March Vignette 2017 - Super Vignette

[Lye]

Prompt:

The ruins of the Fae have existed in Dheathain since before written records. The jungle of this region has invaded these ruins. Some ruins are nothing but vines twisted around rubble with deep, hidden, unexplored pits, maze-like hallways, and powerful mystic remains. In other ruins, the jungle seems to be molded by it and worked elegantly into its structures. While still laden with foliage, rooms are flourishing with life, creatures have moved in where ancient races once lived, and unusual artifacts are seemingly protected by natural forces.

Your character, by whichever means you deem fit, has reason to seek out one of the ruins in search of answers about an ancient artifact. Largely rumor and vaguely mentioned in old, rotted texts, there exists little to no information on the purpose of said artifact. Your character must brave the unknown and return with the answers that they seek -- maybe with artifact in-hand...

Rules & Stipulations:

This is a "Super Vignette". The definition of a Vignette is: "a brief evocative description, account, or episode." In the grand scale of Althanas and its player characters, each thread is a sort of Vignette or episode of their lives. Solos are the epitome of such episodes where it is just you, the writer, and your readers - no additional writer or life story. This Vignette will focus on that aspect of this site. Below are the rules that must be followed.

1. Stick to the prompt. Use the Dheathain Wiki & At a Glance to help develop your setting.
2. Entries are one post long. This post must have a minimum of 500 words and maximum of 5,000. Please post them in this thread beneath the first post.
3. Setting is critical for this Vignette. Focus on literary techniques to give the setting life.
4. Brevity is the "concise and exact use of words in writing or speech." Pay attention to what you add to your story. Players will lose points for excess fluff or filler. If an object or room is mentioned in great detail, it should play an important part sometime during the story.
5. Vignette entries will be no longer accepted after 10:00PM EST on 3/31/17.

Rewards & Winners:

• Entries will be judged with a score out of 100 similar to a normal thread. This will be accompanied by a brief, one paragraph overview of strengths and weaknesses. These will be judged by Lye.
• There will be a First Place, Second Place, and Third Place.
  
  • First Place: 1,000 EXP, 500 GP, & 5 AP
  • Second Place: 500 EXP, 250 GP, & 4 AP
  • Third Place: 250 EXP, 175 GP, & 3 AP
  
  
• Considering the length of these entries, they will be given EXP & GP as if it were a thread. The formula will be adjusted to take into consideration the length of the posts. All entries will also earn the default 1 AP for a submission. These rewards will be in addition to first, second, and third.
• Depending on content written, entries may be adapted into existing wiki to be made canon.

Disclaimer about the Judge:

I am a slow, deliberate reader that focuses on mechanics. I appreciate effective usage of literary elements and enjoy suspense and intrigue. I may take longer than most judges to post results. So, please afford me your patience. I urge that you do not ask me for status updates. Shinsou will keep me honest to posting results in an understandable time-frame.

If you have questions about this contest, please PM Lye.

This prompt was inspired and credited to BlackAndBlueEyes & Rayleigh. The event idea was inspired and credited to Sir Artemis.

[jdd2035]

Deep within the recesses of the jungle a mule could be heard bellowing followed by a mooing of a pair of ox’s and yet another bellow one a bit more tired and deeper than the first one. It was a kind of a caravan. There was four men in all Captain Cain Jodin, his Midshipman Mr. Agon, two more of his crew taking leave of the Swift Peregrine to go on an inshore expedition.

From time to time Cain enjoyed and even found it necessary to measure and chart the world and this expedition would allow Cain to measure and chart a set of Fae ruins thought to be culturally significant while and to document the flora and fauna. After some time the quartet finally entered a valley dotted with ancient stone walls and the remains of buildings. It seemed to be a village of some sorts and Cain smiled and the group made camp.

That same evening Cain and his Midshipmen found and staked the four farthest corners and with their sextants measured the latitudes to the second of the four corners. The Golden point the brightest star in the northern hemisphere lied to half a degree from true north and at this latitude four degrees from magnetic north. Using their sextants the small crew measured their latitude position as 4.21494 with the variance of the most northern and most southern of the four points being one seventieth of a degree in latitude. One degree in latitude is measured by seventy miles north or south.

After taking the latitude Cain piped his midshipmen to supper which consisted of roast beef and tubers and a few bottles of wine. The camp was set up out side of the ruins in a clearing where there were several plants in and around it. After their supper Cain direct the collection of the plants. He had brought along enough boxes and planters to collect a good number. There was a line of mushrooms that had caught Cains eye. It was on the trunk of a tree one large mushroom followed in succession by smaller. He named them squadron mushrooms the biggest being likened to a ship of the line the medium sized ones more along the lines of frigates and the smallest one being sloops. Using a measuring line the captain measured the height from the ground they grew on, their girth at the top, widest and bottom, and their height both their full height and the height to the bottom of their caps making special note of their proportions.

The mushrooms glowed a soft phosphorescent blue color which Cain noted down. He also noted down which side of the tree these mushrooms grew on, which direction they grew and after all was said and done took the entire squadron of mushrooms as a sample complete with the bark and core wood that the mushrooms grew on.

His next sample which he followed the same procedures as he did with the mushrooms was a flower a large flower about six inches from side to side. It had eight sharp pointed deep red petals on the out side with six round pointed bright yellow petals on the inside, at the very center were four long stamens of a florescent pink which attracted glowing insects. The plants leaves were large and funneled towards the stems which seemed to direct evening dew towards its roots which anchored it to a large moss covered rock.

The glowing insects were collected two a small swarm of twelve. They were about three quarters of an inch long, had six legs and two primary wings and two secondary wings that seemed to have its veins flash with a yellow light. But it was the insects eyes that really were interesting they were a compound eye that had a kaleidoscopic effect which shifted from pink to green and every color in between all of them bright.

After specimens of flora and fauna were taken and measured in every way Cain could think of he laid his head down and instantly went to sleep taking advantage of every minute of sleep he could. The fresh air, the ride into the ruins and the work helped as well.

The next morning the crew really got to work they group returned to their steaks and took the longitude coordinates again to an exacting standard. Choosing a land mark of a the circular building near the middle of town Cain and the crew took measurements of each building in town using a one hundred fathom sounding line.

The circular building was adorned with twelve carvings, and twelve holes bored into it at regular intervals of 30.5 degrees. There were also three hundred sixty six rectangular holes each spaced just over one degree apart from one another. It was not very hard for Cain to figure out that the central building was a calender and observatory. The round holes were lunar observations while the smaller rectangular holes were for the solar observation. Taking paper and charcoal Cain took rubbings of the carvings noticing deeper impressions. Given the purpose of the building and the fact that there were twelve carvings it didn’t take a genius to figure out what the represented especially with deeper impressions.

Taking the carvings and sealing them in a wax envelope Cain and his crew took samples of the local creatures; insects, amphibians and small ruminants and birds. Upon the return of the crew to Corone he would present his findings to the Radasanth scientific and natrualist society.

[SirArtemis]

Having an eccentric wizard for a friend had repercussions, some less desirable than others. In the case of Daros, it meant that Artemis served as errand boy at times. Today that meant returning to Luthmor, a jungle island nestled in Dheathain’s gulf. Strangely, the prior visit also came at Daros’ bidding, so inevitably Artemis advanced cautiously.

Magic alone kept his steps silent as his boots crushed and crunched across the decomposing jungle floor. Memories of his last visit crept into his mind, flashing images of the N’Jalian spider magi that nearly ended the young warrior’s life. Though much had changed since that day, he would still rather avoid such an encounter again.

The humid air, thicker than a dwarven stout, mattered little now that he didn’t need to breathe. The sticky warmth, which had left him dripping with sweat previously, had no effect now that he wore his gade undersuit; the magic fabric that he’d garnered from this very forest shielded him from the effects of any natural environment or weather. Comparatively, this visit felt far more comfortable.

‘The workshop Daros mentioned should be somewhere nearby.’

Algae, fungi, vines, insects, and other life mingled in an unbelievable cocktail of vitality. Chirps and caws, squeals and squawks, all morphed into a symphony of perfect balance, flowing beautifully and in stark contradiction with the endless dangers that lived within. The forest breathed like a creature itself, dim and obscured by a thick canopy that even daylight barely managed to penetrate. As though on cue, a deep rumble resounded through the jungle with a whistle of gusting wind in tow.

’Storm. Great.’

Seconds later a torrential downpour bombarded the canopy, travelling down familiar routes and snaking along branches and trunks and stems. Where no clear path existed, enormous droplets descended and splashed, mingling with the jungle floor.

Artemis shook his head at the sight. He thought back to his first impression of this majestic and terrifying forest, where beauty and danger were one in the same. He remembered when day turned to night and hundreds of insects fluttered through the air and lit up, creating a chaotic array of bright dots – the Stars of Luthmor. Birds of prey, hunting cats, and small agile mammals somehow coexisted while elsewhere people still argued and fought over petty squabbles and burned down entire towns over a slight. With a sigh he moved on and dismissed the thought. He would prefer to find his objective before the sun dipped over the horizon and the entire demeanor of the forest shifted; now wasn’t the time for reflection.

Not more than half an hour later, his sensory attunement detected what he’d sought – manmade rooms. He stopped and stood still, closing his eyes and concentrating to enhance the ability’s effects. Details came into focus, creating a mental trace of his surroundings. The dynamic map gave him the workshop’s layout and the location of the entrance. Unfortunately, the trace included the presence of some unwanted company.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Artemis mumbled, rubbing his hands against the fabric covering his face. The gesture appeared absurd, as the gade undersuit covered every inch of the man, with his armor and equipment donned over it. If anyone were to see the warrior, they’d think him a hopeful superhero in training; though perhaps others might see him as a demon of death.

His approach remained silent as he left the wildwood and descended worn stone steps into a dark tunnel. Despite the elapsed time the stonework retained its detailed inlay and design. Some cracks had ruptured the extravagance, allowing vines and vegetation to entrench within the breaches. Mere strides down the tunnel and the day’s light faded quickly, replaced by bioluminescent fungi and algae that filled the space with a soft orange haze.

A cool mist hung in the air as the humidity condensed beneath the cool and damp ground. With every step, Artemis continued to trace his surroundings, approaching the danger he knew awaited him at the end of this stone enclosure. The small workshop could fit within a Coronian mansion, and with so few spaces to utilize stealth, his position could quickly be compromised.

Artemis didn’t bother to breathe. He focused his eyes, utilizing his ocular abilities to examine his prey. Two enormous beasts stood by the wall, hands weaving intricately as runes glowed lavender against the wall before them. Their backs were turned to the young warrior, leaving them exposed and giving Artemis the advantage. Their lithe elven bodies warped at the waist into the abdomens of colossal spiders

’N’Jalian spider magi. And two of them. Lovely.’

Though Artemis knew from experience that their bodies resisted magical assault, he had plenty of powerful alternatives. He willed his bracer, a sentient weapon known as Judicis, into its form as a bow of raw energy. As his fingers reached for where a string would be, a clear and colorless projectile materialized as an arrow, nocked and ready. He pulled back and let fly at the bulbous rear of one of the pair, rapidly drawing a second and third back and letting fly before the first even struck. As the arrows flew, their energy concentrated and solidified, transforming the strikes into kinetic attacks rather than magical.

The trio of crystal arrows, as strong as prevalida, bore into the beast on the right and disrupted the spellcasting. The shriek of agony alarmed the beast’s ally, drawing its attention. Before either could process what had happened, another pair of arrows flew forth at the unharmed beast’s bulb, adding to the cacophony of anguish. As the pair turned down the hall, seeking the source of their shared struggle, a final crimson arrow of magic flew forth and struck the runes on the wall. The collision of conflicting magical energies and the ritual’s disruption proved enough to cause an explosion, sending shards of stone flying through the room. The sparse furniture that had managed to survive, mostly intact due to its similar stone structure, crumbled under the pressure of the explosive blast.

Artemis willed the bow back into its passive form as a bracer and drew his daggers. The magi Artemis had struck first rushed at the warrior in fury. Its eight legs scratched and scraped at the rough floor, completely disregarding the rubble in its path as it raced on. Its compatriot lifted its hands and began casting a spell, and Artemis knew whatever the effect, it would not be pleasant.

He rushed forward as though to meet the oncoming spider-elf, but just as its front legs lifted to claw at Artemis, he stepped through the shadows only to appear a stride in front of the casting partner. With momentum carrying him forward, he leapt at the creature’s torso. His blades crossed ahead of him, arms flying outward as he sought to cut the beast’s throat and halt its casting.

The surprise in its eyes as this specter of death approached besmirched the reputation these extremely powerful foes carried across all Althanas. Had their adversary been any normal mortal, including Artemis before his transformation, they would have made quick work of the fool. Unfortunately, circumstances proved otherwise.

The spider-elf that had rushed forward noticed the absence of its quarry, turning in search of the slippery foe. It had not expected to see the severed head of its companion rolling off a crumbled table and joining the rubble of the floor. Its body crashed to the ground with a loud thump as the legs gave out beneath the massive beast. As its hands fell limp by its side, a new level of fury rippled through the remaining spider-elf’s form.

Markings on the magi’s body began to glow, smoldering orange and crimson like a fire upon its flesh. Its hands transformed into long blades of like color, appearing much like freshly forged weapons that hadn’t been set to cool. Without taking a step, the beast punched out at Artemis. Its arm extended and launched a rivet at the man. He barely managed to dodge, chancing a quick look at where the projectile had struck the wall and saw its energy pulsing and creeping into the stone. Whatever the beast had launched, it seemed molten and alive.

The beast scurried forward, its eyes now glowing the same color as its markings. Its jaw unhinged as it screamed with a mouth far wider than should have been possible. Rivets began to fly throughout the room, echoing through the chamber of the workshop as Artemis moved quickly to dodge the assault.

Realizing the danger Artemis utilized an ability that warped space and made him nearly invisible. The spider-elf would have to make do with the ripples in the air left behind by Artemis’ movement. However, thinking that the warrior had enacted the same maneuver as before, the beast quickly turned and slashed at the space behind it. Unfortunately for it, the man remained in front of the creature and rushed forward. As its eyes turned back to where Artemis had been last, it vaguely noticed the ripples only briefly before Artemis did utilize his shadowstep once more.

Artemis landed upon the back of the beast’s bulbous abdomen and drove both daggers deep into the creature’s flesh. He leapt off to the side as the spider-elf yelped. As Artemis dropped to the ground, his blades dragged in parallel and tore the creature asunder. A final desperate cry and the magi turned with a still glowing appendage, slashing across Artemis. His reactions saved him as he lifted both blades up in time to catch the blow, rolling with the momentum of the tremendously powerful strike. Even still, the weight of the blow launched him against a wall, causing another rumble as his body cracked the stone like a large boulder dropped upon thick ice.

The second spider-magi went limp, its glow dimming as its lifeless body slumped over. Blood and viscera poured out of its shredded abdomen, pooling on the ground and seeping into the debris. Artemis knew that the forest did have a life of its own, and knew too that these magi were never truly killed. Their bodies would decompose and deteriorate within hours, and somewhere in the forest two new beasts would be reborn to take their place. Balance would always be maintained.

Artemis sat against the wall, propped up and taking a moment of rest after overcoming his foes. “Could have been worse,” he admitted softly before picking himself up. “Now, if I were a long lost artifact, where would I be?” Artemis walked over to the headless magi and severed the abdomen from the rest of the creature’s form. He used his overwhelming strength to flip the bulb and began to carefully cut the membrane, seeking out the prized spidersilk of these legendary beasts.

“Initus Daros,” he said aloud, activating his magical earring. The enchanted obsidian reached across Althanas and created a link between the young warrior and his wizardly friend.

“Artemis!” the enthusiastic voice answered, “how goes the artificing?” The warrior didn’t answer, instead activating the next level of the trinket’s magic and offering a channel for Daros to view the world through Artemis’ eyes. “Artemis. Why are you cutting into an arachnid?”

“Funny story,” Artemis replied, continuing his delicate work. “That workshop you led me to had two spider magi spellcasting inside. Not sure if it’s just shit luck on my part, but here I am, and here they are. Thought I may as well make some spare coin and not waste the kills.” Artemis’ daggers served perfectly, their enchantments cutting through organic material like butter, and in short order he extracted the silk gland from the beast. “So, what am I looking for?” he asked, standing from his work and beginning his investigation.

“My goodness, the place is a mess. Did you do that?”

“Some,” Artemis admitted. “The place was pretty run down when I arrived, as you can imagine; the fight didn’t do me any favors. So, again, what am I looking for?” He began to walk around the room, kicking about rubble and lifting scraps of broken furniture. He traced his hands along stone walls, looking for any grooves or mechanisms that might show secrets long forgotten.

“Artemis,” Daros began, leaving the young man waiting. Seconds of silence passed and the wizard never continued.

“Yes Daros?” he prompted.

“What?”

“You said Artemis.”

“Why would I do that?”

With another sigh Artemis could only shake his head.

“Artemis,” Daros began again.

“Yes?”

“I said why would I do that?”

“Daros, it’s you; I never know why you do what you do. You just do things and sometimes it leads to good results.”

“You mean usually.”

“No Daros, I mean sometimes. Other times it’s a disaster.”

“Hold on!” Daros countered, and Artemis couldn’t help but smile. “No, turn back!” Suddenly Artemis realized the wizard may have noticed something. “There! In the corner, beneath the stone. What is that?”

Artemis walked over and knelt by the debris, seeing just the corner of a small black box protruding from the remnants of a stone table mingled with crumbled wall. He brushed away the residue and lifted the small container, no larger than an aristocrat’s cigar box. He flipped it in his hands, appreciating the fine embossment upon the surface.

“That’s it.” Artemis could hear the satisfaction in the wizard’s voice and was only too glad to oblige.

“Are you sure, Daros? If I leave now, I’m not coming back.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

With that, Artemis expended one of his teleportive marks, warping his frame and sending him spiraling through time and space to plop down on the front steps of Daros’ home in Knife’s Edge. With silk gland in one hand and container in the other, the warrior stood and waited. A moment later, the door flew open and the wizard stormed out, his appearance as disheveled as ever. His deep blue robes flapped in the early evening wind of the Salvarian summer as he relieved Artemis of the container. He quickly pushed his rectangular spectacles up his nose and brushed aside his messy chestnut hair, though both immediately slid back into place while he hurried back inside.

Artemis followed, using one of his now free hands to remove the mask that completed his gade undersuit. As he stepped inside, he set the silk gland upon a table, trusting Daros would find some use for it, and removed his gloves as well. The wizard had already rushed up the stairs, his slippers nearly falling off as he raced to the study. Meanwhile, Artemis took a moment to freshen up. He roughly rubbed his hands through his short brown hair. He hated how matted down everything felt after wearing the mask. A few exaggerated scratches at the scruff of his beard made everything feel normal again. Artemis entered the study shortly thereafter. Daros sat behind his desk, staring at the now open container.

“So what is it?” Artemis asked, pulling up one of the chairs for guests and joining the wizard. “And why was it so important for me to urgently go get it for you?”

“Isn’t it beautiful?” the wizard answered, without exactly answering. He turned the box toward Artemis, revealing a strangely complex mechanical device. Countless wheels and gears and springs and plates intercepted one another, reminding the man of a timepiece. However, these all fit together in such unexpected and conflicting ways that he couldn’t make any sense of it.

“What does it do?” Artemis asked, leaning closer to stare at the thing.

“I have no idea,” the wizard replied with an enormous grin, turning the box back toward himself. Artemis could only stare at the hazel eyed man with a mix of resignation and fury.

“So you sent me to fight two N’Jalian spider magi for a paperweight that you don’t even know what it does?”

“No, I sent you to get a box. The spiders were your own idea.”

“Daros . . .” Artemis began, standing from the chair and leaning against the table. “One of these days, if you don’t get me killed, I might just kill you myself.”

The wizard only smiled in return, silently thanking his warrior friend with a nod before Artemis turned and walked out the door. After he left, Daros lifted the device from its box and began to examine the piece in more detail. He turned it in his hands, rotating this way and that for many minutes. The device’s complexity was certainly impressive, and it was true that Daros didn’t know what the contraption did – yet.

Finally, not long thereafter, a smirk spread across the wizard’s face. His eyes locked on a particular mark on the tooth of one of the many gears. It barely caught the light, as though someone had intentionally left a very fine scratch on the metal. With a careful finger, he reached for the gear and gently pressed on the mark, causing the gear to rotate ever so slightly. The quiet study filled with a most satisfying sound.

Click.

[Ruby]

“You use to be fond of exploring dark cracks with me, dear.�

At the foot of the rickety ladder on which Ruby Winchester stood, Leopold Winchester bit his tongue. Despite his ‘manners’, a wicked grin on his face suggested the pair’s exchanges were giving him all the wrong sort of ideas.

“Concentrate, Ruby. You might be lither than your past selves, but come down on me in that corset and we’ll be having stew for dinner.�

The redhead rolled her eyes, but returned to her work. The ruins of Lock Lama called to the duo, who had long abandoned their interest in the dustier, historical aspects of their world. Donnalaich dominated the eastern horizon to their left, and the mountainous and misty lands of the draconic people of Dheathain to the west.

“The same markings as the last statue, I’m afraid.� She put down her brush and spying glass and rested her hands on the top rung of the ladder.

“Nothing else?� Leopold called up. He took a sly glance at her petticoat and reminded himself that even without finding the treasure of Lock Lama he was rich in other ways.

“Maybe the map was wrong?� she shrugged, tucked her tools into her satchel, and took one long last look at the landscape.

Here, the Fae ruins protruded from the ground like a beacon to adventurers. Whereas the remnants of Fae civilisation dwelt beneath crystalline spires and sprawling metropolis at the heart of Dheathain, on the fringes, the earth cracked and mountains crumbled to reveal vestments of a long forgotten people’s power.

“So the Mirror of Lock Lam isn’t in fact a mirror…� Leopold figured as much. For a while, there was hope, but after looking at a dozen identical statues of a winged people in a crevette holding a granite mirror, he had lost the will to care anymore.

“They’re all facing the centre of the temple, so perhaps something’s missing, or there’s something in that building over there.�

Ruby pointed to the south, and sure enough, Leopold turned to witness a small recursion of chance. The twelve statues surrounding the central ruins faced the domed roof…

“…please dear, don’t tell me we’ve spent three days traipsing through jungle and drake shit to discover a long lost fucking summer house.�

Ruby began her descent down the ladder, thick-soled boots clacking against rungs as she tried to retain a semblance of dignity. When certain the ladder would hold Leopold stepped to one side to allow her to dismount.

“Well...� Ruby took Leopold by the arm and carried him forcibly towards the ruins. They descended a staircase, one at the foot of each of Lock Lam’s feet, and wove through the crumbling palisades and archways towards it. “You’ve been moaning we don’t get time to ourselves since we began our endeavours with Chronicle.�

Leopold took a deep, heavy breath and sighed. As ever, Ruby was right. He hated and loved her for it.

“Such treasure indeed,� he said tongue in cheek.

[Good for Nothing Captain]

“I have a seen it in my flames,” a voice hissed from somewhere deep in the thick jungle. Heavy vines and massive trunks surrounded a thin form, who almost melted into his surroundings. His voice just broke above a whisper, as the large river, on which their city was built, masked the conversation from possible eavesdroppers.

“You know I hate meeting down here; it reeks of poverty and despair this low to the commoners,” a larger man replied, avoiding a direct response and looked around; not out of a desire for privacy but out of disdain. “Whatever you had to say, you could say to me in my mansion, I assure you, whatever secrets you have would have been well guarded there. ”

The larger man stood a full foot over the priest, and as his contempt grew more and more visible, his second set of pectorals flexed. With each flex, his mighty wings gave off a brief display, their intimidating form reflecting his pride. With the last flex, several of the medals hanging off his uniform shook and bounced the bright moon’s light off and onto the priest. The moon rarely penetrated the canopy of impossibly high trees, but thin rays would occasionally peek capriciously through.

“Not this,” the thinner, lanky man replied quickly, his thick neck shortening and the large pupils of his yellow eyes darting around frantically before meeting the steady gaze of his co-conspirator, “this is safe nowhere. . . They are coming back.” he whispered after a long pause, every word dripping with fear.

“I tire of your riddles, priest,” the large man sneered, “speak plainly; who is coming back, and why should I not drop them from the highest branch of Suthainn?”

The priest hesitated, worried that breathing the words would bring them to life. The soldier’s wings fidgeted from irritation, signaling his patience was nearing its end. The priest swallowed hard, and took a brief moment to consider the only life he had ever known; that any of them had ever known. How precious and fragile the power dynamic truly was and how easily it could all be taken from them. A guttural growl brought him back from his brief reverie. And two words was all it took to set the machinations of destiny in motion.

“Blood Caste. . .”




__________________________________________________ ____________________________




The unforgiving sun clung stubbornly to the height of its usual curve through the sky. It was especially cruel to the seven people stuck together on a small riverboat sailing up the watery path to the north east of Donnalaich, on the continent of Dheathan. As if intentionally avoiding shade, the drakari guide cut an easy path through the river water. His steely gaze held fast to some unknown point in the distance and nothing broke his concentration. Thick silver scales covered the boat guide from head to claw, save a patch of black hair growing out of his head. His hair, tied in a long thick braid reaching to his lower back, grew in between two long and straight horns.

Two thin mercenaries sat at the front of the boat, each clutching a bow and mirroring each other perfectly. A pair of twins was a rare sight in any land; a pair of twin elves, and successful adventurers to boot, earned these two a reputation. Both wore leather armor, but somehow neither showed signs of being affected by the heat.

In the middle of their aquatic vessel sat two men who were not twins. Both were bald, and covered in scars, but their features were drastically different; the man on the left had awful sharp and jagged edges to his face. A long, crooked nose that looked like it was chiseled by a blind artisan having a seizure. The face of the man on the right looked disastrously bulbous and engorged. His round nose was covered in warts and blisters which cascaded down to his cheeks and chin like a wave of pestilence; his features almost looked like they were drawn on a balloon by a spiteful child. They could have been twins, but were not related, nor were they aesthetically pleasing by any measure; and that did not stop either of them from instigating a fight with the other the entire way up the river.

“That chewing is annoying,” said the fat man to the lanky one.

“Stop looking over here with that ugly eye, fat-ass,” the jagged-faced man growled.

“My eye wouldn’t willingly look at that disgusting face of yours if it was the cure for mortality, beak-nose,” spat back the bulbous man.

Lying limp against the side of the boat, mouth wide open and greedy for air, Victor Valentine panted heavily. His red eyes were open even less than in his usual apathetic stare as he did not even have enough energy to do that. His hands were clasped behind his head, resting on his folded brown long-coat. Next to him sat a brunette girl, with bright orange eyes, slowly fanning him with a large leaf. Through a bored stare, she looked forward along the boat’s path and watched for threats.

“It’s my turn to be fanned,” she said finally.

“It’s not time yet, Eliza” Victor replied quietly, “we haven’t made it half-way up the river.”

“My foot, I’ve been fanning you since we got into port!” Eliza yelled, stabbing Victor with the bottom, pointed end of the large leaf.

“Hey, keep your voices down,” the elf on the left whispered harshly, her voice revealing her gender.

“That’s right,” the elf on the right said, turning out to be a male twin, adding, “we do not want to incur the wrath of any Boopadoon’s in the area.”

“Yeah, you red-eyed freak!” yelled the jagged faced man.

“That’s right, you orange-eyed brat! Who the hell brings a child on an expedition like this!?” the fat man demanded. They stared toward the two at the back of the boat, but slowly their resolve melted. Not from the heat or bobbing of the boat, but from the intense stare from Victor and Eliza.

“I don’t want to hear that from you two, you’re yelling louder than anyone,” she whispered sinisterly, and so quietly that it seemed like death itself was speaking. Eliza’s orange eyes seemed to make eye contact with the other four simultaneously and no one could look away; they were frozen with fear. The young retired assassin placed the leaf down and stood, and the other four people flinched immediately.

Victor stood up behind her, and also seemed to tower over the other four. His red-eyes narrow and spiteful, “This is going to be a short trip, so you all just lost the rights to your names and backstories,” he said quietly, but his voice seemed almost guttural. “You’re ‘A’,” he pointed to the female elf, “‘B’,” he said to her brother. “You’re ‘Cliff-face,’ and you’re ‘Toad,’” he finished, moving his finger from the jagged-faced man to the wart-faced man respectively.

“You can call me Ms. Day,” she added, her eyes still wide and intimidating, “and him ‘Useless.’”

“Hey! I thought we were on the same side!” Victor yelled.

“Shut up and fan me, Useless,” she said, plopping back down, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. Victor growled, grasping the long stem of the giant leaf tightly.

I’ll shove this thing so far down your throat that I’ll plant you in the ground and watch you grow into a tree you spoiled littl-, Victor thought to himself until he noticed a piece of metal brush against the inside of his brown leather pants. Without opening her eyes, Eliza turned the thin blade of her sword up and kept it still.

“What was that you were thinking? Useless?” she asked, half-opening one eye.

“Nothing Ms. Day,” Victor quickly responded, getting to work immediately, fanning his twelve year old companion.




__________________________________________________ ____________________________





The trip seemed to drag on for days, but only a few hours had passed. Thanks to the quick thinking and expert driving of the drakari guide, the group narrowly avoided a possibly fatal confrontation with a pod of Boopadoon and turned off the main river onto a smaller, less traveled path. The small boat, a stalwart juggernaut, moved through a barrier of trees and foliage that opened as it approached. A soft blue glow died down from beneath as it passed to the other side. With an audible sigh, the massive roots of two tree trunks closed in on each other in a tender embrace.

At the end of the river stood a wide white-stone structure, mystically illuminated by the sun as it seeped elegantly through cracks in the overhead brush. The boat docked at the remnants of an old stone port. Nature had long since grown around the temple. Thick vines, as large as a man wrapped around the entryway and down the long steps that led to the unassuming dock. They spread like a blanket over the majestic structure, molded by it, as much a part of it as waves are of the sea.

“Hey, Mr. Guide,” Victor said as he, the last of the group, disembarked, “just what the hell are we doing here? The job posting just said ‘Artifact Hunters wanted.’ And you just ride in silence the whole time.”

“The task is to retrieve a priceless artifact from within that holy place,” the guide replied stoically.

“Just what the hell kind of gyp is this!?” Victor yelled, “that thing is obviously filled with traps!”

“It is a temple, not a gyp, and traps would desecrate it,” the guide replied again, his voice even and calm. “You were all accepted for you various talents but mainly because you agreed to go. Your lives are expendable in search of the prize. Return, and be greatly rewarded by The Conclave and War Leader’s Council,” and at the last part, the semblance of a disdainful sneer flashed on his otherwise stone-featured face.

“This is gonna be a disaster,” Victor muttered under his breath before turning his back to the guide. His coat was draped over his arm, and hanging down past the pair of darkened brown boots he wore. As he walked towards the long stairs leading up from the tiny dock, a chill ran down his spine. He could almost see the the multifarious roots and plants shifting as he approached. It was almost like the jungle could feel them coming, and was preparing to defend itself.

At the top of the stairs, Victor watched as the rest of the group approached the blocked off entrance. Eliza was already sitting on the arch above the doorway, picking her nose. The group examined the heavy roots which formed a gate and looked for an alternative entrance. A and B went off in separate directions and came back together along the roof of the temple, flanking Eliza. Toad spent the whole time at the doorway rummaging through the large pack he carried with him.

“There’s no other way in,” B said as he came back around, regarding Victor.

“Not unless we make a new one,” A said, kicking a loose stone.

“No need,” Toad grumbled, pulling a vial of clear liquid out of his bag. He stood with all the flair of an obese actor and spilled the liquid onto the tree root. The calcified root hissed immediately and began to dissolve as the clear liquid ate through the root like a hungry swarm. Within seconds, a path was made, wide enough for even Toad to fit through.

“Et voila,” Toad said, stepping to the side with a bow.

“Don’t ever bow. . .” Eliza said as she walked passed.

“Yeah, that was pretty gross,” A added.

“Not a pretty sight,” B agreed.

“You’re definitely going to die first. . .” Cliff-face said.

“Why are you even here?” Victor squinted with disdain and waited for Toad to start walking.

As the group moved forward, Victor brought up the rear and threw on his dark brown coat. The guide watched them vanish. It was not his place to enter a place so sacred; and even knowing the humans would bring disrespect to it, he had a more important task.




__________________________________________________ ____________________________





The aroma of nature filled the old temple, and it was not unpleasant to the group. The elves especially felt at home, and moved swiftly and decisively. Eliza had vanished as soon as light from the outside no longer illuminated their path. Victor knew that her habit was to scout ahead, using darkness like a blanket. He noticed, however, that A had also gone ahead, judging by the number of footsteps around him.

The group descended further into the dark temple, following the only path. Victor used the wall as a guide, but everyone followed B.Their path began to curve slightly, and their eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Victor noticed a palpable change in the air; as though it was heavy with the smell of something sweet. Cliff-face and Toad had bonded over the fact that they could not see each other’s faces and took to insulting the elf. Victor took up rear-guard, but really just wanted to push the pair down the stairs. After almost twenty minutes had passed, with no change, he did just that.

Toad was in the middle of a tirade about B’s mother, whom Toad was asserting had actually been an illithid that had been enslaved by trolls and used as a mate, when Victor kicked him. Victor could only assume they had been holding hands, because as soon as Toad fell, Cliff-face yelped, and the pair went tumbling into the abyss.

“That was very much appreciated,” B said with a bow.

“I could only listen for so long. . .” Victor replied, before they resumed their trek.

When the upright pair caught up, Toad and Cliff-face were back at each other’s throats again; each blaming the other for their fall. It was minutes before they noticed a growing light. The soft, warming orange of a torch approached brought by A and Eliza, who were returning.

“Literally littered with traps,” Eliza said matter-of-factly.

“Like, literally,” A emphasized.

“I hate giant lizards,” Victor moaned, “especially when they lie and send me into an ancient death trap. I especially hate those kinds of lizards.”

“We got as many of them as we could,” A added, “but there’s no telling what we missed. Not to mention. . .” A looked at her brother for confirmation.

“Yes, the air here is weighed down by magic.”

“Whatever lies here, it is powerful, and dangerous,” Eliza added.

“Well,” Victor huffed, walking past the arguing duo and elves to where Eliza stood, “onward and downward.”

Minutes later the stairs ended, and the group entered a large antechamber, littered with decrepit vases and works of art. The jungle made its way even here, and the fauna seemed more alive than it should have. Two solid stone tables ran parallel to a worn carpet that stretched from the end of the stairs to an old wooden door at the end of the room. The group did not waste time here, and move past the door.

An ancient, immaculately crafted mural ran the length of a long carpeted hallway. The carpet was mostly worn, and missing entire chunks in some areas, revealing the cobblestone floor beneath. Vines and roots spread like veins from cracks in the ceiling, ending at random lengths along the floor.

Between the vines, images of battles and reflections of ancient drakari culture stretched along the wall. Winged creatures, breathing fire and organizing other winged and robed dragon-featured masses. As the murals progressed, the depictions of the fire-breathing drakari, elevated above the others grew sparse. The end of the history showed one creature, larger by far than any before it, above a large group worshippers stretching back to an imaginary horizon.

Eliza, taking the lead with the scavenged torch, ran her free hand along the length of the mural as they walked, taking in the story. She kicked a small stone, which had fallen from the ceiling where nature found a path. The stone rolled, without pause, indicating a subtle slope to the floor. Without noticing, or meaning to, she started to hum.

Toad was uncharacteristically silent in the middle of the hallway. Much of the trip had been a disaster for the skilled alchemist and he was fixated on a vial of dark liquid he had taken out of his pack. The dark water reflected every failure that had haunted him his whole life. Distracted by wallowing in self-pity, he did not notice stepping on a pressure-sensitive trap.

Heavy mechanisms turned from somewhere deep beneath their feet; like the rumbling hunger of a giant beast. From above the sinking stone, an opening appeared and a boulder, which encompassed the whole hallway, dropped down with a thundering crash. Everyone turned in horror, sinking instantly into despair. Time seemed to stop as the boulder inched forward, like it was taunting the small group. In those brief, fleeting moments, all eyes were on Toad and their hate was palpable.

In the deepest halls of the temple, and even in the forest above, the unified screams of six people shook the very air they passed through. The group ran blindly, unsure where they were going or how they would survive. Victor cursed audibly, his eyes darting around for anything to deter the barreling sphere.

“NO TRAPS!” he bellowed, nearly tripping over an ingrown root, “IF I GET OUT OF HERE, THAT BASTARD IS GOING TO SUFFER!”

Everyone tried something to deter the rolling juggernaut, but to no avail. A and Eliza ran ahead, using their well trained eyes to find any kind of solution, as the boulder gained on the slowest of the group.

“There!” Eliza yelled, spotting a lever, connected to some mechanism in the wall, “Useless, pull the lever!”

“Would you quit it with the ‘Useless,’” Victor yelled, but he was already wrapping his hand around the only ray of hope the group had. He pulled down with what he thought was appropriate force, only to tear the lever off. Another boom reverberated, and had the immediate effect of somehow speeding up the boulder. The group found the strength inside them to run faster, passing the limits they thought long gone.

“That was a horrible ray of hope! I hate this place! I hate it so much! Sacrifice yourself, you stupid bulbous bastard!” Victor yelled to Toad.

“You made it go faster, you sacrifice yourself, Useless!” the alchemist retorted.

Time was running out and Eliza could barely keep the torch lit, and its fading light reflected the remaining stamina of the collective. Cliff-face shouted something indiscernible, and leapt into the air as he ran. He spun around, tossing something round, which hit the boulder and stuck to it. When the boulder rolled over the substance it slowed significantly, until it was barely inching forward. From behind it, an elastic substance stretched from the point it connected with the floor to the back of the boulder.

Cliff-face landed on his feet, breathing heavily. The group stared at him in amazement, seeing him in a new light. The elastic tore off the stone from the floor but, with a yelp, Cliff-face fired off a volley of the strange substance, finally stopping the sphere in it’s tracks. A collective sigh of relief echoed from the group, and they all paused to catch their breaths.

“Why in the hell didn’t you just do that in the first place?” Toad asked, bitterly.

“Well, if anyone had bothered to find out my backstory,” he motioned to Victor and Eliza, who returned his gaze with some pretty obscene gestures, “you would have known that I’m an inventor, and this is a substance I’ve made from the sap of a very rare tree. It’s a rubber, that when chewed, becomes sticky and unbreakable,” Cliff-face explained.

“Wait,” Victor chimed in, “so you were chewing that crap this whole time?”

“Yup, I’m thinking about adding some flavor to it and selling it,” Cliff-face added.

“That’s disgusting,” Eliza replied immediately.

“No one would ever buy that,” Toad concurred.

“Just a terrible idea,” B added.

“That would be terrible for digestion,” A explained.

“Yeah man, all it’s good for is stopping boulders, and that’s like a once-or-twice-in-a-lifetime event,” Victor agreed.

After sufficiently putting down and demoralizing the inventor's idea, the group continued. In moments, they reached an ornate stone slab; which might have spelled doom for them, had Cliff-face not stopped the boulder. As they approached it, they could almost feel the air buzzing.

The slab held another mural on it, but this one was different than the rest. It depicted two drakari, one winged, and one with a small flame in its mouth, sealing the large one from before into a large stone. The small prison was in the middle of a large structure, presumably the temple the rag-tag group now found themselves in. A large crowd stood before the structure, but their backs were turned towards it.

They spent a few minutes interacting with the barrier, looking for a way to open it. B managed to find a relief which, when pressed, set the large stone sliding to the side, and revealing a large prayer room.

At the far end of the room, stood a large stone, upright and and covered in markings. It stood atop an elevated stage, in front of three rows of long benches. The group moved carefully, finding no traps in the place. The air seemed to sing now, blocking out all other distractions. They approached the coffin, the room filled with a soft red glow. Eliza was the first to near it, and seemed to move without thought, as if she was compelled by some other force. The retired assassin’s orange eyes were tinged red, and she reached her hand out.

“. . .”

“. . . Za. . .”

“. . . Iza. . .”

“Eliza!!” Victor yelled, shaking the young girl awake. She was on the floor, pale and breathing heavy.

“Wha. . .” she began, but realized she could barely speak. She felt like all the water had been drained from her. Her ears were still ringing, and her vision blurred; but she could see Victor yelling and turning towards another direction. A was rushing over, a water-skin in her hands. They let the girl drink, and B lifted her from the ground.

“Just what the hell are you?” Victor asked, turning to face the thing that emerged from the prison.

A thick stream of black and red smoke flowed freely from the sides of the now open stone. In its center was an enormous spiral of the colored smoke, with the shadow of a figure inside. Red eyes glowed ominously from behind the hanging cloud of smoke, and the form of wings could be made out from outside. The faint amber glow of a flame began to travel up from somewhere in the billow. Then suddenly it broke into a fit of coughs, and began using its wings to blow away the smoke.

Before the group stood a red-scaled drakari barely taller than Eliza. His features, as far as anyone could tell, were masculine, and adolescent. The creature continued to cough until the last of the smoke cleared.

“Valokein wah dii deylok, zin yunaar, Dii faan los Wiil,” the creature began with a short bow. He shuffled under a robe that was comically large on him and wore a humble, almost eager, expression as he scanned the group of adventurers. “Zu'u dreh ni koraav gein do dii reyliik voth hi, nuz pah pruz fah nii daar gahrk qulek zey tum het. Nust los gluuskei Zu'u los ni naraan tul, uv Zu'u fund fun niin fos.”

“Yeah. . .” Victor replied, “none of us have any idea what you’re saying. . .”

The drakari tilted his head to the side and expressed perplexity. His eyes scanned the room and he remained in his own thoughts for a moment. He then placed two fingers on his forehead, and let out a flash of white light.

Clearing his throat, “I said, ‘Welcome to my territory, honor guest, My name is Wiil. I do not see one of my race with you, but all the better for it; those jerks locked me down here. They are lucky I am not an adult yet, or I would tell them what.’”

“Oh,” Eliza said weakly, “is that a talking iguana?”

“How dare you young miss!” Wiil exclaimed, his voice cracking at all the wrong words, “I would have you know, I am of the honored Blood Caste, noble, just, and all powerful!”

“Well. . .” Victor sighed, “It looks like we found our artifact. . . Come on little artifact, here boy, we should be going now. . . And you should probably come with us,” the man cooed prepared for a fight, as dealings with magical beings usually went. He picked a sturdy looking branch from the ground, hating himself briefly for breaking his only sword months ago. But after quick inspection of the wood, he was surprised by its fortitude, surmising it was somehow enhanced by the powerful magic in the air. Time for me to show my stuff, this fight is gonna be epic, he grinned as he imagined the battle to be had.

“Very well, you seem trustworthy enough,” Wiil agreed, hopping down from the raised platform the stone stood on, “would you like to leave through the short way?” Speechless, and slightly disappointed, Victor nodded and followed the enthusiastic drakari to the exit.




__________________________________________________ ____________________________





The guide breathed deep, knowing there was an excellent chance most of the group had perished. If no one came out in another hour, he would follow, trusting the groups tenacity and inexperience had set off most of the traps. “Of course it was trapped, foolish human,” he chuckled.

Seconds later there was a deafening crash and the coffin which had been housed in the deepest part of the temple came flying out, crashing inches away from the guide. He scrambled out of the way, cursing in draconic. As he regained his footing, Victor was already in front of him, the human’s red eyes staring menacingly at the guide.

“I heard that,” Victor whispered, before landing a hard blow across the guide’s jaw.

“Is that why you carried that thing all the way up!?” A yelled, emerging from the new hole in the top of the temple.

“That was a mistake!” the guide growled, and prepared to retaliate, but stopped short when he saw the young Blood Caste. “Young Lord!” the guide cried, falling to one knee, “this one’s name is Aak, and I must take you to safety!”

“What?” Eliza asked, still being carried by B.

“Yeah, I think it’s about time you explained yourself,” A said calmly, but with a twitch in her voice that was unmistakably annoyance.

“There’s no time!” Aak protested.

“Make time,” Victor hissed balefully.

“Factions in the Wing and Flame Castes plan to imprison and use the Young Lord to horde power over the other factions, or kill him if he becomes uncooperative. They fear that the Scale Caste, who have all sworn blood bonds to the Blood Caste, will rise up and uproot the status quo in Suthainn,” Aak blurted out impossibly fast. “I guess that wasn’t so complicated, actually.”

“Well this young lady and I are tied by blood, so I am bound to her at the moment,” Wiil explained, to everyone’s surprise.

“Sh-Wh-Ho-I-Bu-” Aak blurted out, unable to form a complete sentence at the newest revelation.

“Ju-Na-Ar-Yo-We-” Victor added, also at a loss for words.

“The magic sealing me was soul binding, when she touched the bare seal, she overrode it to her own soul, and gifted me with the life-force necessary for my revival.”

“I guess we’re going to Archen,” Eliza exclaimed, hopping down from B’s arms and set off with Wiil, Aak and Victor to the boat.

The trip to Archen flew by for Eliza and Wiil, who turned out to be something of kindred spirits. Victor and Aak, however, spent the entire way trying to stay incognito and make sure the kids did not get lost among the hoards of people they encountered. In the end, the endless snowy plains and tall snow capped mountains were an equally awesome shift from the impossibly tall trees of the jungles of Dheathain. Victor made sure to dress the foreigners appropriately for the weather. Wiil had his internal heat to keep warm, and Aak did not seem bothered by the weather; either by force of will or a natural drakari resistance, the Scale Caste did not waver. And Eliza was just happy to return home to the familiar faces of people whom she had grown so close to with a new friend.




__________________________________________________ ____________________________





“So, I guess there’s no reward then. . .” Toad and Cliff-face said in unison, after the boat had long since departed, leaving the four support characters stranded.

“Oh just shut up,” B sighed.

“You two are just the worst,” A agreed as she and her brother walked off into the woods cursing at this unbelievable waste of time.

“Being supporting characters sucks. . .” Cliff-face sighed, and the two sat at the end of the tiny dock, their feet dangling over the edge, toes in the water.

[Ebivoulya]

Blistering sunlight beat down on a warped wooden deck, salt and sweat strong on the breeze. Thick jungle spread across the horizon, and a muscled half-elf rested bare elbows on the rail to gaze across swaying blue. Weeks aboard this rotting ship had worn on many a nerve, and he checked the strap of the large sword over his shoulder as he eyed the sailors. They thought his purse an easy snatch the first night; they never did find the one that vanished. Despite the pricey fare and the senator's objection, he had stumbled onto something he couldn't ignore. It was the shaman who had started it, with his casual mention of the many wonders discovered in his home country. The dusty days spent lingering in that old library had been vindicated the moment the swordsman read the words.

The bearer's light will burn eternal.

He checked his vest pocket to make sure the page was safe, and pulled his leather gloves tight as the ship approached the towering port-city of Talmhaidh. Tall stone towers stretched above even the dense canopy of Dheathain, a fine perch for the Drakari to view those who would approach their kingdom. The city rose with the land, but the port and market areas sat low against the sea, cut of solid granite to withstand the tropical storms. The half-elf recalled the slithering senator who now employed him, and hoped his crew hadn't gotten pulled into anything in his absence. They longed for the days in the clouds, and the simple smuggling runs of the past; the bastards might've even made off with his airship, by now.

The grimy plank creaked under leather boots as the large smuggler left the ship, and he wove through the crowd up the sturdy stone pier. Though an occasional misshapen wing was worn with pride, and many a veiny neck bare and bold, most of the passersby were the scaled serfs of the lowest class. Unsurprising, down here in the slums, though there were still a fair few human merchants and tradesfolk about. Usual thick cloak forgotten for this southern romp, the swordsman bore a sailor's tan up the steep streets and grand steps. The stonework grew finer as he ascended, and the members of the Wing and Flame castes grew more numerous. They wore their contempt plainly, here where they mingled with the scaled commonfolk, but the ire of the serfs was better hidden. A sharp eye here, and a clenched fist there; these things spoke for them.

Like their commoner brethren of the Scale caste, the imposing guards of the city all sported a lizard's skin, but none carried a weapon. The large black talons sprouting from their fingers marked them clearly as the Claw caste. The smuggler stayed clear of them as he scanned the tall stone buildings, searching the signs for his objective. The afternoon sun draped shadows across most of the streets at this altitude, and after clearing another set of wide stone stairs he spotted the fae embassy. Though the stone architecture matched its neighbors, the swordsman entered a different place. The carved walls ran rough around a central desk, stone roots and bushes protruding in varying detail. Someone was trying to turn it into a forest. The slender fae in muted browns quietly chiseling out a root in one corner was the obvious suspect, but the half-elf ignored him as he walked up to the aged fae in deep blue at the desk.

"Can I help you?"

Her voice lilted on the air like birdsong, and her pale blue skin held an other-wordly sheen. Every aspect of her marked her as a being of magic, though she still seemed much more human than tales of the wild fae. When the tall man asked for a guide to lead him to one of the ruins on Luthmor, she turned to the sculpting fae behind her and asked him if he would mind. The lanky lad approached to introduce himself as Alyn, with a boyish smile and an outstretched hand.

"Nyadir; good to meet you."

They exchanged pleasantries, and more of the smuggler's gold than he was expecting, and the pair were wading through the crowd back down to the pier. It didn't take much to hire a boat out to the island, though Alyn offered to provide passage for the return. The half-elf was confused at first, and then spent most of the trip out into the gulf listening avidly as the soft-spoken fae explained the self-docking boats, and other marvels they had unearthed at Donnalaich. Even the swarthy rowers lining the longboat lent an ear. Thoughts wandered into overgrown dells and down dusty stairs, and the swordsman watched the shoreline approach with excitement.

Not ten minutes in the jungle and the smuggler already regretted it. The air gathered thick and sweltering under the dense canopy, and the ocean breeze faded some twenty paces into the place. A whole damn city in these woods, and they couldn't pave one road through the trees. Alyn distracted him by explaining the various plants and bugs they came across; the lad was really quite knowledgeable. His slender arm swung from colorful leaves, to barbed roots, each one bearing a poison worse than the last. The swordsman drew his dagger to clear some vines, but stopped at the fae's heart-stricken look. He carefully ducked the spiny vines instead, and his guide went on to explain a bit about himself. Young Alyn was a wood fae, and cared greatly for the jungle and things which dwelt in it.

"Why do you look so... normal?"

The smuggler's question brought an understanding smile to the lad's face. He explained that he didn't want to throw away what he was to try to be something else. The larger man couldn't help but nod, and the fae went on to explain some of the basics before they reached the city. The water fae were friendly with his kind it seemed, and together they worked to nurture life, in all its forms. The fire fae disliked them, though. Along with the air fae, they sought the outside world, each for their reasons, while the earth fae stayed neutral. The swordsman carefully avoided the plants Alyn had warned him about as he listened, and he learned much on their trek through the jungle. His gloved hands still slapped at the many mosquitoes, and his face still poured sweat, but the guide was well worth the money spent. After about an hour of walking, a floral scent wafted on the breeze, along with soft music.

Thin bridges made of pure white stone hovered above, stretching between the many white towers that reached up between the trees, and winding streets of smoothed grass branched off into the city that was suddenly there. Fae of all colors filled the streets, trailing wisps of smoke, or drops of dew. The trails of flowers that sprung up behind the wood fae sank back beneath the grass moments later. The entire place was bright and varied, perhaps to make up for the austere white stone of the buildings. Alyn led the large man into the center of the city, but guards were posted at nearly all of the other streets. When the smuggler brought it up, his fae guide told him that outsiders were only allowed into certain parts of the city. It wasn't long until they entered another tall white building, apparently some kind of housing for public records on the ruins.

"I'll be right back."

The slender fae left the dark-haired half-elf standing in an empty lobby, and scurried down the hall. The white interior walls were expertly crafted into a backdrop of trees and underbrush, each leaf crisply carved. If this was what the young wood fae was trying to recreate back at their embassy in Talmhaidh, he'd be at it for another hundred years. The lad returned with a scroll and a scowl, but when the large man raised an eyebrow he only led them back out of the city. The swordsman asked if they had a destination, and he replied that they did, at one of the ruins the restoration teams hadn't reached yet. As they traveled the young wood fae remained mostly silent, and his taller companion wondered at the mood shift. Still, better to keep his nose where it was, so he focused on watching out for dangerous plants.

The path was a short one this time, and they reached the broken and overgrown ruin some half and hour later. Even walking up the wide white steps at the entrance was difficult, but the stonework was more intact inside. The flickering magical lights all but spent over the ages, but Alyn walked into the dim ruin with confidence. The swordsman kept his head on a swivel as he followed, and found the slender fae staring at his scroll before a bare hallway. When the half-elf asked what awaited them, the lad pointed to a section that looked like a schematic for a pressure-sensitive hallway trap.

"There's no way to disarm this from this side."

The smuggler gave himself some room as he focused energy into his physical enhancement, and sweat popped out on his brow. Most of the blades were set to descend near the center, so he took off sprinting along the edge of the hallway. With his speed quadrupled, the blades didn't even finish falling before he skidded to a stop at the other end. A quick glance found the chain hanging against one wall, and one pull was all it took to disable the trap. The fae approached wide-eyed, and the swordsman tried not to appear too smug. The lad's reaction was more of suspicion than admiration, though, so the two continued deeper with the half-elf's mood soured.

Though the dark-haired man secretly awaited the next trap with anticipation, the fae boringly took a side-path to a security room. He walked back out moments later explaining that all the traps had been disabled, and the half-elf sighed in disappointment. The fae explained in a flat tone that this magical workshop hadn't been set up to be impenetrable, just abandoned, and swordsman chuckled. Alyn seemed more cynical than he expected, though maybe the earlier cheer was an act. The room they entered was as white as all the rest of them, but filled with oddly shaped gadgets and knick-knacks. The smuggler immediately considered taking a few extra, but after that puzzle box incident, he knew better than to go fiddling with random artifacts.

"Ah, here it is."

The man who stood there holding the ring the half-elf sought was not Alyn, and his red clothing gave the man a guess to his element. The swordsman drew his blade as he eyed the man holding his prize, but the fool was entranced by the ring. Finally, the taller man asked what the fae had done to his original guide.

"The same thing I do to all weeds."

Sweat popped out on his brow just before the shorter man launched his first fireball, and the swordsman darted between the next few as well before claiming the fae's head. The ring bounced off to one side, but the smuggler wiped his blade on the dead man's fine shirt before sheathing it. He walked over and picked up the ring, noting the intricate vines carved into it, wrapping around the ruby set at the top.

"The bearer's light will burn eternal."

With a laugh he secured the ring in one of the smaller pockets on his vest, and headed out of the ruin. He would need to get to the coast, and wait for a boat to arrive. Going back to the fae city would be a bad idea, since he just killed one of them. He carefully made his way through the jungle, and away from the city, relying on Alyn's teachings to avoid all of the poisonous plants. The mosquitoes were even worse now that the sun was setting, and he swatted at himself almost constantly as he walked. A floral scent drifted on the wind, and he was looking at the white spires of Donnalaich again. The streets were more barren at this hour, but he didn't stay to see more. With an abrupt turn, he walked back into the jungle.

The city appeared in front of him again a few minutes later, this time with two fae standing near the entrance. The one in white silks raised an arm, and the smuggler lifted a few feet into the air, while the one in red crafted a large ball of flame in one hand. Sweat popped out on the swordsman's brow again, and just as the fire fae launched his attack, the mortal broke his bonds of air and dropped to the ground. The fireball flew off into the woods, and the smuggler darted with impressive speed up to the air fae, broad blade free and swinging just as a blade pierced his gut. The nimble fae ducked his swing and snatched the ring from its brown pocket. He quickly backed off, letting the half-elf slump to the ground while clutching his gut.

"My, my, that was close. This one is quick."

The haughty tone of the fae in white silks masked his fear, but the man on the ground needed time to heal before he struck. He pretended to pass out, and hoped the other wouldn't finish the job as he focused on his wound, and listened.

"Maybe you should actually detain him next time."

The gruff voice of the fire fae chimed in as the man walked past the mortal on the ground, but no blades fell to end the charade. The swordsman counted slowly as energy mended his torn flesh.

"Here it is."

The air fae spoke, the twang of metal likely the flick of the ring. The shuffling of the other's robes probably mean he had caught it, and the fire fae spoke now with excitement in his gravely tone.

"Excellent. The Ring of Eternal Flame."

A blob of fire landed onto the smoothed grass street, and a boot immediately stomped it out. The boot pulled away to reveal the flame still fresh, however, and several more stomps did nothing to quell it. After a few seconds the fire sucked into itself and disappeared.

"So none but the bearer can quench it. Perfect."

The half-elf tensed as the wound in his gut mended, and he tried to place the two in his mind based on their voices. The air fae was the closest, and also the one who could stop him; clearly the best target. The slender man in white silks began speaking again.

"Once the copies are made, your position on The Council will-"

A broad blade flickered just underneath the air fae's jaw, and the mortal sprinted off into the woods. Fireballs flew before the corpse in white even fell, but their target was already deep into the darkness of the Luthmor jungle. There were some serious implications to that man's last words, and as the half-elf ran through the jungle he thought again to the looks of disdain on the faces of those scaled serfs in Talmhaidh.

According to Alyn, the fire fae had always been aggressive expansionists. He hadn't known there was a council, but if the most unstable group gained control of it, things wouldn't go well. He would have to warn the Drakari, and hope the inevitable draft didn't cause a riot from the Scale caste. Things had gotten very complicated very quickly, and all for a ring that didn't even do what he thought. He slowed as he made distance from the city, relying on his half-elven senses as the darkness deepened. Alyn's teachings kept him alive that night, and he waited on the shore as dawn broke the next day.

Just one boat...

[orphans]

All spoken words will be in native language of Azza's kind. As such, I will not be denoting with the usual <"Spoke words."> to separate.

Days had turned to weeks and what was supposed to be a quick 'trip' had turned into the ongoing, never ending slog through the Fiorair Rainforest of Dheathain. At least, that's where Azza was told as she trudged behind her sometimes-mentor and current tormentor, Sakuya. Abruptly, the woman stopped and Azza, accustomed to continuous motion, bumped into her. "What're we stopping for?"

Ignoring the question, Sakuya sniffed at the air as the wolven ears atop her head perked. Slowly, her tail began to sway before turning to face Azza. "We are almost there!"

"You said that two days ago!"

"I'm fairly sure this time."

"You said that yesterday!" Confusion crept onto Sakuya's features as she woman hummed in thought. Azza on the other hand simply fumed and furrowed her brows at the brown-haired woman. "It's hot, sticky, uncomfortable -there's mud where I never thought possible- why are we even here?"

"I told you already, did I not?"

"No you didn't! You just appeared in my inn room and told me you needed my help and gated us before I had a chance to say anything!"

At that, Sakuya genuinely looked surprised as she blinked her eyes dumbly at Azza. "That is the reason; I need your help." The answer was filled with much more puzzlement than Azza had anticipated, but before she could show Sakuya her displeasure at the situation, Sakuya continued. "I brought you here to seek a Drakari ruin with me."

"...okay." Settling down on a slime covered stone with huff, Azza pulled off a boot and began draining it of muck. "So why do you need me help?" she asked without much interest. "It's not like I know what Drakari look like or how their ruins are built." Tossing the drained boot aside, the young women then started on the other with a grunt.

Sakuya hummed once more to herself as she plunked down into the mud in front of Azza. "The entrance require two souls. I have already attempted to access the ruin alone."

"Uhuh," came the half attentive reply as Azza scraped out a slug from her second boot. "Hold on... if you've already been there, why can't you find it again?"

"It moves."

"What do you mean it moves?! Ruins don't move."

Sakuya shrugged. "This one moves."

An exasperated sigh made its way out of the girl as she leaned away to stretch her back. "Assuming we even find these ruins... then what?"

"There is an artifact to retrieve. Records in the library of our Order tell of another of ours that came here before the Matriarch. Here being Althanas." Picking at some of the mud that had crusted on the upper parts of her robe, Sakuya then offered, "If it is any consolation, the ruins should be arriving at midnight if we stay here."

"Great, we can stop wandering around this terrible jungle."

Sakuya frowned, "Not wandering, chasing. I understand the pattern now."

"In that case, I'm going to wash myself off in the stream we crossed recently." Standing stiffly, Azza collected her boots as she cast a glance to Sakuya. "Feel like coming?"

"Of course! I can wash your back and you can return the favor," offered as she stretched and made to follow.

Azza snorted and began to walk towards the way they had just slogged from. "You already owe me for dragging me out here."

The words stopped Sakuya in her tracks as she pondered them. After a moment her usual smile danced on her lips she chased after her student walking towards the setting sun. "Accepted."


______________________________________



"Sakuya."

"Yes, Azza?"

"It's a bit late to ask this, but why is the water starting to glow?"

"I purified our bathing water." Somewhere off in the distance the yowl of an animal echoed into the darkness as the silence grew. "I purified our bathing-"

"I heard you the first time. I've purified water as well and it doesn't just start glowing after a while."

Sakuya giggled as she cupped her hands and poured another handful of water over Azza's head. "You restore water to resemble fresh rain. I remove all contaminants. Same result, but different methods."

"But the glow?"

"Mana and spirit released from the remains of creatures purified in the water." Another quiet followed. "It is clean."

"Sakuya."

"Yes, Azza?"

" I'm just going to get out now. It's close to midnight anyway, isn't it?"

"It is," Sakuya answered as Azza climbed out onto riverbank.

Within moments of Azza pulling on her cleaned clothing, rumbling shook the ground briefly and then ceased. "Must be a small ruin."


______________________________________



Shafts of moonlight filtered down through the leaves above as Sakuya and Azza made their way back towards the slimy stone Azza had used as a seat. As the two reached their previous point of progress, Azza glanced about for some sign of the structure to no avail. "Sakuya- "

"Shh," Sakuya returned curtly and held up a hand.

In the faint light, Azza could barely make out the woman's narrowed eyes - the sort of grim look that the girl was all too familiar with from her past life. Cautiously, Azza unclasped the binding around the hilt of her sword and just as she finished, rustling from the underbrush sounded from all around the two. Soon enough, a dozen or so humanoids with a various amount of scales, crept forth wielding spears and bows with their bodies painted where pelts didn't cover. "You didn't happen to anger the guardians with your first visit, did you?" Azza hissed as she shifted herself to stand back to back.

"They are no guardians," Sakuya returned as she watched, a scarred warrior warily move forward and jabbed at the pair with a finger. Then, he motioned at the ground. Seeing no movement from the two, he took another step forward. Before his foot touched the ground, a ray of moonlight bent and crushed into his chest, sending him flying backwards. There was a momentary stillness of shock before wild cries of rage rose and the two were charged.

Unsheathing her sword instantly in a wide arc to deflect several oncoming arrows, Azza screamed in annoyance and anger, "What did you do Sakuya?!" Several of the scalish humanoids faltered in their charge when Azza's voice reached them. Seeing their hesitance, Azza dashed forward shouting with her sword raised.

But before Azza could make contact, a clap resounded through the air as luminous light raced out in all directions with Sakuya at the heart. Circular runes erupted outwards and for a split second the world was eerily devoid of sound. Sakuya's voice then boomed out, rolling across the heaves and through the canopy, the volume rising with a vortex of wind, "Heed my words, children of the sky lords: violence before sacred ground will result only in grief!"

All of the scalish-kin dropped their weapons and fell to their knees with heads bowed in reverence, leaving Azza feeling rather foolish as she stood mid-stride with sword still raised. Slowly, she relaxed her form and then looked over to the shining form of Sakuya. Seeing the woman with horns exposed, and wings enlarged and billowing in the artificial gusts, Azza kept quiet as she returned to stay beside her. Carefully, she muttered, "What's going on?"

Sakuya ignored the question and answered with only a fleeting look before fixing her eyes upon the approaching figure of an elder, who too kneeled before Sakuya once he was within arm's reach. "Forgive our foolishness of being unable to recognize keepers of the ancient tongue. If it would please you, I can lead you two to the entrance of our temple."

The light dimmed as Sakuya's wings and horns vanished. Nodding her head to the elder, Sakuya then turned to Azza with a smile. "A hunch, is all."

With one last look at all of the scalish-kin prostrating themselves before the two, Azza only shook her head and followed after her mentor and their new guide, mumbling "This feels like déjÃ* vu."

A chuckle left Sakuya as she whispered in return, "When you live long enough, everything gives you déjÃ* vu."


______________________________________



Inside the temple was anything but a ruin. Braziers standing full of coal gave the warm touch of light along the walls while the open space in the center stood bare save for a single altar of stone long enough to serve as a bed. Upon it lay a figure whose golden hair spilled from his head while his body rested. Save for a long scar down the left of his chest, the person was immaculate. "During the time of my predecessors, when the ancient who fell from the sky was still able to wake, he told us that one day his kind would come and find him. However, whoever it was that came, he wanted them to come as a pair." Sakuya and Azza both looked upon the still form, Azza with some confusion while Sakuya could only smile dimly. "I will be nearby should you two need-"

"Elder keeper," Sakuya began, "do you know of why his horns have become what they are?"

At the mention, Azza's eyes looked to the figure's head and saw two horns crumbled to the point that there was barely any remaining. The elder offered softly, "My forebears tell that after the one who fell from the stars helped the ancient four leave behind their young, us Drakari, his health began to decline."

"Sakuya..." Azza began uncertainly, "there was never an artifact, was there?"

For a moment, Sakuya said nothing and placed her hand upon the man's brow. "Brother Haydin, have you still no desire to return?"

Haydin's lids flickered. Gradually they opened and gazed back into Sakuya's. A weak chuckle left him. "Fate certainly has a sense of humor, doesn't it? Half-sister." Hushed murmurs from onlookers made him smile at some private memory as his head turned to look at Azza. "And you being here - I see that Sola has succeeded in her wish then."

Sakuya grimaced. "Even the sight of your reborn daughter is not enough, is it?"

Haydin watched as the pieces clicked into place for Azza as the girl took a step back. "Father? I have no right to hold such admiration. Because of my beliefs, my stubbornness... my weakness, I damned both my cherished and child to suffering. It is not that I don't desire to return. I do not deserve to return, Sakuya."

Azza could only stare on at the strange unfolding of events before her. As much as she wanted to believe it as all lies, being this close to the dying man, she could feel that he was indeed one of them. That his tired words held no dishonesty. And yet, there was only a hollow feeling in her chest. There was no emotion that she could attach to him - a man she had never known. Before she knew it, the young woman was sprinting across the floor towards the exit.

"So that is your choice, Haydin?"

Closing his eyes, the man smiled sadly. "I will be returned to the Order, sooner or later. Let me have these last few years to contemplate my failings. I pray that it will help me avoid my mistakes when I am born again."

With nothing more to say, Sakuya stepped back and nodded to the elder Drakari, who stood with mouth agape. "Tell none of your flock the true words that have passed before you. Please." With a last glance towards the sleeping Dovicarus, Sakuya followed after her student. "For his sake."

[Lye]

Closed and pending judgment by myself. Prepare for the long haul of waits. Shin, have fun keeping me on track.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Closed and pending judgment by myself. Prepare for the long haul of waits. Shin, have fun keeping me on track.

Don't worry guys. I'll set fire to his toes until he gets this done.

[Rayleigh]

Heads up, I'll be taking this off Lye's hands. Expect the judgment to be completed in the next couple of days. I will still be adhering to the judging style outlined in the first post. Thank you for your patience!