It is one thing to meet a dragon ...

(( SOLO - unless someone is interested. ))

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plot reminders: guild near fortress. Destroy it dearly.
Mao dies.

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"Okay and what is this?"

She held up her sword, her main sword. Long and slightly tapered it was a blade based off one of legend - a killer of goblins it was to be told. With a bone handle and a steel structure encasing the majority of the hilt it stood as a relatively formidable weapon.

Hmmm ... Nameless.

Slowly letting out an impressed huff of air Philomel looked up at the monster before her as the deep, thundery voice echoed around her head. Now thirty feet long and his skin beginning to gain it's standard (for his kind) natural toughness, he looked quite the counterpart for any goddess' totem. A mottled green and brown from nose to tail he was a reptilian beast with a horse-like head, huge nostrils heaving air. Long, antlered horns jutted from his skull and were matched by four large spikes on the tail. Tapered ears flickered, two pairs of legs with unusually large muscles held up a solid, tremendous body. Built somewhat like a fearsome lizard-beast of old he was a dragon which had been reborn under the light of a tree goddess, his skin like turtle-skin rather than scales and his jaw far stronger than any of his kin.

And here he sat like a dog, back on his haunches and tail lying out behind him, tongue lolling as he looked at his faun with bright, green eyes. For they were green, she now saw, they were the brightest grass green and full of riotous intelligence.

"Okay," she nodded slowly, sheathing the sword. "What about this?" she pointed at a tree.

Oak, came the simple word. Oak. Not just tree, specifics were already being learnt.

Her eyes glanced over to her right, where a fox and a rabbit sat side by side, blinking and watching. The rabbit seemed somewhat confused, but then she would do. Mao liked the rar-beast, she felt safe with him but, she didn't know what they were saying. Her words went as far as 'food' and 'fox'.

"What about this?" She pointed to Veridian.

And a deep, throaty rumble came from Delath's chest. He opened his maw and a sound exploded, a huge thrum of energy that made his chest beat up and down like a drum.

Holy cow. He was laughing.

"What in the Lily happened?" Philomel said, her brows furrowed and approaching the dragon with intense curiosity. "How are you ... You weren't like this before. I don't get it. You never spoke, only understood most things and now you are ..."

The dragon slowly stopped laughing and he paused, before turning his head and fixing her with one, large green eye. The silence was long, but Philomel was cut off by the beauty of his iris as he caught her off guard. Inside the depths of it she saw passion, love and wisdom, and a life so wanted that he would do anything for it.

Mother, he gently moved a foot towards her, a claw sprung out and pointed at her heart. He meant her when he said it. Grandmother, he nodded over at a tree and then looked back at Philomel. Grandmother came to Delath. Like the first time.

She could not remember how long ago precisely it was. The world was caught up in a fluid motion of events, battles and lovers. A very long time ago she had bought a black dragon hatchling at an auction, and told he had been in training to be a rider's mount. Philomel had kept the creature, had him stowed away for most of her assassin career in the basement of a good friend, a Mister Draak of the Firehall all-god church in the backwaters of Radasanth. As she and Veridian had been running around killing and beginning to establish the Gilded Lily, Delath had been burping little more than steam. He had been a winged, fireless beast then, nothing more than a baby with the similar mind and instincts.

Then he had grown, in a day changing colour, size and purpose. He had gone from this tiny, five foot long thing to a beast, capable of eating and digesting rock. His scales had become smooth and like skin, but in a way that the earth glided off him. His wings were lost, as was his ability to burp tiny flames ever again, and instead he forged a mental attachment to Philomel, and breathed spores that caused horrific necrosis and rash. Digging became his trait, earth his element and he was changed in a single few moments.

A dragon to rock, dedicated to Drys.

This change had been more subtle, however. Apart from the ten feet of length that he had recently gained, Delath's outward abilities had not changed. Instead, however, his mind had altered. Now he was a talking, inquisitive being, not a beast.

Revealing things like - he considered Philomel his mother, and Drys his grandmother apparently.

"So Drys changed you?" she wondered outloud. "Your breath as well has become less dangerous, simplified ... Is that purposeful?"

Hmmm, the deep voice rumbled. I know not what. Nettles?

Philomel found herself nodding. "Yes, it is like nettles. Stings."

Nettles, he agreed.

Turning to him Philomel found a smile flickering to her face, like a candle that was reluctant to light. Reluctant as she had so little idea of what else might be going on inside that giant head. Intelligence was alive in the eyes, ones that spoke with a desire to just be with her.

He huffed and pushed his head so his nose was suddenly touching her shoulder. She jumped slightly, genuinely surprised at how sudden he had come in to greet her. There he was, great nostrils flaring and breathing air up her skin. The brown hair there ruffled and she felt her heart begin to ricochet into heightened exclamation. Delath let a low rumble in his throat as he whispered.

Mother.

Mother. He regarded her like his mother. And Drys his grandmother. They were a small, strange family of dragon, goddess and faun.

"Does that mean then Celandine is your sister?" Philomel murmured. "What about-"

Me, another face pushed his way in, up under her elbow on the other side. And this.

There was a small black nose, a white chin and russet head. A snuffled and a jaw shoved forwards a very confused rabbit who paused before awkwardly climbing onto Philomel's lap. Silence fell and then there they sat, four creatures of very different species, all caught in the whirlwinds of fate. A faun from a brothel, a fox from an ash tree, a rabbit from a demi-god and a dragon reborn as a form of wyrm.

Peace settled and for a while they were just in silence, the awkwardness falling away, the uncertainty coming to nothing. Philomel found herself genuinely smiling, loving that her life was this, that she had a daughter who loved her.

That paradise went on for a few minutes, but it could not last. Thunder soon came along with a horse. Looking up, surprised, Philomel saw a huge stallion bearing over to them, and on its back a young man with streaming hair. On his lapel he wore a white lily flower, a sign of his loyalty.

His name was Tarrimar, and he was the newest acquisition to the Gilded Lily fortress. A past pimp who had turned rent-boy, who was originally from Beinost and had originally come over as a genuine link between the Elssmith enterprises and the Gilded Lily.

Now he was a warrior, and gave his loyalty to Philomel. He was one of the only two men trusted enough to live in the fortress, the other being Rameses Vaeron, Celandine's father. Tarrimar was bold, still beautiful and strong armed. And he was riding at them with prowess.

For long enough now she had been waiting for the faun. Waiting, frustrated, getting more and more bored. Right now she was on her second tankard of good, stout beer, and that was almost gone. A last few dribbles remaining and now she was thinking about quitting and leaving altogether.

But no. Her orders were to warn the faun, and get rid of this latest report of the Bounty Hunters Guild alongside her. What had simply started out as a general quandary by Vitruvion had now become a systematic hunt of every Guild hideout that they found near anything of interest. The paper they had managed to gather from the one between Radasanth, the Celestial Brewery and Harbour Town were detailed in showing a map of where they were. And every time they had taken over more (or at least found it) they had found more locations. So far their number stood at fifteen, with more expected. In fact there was one known in an area north of Beinost itself called the Bane Wood, and a switching command had been stationed in the road leading there just to keep and eye on them. The major problem with the Bounty Hunter Guild was that they had been the ones to kidnap Stare, then when she had freed herself along with Nevin, had revealed that there was another half-sibling of Vitruvion's on Althanas, one with dark intentions ...

A great sigh and then - now - a furry body dropped into the seat opposite her. Grey eyes and violet hair pulled back into a tight plate. She had a gorgeous body and a curious look on her face. Beside her an awkward man was standing, one that Stare only knew by sight and reputation.

"An's balls," Stare murmured as she looked up at the young man with the curls of strawberry-blonde hair. "Tarrimar, in the flesh."

Tarrimar's mouth flickered into a smile and he bowed. "Lady Stare. We never actually met but I have heard of your reputation."

Her reputation. The kenku swallowed back an amused laugh, then looked over at the faun opposite her.

"Sir Elssmith sends his regards," she greeted her. "Best wishes, all that."

Philomel raised her brows but nodded her head the smallest level. The last time, and only time, of course that the two of them had met was to rescue Philomel's young daughter. Her heir, who had been kidnapped and sold off in an illegal, secretive child-slave auction. Thankfully they had managed to sabotage it in time, and Stare had actually been the one to barter for the child in the end but ... It had been hard. Stressful for crow and goat humanoids.

"I'm sure he does," the Matriarch of the Gilded Lily murmured. "And I guess ... I send them back."

Stare blinked, knowing exactly the sorts of thoughts were running through the faun's head - the horror, fear and hatred she had felt when subject to the Hollow. She nodded, thinking of them right there and then. There was a slow emergence of a presence in her mind, as if someone waking up from sleep.

Hmm?

Lady Philomel sends her regards, Stare sighed to her god.

Right, Vitruvion grunted, then she had the image and sensation of him flopping back down to the bed. His bed, thankfully. In the mansion. Get rid of the Guild house near hers.

“Right, as dick-quan-white-hair says,” Stare spoke with an unamused tone. “There is a major issue that affects both you and me.” She glanced sideways at Tarrimar. “And you I guess.”

The past pimp blinked before he bowed his head again. Still, he stood awkwardly beside the booth, a little uncertain as he looked between two people who could easily be his mistress.

“So what is it?” Philomel looked at the crow woman, one perfect brow rising.

The kenku's jaw tightened before she huffed and then straightened. She brought her hands up onto the table before her, narrowly avoiding the tankards that had appeared, from a place she did not particularly remember.

Likely Tarrimar.

“What I have to say will take a while,” she spoke slowly.

Philomel sucked in her breath and folded her arms over her chest. She nodded. “Go on.”

It took a moment for the kenku to consider how to say it best. She paused for a moment, beak parting as she blinked.

“Well,” she said hesitantly, and quietly “It comes down the fact that Sir Elssmith and I have discovered an enemy of his. A group called …” she paused before lowering her voice even more. “The Bounty Hunter's Guild.”

“And that is … a guild of bounty hunters, possibly?” Philomel raised an eyebrow, but she did not express more. Certainly in her time she had come across dark guilds. The Crimson Hand for instance had gone from sorrow to sorrow in its time, and bad things were often said about the Alchemists guild in Radasanth.

Across from her Stare glared back, unamused at the sarcasm. “No it's a guild for jesters. Of course for bounty hunters,” she rolled her eyes. “Anyway, they are not all what they seem. They have hideouts we have found in almost every country and ask no questions to what bounty they are receiving and for whom they are capturing the individuals. We came across them two months ago now, when I myself was captured by them, and … well the usual. Tortured, raped,” she waved a hand as if they was perfectly normal words, without consequences. “But I escaped thanks to a friend. On the way out we discovered that the guild was having dealings with a demonic church.”

Still the faun lounged, but her brows did shoot up. “Demonic?” she asked, surprised. She had had had dealings with them too, but not so many. Generally they were considered bad things. “I see …”

The kenku nodded once, powerfully. “I will not name names, but the demon has been poisoned by another power, one we know simply as the ‘influencer’. He is definitely not influencing for any positive measures. So, yes. We have a problem.”

Philomel paused, and then inclined her head. “Yes, I get that Crow, but … well. What has that to do with me?!”