shoulders, the fletching of his arrows poking out of a grass-woven quiver, the fletching in blues and greens from kingfisher feathers.
Jimmory whuffled non-commitally as they walked along, navigating the rolling land between the roots of the great trees, hopping the mossy stones jutting up out of the creeks, and trying to not slide down leafy embankments. (Actually, Jimmory slid down on purpose and wasn't even sorry.)
"Not another dryad. Though I heard a rumour that there is trio like you north of Silent Rise." He glanced at Crann sidelong, curious about how his companion would feel about that. "Anyways. I wandered up to the Bahora forest for a while but the treants there seem to be a lot more grumpy than the last time I was there so I came back. There's a new human family down near Milmont. I know humans are dangerous but I stumbled across one of them a few weeks ago." Jimmory sighed woefully. "I wanted to bring him to the Midsummer Celebration later this month but with what's happening in the west I don't know..."
The going was easy for the pair, but the further they walked, the more signs of wrongness they came across. Plants that should have been flourishing seemed withered and wilted, spotted and furry with some kind of disease. Saplings seemed dark and stunted. The birdsong faded and disappeared, leaving Crann and Jimmory in the company only of creatures that scuttled and skittered furtively and untrustingly at the edges of their vision. It wasn't at all like the place they remembered.
As they rounded a huge stump of a tree that had rotted from the ground up so quickly that the boughs of its felled trunk still had green but doomed leaves clustered in its downed crown, they came across a previously cheerful spring-fed pond that was now nothing more than a soupy black mess that stank of putrefaction. Jimmory covered his flat nose and bleated in dismay, though the sound was joined by a dry rattle of a growl from nearby.
The faun gave a shiver at the tickling feeling of the dryad's fingers through his hair, his haunches jiggling until a puff of chestnut brown hair drifted down to the ground. His ears twitched until Crann moved away, wrinkling his wide nose at the brush of her lips on his forehead. She smelled like moss and sweet sap, while he smelled like fur and the crushed grass that stained his fetlocks.
Jimmory hopped up on one of the exposed roots of her great oak, his hooves clacking woodenly againts the gnarled surface as he balanced his way along it, for no other reason than the fun of it took his mind off the problem, if only for a second or two.
"I haven't seen anyone. But I didn't want to get close all by myself. I saw an elk, and it should have been dead. There were so many maggots, Crann! And it didn't even seem to hear my music." He motioned with his hand at the v-shaped drone flute hanging from a thick leather strap across his bare and slightly furry chest. "I don't like seeing the glade like that, Crann."
Jimmory was obviously reluctant to join her and waggled his tail uncertainly as he watched her pick up her staff. But in the end he followed her, pausing at the shrine to dip his hands in the cool, clear water and slide them back over his horns so that they shone wetly for a time. It seemed a ritualistic gesture, but he didn't comment on it.
"If we're going back there I need to find my bow. I left it...somewhere." He glanced around thoughtfully, sticking close to the taller dryad.
Jimmory hopped up on one of the exposed roots of her great oak, his hooves clacking woodenly againts the gnarled surface as he balanced his way along it, for no other reason than the fun of it took his mind off the problem, if only for a second or two.
"I haven't seen anyone. But I didn't want to get close all by myself. I saw an elk, and it should have been dead. There were so many maggots, Crann! And it didn't even seem to hear my music." He motioned with his hand at the v-shaped drone flute hanging from a thick leather strap across his bare and slightly furry chest. "I don't like seeing the glade like that, Crann."
Jimmory was obviously reluctant to join her and waggled his tail uncertainly as he watched her pick up her staff. But in the end he followed her, pausing at the shrine to dip his hands in the cool, clear water and slide them back over his horns so that they shone wetly for a time. It seemed a ritualistic gesture, but he didn't comment on it.
"If we're going back there I need to find my bow. I left it...somewhere." He glanced around thoughtfully, sticking close to the taller dryad.
The hissing creak of the grassy soil was muffled by the wind in the leaves above so that Jimmory was taken completely by surprise when something hard and pointed jabbed him in the rump. He tucked his tail and leaped forward with a bleating yelp, his dainty cloven hooves scrabbling against the ground as he turned to face his assailant, raising nothing more than his fists to defend himself. He was not tall or muscular, but rather lean and lithe like the deer or goat he resembled.
But there was no one there, and his long ears flicked in all directions, his sorrel brows knitted in confusion under his mop of curly hair. While a dryad may grow leaves in their hair as a matter of course, the ones crowning Jimmory's hair were simply tangled in his locks.
The fright in his brown eyes was replaced by one of relief when the dryad seemed to sprout out of her home tree. "Don't do that, Crann. You scared me." His tone was a bit morose. Normally he would have appreciated the playful tease, but today his playfulness had become subdued, though he did grin at the memory of the lavender mead.
"I've been a bit busy," he grinned, a blush spreading across his freckled face. "There's a farmer's son I met down by that huge blackberry thicket...nevermind." His tufted tail flicked nervously, watching the greenery swiftly sproud and grow to cover Crann's feminine features in the semblance of clothes. Jimmory's own clothing consisted of little more than a long leather loincloth tied around his hips and was decorated with hand-carved wooden beads at the bottom fringe.
"It's more than just a disease, Crann. The froth is one thing, but this is worse. It's not just the animals anymore. That whole glade of flowers by the springs is just...gone. Dead. Everything is dead. And it's spreading."
The faun scuffed his hooves in the grass, his face and voice urgent. "I don't know what to do, but there has to be something. Will you come?"
But there was no one there, and his long ears flicked in all directions, his sorrel brows knitted in confusion under his mop of curly hair. While a dryad may grow leaves in their hair as a matter of course, the ones crowning Jimmory's hair were simply tangled in his locks.
The fright in his brown eyes was replaced by one of relief when the dryad seemed to sprout out of her home tree. "Don't do that, Crann. You scared me." His tone was a bit morose. Normally he would have appreciated the playful tease, but today his playfulness had become subdued, though he did grin at the memory of the lavender mead.
"I've been a bit busy," he grinned, a blush spreading across his freckled face. "There's a farmer's son I met down by that huge blackberry thicket...nevermind." His tufted tail flicked nervously, watching the greenery swiftly sproud and grow to cover Crann's feminine features in the semblance of clothes. Jimmory's own clothing consisted of little more than a long leather loincloth tied around his hips and was decorated with hand-carved wooden beads at the bottom fringe.
"It's more than just a disease, Crann. The froth is one thing, but this is worse. It's not just the animals anymore. That whole glade of flowers by the springs is just...gone. Dead. Everything is dead. And it's spreading."
The faun scuffed his hooves in the grass, his face and voice urgent. "I don't know what to do, but there has to be something. Will you come?"
Starting Date and Time: Vermillio 3rd, 300DM
Starting Location: Lessa Grove (Chartric Forest between Greenfall and Silent Rise)
CS URLs: Crann Aonair and GM.
It started with a smell. The vaulting Chartric Forest simmered under the warmth of the summer sun, the leaves glossy and shiny as they reflected the light, the golden beams full of lazily-floating motes that spiraled down to the forest floor to illuminate patches of green grass. Birds sang happily, their organic sound high and bright against a backdrop of skittering leaves where squirrels gamboled and deer picked their careful way through the hazy shadows. The woods teemed with life.
But then there was the smell. A smell like death on the wind. Death was a normal part of the forest, older and weaker animals or trees sinking down to the leaves at their end. But this smell did not go away. In fact, as days turned into weeks, it seemed to worsen, accompanying the wind from the west. Animals and birds grew more timid and fearful than usual, moving through the woods towards the east the way they might flee the encroachment of a village.
And it got worse. As the stink soured even further, the straggling beasts seemed to be infected with some sort of plague. Shrunken and dull, more vicious than usual, blinking glassily in the sunlight and wandering drunkenly, their bodies covered in oozing sores.
Jimmory approached the grove with a worried look on his horned brow, his goatlike tail wiggling nervously behind his furry legs. The faun peeked around a tree, watching for any sign of the dryad who watched over these parts.
"Crann? Are you here?" Of course part of her always was, the big oak tree reaching towards the sky. Jimmory stroked his goatee and eyed the old shrine, glad that he hadn't run into any humans trekking here to worship or meditate near it.
Starting Location: Lessa Grove (Chartric Forest between Greenfall and Silent Rise)
CS URLs: Crann Aonair and GM.
It started with a smell. The vaulting Chartric Forest simmered under the warmth of the summer sun, the leaves glossy and shiny as they reflected the light, the golden beams full of lazily-floating motes that spiraled down to the forest floor to illuminate patches of green grass. Birds sang happily, their organic sound high and bright against a backdrop of skittering leaves where squirrels gamboled and deer picked their careful way through the hazy shadows. The woods teemed with life.
But then there was the smell. A smell like death on the wind. Death was a normal part of the forest, older and weaker animals or trees sinking down to the leaves at their end. But this smell did not go away. In fact, as days turned into weeks, it seemed to worsen, accompanying the wind from the west. Animals and birds grew more timid and fearful than usual, moving through the woods towards the east the way they might flee the encroachment of a village.
And it got worse. As the stink soured even further, the straggling beasts seemed to be infected with some sort of plague. Shrunken and dull, more vicious than usual, blinking glassily in the sunlight and wandering drunkenly, their bodies covered in oozing sores.
Jimmory approached the grove with a worried look on his horned brow, his goatlike tail wiggling nervously behind his furry legs. The faun peeked around a tree, watching for any sign of the dryad who watched over these parts.
"Crann? Are you here?" Of course part of her always was, the big oak tree reaching towards the sky. Jimmory stroked his goatee and eyed the old shrine, glad that he hadn't run into any humans trekking here to worship or meditate near it.
As soon as Rilana's home came into view, one look at her face made it clear that something was wrong. Not only were the roads into the city empty of traffic, but they were nearly covered over by snow. There were ledges and crevices in the steep mountains where sentries usually hid, but now they were empty.
Kona, who had been flying ahead, was waiting at the outpost with Falzhar. As the group approached, Lana glanced at Kona and then to the man she had known since childhood. She took in his stern appearance.
The moon fey slid down from the ram where she had been riding with Svarak, moving easily across the surface of the snow. "Falzhar? What's happened?" She slipped automatically into Feyspeech.
The explanation came as a shock, Rilana's mouth falling open as Falzhar described what had come over the dazzling, shining city. It seemed to Rilana that every time she dared hope for something to turn out for the best, it turned to naught but ashes and disappointment. She frowned, not seeming at all relieved to hear that her "family" had made it out.
"Madness?" The world was full of plague. The rabid froth that swept through warmblooded wild animals being the one she was most familiar with, but none she had encountered had ever affected a mage's powers. Plagues made one too sick to practice their craft, typically.
There was only one thing she knew as the source of such insanity. Him. But she said nothing to Falzhar about it. The time for explanations would come later. When he swept her into a hug, she returned it wholeheartedly, pressing her face into his neck and squeezing hard. "I missed you." If there had ever been a man from her youth that she might have ended up with, it was Falzhar. She felt his hand slide down her back and over her rear as he deftly hid something in her pocket. Even knowing what he was up to, there was brief colour to her face when she turned back to her group.
Kona moved to block the view from the outpost so that Rilana could read the note without any of her fellow Moon Fey or Frigmount citizens noting that Falzhar had slipped her a note.
Rilana looked up at the cloudless blue sky and took a deep breath before addressing the expectant faces of the group.
"We can not enter the city," She announced sadly. "The reason for the barrier that cut this region off all this time is also causing chaos in Frigmount. Part of the Ebon Knights mission, my mission, is to stop this. Those who wish to join us are welcome. Those who wish to stay may remain here at the outpost until, hopefully, we can put a stop to this and once again welcome you into Frigmount."
She stared at the note again, but wasn't actually reading it this time. The note was nothing more or less than confirmation. Proof that Svarak had told her the truth. Proof that she really was an Envoy by her own people's will. Proof that she was actually related to the royal line. Proof. She folded the note slowly and tucked it away, wondering if she'd ever see Lady Myra again, and wiped a tear away from her face.
Kona hunkered down as Rilana approached him and climbed on his back. She spoke again, but this time was looking at Svarak.
"Let's go talk to the ice giants."
---
Sometime later, the party arrived near the wooden walls of Jhrogramir, and Rilana was disappointed but not at all surprised by their unusually gruff attitude. After urging the rest of the group to keep well back and quiet, she approached on gryphon-back, watching the points of the spears glitter in the winter sun. She tried to remain straight-backed and proud, her eyes fierce with determination if not actual confidence.
We're inside their range, Kona warned, his eyes far keener than hers.
I know. I was planning to ask nicely but I don't think they will respond well.
No. They look glad for a chance to have power over the Fey for once.
"I am...Lady Rilana Aurorime' of Frigmount, Envoy to Ebonfort!" She felt a bit guilty giving herself a title she hadn't earned, but if she really was related to the royal line...
There are worse crimes than giving yourself airs.
"I want only safe passage for myself and my company to the batcave Cave of Sighs. We are looking for a way to stop the madness in Frigmount before it spreads to cities like Jhrogramir."
Good, make our mission benefit them as well. Let them chew on that. For once Kona didn't have anything snarky to say about her actions, and both of them waited for the guard's retort.
Kona, who had been flying ahead, was waiting at the outpost with Falzhar. As the group approached, Lana glanced at Kona and then to the man she had known since childhood. She took in his stern appearance.
The moon fey slid down from the ram where she had been riding with Svarak, moving easily across the surface of the snow. "Falzhar? What's happened?" She slipped automatically into Feyspeech.
The explanation came as a shock, Rilana's mouth falling open as Falzhar described what had come over the dazzling, shining city. It seemed to Rilana that every time she dared hope for something to turn out for the best, it turned to naught but ashes and disappointment. She frowned, not seeming at all relieved to hear that her "family" had made it out.
"Madness?" The world was full of plague. The rabid froth that swept through warmblooded wild animals being the one she was most familiar with, but none she had encountered had ever affected a mage's powers. Plagues made one too sick to practice their craft, typically.
There was only one thing she knew as the source of such insanity. Him. But she said nothing to Falzhar about it. The time for explanations would come later. When he swept her into a hug, she returned it wholeheartedly, pressing her face into his neck and squeezing hard. "I missed you." If there had ever been a man from her youth that she might have ended up with, it was Falzhar. She felt his hand slide down her back and over her rear as he deftly hid something in her pocket. Even knowing what he was up to, there was brief colour to her face when she turned back to her group.
Kona moved to block the view from the outpost so that Rilana could read the note without any of her fellow Moon Fey or Frigmount citizens noting that Falzhar had slipped her a note.
Rilana looked up at the cloudless blue sky and took a deep breath before addressing the expectant faces of the group.
"We can not enter the city," She announced sadly. "The reason for the barrier that cut this region off all this time is also causing chaos in Frigmount. Part of the Ebon Knights mission, my mission, is to stop this. Those who wish to join us are welcome. Those who wish to stay may remain here at the outpost until, hopefully, we can put a stop to this and once again welcome you into Frigmount."
She stared at the note again, but wasn't actually reading it this time. The note was nothing more or less than confirmation. Proof that Svarak had told her the truth. Proof that she really was an Envoy by her own people's will. Proof that she was actually related to the royal line. Proof. She folded the note slowly and tucked it away, wondering if she'd ever see Lady Myra again, and wiped a tear away from her face.
Kona hunkered down as Rilana approached him and climbed on his back. She spoke again, but this time was looking at Svarak.
"Let's go talk to the ice giants."
---
Sometime later, the party arrived near the wooden walls of Jhrogramir, and Rilana was disappointed but not at all surprised by their unusually gruff attitude. After urging the rest of the group to keep well back and quiet, she approached on gryphon-back, watching the points of the spears glitter in the winter sun. She tried to remain straight-backed and proud, her eyes fierce with determination if not actual confidence.
We're inside their range, Kona warned, his eyes far keener than hers.
I know. I was planning to ask nicely but I don't think they will respond well.
No. They look glad for a chance to have power over the Fey for once.
"I am...Lady Rilana Aurorime' of Frigmount, Envoy to Ebonfort!" She felt a bit guilty giving herself a title she hadn't earned, but if she really was related to the royal line...
There are worse crimes than giving yourself airs.
"I want only safe passage for myself and my company to the batcave Cave of Sighs. We are looking for a way to stop the madness in Frigmount before it spreads to cities like Jhrogramir."
Good, make our mission benefit them as well. Let them chew on that. For once Kona didn't have anything snarky to say about her actions, and both of them waited for the guard's retort.
The half-dragon nearly refused to lend her strength to Laurel's, suspicious of making herself vulnerable in helping her friend. It was purely in the interest of self-preservation that Drache let the flames issuing from her mouth and fingertips subside. Having seen how much water was flooding the temple, they couldn't afford to not work together. Edging closer to Laurel as if closing the distance made it easier to feed her strength into the alufiend, Drache poured her energy into the other firespinner's workings the same way she would blow it out with her firebreath or feed her talent into a campfire.
And along with the strength, there was an outsurge of her passion. Rage, lust, these passionate things that roiled just under the surface all the time. She gave them to Laurel, and watched with a primal grimace as the firespout grew and twisted like a blazing tornado. The heat made the air shimmer wildly, the scent of steam and scorched stone filling her tiny, flaring nostrils. The powers crashed against each other and Drache felt the strain, but even as she started to feel drained, she reveled in the feeling of so much magic.
The dragonkin dug her talons against the desiccatingly dry floor when Laurel called out her warning, which was the only reason she didn't jump back at the sight of the huge watery thing. Shadows and shapes wavered as elemental forces swirled around the cavern, the flames licking low against the ground as they flooded back towards the pit. It looked something like a dragon, some kind of giant serpent made out of water, the dark core in its head easy to see through the semi-transparent fluid shaped like a beast around it.
The vile maw of the beast launched itself towards them and Drache shoved Laurel aside, hard, out of the way. She tried to leap the other direction, splitting the creature's target into two, perhaps giving themselves a few more seconds to live. But her gesture was futile. Drache laughed, a cruel snort of a sound as it seemed that the creature had mistimed its strike straight into the ground. It was only out of the corner of her eye that she noticed Sirik's dark figure dart into the shadows, pursued by the creature.
"Oh xsio!" the dragonkin spat, dodging the flailing tail, impressed by Sirik's daring. "I hope he lives. For being so quiet he certainly has a talented tongue."
But her reminiscing on Sirik's virtues was short-lived. "Come on. We don't know how long he can keep that thing busy." Racing towards the pit, Drache growled and snapped threateningly at the elementals, leaping at the back of one and raking her claws through the core in its center to destroy it. They seemed reluctant to attack now that the absent monster had challenged them. "Get back!"
She knew that Laurel's intent was focused on the tiny fiery creatures they could both sense down in the pit. Drache didn't know what they were, and her interest was more for the temple itself. She had never seen it before, but she hated seeing it this way, crowded and bespoiled by the watery beasts that had taken up residence. By all rights they should flee now while they still could, and a look she shot at Kraven betrayed her misgivings about lingering here any more.
"This is a fucking fire temple! Surely there is something here was can use to fight them off." The braziers still flickered warmly all over, but drawing from them was getting tiresome. She looked around hastily. She was mad. Mad that stumbling across this place hadn't been a great deal more pleasant.
Reaching the edge of the pit, she hesitated to peek over, not wanting to get blasted in the face by the concentrated jets of fire being launched at the water elementals. So she lit her fist on fire instead and held it over the edge, cringing slightly as her claws pricked against her own palm.
"See? Friends!"
And along with the strength, there was an outsurge of her passion. Rage, lust, these passionate things that roiled just under the surface all the time. She gave them to Laurel, and watched with a primal grimace as the firespout grew and twisted like a blazing tornado. The heat made the air shimmer wildly, the scent of steam and scorched stone filling her tiny, flaring nostrils. The powers crashed against each other and Drache felt the strain, but even as she started to feel drained, she reveled in the feeling of so much magic.
The dragonkin dug her talons against the desiccatingly dry floor when Laurel called out her warning, which was the only reason she didn't jump back at the sight of the huge watery thing. Shadows and shapes wavered as elemental forces swirled around the cavern, the flames licking low against the ground as they flooded back towards the pit. It looked something like a dragon, some kind of giant serpent made out of water, the dark core in its head easy to see through the semi-transparent fluid shaped like a beast around it.
The vile maw of the beast launched itself towards them and Drache shoved Laurel aside, hard, out of the way. She tried to leap the other direction, splitting the creature's target into two, perhaps giving themselves a few more seconds to live. But her gesture was futile. Drache laughed, a cruel snort of a sound as it seemed that the creature had mistimed its strike straight into the ground. It was only out of the corner of her eye that she noticed Sirik's dark figure dart into the shadows, pursued by the creature.
"Oh xsio!" the dragonkin spat, dodging the flailing tail, impressed by Sirik's daring. "I hope he lives. For being so quiet he certainly has a talented tongue."
But her reminiscing on Sirik's virtues was short-lived. "Come on. We don't know how long he can keep that thing busy." Racing towards the pit, Drache growled and snapped threateningly at the elementals, leaping at the back of one and raking her claws through the core in its center to destroy it. They seemed reluctant to attack now that the absent monster had challenged them. "Get back!"
She knew that Laurel's intent was focused on the tiny fiery creatures they could both sense down in the pit. Drache didn't know what they were, and her interest was more for the temple itself. She had never seen it before, but she hated seeing it this way, crowded and bespoiled by the watery beasts that had taken up residence. By all rights they should flee now while they still could, and a look she shot at Kraven betrayed her misgivings about lingering here any more.
"This is a fucking fire temple! Surely there is something here was can use to fight them off." The braziers still flickered warmly all over, but drawing from them was getting tiresome. She looked around hastily. She was mad. Mad that stumbling across this place hadn't been a great deal more pleasant.
Reaching the edge of the pit, she hesitated to peek over, not wanting to get blasted in the face by the concentrated jets of fire being launched at the water elementals. So she lit her fist on fire instead and held it over the edge, cringing slightly as her claws pricked against her own palm.
"See? Friends!"
"Feel magic?"
Could she feel magic? She had felt many things on this journey, most of them confusing and terrifying and heart-wrenching. Certainly magic had been involved, but Rilana didn't consider that she could feel magic in general. It was more like magic had washed over her from powerful sources like the null shard, a dragon god, and a deranged shield-mage moon fey, as strong and undeniable as the waves of the ocean, with herself being no more talented for being able to feel them. Thinking about it, she looked around at the camp spread out before them, trying to sense anything special. Without even looking she knew where Kona was, and Ortha, and if she concentrated she could even see through their eyes. She could feel Ortha's insatiable hunger and naive curiosity. She could feel Kona's disapproval and cool superiority. For a moment it seemed that she could feel the living energy of everything around them, even the people, the same way she felt Kona and Ortha's life forces when she Bound herself to them. Svarak's, being the closest, was huge and warm beside her.
When Svarak produced the sword, Rilana eyed it warily, her expression stony as she refused to touch it. "I cut myself on it in the tower," she whispered. "I heard Juloya's voice." Her eyes squinted closed and she put her face in her hands, trying to banish the memory of the pain the woman had been forced to endure all this time. She eventually straightened up, looking more careworn than before.
"Yes, about two days with the weather like this." Taking the cooked food, she ate slowly, noticing that it was delicious and feeling guilty that she was in little mood to appreciate it. "This is really good. I never imagined that you could cook. You keep surprising me." At least this surprise was a pleasant one. She watched him for a while, wondering at the implication of him wishing they'd had longer to dance together.
"It seems almost foolish to make plans when I don't know what's going to happen, or if the people I care about will even be around for me to...be with." One of her hands dropped to the silver sash around her hips, toying with the hem. She pulled one foot up onto the rock, leaning forward to rest against her own knee. "At one point I had hoped for more than friendship, but I know better now, so if we manage to accomplish this...terrible thing, I'd be glad to see you often." As often as her wanderlust would allow, of course.
She didn't answer his question right away, taking a few moments to finish a mouthful of her dinner and look out beyond the camp the the mountainous and winter-locked wilderness.
"For my part, I don't know that my life would have been much different until last year. I never had the urge to leave the Frostfell and my wild friends." She felt a bubble of satisfaction from the gryphon. "If not for certain meddling that brought me south," and she gave the Charr a pointed look, "I would still be there."
"But others will not feel the same. An entire city cut off for centuries? And not knowing why? I'm sure they will feel slighted, angry. And it's hard to blame them, even if it was the only way to stop...him."
Could she feel magic? She had felt many things on this journey, most of them confusing and terrifying and heart-wrenching. Certainly magic had been involved, but Rilana didn't consider that she could feel magic in general. It was more like magic had washed over her from powerful sources like the null shard, a dragon god, and a deranged shield-mage moon fey, as strong and undeniable as the waves of the ocean, with herself being no more talented for being able to feel them. Thinking about it, she looked around at the camp spread out before them, trying to sense anything special. Without even looking she knew where Kona was, and Ortha, and if she concentrated she could even see through their eyes. She could feel Ortha's insatiable hunger and naive curiosity. She could feel Kona's disapproval and cool superiority. For a moment it seemed that she could feel the living energy of everything around them, even the people, the same way she felt Kona and Ortha's life forces when she Bound herself to them. Svarak's, being the closest, was huge and warm beside her.
When Svarak produced the sword, Rilana eyed it warily, her expression stony as she refused to touch it. "I cut myself on it in the tower," she whispered. "I heard Juloya's voice." Her eyes squinted closed and she put her face in her hands, trying to banish the memory of the pain the woman had been forced to endure all this time. She eventually straightened up, looking more careworn than before.
"Yes, about two days with the weather like this." Taking the cooked food, she ate slowly, noticing that it was delicious and feeling guilty that she was in little mood to appreciate it. "This is really good. I never imagined that you could cook. You keep surprising me." At least this surprise was a pleasant one. She watched him for a while, wondering at the implication of him wishing they'd had longer to dance together.
"It seems almost foolish to make plans when I don't know what's going to happen, or if the people I care about will even be around for me to...be with." One of her hands dropped to the silver sash around her hips, toying with the hem. She pulled one foot up onto the rock, leaning forward to rest against her own knee. "At one point I had hoped for more than friendship, but I know better now, so if we manage to accomplish this...terrible thing, I'd be glad to see you often." As often as her wanderlust would allow, of course.
She didn't answer his question right away, taking a few moments to finish a mouthful of her dinner and look out beyond the camp the the mountainous and winter-locked wilderness.
"For my part, I don't know that my life would have been much different until last year. I never had the urge to leave the Frostfell and my wild friends." She felt a bubble of satisfaction from the gryphon. "If not for certain meddling that brought me south," and she gave the Charr a pointed look, "I would still be there."
"But others will not feel the same. An entire city cut off for centuries? And not knowing why? I'm sure they will feel slighted, angry. And it's hard to blame them, even if it was the only way to stop...him."
It felt like a step in the right direction as Asher watched Verissa relax and invite him to teach her something. She could have refused and then they would have gone back to his tent together. Learning how to weild a staff wasn't crucial, not like learning to how simply live as a slave in the camp. Asher couldn't put his finger on why, but this was important. Perhaps that's why he looked so serious when he approached her. He reached for the staff, but didn't take it from her. Rather, he corrected her hold on the staff, moving her fists to cut the length of wood into thirds, both palms down.
"There. From this position you can get to any other type of hold fairly quickly. Both hands on one end like a sword can give you a powerful strike, but the beauty of the staff is how versatile it is. From this hold you can bring your hands out and use the staff to block a sword or axe..."
He slid her hands out, increasing the gap between them and then brought the staff up towards him until it bumped his chest.
"...or, you can bring them closer together and turn the staff into a weapon on both ends."
He brought her hands in closer with only a fist-length between them and then rotated the staff slowly, doing figure-eights so that the ends of the staff swept around beside her shoulders. He never looked away from her face, even if she looked down to see what he was doing with his hands.
"From here you can strike down at the knees or up at the ribs or even the head." Asher held both ends of the staff, twisting it up or down to show Verissa how she could use both hands to manipulate the staff to jab either one end or the other at a specific target.
"The position you hold your body in can help you control your strikes or blocks. You have to move so you can move the staff around you." The swordmaster moved, keeping one hand on the staff as he stepped around behind his slave, reaching for the other end until Verissa was between the wooden weapon and Asher's chest. His voice was in her ear.
"You were using your lower back too much, which throws you off balance and leaves you open to attacks. Until you have learned the basics, focus on keeping your back straight and moving your legs instead. Now, step forward with your right leg and I will move the staff, but keep your hands on it."
When she did so, Asher moved the staff, swinging the right end out and the left end back, showing Verissa how the momentum put power behind the strike and how natural the motion could feel. They practiced the move and a couple more. Asher had taught this lesson many times before. The staff was usually the first weapon children started with, graduating to other things when their talents and interests emerged. But somehow this lesson was special, more personal. Now and then the wind brushed through Verissa's hair, and Asher could still smell the herbs from her shop. He kept close to her, and it occured to him that he should enjoy the feeling of her back against him, but he tried to ignore it, resolving that he didn't want to be like Jasper.
"I hope you'll let me teach you more. It will make me feel better to know you can protect yourself." His words caught a little and Asher fell silent, trying to clamp down on a jab of grief.
"Anyways, if you someday wanted to go on the Hunt, it's never too early to learn how to wield a weapon."
"There. From this position you can get to any other type of hold fairly quickly. Both hands on one end like a sword can give you a powerful strike, but the beauty of the staff is how versatile it is. From this hold you can bring your hands out and use the staff to block a sword or axe..."
He slid her hands out, increasing the gap between them and then brought the staff up towards him until it bumped his chest.
"...or, you can bring them closer together and turn the staff into a weapon on both ends."
He brought her hands in closer with only a fist-length between them and then rotated the staff slowly, doing figure-eights so that the ends of the staff swept around beside her shoulders. He never looked away from her face, even if she looked down to see what he was doing with his hands.
"From here you can strike down at the knees or up at the ribs or even the head." Asher held both ends of the staff, twisting it up or down to show Verissa how she could use both hands to manipulate the staff to jab either one end or the other at a specific target.
"The position you hold your body in can help you control your strikes or blocks. You have to move so you can move the staff around you." The swordmaster moved, keeping one hand on the staff as he stepped around behind his slave, reaching for the other end until Verissa was between the wooden weapon and Asher's chest. His voice was in her ear.
"You were using your lower back too much, which throws you off balance and leaves you open to attacks. Until you have learned the basics, focus on keeping your back straight and moving your legs instead. Now, step forward with your right leg and I will move the staff, but keep your hands on it."
When she did so, Asher moved the staff, swinging the right end out and the left end back, showing Verissa how the momentum put power behind the strike and how natural the motion could feel. They practiced the move and a couple more. Asher had taught this lesson many times before. The staff was usually the first weapon children started with, graduating to other things when their talents and interests emerged. But somehow this lesson was special, more personal. Now and then the wind brushed through Verissa's hair, and Asher could still smell the herbs from her shop. He kept close to her, and it occured to him that he should enjoy the feeling of her back against him, but he tried to ignore it, resolving that he didn't want to be like Jasper.
"I hope you'll let me teach you more. It will make me feel better to know you can protect yourself." His words caught a little and Asher fell silent, trying to clamp down on a jab of grief.
"Anyways, if you someday wanted to go on the Hunt, it's never too early to learn how to wield a weapon."
© 2007-2024