Force and Fury

The Hourglass Order

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It was shortly after she'd speared the boats with jagged ice that he came for Edyta: a man with a feather in his cap. He was quick. He'd gotten the jump on her, which was not something that happened. For a moment, she'd wondered, but time was not in great supply and she escaped into greyborn space, brimming with energy. There, it was confirmed. A knife came for her neck and only a sense of presence and combat drilled into her from a young age allowed her to sense it before it struck.

The rezaindian rolled out of the way and came to her feet in a single motion, facing him. She raised zamrażanie and palenie. "So you are like me." She did not want to fight.

But the man did. He did not answer. Instead, he sunk into a three-dimensional fighting stance, knife in a reverse grip. He might fall upon her. He might fall upwards. They would establish the rules of the place where they would fight. It was oddly... intimate, but he was looking for weaknesses and Edyta could not allow her mind to wander. She would give him one, then: an opening.

The very moment she made her 'mistake' - her bait - this... ghost shot forward with the kind of speed that would be impressive even had magic been in play. She barely got her weapons up to cover the purposeful opening, and then he was dodging and ducking and slashing and it was everything that the rezaindian could do to block his attacks. His knife met her soft skin and left a clean little slice near her shoulder, and then another on her thigh. That was when she realized that he was using magic: the energy he had taken in with him.

He was going to overpower her.

Edyta let herself fall back into reality, and she dropped onto the deck of a burning ship. She sprinted and drew and pulled herself back into the realm between realities. Now there was space between them. She sunk into a long-high-back stance, one sickle out in front, to give her range, and the other raised for a power strike. This would be fought to the death.

Up does not exist. Down is an illusion. Greyspace was whatever you made of it, aside from echoes, silence, and patience: shadows of the realities outside. Some were beautiful, most were mundane, others were horrific, but they did not concern her now. She ran up a slope, over him, and leapt - somersaulting - backwards when he made to follow. Perhaps Mother Oraff had given him a man's body: stronger than hers and built for war, but she was younger, nimbler, and surefooted.

The Ghost made to strike again, but he was slower this time. He fell upwards, but he had not let himself fall into reality when he'd been given the chance. She had. She gambled it all on a single strike. Catching his blade with hers, the rezaindian released the false feel of gravity - an artifact of her attachment to the world beyond - and dropped.

His knife was pulled down and aside and her other blade came to sink into his lower abdomen. The blood went where they imagined it would. They had created this pocket reality together. It was theirs to live in and one of theirs to die in, most likely, though she did not wish it were so.

Gutted, The Ghost staggered backwards, but he did not try to fall away. "Please," she spoke into the grey nothing. It was changing, though. The sounds of birds twittering and a rushing stream could be heard. She had a vague sense of greenness. "Please don't make me kill you." She shook her head. "There are so few of us."

He stared at her, and she could not read his deep, dark eyes.

"There are so few and all we do is kill each other for them."

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"Now there will be one less." He was implacable. He raised his knife once again, as if to fight, but the wound was mortal and they both knew it. The world was becoming greener. She could feel the wind on her face. They were by the water and there was a dock.

"So be it," replied Sister Laska, "But answer me one thing before you go: Why this? Why any of it?"

"Because I was paid to. Because that is how your wicked world works." His muscles had been sliced apart. He could not properly shrug. Now he could not hold himself up anymore. He crumpled slowly to the ground and then he was lying on a grassy green bank by the riverside rushes. There were bullfrogs and the sun was setting. A boat waited by the dock. This was his contribution and it was... beautiful. "We bring things to this town from Hyparii. We do it for..." He sighed and he was weakening. "I don't know. I don't know anymore and I don't care. I'm going to a happier place: the place where all of us go, and I don't mean heaven."

A cold feeling pulsed through Edyta's midsection. "Go in peace, then," she replied weakly.

"Oh, I will," he rasped. The blood had spread all around him, but it was clovers and wildflowers now, on the green, green grass. "One... last... thing," he grated.

"What is it?" She hung onto his dying words: he who had tried to kill her; she who had killed him.

"Juulet," he choked out. "Beware. Juulet." Then, he was gone and she sat alone in the world that he had built - the world that would disappear once she left it.

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Harold's Academy for the Magically Inclined

Beautiful worldbuilding, I have to say! That art has a unity of design that's just... *chef's kiss*.

The Hourglass Order

Merciless Sun: Pt. 1

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It was one of those late Dorrad days in Tantiac, where it had not rained for nearly a month. The rasping hum of cicadas cut through the devilish heat and the sun floated high and imperious in the sky, nary a cloud in sight. Two small girls made their way through a sea of golden grass, their dark-haired heads bobbing up and down, occasionally pausing to enjoy a gentle breeze that sent ripples through it.

This far from Yandreluul proper, the fields were always overgrown, the ever-encroaching forest looming in the distance, dark and green and threatening. The second, smaller girl spared wary looks at it and made an effort to catch up with the first. "Is it very much farther?" she needled, but her older peer ignored her. Rising from the artificial grassland came the great mushroom-shaped Carpex Trees, molded over centuries to suit the needs of the yasoi who occupied them. Their branches groaned softly and leaves swayed in their upper reaches. Great pools of shadow - oases from the heat - spread outwards from each and tiny figures moved among houses, shops, and rope bridges. The girls were currently in the no-man's land between two of the trees - Loireth and Wendreth - pushing their way through chest-height reeds and detouring around the occasional patch of brambles.

Miret was the name of the younger, and she began to fall precipitously off the pace now. "Tyrel," she gasped, "slow down, please." The first of the two had been enjoying her time in the lead, for she was almost always the one lagging behind. She came to a stop, leaning languidly for a moment on a pair of forearm crutches, and turned. She arched an eyebrow. "What's wrong, Miret? We're almost there. Come on."

"I dunno," she replied in a whiny voice. "I'm tired and you're going too fast." She still hadn't caught up.

"Oh for the love of Oirase, you have two legs, suunei. You should be twice as fast as me." She rested the stump of her right on a crutch handle and waited impatiently.

"You have magic," Miret responded resentfully, panting as she reached her suunei. In truth, they were cousins, but their mothers had been twins, as had their fathers. Tyrel was wilting in the heat as well, to be honest, and it had made her a bit snappy. She forced some calm upon herself. "So do you now, remember? You have to get used to using it."

The younger girl met her eyes, ashamed. "I... know, but I'm not good with it like you are." Unspoken between them were the changes since last year, since Tyrel had been named the living avatar of the goddess Vyshta. There'd been a self-assuredness to her, an assertiveness, and Miret had increasingly felt like her grander cousin's shadow.

"You will be, I promise." She grabbed hold of her crutches again and took a step toward her counterpart. "It's only been like a few weeks." She tried a reassuring smile. "But for now, it's Exi's butt hot. Let's just make a run for Wendreth, huh?" She started moving, boosting her body with magic. "Think you got it in you?"

Miret nodded bravely "I'll try, she mewed, trying to convince herself she could do it. This was weird, though. Tyrel was right. She had never been a fast walker, not since she'd lost her leg years ago. It was always Miret out in front having to wait up for her, maybe less so since the older cousin had gotten her magic and the younger hadn't yet, but still...Come on, Miret. You can do it. Just get there. She felt dizzy, though, and heavy, like her arms and legs weighed twice as much as they should. Her skin burned like it was being slowly cooked and her eyes constantly watered. She blinked away the sensory-numbing glare and squinted. Tyrel was already dashing out ahead gamely, head bobbing in the grassy near distance. Sick, the girl thought, I have to be sick, unless this is just a normal part of getting magic.

Wendreth

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She barely made it, and the shade was the most blessed thing. All but collapsing, she lay there in the cool dark pool around Wendreth, the grass shorter and well-traveled and tickling the back of her neck. She looked up at the great green branches and the people traveling about the enormous home-tree. The scents of smoke and animals and pollen reached her nose and she breathed. Then, there was the distinctive click-thump of Tyrel's footsteps interrupting the songs of the dowsingjays and the faint sound of voices up above. She turned her head lazily to watch.

Her cousin sat down beside her and pulled a pair of water bottles from her satchel. "Here. Drink. You look like death." She thrust one into Miret's face and the girl pulled herself into a sitting position, taking it and offering a quick "qitoip." They sat there for the next half-minute, drinking in silence, the water rolling greedily down the younger one's throat. "How you feeling now?" Tyrel prodded, concern evident on her face and appreciated by Miret. She paused to think and do an inventory. "Actually," she admitted, "I'm fine." It was weird. "I feel a hundred percent back to normal." She blinked a couple of times. Her eyes were better too. There was a perfunctory smile of support from her cousin. "Good," Tyrel chirped. She grinned conspiratorially. "Thennn... maybe we can still try to make it to Mixto's? We almost never get out to Wendreth and I really want one of those Juuvet-style paint kits. You do too, right?"

That was classic Tyrel: always asking leading questions, getting you to agree with her so you didn't have to say no or look rude. Miret supposed that she did kind of want one of those paint kits, though. They had colours you couldn't get in Tarlon and only Velanii had one so far. Everyone would be jealous. She nodded. "Yeah, 'course I want one." She sniffed and blinked again, rising to her feet. "Let's go, I guess."

Tyrel rose beside her, awkwardly grasping her near-empty bottle and a crutch handle at once. Without asking, Miret relieved her of the former and she made a little noise of thanks. The younger girl didn't really think about it much, but it must've been annoying to never have your hands free when you walked. Walk, they did: halfway around the home-tree to where the pulleys were. There was a short lineup and they could always have just climbed one of the ladders or staircases, but Tyrel was slow on those and the pulleys were fun, so they waited. "Hey, suunei..."

Tyrel twisted to regard her as they moved up a spot. "Mhm?"

"This might be a dumb question, but... She trailed off for some reason, waiting for reassurance, maybe?

"Well, just ask it and we'll know." The older girl rolled her eyes.

Nobody had ever mentioned feeling sick or weird when you first got magic, but Miret's parents were back in Saliac for most of Dorrad and maybe it was something like when you got your first monthly blood that only your mom was supposed to talk to you about. The pause lengthened and they moved up again. Tyrel regarded her expectantly. "Doyougetsickwhenyougetyourfirstmagic?" It came out all at once, and Miret could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. There was no hiding it either. She'd always been pale as a ghost.

Her older cousin seemed taken by surprise. She blinked, fingernails tinkling against the glass of her water bottle as they drummed on it. Then, she shook her head. "Didn't happen to me," she admitted, "though maybe it's different for everyone?" She paused and turned the bottle upside down, draining the last bit of water. "Are you like... feeling sick?"

Miret shrugged awkwardly. "I dunno," she responded, as Tyrel took her empty bottle and shoved it into the satchel with her own. "Like maybe not sick, exactly. I'm just always hungry, but not like 'food hungry', and I feel heavy."

They were next, and the older girl furrowed her brow. "I'll be honest, that's kinda weird." She looked concerned, almost like an adult though, really they were only a tiny bit less than a year apart in age: Tyrel born at the start of the year in bleak, snowy Hundrii, her name meaning 'snow', and Miret at the very end in cool, rainy Somnes, with its dead brown leaves and cloudy skies. "Maybe, when we're done, we can go to the library in Qaloreth and see if there's anything about it?" She smiled reassuringly. "Maybe you have some weird rare mana type that just grows differently."

Then, one pulley was open and, moments later, the one beside it. A weird rare mana type, thought Miret, mind racing as to what it could be. Nobody was as special as Tyrel, of course, but maybe she could be a little bit special too. She smiled and her cousin smiled back as they stepped onto the little wooden rings at the bases of the twin ropes. "Niico," counted the elder, "lan... yr...PEN!" Both released the catch at the same time and the laughed and hollered as they picked up speed, the wind rushing past their faces, hair a pair of long dark streamers behind them. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pulley ride slowed. The landing platform drew near and they came to a stop, giggling. Miret, perhaps a shade heavier, got there first, and jumped off, Tyrel joining her a moment later. "'Least you beat me at something today," she teased, and the younger girl rolled her eyes.

The two of them made their way to the shoppe and spent the solid next hour trying out all of the various body paint colours, tetsoi stencils, oils, sashes, and hats. There were tiims'archa in dozens of bright colours and little Imiis sloths in cages. Various rare finds from across the world filled the locked display cases and lined the walls behind the counter. Mr. Mixto sat there reading his weekly newsletter, smoke curling softly from the pipe clenched between his lips as dozens of mostly preteen and teenaged girls as well a good smattering of similarly-aged boys fluttered about.

Then, they were done, glow-in-the-dark paint kits secured in Tyrel's now-bulging satchel for the price of ten colacs each. They rode the pulleys down again, running into Chad'amis on the way, who definitely wasn't headed to Mixto's. For some reason, Tyrel talked extra loudly about how cool her new paint kit was when he was close, and she stopped to say hi to him, smiling and rocking back and forth from the ball to the heel of her foot.

Finally, they were back on the ground and edging towards the line where shadow gave way to sunlight. It was into the afternoon now and even hotter, were that possible. The distant trees of the Writhing Wood creaked and moaned as they batted each other's branches away and, presently, a small troop of monkeys peered out from the gloom at their strange bipedal relatives beyond. "Ready, suunei?"

Miret looked out at the vast dry expanse with apprehension. Wendreth was so far from everything else. The only reason anyone came out there was for Mixto's. They'd have to go through Loireth, Exuureth, and either Gaireth or home - Angreth - to get to Qaloreth. Whatever her hesitations, she did not want to be the one slowing them down, so the younger girl nodded. "Ready."

Merciless Sun: Pt. 2

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The two of them took off, Miret in the lead as usual, wordlessly deciding to just make a run for it and sprint from one oasis of shade to the next. She made it about halfway there before Tyrel passed her. It was all a blur, faint and indistinct. Her head grew heavy, her breath sluggish, and her world swayed. The sun felt like it was peeling her skin back. It hurt and, involuntarily, Miret let out a little whimper. Up ahead, panting slightly, her cousin slowed and turned about, concern in her eyes this time instead of annoyance. She waited for her younger partner to catch up and smiled supportively. "Don't worry," she offered, "We don't have to run. We're almost there anyways." It was a bit of a lie, but not a bad one, and they slogged through the remaining distance until they'd once again reached the shade and blessedly - finally - Miret could feel like her skin hadn't been set on fire.

Tyrel, even with her missing leg and the extra weight of the satchel, seemed tired in only a normal way. The younger girl's stomach began to curl in on itself, though. This wasn't a problem that was going away, and now she felt the hunger again. "Hey," she tried, by way of distraction, "You wanna get something to eat? I'm super hungry." if they pooled funds, they'd have enough for a buudvuud and maybe one of those yanii-style ones with crushed tomatoes.

Tyrel pursed her lips and glanced up at the sun, which was low enough in the sky to be seen from beneath Loireth's canopy now. She shook her head. "I could eat too, but if we stop, we won't make it to Qaroleth on time." She paused. "Is it like... real hunger or that weird not-food hunger you mentioned?"

Miret glanced up at her guiltily and shrugged. "More like the second, I guess, but I'm actually hungry too."

"Suunei, I think we should get to the library. I wanna find out what mana type you have. I'm so sure that's it."

Glumly, Miret nodded and went along with her cousin like she always did. They made for Exuureth and it was at least a bit easier because there were actual trails leading there and other people. Miret burned, though, and her head pounded. Tyrel offered her satchel as something to hold up and protect her from the sun, but the younger girl could barely put one foot in front of the other. As soon as she reached the shade, she collapsed, the burning gradually fading. "I think I'm sick. It's some kind of fever. I have to be sick."

They took a long break before continuing and the shadows lengthened further. Miret could hear her cousin's stomach rumble, but she said nothing. The distance to Gaireth was shorter, but Angreth was... "I don't think I can do it," Miret finally admitted, expecting an exasperated look or some skin-deep encouragement that tried to cover up frustration. There was a long pause where she saw only Tyrel's back. Then, with a sigh, the one-legged girl turned. "It's okay, suunei. You've been really brave." She patted the paints in her satchel. "Think you can make it home with these? You can take your time."

Miret was already feeling somewhat better, having been in the shade, and she nodded tentatively. "I think, the longer a break I take, the better it is." Tyrel nodded back. "Good. Then we'll walk together to Angreth and you go up. I'll continue to Qaroleth and see if I can make it just on time. If they try to tell me no, I'll just be like, 'The Avatar of Vyshta demands it!' or something." She grinned mischievously and Miret so wished that she was going with her. For a moment, anxiety seized the smaller girl. What if this was a regular thing? What if it got worse and she couldn't do stuff with Tyrel anymore, or Velanii, Amiret, Chesuun, or Chad? Her heart began to beat faster with anxiety, but then Tyrel was moving and she had to follow.

She wilted two thirds of the way there and slumped to the ground. Her cousin hovered about, worried and encouraging. She pulled Miret to her feet, but the nine-year-old was in a full-blown panic now. "Okay, hop on my back. I'll piggyback you," offered the ten-year-old. Miret was on fire. Tears were trickling down her cheeks now. Still, she regarded her cousin dubiously. "You have one leg."

"I have magic. Now get on!"

Miret did as she was told and they even made it to the edge of the shade before a single incautious step caused it to all come crashing down. The younger of the two hit the dirt, just barely breaking her fall with her hands. The older one scraped her knee and rolled into a sitting position, letting out a hiss of pain and annoyance. "Suunei, are you okay!?" Miret exclaimed, crawling under the edge of the shade. "I told you it was a bad idea."

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tyrel reached down and wiped some blood away with a fingertip. There was a long, deep red stream, trickling down her leg and Miret found herself fixated by it. It looked so much like wine, or like tomato soup, or the colour of an apple's skin. It was warm, she knew. She knew the taste, too. The feeling in her stomach grew. The faintness from the sun receded. "I'm fine." Tyrel was watching her, a strange look on her face. Miret blinked and collected herself, stealing one last glance at the wound as her cousin grabbed a handful of grass and dabbed it away. "Okay," she replied belatedly, "If you say so."

"I've had way worse." Tyrel was fishing around in her bag, and out came the paint kits and bottles. The smaller girl stared at them dumbly for a moment. "Rest a little if you need. Then get home." She heaved herself to her foot, sparing a glance down at her knee, where another little trickle was already starting. "I have to run if I wanna make it there." She was already moving. "Stay safe, suunei!"

Hearth and Home

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The sun was nearly set and crickets chirped in the clearing below Angreth when there was a bustle at the door and the long shadow of Tyrel appeared in its frame. "Tyrel'yrash!" came the admonishment from Aunt Tyrel as the girl set her satchel - heavy with books - down. "What's gotten into you?" Her eyes went to the fresh scab on her daughter's knee.

"I love you too, mom."

Miret tried not to snort in laughter. It was not good to incur her aunt's wrath.

"Tyrel, don't get passive-aggressive with me, okay? I was just worried. It's very late and you said nothing about being gone this long, and Miret said she wasn't feeling well on top of it."

"'M sorry," the younger Tyrel sighed. "I'm fine, mum. Really. I was just at the library."

Aunt Tyrel sighed, walking forward to pick up the satchel. "Your cousin told me, sweetie. You're looking for books on why she's sick?"

Tyrel nodded, flashing Miret a small supportive look. She cast about for Calidan, Derii, and Sendrii, but Miret explained that her older brother was still at the academy and the twins had recently been put to bed. "You feeling any better?" the recent arrival prodded, and it was Miret's turn to nod. "Way better. I just needed to get out of the sun and lie down."

"She's improved a lot," Aunt Tyrel confirmed. "It might've just been heat exhaustion." The cousins glanced at each other, sharing their doubts about that silently, but neither said anything. "Would you like to sit down and have some buudvuud?"

"With tomato?"

"With tomato."

It wasn't warm and gooey anymore, so Miret set it on a pan near the hearth for just long enough for it to regain its texture. Then, she and Tyrel sat there by the fire, as the light faded, and read. After an hour, they were ushered to bed in the turret where they always slept when Miret came over during Dorrads. Lying there in their twin hammocks under the moonlight, rocking silently back and forth, neither girl was able to find much sleep. Before long, a leg dangled from Tyrel's hammock, and then she shimmied across the floor, not risking the inevitable noise of hopping, until she was beside her cousin. "Miret," she whispered, generating a small tongue of flame above her fingertip for light. "You up?"

The younger girl rolled out of the hammock and landed silently in a crouch. "I guess that's one way to answer," remarked Tyrel, and Miret grinned. "Very up," she confirmed.

Tyrel shimmied across the floor to grab a pair of candles. "Wanna read some more?"

Revelation

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Miret was already retrieving the books. It wasn't long before they were sitting cross-legged beside each other, reading by candlelight and moonlight in front of the large window. Then, Tyrel froze. There was a momentary silence that dragged. "Tyrel?"

"So, this book is about Sanguinaires," she said quielty, and a shiver ran through Miret at the word. "I was in a big hurry. I didn't have time to look, so I just took everything they had on weird mana types. I spent my buudvuud money on it."

Miret regarded her steadily.

"Look here." She pointed anxiously to a particular passage and slid it over. It was an old book, handwritten instead of printed by a press, and difficult to read. "Look what it says."

For those born sanguinaires, the onset of their Gift can be a traumatic experience. Most likely, they do not know or even have an inkling of what is coming. It is, therefore, a rude awakening in both literal and figurative terms when they first begin to notice the symptoms of their affliction: firstly, a burning hunger that cannot be satisfied by food; second, an extreme weakness toward the sun, characterized by a prominent burning sensation, heaviness, and notion of glare; Finally, and most tellingly, a fascination with blood, feelings of sudden clarity, focus and power, and a sense of being able to taste it upon sight.

There was more. The book continued, but now Miret's heart was hammering faster. She could feel her pulse in her ears. "No, I'm not a sanguinaire!" she hissed. "They're disgusting. They're monsters and, besides, my mom and dad aren't sanguinaires."

Tyrel regarded her sadly and, with a form of determination both dark and curious, began picking at her scab. Instinctively, Miret's eyes snapped to it. All five of her senses did, in fact, enraptured as a bead of blood built and swelled upon her cousin's knee, held there for a moment, fattening, and then broke, spilling down in a tiny rivulet. The savoury, iron-rich taste: she remembered it well from the dozen or so times she had bit her lip or had a nosebleed. The warmth: she knew it was warm, but already cooling. The - No! She started and forced herself to think of other things.

Tyrel reached down and swabbed the blood up on her fingertip. She held it out to Miret and now there was the taste of tears: salty and warm. "But I don't want it," the younger girl mewed. The older one smiled sadly, shaking her head. "We don't always want what comes our way," she replied, eyes sliding pointedly to the stump that was all that remained of her right leg. "But we have to accept it and, sometimes, it isn't all bad." She regarded her cousin nonjudgmentally.

Every rational, holy thought that Miret had screamed at her: You don't drink blood! That's for monsters and demons and crazy people! You'll go to hell if you do it! Her hand moved of its own accord, bypassing Tyrel's. There was a new bead of blood on the older girl's knee now: fresher and warmer. Miret's finger slid across it and, averting her gaze for the shame as she did so, she lifted that finger to her lips and past them.

It was like someone had lit a bonfire inside the cold, dark room of her being. For a flicker of time, it filled her: new energy, focus, and fullness rushed through the girl's veins. Clawing at their heels, however, came a dark, ravenous hunger. She needed more. Her eyes darted up to Tyrel's and she wiped a second bead of blood from her knee, sucking this, too, off of her finger. Her pulse quickened. Her eyes dilated. Her breathing became heavy. "See?" said her saviour, "You like it, don't you?" Her smile was somewhat unsettled, but a smile nonetheless. "It actually says in the book that you need to -"

Miret bolted forward. It was everything. She needed it. She'd been her whole life without it. She grabbed the older girl's knee roughly and squeezed. "Miret!" Her fingernails dug in and she leaned forward. She needed it! "Miret, oww!!" That was when she felt Tyrel's power. Augmented by magic, her cousin shoved her back with extreme force. Miret lost her balance and fell back, hitting her head on the floor. The pain shook her out of whatever state she'd been in and the world spun for a moment. She could feel a colossal surge of energy as the Avatar of Vyshta rose and hopped back a step. "Are you yourself again?" she called out warningly, and the younger girl could only pull herself up to a sitting position. She took a few breaths and tried not to look at the bleeding knee. "I am, suunei. I am. I'm sorry!" She began crying. "Don't let me see it. I might go crazy again." She continued to avert her eyes. Even the scent of it was too much. "If you can heal it, please!"

Then, there were footsteps on ladder-stairs. Tyrel was healing herself, clumsily but with power to spare. "Come close," she whisper-hissed, and Miret stumbled over, still not looking, trying to shut her senses off. "Grab a book and sit!" The door opened and Aunt Tyrel's head popped in and the girls were caught redhanded in their nightgowns... reading.

Resolution

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It was early morning, two weeks later, and the rains had come. Miret's parents would soon follow and, after what was usually a final fun-filled week as a family, she would return home with them to Saliac. She sat there, under the overhang on the balcony, chin resting on her knees. The sky was a soft grey and a lazy thunderstorm mumbled vague threats of violence from within the predawn clouds. Birds chirped and tittered and water trickled from the support beams to splash against the wooden platform in front of her. For the past ten days, in the throes of her strange illness, she had hidden herself inside, sleeping in a room separate from Tyrel and any of the others so that she did not infect her cousins. Mostly, she had read - though nothing about the 's-word' - painted, and prayed to Damy that she would soon recover from whatever this was. Her stomach had only grown more upset, though, to the point where it was difficult to sleep, and the heaviness had worsened as well.

Into this situation, after nine days of awkward and avoidant coexistence, came the distinctive click-thump of Tyrel and her footsteps. What do you want? She almost mumbled it, but then her cousin was there and she had to avoid looking at her. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Miret from the side and, after flinching at the initial touch, she allowed herself to be hugged. She sat there like that for a good minute or two, just looking out at the rain and feeling Tyrel's arms around her and chest pressed against her side.

"I love you."

Miret turned her head to regard her cousin. That had sounded... apologetic and, for a moment, fear spiked inside of her. "You... you didn't tell them, right!?"

Tyrel pulled back a bit, arms still loosely on her, still kneeling, and shook her head. "You keep my secrets, I keep yours," she promised, "As long as you need me to."

The younger of the two sighed. "Thank you," she rasped. "It's just..." She trailed off and it all came crashing down, really: a flimsy translucent wall of rationalizations and excuses to protect her from an unwanted truth, but Tyrel knew. She'd been there and seen it: Miret had attacked her for her blood and that, she reflected, was the true reason she'd been avoiding her cousin. It meant acknowledging the truth. It meant she couldn't pretend. "I'm sorry for avoiding you."

"I'm sorry for avoiding you. You seemed mad at me and..." Letting her arms fall away, she shrugged. "I didn't wanna make it worse." She sighed off into the humid air. "I know what it's like to have some big change you don't want, you know. Do you remember?" That was a reference to the secret. One dorrad, five years ago, they had wandered into the writhing wood against their parents' wishes and, when Tyrel had been bitten behind the right knee by anklechewers, Miret had kept the secret to avoid tipping them off about the misadventure. The bugs had laid eggs though, and after a week of keeping quiet and Tyrel determinedly suffering in silence, they'd been found out. By then, the infection had spread through most of the leg and it had proved impossible to save. Really, she'd been lucky not to die. "It's different, though." She drew in again. "Having one leg doesn't make you go attacking people you love."

Tyrel shook her head, though. "That's not the point, suunei. I know it's different and you feel like you're bad 'cause of it, but you're still you and there's ways to get what you need without just attacking people. I've been reading more of that book, you know." She pulled it out of her ever-present satchel. "What I'm talking about is that you could die from this, just like I could've until my mom found out. If you keep hiding and pretending it's not real, you'll literally wither away." She hugged her knee to her chest. "But you're my favourite person in the world and I can't just let that happen; you can't." The rims of her eyes were red and she blinked a couple of times. A tear left a track down one of her cheeks and Miret felt sorry, determined, and overwhelmed in rapid succession.

"But how?" she asked, and Tyrel gave her a funny look. "I've been reading up a lot, I told you, and working on my blood magic," she answered cryptically. Miret blinked and tilted her head questioningly, but then her cousin whipped a knife out. The younger girl's eyes widened in alarm, but she was not yet instinctual enough in her magic use to react on time. The blade drew a quick slide across Tyrel's forearm and she grimaced.

Then, there was the blood.

It poured forth from the wound - from her radial and ulnar arteries - it didn't bead or trickle. Something animal took hold of Miret and she dived forward, sucking it up without thinking. "I trust you, suunei," said her cousin through gritted teeth. She winced as Miret bit down, and let out a small squeak of pain. "I trust you to stop and, if you won't, I'll stop you. You can trust me."

The words were hazy, barely heard. There was only the blood: sweet, sweet sustenance that her body craved more than anything. She fed and she fed. She fed on... Tyrel. For a brief, lucid moment, she looked up and into her cousin's pained eyes. How she burned with power and vigor now, though! It chased the guilt away and she felt her true self for... perhaps the first time ever. Her arteries bulged with manas, her senses sharpened. She could feel everything. She could feel the older girl's other hand tapping her. "Miret!" she was calling, "Miret, stop!"

She could listen, but she could also feed. She could drain... anyone like this. They were so weak, she knew then, and so slow compared to her. She could dominate them and have whatever she... Tyrel's grimace reached her. She wanted her cousin - her best friend - with her. Abruptly, Miret's mouth fell away from the wound and Tyrel slumped to the side, catching herself awkwardly with her stump. She blinked and swayed, woozy. "Suunei!?" the smaller girl entreated urgently, but her cousin's eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell evenly. "It's okay," she breathed. "I'm okay. You stopped by yourself."

"Did... did it hurt?" Miret asked hesitantly, avoiding looking at the wound.

"No shit."

The younger girl blushed, but then there was the hum of magic and the elder was busy sealing up the wound. Miret couldn't help but look out of sheer curiosity. "You really did study blood magic."

Tyrel opened one eye, just a crack, and managed a faint, smug smile. The punctures in her flesh filled up and the damaged skin sewed itself shut like a scarf being knitted at impossible speed. It was fresh and pinkish, but it was healed. the older girl rolled her wrist experimentally a few times, then, testing it out, and managed a tired smile. "You did it, Miret." She nodded encouragingly and began to reach for her crutches, but stopped and caught herself on her hands.

Miret watched. "You're not okay," she observed, and Tyrel wobbled a hand. "Kinda. The cut's healed, but it takes a while for the blood to come back. Manas too, though I've got those to spare."

She tried again to get up, but she didn't have the strength. "Shit, suunei, don't drink so much next time, haha. Save a bit for me, huh?" It had been a close-run thing, but Miret had done it. Even with that much built-up hunger, she had stopped of her own accord. Next time, she would stop earlier. There would be a next time, because there needed to be and because Tyrel was offering. She threw her arms around her cousin then. "Thank you, suunei. Thank you." She squeezed tightly and could feel the older girl tense up in pain. "That's the super strength," she grated, and Miret quickly released her. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I love you." Tyrel hugged weakly back. "I love you too."

Then, unbidden, she simply picked her cousin up, because she knew that she could. It was easy. She probably could've lifted and carried twice her weight, to be honest. "Miret, you don't have to -"

"You gave me so much. Lemme give you something back." She set Tyrel down on the bed and brought her crutches over as she tucked herself in. They smiled tiredly at each other. "Thank you again."

The older one nodded, snuggling in under the blankets. "Now," she yawned, "Sleep."

It was Miret's turn to nod, but she added an addendum. "I will, but first, I have to do something."

Tyrel was too exhausted to answer. She was out within a minute or two. Quietly, Miret made her way back to the balcony. Focusing on the rain with her magic, she hit it, pulled it, bent it - whatever - towards her and the spot where she'd been kneeling while she'd drunk her cousin's blood. It was sloppy and sophomoric, but she managed and cleaned up after herself. Magic was hers: a different magic than she'd ever expected or wanted, but magic nonetheless. She looked out at the rainy landscape as the sun began to crest the distant hills, hidden behind a veil of grey clouds. She was Miret'dichora. She was a sanguinaire.

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The Hourglass Order

Early consensus seems to be for more forum activity so, on that note, I'm going to ask people to please get their posts from this most recent cycle up on the forum before I post the next update. I'll be looking to restore a proper forum back-and-forth.

The Hourglass Order

So, I'm noticing that we've been doing a lot on discord lately and not too much on the forum aside from updates. I'd like to know how people feel about this: should we keep going this route in the future mostly with GM and Co-GM posts, or try to move more things back to the forum?

The Hourglass Order

@PirouettePending a quick fix of the few small typo quibbles that I mentioned on discord, Pan is approved!

The Hourglass Order

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E N E M Y A T T H E G A T E S || ♫

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Present: Ayla Arslan @Ti, Evander Fino Synesti @RezonanceV, Tku Pictor @dragonpiece, Fiske Flachstrauch @jasbraq, and Zarina Al-Nader @YummyYummy, Desmond Catulus @Th3King0fChaos

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It was cooler in the wake of the sandstorm but, as morning had swelled to midday, midday was now fading towards evening. Tku was out in the wastes, tending to the folded-up dewsails with Zox. For the most part, all that was needed was ample cleaning and some careful resetting of a few of the spouts on the cacti. A handful of snapped spars were easily dealt with, and repairs to the sails themselves minimal. “Thank you for the assistance,” the big construct rumbled. “It’s usually Samaxi who does the elevated things, being so small and light…” He trailed off. “But town’s taking longer than usual, I guess.” His rocky shoulders shrugged.

In the distance lurked the kite tusker that Tku had encountered earlier, not attempting much in the way of flight anymore as thermals fell in the late afternoon. It had been sneaking about the fringes of the sweetwater farm the entire day and been shooed off of a sail once earlier. “Away!” shouted Zox now, rising to his full height and squaring up towards it. “INTRUDER! INTRUDER!” His entire demeanour seemed to change and he charged towards the alarmed creature.

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For a moment, the clearing before the wall went utterly still. Distant sounds could be heard. The slow and muddy river still flowed. Insects hummed in the air and a second hum - that of magic - was in evidence as well. Eyes turned to the king. Some foreign guest who would not acknowledge his rule: this was something spicy, for the cazenax were not stupid. They knew a challenge when they saw one, no matter the pretty words it was wrapped in. This… human was publicly demanding that Stazen justify his rule before he would bow, not that these people viewed the act of doing so in the same light.

The pause stretched like lengthening shadows in the afternoon heat. Eyes flicked about to accompany it and hands to swat at the ever-present flies. Sneakily, the boy known as Potés-Palix squeezed through a sea of legs and waists until he was near the very front, a mere handful of feet from the king. Then… “Hah!” The silence broke. “Aha! Haha!” It was Stazen himself laughing. He released Fiske’s hand and bowed his head and shoulders quickly in the direction of Desmond and Marceline, arms flourishing out to his sides. “And you believe the job of educating you, making up for your self-professed ignorance is one fit for a king?” He arched a brow as he straightened and seemed to be holding back some further degree of mirth. “Especially at this moment? Do you not see that I am currently in the midst of reassuring my beloved people following the calamity of a sandstorm?” He turned on the spot, gesturing to take them in, and Potés-Palix gazed up at him with reverence in his eyes. “Your party is now both late and rude.” He tilted his head and grinned almost… wickedly, eyes flicking over to Cazelui, who had still not budged from her spot atop the trapdoor. “I shall forgive one.”

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Old man Jascuan leaned back, seeming to consider Ayla’s and Zarina’s words. He took a sip of his drink, hand trembling slightly as he did so, and let out a low, rueful chuckle. “Oh, there is a cost, alright.” He set it back on the end table. “But it is a very human thing, I think, to assume that one must exchange a concrete thing for another.” He shook his head. “The cost of the Vozas is unpredictability.” At quizzical looks from Classa and his guests, he continued, though he had - of course - not seen them in the literal sense.

“The Vozas manifests that which you desire, bringing it forth from the darkness beyond reality and into the light. It is free, it asks nothing, and it is bountiful, but it is not… easy.” He shook his head. “One must control his mind with absolute purpose and precision. One mistake, and what is produced is often useless.” He pursed his lips and then licked them briefly. “Our people abhor waste or, at least, we used to.” He shook his head again, and Naxos hopped nervously from one foot to the other. Classa sat on the ground and hugged herself, large brown eyes searching the faces of the others present. “But the waste is something that we can live with, and we often find uses for the seemingly useless. No, lapses can be more than inconveniences. Sometimes, one who allows his heart to be coloured by dark feelings can bring forth the physical manifestations of these from the Vozas. It does not judge. It only produces.” He tilted his wizened head to the side and knit his fingers. “Even beings that may seem useful or ones not meant to be alive that know life nonetheless may become dangerous. They may turn on you.” He gestured towards Naxos, as the imp translated. “This one, for example, derives pleasure from the work that I give him and feels only loyalty and regard for me so long as I am not cruel.”

The eyes of both young women flicked over to Naxos, then, studying his face carefully, and he seemed… pensive for a moment. “But had there been a flaw in his creation, he might’ve known suffering and dissatisfaction with his existence. It would not have been good for him or I. He’d have fled or turned on me at some juncture.” Jascuan reached out blindly to rest a fond hand on his… slave’s shoulder. “Some demons try to run, Classa added solemnly. “Others even try to hurt their masters,” She shook her head. “They’re bad demons.”

The old man pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “There are bad masters too, though.”

“But not you!” Classa insisted, scrambling to her feet, “And I’d never run away!

“Come here, little one.” He waved her over and she settled onto the couch beside him. He reached out blindly with one arm and hugged the child.She leaned into him and returned the embrace. “Make no mistake. There are vile things that come from the Vozas, just as there are wondrous ones, but they are so often the product of vile people, or at least careless ones who have no business calling upon such powers.”

“There’s a whole big system of traps!” Classa cut in. “And a maze that every cazenax learns when they’re small.” She regarded Jascuan hopefully, then, for just a moment, before sliding off the couch and clattering across the floor with excess noise and restless energy, or perhaps it was something more. She shot a concerned look back his way, and Naxos followed suit.

The old man sighed, heaving himself from the sofa. “But sometimes, there are accidents.” His face closed up and he grabbed his cane and began shuffling away. “I think our dessert should be very near finished. I shall go check on it, and Maxi should be home soon anyhow.”

Classa and Naxos glanced at each other, but the girl excused herself outside awkwardly, galloping away with the sort of energy one would only expect from a child of her age. It was the imp who spoke up, once both she and Jascuan were gone. “He used to have another son: Zanomo-Cazan, Maxi’s twin, but…” He grimaced. “They were playing a stupid game and a demon went rogue and they tried losing it in the traps and…” He trailed off for a moment. “I wasn’t there, and neither was Zox. Maxi tried to save him, but she, um…” He hung his head. “Good, stupid, brave girl.”

The imp looked up, opening his mouth to continue, but then a ringing interrupted him: a loud, persistent ringing. His eyes widened almost comically. “They’re coming!” he shouted, dashing for the kitchen. “That’s the perimeter alarm!” They were bells on little strings and it was unclear as to exactly how they functioned. “Master Jascuan! Are you alright!? We need to lock down!”

The old man shouted back in his native tongue and neither Zarina or Ayla could understand him, but there was one word that they recognized: “Classa!” The girl was still outside, along with Zox and Tku.

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Zox was on the warpath, barreling towards the Kite Tusker, brimming with energy and fury, and the animal scrambled to make its escape. It seemed to Tku a fool’s errand to try talking such a mighty creation down from what appeared to be the singular purpose of its existence, much as he did not want to see the adorable little pest come to any harm. That, however, was when he noticed a small dust trail coming from the direction of the ranch house and, straining his eyes, he deduced that it was none other than Classa, excitedly making her way over. Her tiny voice began to echo faintly as she closed in on his sensing range. “Zox!” she shouted. “Zox, you big dummy! Stop! It’s cute!”

To both the centaur’s and Tku’s surprise, he did stop, grinding to a very sudden halt, his crudely-featured ‘face’ pointed in a very specific direction. When Tku inquired as to what he was so focused on, and Classa echoed his questions, drawing nearer, the huge construct held up a hand for silence. In the distance, on the horizon, there was a glimmer. Then, there were a few. “Zox, what is it?” the child inquired with soft wonder, as dust trails began to form. The rapidly cooling air was whipping up winds, once again, and the Kite Tusker had taken off and begun to drift away. Square and triangular shapes began cutting holes out of the sky on the horizon, and they were quickly growing larger.

“Raiders!” Zox roared, drawing copious amounts of energy from his surroundings - enough to start inducing a queasiness in the stomachs of the other two. He grew not only in energy, but in size as well, as stones hidden beneath the sands shot up towards him and became part of his increasingly massive body. For all of his unassuming nature, Zox was built for war and appeared able to call upon titanic strength. “RUN!!!”

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It was at that very moment, as this situation was just about ready to devolve into a disaster, that Fiske noticed it: Cazelui and the boy with no legs made eye contact. It was for the briefest moment but it was a meaningful one. The sirrahi seemed to nod with her eyes and the boy was bumped from behind. He sprawled out loudly and dramatically at the king’s feet, impossible to ignore. “Owww!” he yelped, casting about suspiciously. “Who kicked me!? Someone…” He trailed off as he noticed just how close he was to Stazen, swallowing and shuffling back on his hands. “Y-your majesty…” He bowed deeply, and the king bowed in return, though less deeply. The boy swallowed. He reached into his satchel and three plain-clothed guards started forward, revealing themselves. “Please, take some sweetwater, compliments of the Shimmering Sails Sweetwater Stead, or 4S.” Thrusting it out before him with both hands, he kept his head bowed and expression even, as the guards relaxed and faded back into the crowd. He could all but physically feel the king’s eyes boring into him.

Stazen snorted. “Well then, it seems today is to be a day full of surprises.” Accepting the offering, he was about to hand it to one of his guards to test, now that they’d been outed anyhow. Instead, his eyes found Cazelui once again. “You, stuzé, forgive me, for I do not know your name.” The young woman visibly paled. “Uh, umm.. Cazelui, your majesty.” She bowed deeply again as he held the bottle out in her direction. “You honour this humble servant.” The people in the crowd seemed riveted, and murmurs rose excitedly. “Here, Cazelui. It looks like you’ve been working long and hard. Have this drink and do tell me how it tastes.”

His smiling eyes flicked back to Potés-Palix for a split second and the sirrahi was frozen on the spot. To move would be to betray the location of the trap door, which was normally covered in sand and only attended to by the stuzéts anyhow. She was not one of the rebels, in truth. She was a loyal subject who believed in the king’s vision. She was also a stuzé-upé, and it was no simple thing to turn upon her people, even the misguided ones. She had also willingly placed herself on the door and was well aware of how it would look should she move and reveal it. Hence, Cazelui could not budge. A stillness built. A silence built. The eyes of a finely-attired older woman who stood beside the king narrowed and he tilted his head inquisitively. “Is something wrong, Cazelui?” asked the woman. Her gaze settled upon the four humans as well. Quietly, below everyone’s eye level, Potés-Palix shuffled back into the crowd.

O R I F L A M M E

Just a note on this RPG. It ended up moving to discord and has since run its course there. I may write up an afterword for it here in the near future.

The Hourglass Order

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♫

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Present: Yalen Castel @pantothenic, Valerian Remi Leclere @yoshua171, Maura Mercador @Ti, Trypano Somia @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid Penderson @dragonpiece, Niallus Saberhagen @McKennaJ71, and Abdel Varga @YummyYummy

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Bailong Shan had become a can of worms for those who had braved it and, as afternoon took hold, the four biros found themselves in difficult or intriguing situations of varying composition. While Ingrid was faced with an immediate and sticky conundrum, Rikard was set upon by a colossal and aggressive mana slime, hard-pressed to hold it off. While Vel and Niallus rushed towards each other and a trio of guards locked in a feud with a mysterious giant, it was perhaps Ingrid whose exploration held the most potential promise and danger as she approached the much-adorned entrance to a sacred cave

Whatever curiosity the bloodchild had felt about the floating stone with the blue aura, she had placed it aside in favour of the shrine in the cavern and the colossal energy beyond. It seemed… diffused over the entire mountain, as if the ground itself was living, though that could not necessarily be so… or could it? Perhaps, inside, lay the answers to some of her deeper questions.

Sweeping carefully for energies, she struggled to pick them out with her preferred precision, such was the overwhelming nature of the energy of this place. It was thermal, potential, chemical, magnetic, and even subtly kinetic. Yet, with a redoubled application of focus, she could pick out the burning of the torches on the wall and the incense on sticks. There was… a human shape inside and she entered, full of drawn energy and ready to retreat should it prove warranted.

Words wrote themselves into her mind from without. “You are here to solve a mystery, are you not?” The chamber that she entered was not a natural cave, even if it had perhaps been so once upon a time, and it was vast, the ceiling disappearing into dusky murk, supported with towering pillars of crystalline rock. “The mana jellies used to kill those men were gathered upon this mountain. I assisted in that measure so that a misguided friend might remove himself from a contest he has no business being in. Soon, I believe, my efforts shall remove a second as well. Magic flows through nearly all things in Retan and animates them in ways that these people do not understand - in ways that the current regime does not understand. The twins and their bloodsucking ilk stifle the people’s birthright to be connected to this great web of magic, to use it, to experiment, be curious, and grow.”

She could sense an enormous serpentine form in the depths and, given the name of this place, what the three boys who’d gone on an adventure last night had related to her in the morning, and occam’s razor, it was not a stretch for Trypano to posit that it was the Great White Dragon of Bailong Shan speaking with her. Only… that would support the existence of sentient dragons. “Crows circle their imperium. Oh, they have various names: the Traveler, the emperor of Nikan, Hui, but all have a common goal of toppling the regime and establishing their own new order, but I say now that there is an ancient order to this place, and it should be restored.”

There was a sudden flash of energy and the human shape she had detected earlier stepped from the shadows and resolved itself into that of Wu Long. “And come now: you know me.”

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If, indeed, Trypano did, then there were two members of the group who definitively did not know that they were getting into. These were Niallus and the newly and secretly arrived Valerian, who were hard pressed just to recognize each other. Both sped towards the small but ferocious conflagration between three humans in the livery of patrolmen and… some sort of giant. The former were quite noisy, shouting in coordination and alarm alike as they tried to surround the latter, who was eerily silent, but for the sounds of heavy breathing and exertion.

It was the speed, though, in particular, that was impressive. The giant both reacted and moved with startling grace, repeatedly dodging, cutting off, and countering repeated attacks that held clear deadly intent. Niallus closed in, hoping to learn more before engaging. Vel raced forward, already preparing his solution. The giant and the humans noticed them at around the same time, each radiating fear, but the humans clearly panicked to an alarming degree. Then, something strange happened: Images. Images and… scenes played themselves rapidly through the minds of both young men, imposed from without.

They were somewhere far up north, on the open tundra. There was a large tent of skin and bone, a woman of the giant’s species, and three children as well. There was a meeting at a large stone temple, hidden in a great valley by the sea. Dozens of giants - Ogauraq - were there. The air filled with pictures and images above them: the twin emperors, great cities, a sanguinaire from the east, a traveling man, armies coming and butchering their people, and finally, a great dragon, calling them. There were more of these thought-pictures: tallies of food and resources, quick, scratchy writing in an unknown language, families. Finally, dozens of thought-images floated in the air that matched the giant that stood before Niallus and Vel, fighting for his life.

Then, the scene ended. A montage of travels took over the boys’ minds: oddly-designed campfires by night, hunting and foraging, climbing mountains and crossing plains, wary encounters with humans and avoidance of roads, fish stolen from a boat hauled ashore and a gift of mammoth ivory as recompense. A view of the great road leading to Wanggang from somewhere elevated and distant, a sighting of Bailong Shan, and the scene of the soaring dragon from the night before.

It concluded with the giant standing before the dragon in the same cave shrine where Vel had stood a couple of hours earlier, and they knew his name as ‘Blue Warmth’. The patrolmen were in a panic, though. “你们这些外国人，帮帮我们吧!” (You, foreigners, help us!) one shouted desperately. “它会吃掉我们!” (It’s going to eat us!) added another.

Whatever might’ve happened next, however, was interrupted by what did happen. From far away, sounded a gigantic crackling BOOM and streaks of lightning split open the sky somewhere on the far side. Guards and Ogauraq alike turned, momentarily distracted, to witness the event, and all four were left wide open.

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Ingrid, too, had been left wide open, in a sense. Rocks had fallen and people had not died. Normally, this would be cause for celebration, but it was Yin who had stopped the calamity and not Captain Zhu, who was clutching a bluish crystal and glancing warily at his surroundings and, in particular, the two women who had accompanied him.

The innkeeper’s redirection of the boulder had been clumsy, narrowly avoiding another group who’d dove for the ground and nearly been hit. A dozen eyes were on her now and, by extension, on Captain Zhu. Then, came the shouts:

“她有权使用魔法吗?” (Is she authorized to use magic?)
“你在那里看到我们了吗!?” (Did you even see us there!?)
“你差点杀了我们!” (You almost killed us!)
“她不是监护人!” (She isn’t a Guardian!)

For the first time that Ingrid had ever seen, the normally-decisive Zhu Kai seemed frozen. He opened his mouth to speak, but then there came another, more vicious shout. “巫婆！巫婆！她使用魔法!” (Witch! Witch! She uses magic!)
“做点什么，船长!” (Do something, captain!)
“或者你，外国人!” (Or you, foreigner!)

Yin stumbled a step back, stammering for an answer. “我 - 我这么做是为了救她。对不起!” (I - I did it to save her. I’m sorry!)

_{OOC Note: From this point onwards, dialogue will be auto-translated.}

Captain Zhu turned towards Yin, face full of regret. “You should not have used it, Yin. I could’ve handled things.”

Yin shook her head regretfully. “You were distracted. You could not have.”

Then there was a wail: “She admits it! Do your job and arrest her, Captain!” A middle-aged woman pointed an accusatory finger at Yin. “My husband was killed by someone like her: someone who didn’t obey the rules! Who thought she could use magic! They are a menace to everyone." She seemed genuinely shaken and scared. There were tears at the corner of her eyes.

“But she has harmed nobody,” protested a man in the crowd.
“She saved the foreign girl! added another.
“Oh, today she gets to play hero, but how about next time when she goes messing with magic again and it doesn’t go so well? If that rock had landed two feet to the side, at least two of us would be dead.”
“She won’t be punished,” said the angry woman bitterly. “Look at those bright eyes and full lips. She is a favourite of the Captain. Those people never have to follow the rules and the rest of us suffer for it.”
“Those rules exist for a reason,” added another in agreement.
The blue crystalline ‘slime’ in Zhu Kai’s hands began to crackle and he took a few deep breaths. He looked to Ingrid and settled his face, turning to address the small mob. He seemed to have decided what to say.

It was at that moment that the heavens tore themselves open and the mountain fell.

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Rikard’s search went well, at first. He picked up a couple of the strange mana slimes, eager to figure out what made them tick when he had a moment later, or maybe he could just sell them. Money regularly seemed to be in short supply. Employing a simple arcane spell, he warmed himself as he walked. The sun shone down, sparkling off of the snow and a gentle breeze carried the sounds of distant excavation and conversation his way. Still, he continued higher, here at the roof of the world and felt on top of it, in a sense. Perhaps he would get lucky. Perhaps he would see the dragon up close. It was said that the great arrows of Retan and Nikan were among the most intelligent of all creatures, and the boy’s constant curiosity drove his desire to find out for himself.

It was around an hour into his search of the seam where part of the glacier had broken loose that he noticed the large crevasse and the substantial reddish glow pouring forth from it. He could not help himself. He slinked up and peered inside and an enormous… slime-beast, the size of a small elephant, hurled itself at him.

It was all that Rikard could do to avoid the attack. He pulled from its momentum and pushed himself free, rising into the air, but it lashed at him with shapeless tendrils and he felt himself being reeled in towards it. He beheld its horror maw. The massive jelly was filled with bones and weapons and scraps in various states of decay, but what stood out most was the crown at its heart: pristine, as if it somehow… understood the power that it had as a symbol. A Slime King, he wondered, but then he needed to avoid death. He surrounded himself with an inferno and it flinched and withered.

Then, there were explosions as it hurled bits of itself and he was hard-pressed to deflect them all. A tendril smacked him from the air and pounded him into the mountainside and the boy could feel two of his ribs snap. He bit back a scream as the monstrosity advanced. He hit it with a thunderbolt, and again, but it seemed to just absorb the attacks with little pause. Panic began to set in. He was going to die here! At a mad scramble, he took off from the mountainside in full flight, drawing and expelling energy with everything that the Gods had given him.

A gargantuan undulating wail escaped the Slime King and he clutched at his head, temples pounding and vision swimming. Finding the wherewithal to remember his sonic magic lessons, he twisted the sonic waves to be anything but what they were and, in a stroke of sudden inspiration, turned them on the slime.

Nothing happened. Eshiran help me! A tentacle reached up and grabbed him and Rikard was a doll being tossed about and drawn into its vast yawning maw. His parents, his friends, his family, the sight of the dragon from last night. They all appeared in his mind’s eye. No! Not yet! Not like this! Fuck you, you terrifying piece of shit. If I go down, you’re going with me. Waves of fear so intense that they physically hurt coursed through him, but there was a sort of wicked resigned calm there as well. Only once or twice before in his short life had Rikard experienced something similar, as if it were not his hands on the wheel of his being. He drew as if in a fugue state and the mountaintop crackled with thunder. The sky turned black and he ripped himself free, feeling the power of both lightning and… something else coursing through him. He was easily twice as strong as he should’ve been.

Rikard landed on the glacier, eyes wild and incandescent as his senses returned. He laughed desperately, maniacally, eagerly. “One of us dies!” he hollered, “Maybe both, but what a show! What a display!” Enormous bluish-white arms of lightning leapt and spidered across the mountainside, pulsing and cracking, surrounding the great mana slime. Rikard fairly glowed with energy, levitating in the air. A huge, wicked grin spread across the boy's face and he made a little pistol with his fingers. "Boom," he whispered and, all at once, the charge he’d drawn switched. A hundred towering thunderbolts erupted from the blackened sky and converged upon the hulking slime, obliterating any trace of it in a blinding flash and a crackling boom that echoed across the surrounding highlands to be heard as far away as the great city of Wanggang.

He had ignited the King of the Red Killers, however: one of the most volatile and explosive living things in existence, and that action did not go without consequence. It was two seconds before the shockwave reached him. It had already reached the glacier and an entire side of the mountain was falling.

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Action Opportunities

Action Opportunities

There is a lot happening in this chapter, and it'll require a series of quick responses, so most will be played out via discord. Necessary actions include:

Ingrid: should react to the moral conundrum swirling about her. She may choose to defuse it or escalate it. Then, the avalanche and rockslide is coming. This will obviously need to be survived, which should be easy enough for a mage. Whether she saves anyone or takes the opportunity to kill anyone is up to her. Then, the Yin and Captain Zhu situation needs to be resolved one way or another.
Trypano: will have time for a brief discussion with Wu Long and to learn a little bit about the nature of Retan. This is intended as a hook for her personal storyline as well as that of the mission. However, too bald-faced an ambition may cause the dragon to become wary. She is above the level of the avalanche and can choose how to engage with it.
Niallus and Vel: The avalanche covers the other side of the mountain, but is definitely noticed from their side and could trigger something there. It has distracted the four fighters and they may take advantage of this. If the fight is not defused soon, people will die. They should probably also have some reaction to the thought pictures and to those simply being thrust into their minds.

In general, feel free to post directly as response to this update in the Mountain and Hardboiled threads. most will have to be played out there. I'm looking forward to it!

The Hourglass Order

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Present: Yalen Castel @pantothenic, Valerian Remi Leclere @yoshua171, Maura Mercador @Ti, Trypano Somia @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid Penderson @dragonpiece, Niallus Saberhagen @McKennaJ71, and Abdel Varga @YummyYummy

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Kaureerah had not walked close to the skuggvar. Every instinct that she had screamed at her to run from it. She’d seen those things eat people with her own eyes before, and every moment within its senses sent burning anxiety and instinctual dread coursing through her body. Yet, the others had been so eager to go on their own investigations and she’d been so damned agreeable that she had been placed with one of the animals and an old man who… could sort of handle it?

She’d been trying to get lost - ‘accidentally’ separated - and then, after hiding in some safe place for a little while, she could just call the entire thing off and apologize and be done with it. Maura or Abdel or Yalen would find something and her failure would be quickly forgotten. It was better to be forgotten sometimes. You could disappear and reappear somewhere else and the danger would be gone. Guilt clenched at Kaureerah’s stomach, for she knew that she was no hero. She was a musician, an entertainer, and a whore and she did not belong among these people. The coast was within sight and she spared a quick glance at the waves before returning her senses to the big threat: that beast. It plodded along, sniffing and snorting, its great toothy head swaying back and forth, and that was how they moved: on one of those swings it would lunge and Xiang would be unable to control it and it would try to rip her limb from limb. In the water, the eeaiko might outpace it. She used kinetic and chemical magics to force her heartbeat to slow, to stop the juices of her mind that screamed fear into her veins.

She and Xiang had not exchanged more than a handful of words the entire time and it was awkward, because he seemed to want to talk. He even seemed friendly. “Eye weell goo scaut een te wauter,” she offered, forcing a rather pathetic smile. Then, the animal raised its head and looked at her and she jumped back. “Okay, girl. Okay. You no be scare. No scare. She nice. No hurt you.” One of those ‘nice’ things had eaten her sister. Its tail swayed from side to side and its tongue shot out to lick its lips and Kaureerah just… couldn’t. “E-eye weell goo,” She squeaked, as the old Retanese man grimaced and shook his head. “Eye weell jaust bee een te wauter.” She peeled out of the bulkier of her human-style garments and managed not to outright run for the shore.

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Seven people reconvened at the guardian station after a day’s worth of investigation, knowing more and sure of less. Xiulan was among them, bitterly quiet, her professional veneer threatening to crumble once more following the unrecoverable loss of her life’s ambition. “It is because I am a Jiang,” she had cryptically told Yalen during the return walk, hiding her words as much as possible from Zihan, who walked uncomfortably and pensively behind, catching the Somnian’s eyes when he glanced back at her. “No Jiang ever passes the test.”

Abdel returned with his own story to tell, and Ming in tow. How much he said, however, and how much evidence he presented, was entirely up to him. Certainly, Maura, his rather significant other, returned on something of a high, Yawen in tow, with much to report should she see fit to. Indeed, the biggest question at first seemed to be what they would share or whether they would share at all...

…But then Kaureerah didn’t show up. She had been dispatched to the coast, to a fishing village, tracking both Mr. Bao’s and the black cloaked woman’s scents, and she had gone with Mr. Xiang’s and Dayanara’s help. Abdel searched in that direction for the distinctive energy signature of his skuggvar, hoping that they had merely taken a wrong turn or been held up by something perfectly innocent, and both Yalen and Yawen joined him. They located the animal still in the village, or just north of it. And, as afternoon began its march toward evening, Abdel and Yawen were insistent. “Something is badly wrong,” the latter warned. “We need to gather our forces and go there now.”

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The water was cold, as all ocean water was but, once she had spent a minute or so beneath its surface, Kaureerah’s body made the adjustment and magic helped with the rest. Her eyes adjusted to the light and her ears to the different way in which sound traveled. At last, she took a cautious breath, mouth and throat warming as her manas set about breaking the water down and extracting from it the air that she needed to breathe. The rest, she snorted out through her nose.

So, the eeaiko just… swam, as she had not for some time. It wasn’t exercise. It wasn’t just to be wet. It was to go somewhere and do something and it felt nice to swim with purpose. She soon - and maybe purposely - forgot all about her unwanted escort. She was in her element, quite literally, and had no wish to return to the land.

The coast of Retan outside of the capital was deep greenish-blue place where algae grew on every surface. Crustaceans picked their way through the jumbled rocks and slow, wide-mouthed bottom-dwelling fish burrowed in the thick mud. Fishing nets, caught or abandoned, hung everywhere in the water in various states of decomposition. Some still had active floats and she was forced to swim around them. All manner of detritus and garbage and a great multitude of planks were strewn about, small fish darting among or sheltering under them. She passed a couple of sunken boats as she carried on.

Then, some ways away, she could hear and feel movement in the water that was not that of an animal. It had the imperious feel of a human ship that rode above the waves, pushing them away from itself and the fragile sapients within. Reaching out with her magic senses, she found it out of her range, along with Mr. Xiang and the skuggvar, who she tried to tell herself she was chagrined for having forgotten.

Five minutes later, Kaureerah was in range, but if she could detect others, then they could detect her. A shark. I am a shark. Picturing the illusion in her mind’s eye - its shape to the naked eye and its energy to one’s manas - she crafted a shark around herself. She did not waste energy or effort on its scent or sounds. Humans neglected those senses, particularly the former. So it was that a shark’s dorsal fin - or perhaps a girl’s head - broke the surface of the water right outside of the village, where people rushed back and forth unloading a black ship. Nikanese, Kaureerah recognized. Human cultures had once seemed an incomprehensible mishmash to her, all too similar to each other to be truly distinguishable. Now, however, she was quite certain. It looked Retanese, but a few of the details were different: the shape of the bow, the rigging of the sails and, most of all, the languages being spoken that she could just make out if she used some sonic enhancement.

But that involved using magic. Sharks did not use magic in that way and the enemy was not stupid. Someone was shouting in Nikanese - pointing at her - and Kaureerah dived desperately beneath the surface, for she was no fighter. Arrows and harpoons plunged in after her and one grazed the girl and drew blood. She should not have separated herself from Mr. Xiang and… just thinking of the beast proved a distraction, and enough of one that Kaureerah lost her focus. Something incorporeal grabbed her with irresistible force, and she felt herself lifted clear of the water. When she looked for the source, fighting with all of her magic to break free, she found it: a man in a hooded black robe.

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The efficiency with which the Guardians worked when there was the prospect of a genuine threat was breathtaking. It was naught but fifteen minutes later when Whispering Dragon Squad of the Bái Qíshì set out in force, accompanied by the four students. The mighty Captain Zhao rode at its head in full regalia, with lieutenants Ming and Zihan marshalling twin columns of Guards old and new. Yawen and the second Watchful Eye, Meng, occupied the middle, along with two Red Menders. The first was a graceful older woman named Ai-Xue, with brilliant white hair well past her waist. The second, Nuan, was young and plump-faced, with a sparkle in her eye. The Speaker, Shuyuan, rode immediately behind her Captain, ever attentive to his needs and orders.

It was none of these who gained the group’s attention most, however, for there were two new members they had not seen before. At the very rear came an enormous hairy man of few words riding a small mammoth. Across his back waited two swords in ancient and ornate sheaths, their design marking them as distinct from Retanese tradition and promising violence. Upon Abdel’s questioning, Shuyuan referred to him only as ‘Yěmán’, or ‘Savage’.

Gallivanting about on a quick and ugly horse and making the poor Speaker’s life difficult with his constant needling of the others, however, was the final member of the group: Tai-Heng. A small man, balding, with long oily hair and a bristly, unkempt mustache, he carried an assortment of oddly-shaped knives and a bandoleer packed with pistols and ammunition. By their body language and tone, it was clear both that he was very powerful and that the others looked upon him with contempt.

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A Deal Between Devils

"You can come out now, shapeshifter. I know you're there."
A tree spoke to the Dark One, its voice deep and ancient. "You should not take the girl. Only calamity will result."
The Dark One stood there, eyes fixed upon it, but senses sweeping all about him. This girl had used a magic he had not seen since… "Do you not thrive on calamity?" he spat.
"Only when I must." The tree became a perfect facsimile of the one to whom it spoke.
"You do not frighten me, changeling. Since when do you ever fight?"
"Only when I must."
"All the same," the Dark One replied, "She is of interest to me now. Mind your own business unless you've more than words on offer."
Just then, reality wavered, and the Dark One found himself standing...across from himself. Another him - a false him - stood where he had been, with the unconscious girl at his feet. For the first time in centuries, he felt... cold: without certainty.
"I pray you be on your way and leave this matter to me, or we shall both die here," said the Traveler. There was no intake of energy. There was nothing but the roar of the near-distant waves and the wind whispering through the trees.
"You interloper," the Dark One snarled. "I have lived a thousand lifetimes!" The Traveler stepped protectively between the girl and he. "As have I."
"I have devoured nations, just as I have brought them into being!" He glared at the false self and it merely blinked in return. "You charlatan. You rogue!" he shouted. "You think your magic frightens me!?"
The Traveler wet his lips. He started to walk forward. "People should be free, you fucking tyrant. I will put your fool head on a spike!" With that, the very earth itself seemed to split and shake, but there was no draw of magic. There was no cast. It just happened.
"Don't make me laugh, impostor!" howled the Dark One. The ground stilled and healed itself. "One man's tyranny is another man's order and there must be order. I would not let your foul weapons run amok."
The air around the Traveler ignited in a blinding flash but he was gone and at the Dark One's back. "And what of your weapons?" he hissed in his enemy's ear. "Necessary evils for the preservation of society," The Dark One retorted, and he did not stand there to be hit. He leapt into the past and was somewhere else instead. "I apologize for nothing! I have sold my very soul that humanity and her sisters might live! What have you sown but reckless chaos!?"
"FREEDOM!" roared the Traveler and, for a moment in time, the sky turned to stone. The very air that the Dark One breathed hardened in his lungs. "A chance to do more, and be more! A chance to not live under the heel of an eternal oppressor!"
The Dark One hacked up blood, but then he was unharmed and the stone in his lungs and all about him was gone. A rivulet of doubt passed through him, but he hardened his resolve. "An oppressor to whose ranks you belong."
A long silence reigned, ripe with unspoken violence. Then, a laugh, low and eerie.
"You idiot. That is your greatest weakness: you are a thing - a created thing - and you will never learn because you are not capable of it." The Traveler raised its head and seemed to grow taller... and taller. Great black-feathered wings sprouted from its back and spread impossibly wide, emanating darkness instead of light. "Experiences change people. Destiny is a sham! We are not what we are meant to be, except for you, you poor pitiful creature. We are what we become! I am what I have become!" A massive sword, glowing from the heat that rolled off of it, materialized in the black-winged angel's left hand. A perfect red apple materialized in its right... or was it green? Or... another color? "And now I am become death."
The Dark One knelt, then, head bowed, as the God stalked towards him, seeming almost to float as it did so. "Then I submit myself to thee," he lied, as the very last of the sun faded from the sky. "Let your reign begin and I will serve."
That gave the Traveler pause for it did not wish to reign.
That was all that the Dark One needed. Then, he was ten minutes ago, holding a chaos marble when the monster appeared.
"I pray you be on your way and leave this matter me, or we shall both die here."
He produced the marble. "But one more permanently than the other," he threatened, and the Traveler regarded him steadily. "You cannot kill me," it replied. "I will come back in some form."
"But you will be dead for now," the Dark One said, "and that is enough."
The Traveler tilted its head to the side, like some sort of great bird. "Are you certain?"
"I know your games, changeling, and I am certain."
"Perhaps it is so," the monster replied with a shrug, "but have you considered the will of these people: what theywant?"
"What they want must serve the grander design."
"Whose design is that?" The Traveler's eyes narrowed.
"I tire of your words and I'm itching to use this," the Dark One retorted, and his enemy raised both hands nonthreateningly. "An act of 'order,' to be sure," it mocked, "but very well. I shall propose something."
"I am listening, trickster."
"Neither I nor you shall intervene in this conflict any further. Let it be decided by the systems that we have put into place. Shall tyranny or liberty prevail?"
"Order or Chaos."
"Reductive."
"Biased."
"Do you accept?"
"I shall take the girl."
"You must leave her unharmed."
"After I am finished with her."
"You may not keep her."
"Those in my service may."
"This is... acceptable."
"Do we have terms?"
"We have terms." With that, the Traveler disappeared. The Dark One took his prize and left as well.

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Turning off the main trunk road, Whispering Dragon Squad and its foreign escorts found themselves in the open countryside of Retan during golden hour, where farmers worked for as long as daylight would allow to bring in their rezain harvest. Most all of them paused and looked up, some bowing respectfully, others waving, and a handful seeming to shrink away. The small road that they occupied became too narrow as it passed through some hilly country, a lone village perched on a nearby hill glowing with the orange sun.

Finally, they reached a fork in the road, with an old wooden signpost. One direction pointed towards a place simply called ‘Shan’ or ‘Mountain’ and the other towards ‘Chuánwèi’. “Hah!” barked Captain Zhao. “They’ve reversed the signs!” He reached out with his magic and set them right again. “We are entering the domain of the enemy,” he warned, and Xiulan translated for the students. “Stay alert. Cover each other.” Then, he spurred his horse forward into the setting sun.

The sun had set and the village of ‘Chuánwèi’ was startlingly empty when they reached it. A handful of people retreated inside hastily as Whispering Dragon Squad approached, and Zihan and her captain exchanged a wary look. Perhaps it was merely that its many fishermen were already asleep, for they would have to wake up well before dawn to sail out to the best fishing waters. However, the concentration of human-shaped energies that Yawen and Meng picked up to the immediate north, behind a forested ridge, hinted that there was more at play. Abdel and Yalen confirmed as much for those who were further from the pair of Watchful Eyes. The energies of a sleeping skuggvar were very much present as well, but there was more: something else, skulking about unseen.

The Captain raised a fist and those behind him came to a halt, save for Tai-Heng, who scampered on his mangy mount into the middle of the village, cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “骑兵来了!” (the cavalry is here!) He grinned wickedly. “出来，出来，无论你在哪里!” (come out, come out, wherever you aaaarrrre!)

Horses snorted and stamped. The wind whispered and distant waves crashed. A sign on a post creaked and eyes darted about. Then, from around a rocky headland, appeared a black ship. Its gun ports opened and thirty cannon pointed at the group and the village. It opened fire.

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Action Opportunities

Action Opportunities

Your job in this chapter is simple, at the start: survive the Obake Maru's bombardment. Once you do, we'll be working through your next actions on discord. Objectives may include:

One: capture or destroy the vessel.
Two: See to the locals, if any remain, and interrogate enemies, if any remain.
Three: Locate and free Kaureerah, Mr. Xiang and Dayanara. The latter might be very useful in the fight. However, what could be strong enough to overcome a skuggvar with minimal fuss?

In general, feel free to cover any insights you may have gained from your investigations and discuss your findings with the others. Information exchange is key here... if your character is interested in doing so, of course.