The Wyrven Reunion

[Shadar]

The ship's hold whispered with relief as it drifted to a halt and the multitude of barrels and crates stopped straining against their lashings. Beyond the convex walls, gangplanks slapped against stone and the shouts of dock workers thickened the air. It all echoed in the hold, quieter, but everywhere as if to compensate for the tedium of the long voyage.

"We should get out. They'll be unloading, soon," said a tired voice amid the creaking cargo.

"Don't you hear it?" came the response, a harsh female voice, unusually timid at the moment.

Shadar listened. Cargo creaked, boards groaned, and workers' feet pounded above. He couldn't discern anything else, but he tried, for her sake as well as curiosity. In the darkness, he leaned his head back against a crate and blocked out the sounds, one by one. The cacophony of the docks receded, nothing but an alien intrusion upon what had been their nest for a great many weeks. The yawning cargo calmed also, as he had long since grown used to those sounds. His straining ears found the rustling of Brigitte's feathers as she shifted her shoulder against his and her folded wings dusted the plank floor. Then, beyond that, he heard what concerned her; a soft drum along the top deck, almost indiscernible.

"Rain," he sighed. She nodded vigorously beside him, her body shaking against his. Shadar lifted a lethargic hand from under his splayed legs and spread his fingers against the black, musty air. Ghost lights appeared, flitting around his fingers and glowing softly so as not to blind them. His short, silver hair glistened, as did his blue, squinting eyes. The light did nothing to illuminate his long gloves, though. The material just drank it in.

Brigitte squinted too as she turned her face to his. There was worry in her emerald eyes, an emotion totally out of place amid her strong features and brilliant red hair. In the faint light, it shone like a shower of embers falling past her shoulders. She lifted her knees to her bosom and wrapped her golden wings about herself, silently pleading.

"If they find us..." Shadar warned. They were, after all, stowaways. Why pay for passage when you can just phase through the hull? Brigitte's unwavering gaze said that she didn't buy it. They had faced enemies far worse than annoyed sailors on a merchant ship.

But, before Shadar could come up with a better excuse, his ghost lights started going out. He snapped his attention back toward his hand, where a small caricature of a whale had appeared and leisurely gobbled the small globes. Stop it, he demanded, uselessly shaking his hand.

I'm booored, whined a voice in his head, a voice far too deep and menacing to pull off a convincing whine. We're bloody well here, so get on with the sight-seeing before I play a tune on your nerve centers.

I'm not going to drag a screaming harpy onto the docks, Shadar shot back, only slightly bitter. Both he and Brigitte could take to the air indefinitely, but they were still landlocked by her phobia. She had worked through some of it. She didn't flail in rainstorms anymore, so long as she had time to come to grips with the fact that water would get under her feathers and cause what -he could only assume- was a sensation like an ant colony under one's skin. She loathed the stuff, so much that their attempt to cross an ocean sans boat had failed miserably. Even without touching the surf, just seeing it stretching in all directions had provoked the kind of tantrum that reminded Shadar why he hated children.

Still, he tried not to blame her. She had been made that way by none other than the demon living in his head. Diamond Jackal, bastard that he was, would never be that gentle with her.

"If we're hanging out here all day, at least cuddle daddy for a bit," the demon said aloud as he manifested against Brigitte's opposite shoulder. There was no lighting that could make the purple muzzle and fiery eyes of the demon seem inviting, but the ghost lights cast him in a particularly unpleasant glow.

Hissing more like a cat than a bird, Brigitte bolted to her feet and waved her wings defensively just as if they were her non-existent arms. Jackal's maw parted, belting out an obnoxious laugh that made the harpy carve gouges out of the floor with her talons. The laugh also brought a sudden response from beyond the heaps of cargo.

"Hello?" asked a bewildered sailor as he heaved open the hold door and flooded half of the room with flickering lamp light.

"Time's up," Shadar said sternly as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped toward Brigitte. The sailor's light loomed around their sheltering crates, reaching as far as the spot where Jackal's illusion sat. The demon made a face scarier than usual at the intruder, which set the surprised man into a stream of sea curses the likes of which should only be spoken while half an ocean away from civilization.

At a snarl from Shadar, the illusion flashed a toothy grin and disappeared. Still hounded by the lamp, yet thankfully unseen, Shadar pressed one black hand against the outer hold. "You ready?" he asked quickly. Brigitte nodded, annoyance feeding her bravery. The wall rippled like the water below, and the pair lunged through it just as easily.

Grey afternoon light greeted them, accompanied by a shower that they probably needed after weeks of collecting dust. They fell toward the dark water for a moment, until Shadar located the nearest stone pier. Then, just short of the waterline, he heaved Brigitte toward it. Fraying nerves, suddenly released, snapped her wings open and guided her like an arrow toward the solid ground. Shadar followed closely, gliding with nothing more than an act of will.

When her talons scraped along the stone, Brigitte slapped her wings back around her torso, and not to protect the modesty of her bare, buxom chest. Shadar's feet gently found the stone next to her, and he brought with him a wooden umbrella, hastily formed from the depths of his dark gloves. She still looked distressed, though.

A single glance about, and Shadar knew why. Every pair of eyes, from their waterside perch to the stone buildings beyond, was staring. Had everyone seen their emergence from the ship's hull? Were they bewildered at the rough umbrella appearing from nowhere? Or had he...

Dammit, I forgot the illusions. It had been so long since they left the Jadet port, where he had kept her disguised to draw less attention. Though, there had still been quite a scene.

It would be redundant to try now, and he didn't have any idea which of the races in front of him was the most socially acceptable. There were a group or two of humans, merchants from the ships, but the rest were a drastic change from the social landscape of Corone. Draconian workers, frozen in their labors, were the majority. Scales adorned their shirtless bodies, and they had claws as often as fingers. Their eyes, black as pitch, seemed to waver as if they were debating the need for dock security.

The fae, almost as numerous, were far less hostile. Many even smiled. While nowhere near as short as the stories claimed, those amused faces certainly made them seem child-like. Most startling, there were wings everywhere, a silver butterfly pair for every single fae, and a leathery serpentine set on many of the draconians.

An inquisitive sound left Brigitte's throat, and she tilted her head to the side as if she didn't believe what lay beyond the curtain of raindrops.

"I'd say you almost fit in here," Shadar said with a grin.

Brigitte looked askew at him, then back at the people who were already growing disinterested enough to return to their duties. She found a smile, too. "Yeah. It's... nice."

Wearing their true selves, the pair wandered into Talmhaidh, the seaside city of stone.

[Yari Rafanas]

The illusionist and his harpy would have a rainy day's head start, and they most certainly would need it. If Shadar had any inclination of who was following him to Dheathain, he would know that there would be no outrunning the time-altering, self-proclaimed king of thieves. Yari Rafanas was an arrogant speed demon who made a life of taking what he wanted. If he so desired finding Shadar, it would be done. The seas' hate for the bandit be damned.

During Yari Rafanas' last attempt at travel by boat, Althanas turned the sea on top of him, filling his haughty lungs with water and burying his greedy soul under the waves. Relentless waters and the spite of Concordia's gods ended his sea-crossing adventure abruptly and abandoned him to the harsh sea to learn his fate. The curse turned to a blessing, bringing with him a renewed sense of life and want that he thought forever lost. When he recovered from the shipwrecking and returned to his life as a bandit king, he brought with him a woman unlike any other.

“Collect yourself, Yari. We're here.” spoke a soothing, soft voice belonging to the girl named Shempi. Her sharp green eyes met with his blue and she placed her hand on his. The pair leaned against the railing of the ship, bags at their feet, watching as their vessel made port.

“Do you feel it, babe?” Yari asked with a smirk.

Shempi closed her hand tightly around her partner's. Her eyes watched his as they began surveying the dock, his mouth slightly open—practically salivating at the thought of moving forward with their plan. They had been cramped up on the ship for so long, she knew exactly what feeling he spoke of. She shared it with him—in her legs, her fingers, and toes. It yearned to escape.

“This experience?” Shempi questioned.

“Embrace it,” he confirmed. “We're in this for good now. Together.”

The bandit king and his queen checked their persons. Yari's legendary shark-shaped knives were attached firmly at his thighs while her elegant bow was wrapped in a dark blanket on her back. They both collected the small bags at their feet and began their trek off the ship, a passing nod to the sailors who brought them.

Standing before the ramp to shore was the vessel's captain, a man known as Tahk—the name was rumored to be a misspelling of his favorite pastime, though no one man has been able to confirm whether this was fact. He was a sturdy-looking man, scarred across his brow and hardly charming, but he wore a toothy grin and ran a tight merchant ship. This particular boat, however, had a history of black market dealings throughout the world, and had taken quite the liking to Bandit Brotherhood. The family of thieves provided hard workers when they were short and a safe place to stay when the crew needed to avoid Corone's lawmakers during more harsh seasons. For this reason alone, the captain agreed to let the young leader of the group convince him to make a run to Dheathain. There was only a slight sense of resentment that they had to go so far for so little in trade—a point Takh delivered when he slapped Yari on the shoulder with a rumbling laugh.

“My boy, you'd do right to keep the girl close. If I find you let her die on us, I'm leavin' ya here and tales of yer second death will spread the seas... If you know what I mean.”

Yari pulled Shempi closer and began his decent into the Draconian crowds, waving the captain off. “I wouldn't worry about it.”

“We won't!” one of the sailors heckled, causing an uproar in laughter from the others, the likes of which Takh joined in on immediately.

Shempi ensured her look of disgust was delivered to the crew members before the two fell in line and entered the streets of the port town. They huddled close, pulling their dark hoods over their heads and moving forward with purpose. Fae and dragon-men looked down on the couple, stepping out of the way and watching closely as the two shady figures kept their eyes ahead and their business to themselves. Each determined step they took informed the denizens of Dheathain that this human duo had blood on their mind—blood between brothers of old that would be spilled anew.

I'll find you, Shadar Logath.

[Shadar]

"Synthesis?" asked the Draconian blacksmith. His brow, if the hairless, crimson-scaled patch above his eyes could be called a brow, was set askew. Either he wasn't used to dealing with tourists, or the half-elf and harpy were a whole new level of tourists. "We don't handle that here," he said dryly as his black eyes twitched at another Draconian customer entering the shop, "Go to the Crystal Square in Donnalaich."

Fleshed or scaled, Coronian or otherwise, Shadar disliked merchants. It didn't help that he was hemmed in on all sides by display weapons that were clearly made for someone stronger than himself. That fact alone had smacked away his usual wry smile at the door, and arching his neck to look up at the blacksmith just pushed him even more into scowl territory. "And that would be..." he said slowly.

The Draconian pointed a single heavy claw. "The road is that way. It'll take you around the worst parts of Luthmor."

"How about if we go in a straight line?" Shadar interjected.

Chuckling thickly, the smith waited as if he expected it to be a joke. "Seriously?" he asked when Shadar's annoyed glare didn't shift, "I guess you would go that way." He shifted his finger slightly, and Shadar only glanced once before turning from the counter. "For your sake, I hope she's planning to carry you," he said huskily into Shadar's back, though the half-elf could tell that there was something in that meant for Brigitte.

The harpy, pleasantly uninvolved until that moment, snapped her attention away from a shimmering sword as wide as herself. She cocked her head to the side and stared at the blacksmith in bewilderment, which earned her a wink. With his tense back pointedly directed at the smith, Shadar swept an arm over Brigitte's shoulders and led her to the door, past the Draconian customer who seemed plenty amused also.

Out on the street, they were greeted by Jackal's illusion, a sight that received very curious stares even in as odd a city as this. "You know what they say about Draconians, don't you?" he asked loud enough for the entire street to hear, and his rasping voice was so thick with innuendo that only the most innocent of minds wouldn't understand.

A group of teenage fae girls burst into a laughing fit as they ran past, but Brigitte still tilted her head to the side in confusion. "What do they say?" she asked, her snow white purity only tarnished by her audible distrust of the Dream Demon. Now, the Draconian men were smiling smugly.

"Jackal, don't ruin our vacation," Shadar grumbled... after choking down his own uncouth amusement.

"I'm sure Shadar can tell you. Ask him," Jackal said with a sly shrug, and then puffed out of existence.

She did, much to Shadar's chagrin, and he tried to distract her as they walked. But, after a night spent wandering the misty city, she was no longer impressed with the beautiful stonework of the buildings, their crystal decorations shining eerily under the cloudy sky; nor was the familiar form of the Draconians, with their reptilian parts almost reflective of her own bird features, nearly as interesting. They, on the other hand, seemed to find her very interesting. Of course, the leering black glances meant nothing to her, and Shadar found himself shooting back completely ineffectual glares of his own.

Finally, the stone streets turned to soft earth, and the sturdy buildings shrank away. The grasslands beyond reminded him of Corone - if someone rolled the whole countryside up and dunked it in a river for a few hours. Everything seemed twisted from moisture, though there was nothing grotesque about it. Dead trees would knot in on themselves, locked in death throws, but these scattered trees were clearly vital and thriving. They bent easily, as if currents in the air had gently directed their growth. The rise and fall of the earth seemed to have been shaped by that current also. Its peaks were more violent, its valleys deeper and darker. It was as if the continent had formed at the bottom of the ocean before rising to accept its inhabitants, and Shadar couldn’t help but find it relaxing to wander the gently sweeping lines with his eyes.

Brigitte, however, felt her innards roll. She saw the violent lines of ocean swells in every direction, locked forever in earth or bark, but still too familiar. With wide eyes, she turned to Shadar, her feathers standing on end. “Do we…,” she began meekly.

“We can do it now, or wait until it starts raining,” he offered. The thickly clouded sky said just as much.

Shadar felt Jackal stirring in his head, ready to offer a not-so-gentle voice to the discussion. But, it wasn’t needed. With a quiet sigh and a firm set to her jaw, Brigitte spread her earth-tone wings and heaved herself upward. Shadar hopped to a few inches off the ground and hung there, floating as easily as if the moist air really were as buoyant as water. With a slight lean, he began to glide along the ground, skimming its waves and gaining speed until his coat snapped violently about him and the flexing trees were barely-avoided blurs.

[Yari Rafanas]

Darkness fell upon the edges of Talmhaidh where stone city dwindled and vast plains were born. Only the strongest of stars peeked through the clouds above, offering little to no guiding light to navigate the eastern grasslands. A lone draconian, well aware of the limitations brought by nightfall, returned to his humble stone home with a carcass over one shoulder and a spear in the other. A small magical light cast away the stalking shadows and illuminated a large stone table on his deck. Carving tools hung on the wall near the light, swaying slightly, as if anticipating the taste of blood on their steel tongues.

A massive boar-like creature was dropped heavily onto the slab. The draconian popped his neck and flexed his leathery wings, looking over the meal he managed to snag before sundown. A sense of pride was etched into his frame, soon to be replaced by a almost dumb awe as his attention turned to the entrance to his adobe.

A slender, smooth leg peeked from the shadows of his home, catching the draconian's black eyes and teasing them. They trailed along the curves, straining to see what manner of fae or other beauty they belonged to. His eyes only caught glimpse of a peculiar tail, moss-tipped and playful... beckoning him to enter. His clawed hand dragged heavily against the stone slab—his subconscious yearning for him to stay in the light and proceed with caution. Sadly, the rest of his body gave way to an almost bestial lust and curiosity akin to a lone hunter like himself and he approached the doorway. Lust gave way to shock and surprise.

The shadows sprang from his home in hardly a heartbeat and were upon the draconian. The darkly clad King of Thieves was born from them, his full body weight colliding into the larger huminoid and slamming the pair into his gray rock table. Yari's right hand dug its armored palm into the nose of the dragon man, thumb and pinky pressing into the dark holes for eyes as the pair knocked the bore from the slab. Rafanas was hardly a heavy warrior, but he did not need to be. The shock of the thief's dexterous fingers digging into the eye sockets while his other hand clawed into the scaly throat gave him the advantage against the flailing victim.

Surprise was set aside by rage. The lone hunter flexed and shifted, his massive arms taking hold of the young human before him. Talons flared and tried desperately to sink into the flesh of his attackers sides, finding only hard arctic leather and prevalida studs preventing their entry. A strained roar escaped his clenched throat as the fight began to fade in him, and quietly his body calmed and his warrior heart slowed. It was not air that escaped the draconian—No, it was his very spirit and soul that was sucked from his form, sinking into the King of Thieves hands—a usually unobtainable prize that now belonged to another man. He would keep most of it, but for now the loss of a sliver of his very essence was enough to defeat the draconian. He fell into a deep sleep.

Rafanas released the draconian, invigorated and excited. He had never tasted the soul of a dragon, let alone one with such emotion and rage. The feelings he had experienced before his slumber were so powerful they almost outweighed the memories Yari had been searching for.

“Shadar's making this easy on us. First Jadet, then Jackal's uproar at the marketplace, and now this one confirms it,” Yari spoke and turned to the doorway. Shempi walked from the shadows, wiggling her half-naked bottom half back into her dark leather pants. “He saw them heading deeper into the grasslands. We're not far behind. Are you ready?”

The redhead's face peeked from under her hood. There was a frown where Yari expected to see a playful smile. Somberly, she asked, “Have you ever done that to me?” as she motioned to the slumbering hybrid.
Yari moved the hair from his eyes, his words still heavy with excitement, despite her serious tone. “Shempi, I have never and will never take from you what you do not give me.”

She smiled only slightly. “And what of Shadar? Will you take his spirit so willingly?”

Yari's breathing slowed as he mulled over what answer to give her. His eyes left hers and trailed to the floor, immediately imagining the encounter he was to share with his old friend. Memories of the Dajas Pagoda where they sparred, the Mindless they had slain, the friends they shared—he shoved them away and caught site of a tool he required. He knelt low at the draconian's feet, grabbing hold of the massive polearm he was armed with. The spear was thick, the wood damp and heavy. The head was shaped straight, double-edged and a foot in length. It's light grey, almost regal shine in the light seemed to suggest it was damascus. Though the weapon was not of the caliber of Yari's own personal spear, this would serve as a replacement.

“No,” he finally answered as he stood and took a few practice jabs with the weapon. “Shadar's soul is crowded... troubled. He can keep it.”

She left their conversation at that and watched as her lover used the stolen weapon to carve the mark of the Bandit Brotherhood into the door of their victim—his signature and a sign to this region that the King of Thieves was not restricted to his forest of Concordia. Shortly thereafter, they faded into the night in the direction of the unaware illusionist.

[Shadar]

Even the coming of darkness did not lend any foreboding to the twisted trees of the swamp. Of course, someone traveling, step after sloppy step, through the oppressive muck would probably have a far different opinion than Shadar, if they didn't drown first in some pool of indiscernible depth. As buoyant as Shadar was, his toes didn't so much as break the mossy top layer, and the only inconvenience the swamp threw his way was hindered vision.

The leaves above were close-knit, reaching far from their trunks as if straining to embrace their neighbors. Above that, the clouds huddled just as closely. If there was a moon on this night, it was tightly tucked into bed. So, Shadar created his own. A few paces ahead of him, a globe of dusty light swirled into existence. It was nearly translucent, yet it lit the contorted bark enough for Shadar to make out what was an obstacle and what was a conveniently placed divot. He needed every foothold he could find, for his glide had become a staggered push from tree to tree as the trunks crowded closer and their branches rung each other's necks. At times, he was forced to almost touch the swamp's soggy floor, stirring up waves of the heavy mist that lay just above the waterline; definitely not an element of Dheathain's unique geography that he wanted to explore.

Slowing was out of the question, though. He could feel Brigitte above the tree line, taste her soul in hints of honey and freshly turned earth, and he could sense her urgency. Her eyes would be on the ominous clouds, not on his sprightly self bouncing among the trees. One misstep and he probably wouldn't see her until he found his way to the next city with sturdy roofs.

So, he shot from hold to hold as fluidly as the will-o-the-wisp that guided him. His vision narrowed to the small scope of the light's range, and didn't pay half a mind to the trees reaching for his sides or the long sword suddenly crackling with white lightning.

"The hell!" he sputtered as he pushed on hand forward to brace against the blade. The inky fabric at his palm rippled and spilled forth a thick, serrated shield at the very moment of contact. The crackling sword locked with his toothy steel, and he saw a startled face in blazing clarity as his momentum heaved his attacker from the sodden earth.

Silver scales encroached upon a masculine jaw that dropped to bare fangs, and pitch black eyes flashed as wide as new moons. Shadar felt his own face in much the same state, but the surprise soon turned to annoyance, and a little bit of sadistic delight, as he found the will to stop himself in the air. The draconian, despite frantic flapping of ivory wings, did not. He splashed into the murky water that turned back to a dark, empty void with the extinguishing of his sword.

Shadar held his small shield at the ready, now with newly-grown spikes at wicked angles, and he manifested his ghost light once more. The draconian, sitting chest deep in muck, blinked at him with some unreadable expression on what little of his face could be called human.

"What-" they both began, then were interrupted as Brigitte exploded from the canopy and planted her talons into a tree leaning directly over the draconian. Her eyes burned, her voice rose in a hiss, and her chest jiggled sensuously. Shadar could guess which of those factors was most responsible for the Draconian's awed silence.

"What the hell was that?!" he belted out, spreading his arms wide. It was unlikely that the soaked reptile would make any surprise assaults against his vulnerable -and comparatively uninteresting- torso.

The Draconian's eyes snapped back to him, and the hefty sword rose from the muck to point accusingly. "I thought you were a spirit from the ruins." In spite of the hard features, this one seemed relatively young. His voice, as deep and powerful as would be expected of dragon kin, cracked ever so slightly.

Another voice joined the party as Jackal manifested over the Draconian's shoulder. "Remember to switch to low beams when faced with oncoming traffic," he said stiffly, then had a private laughed when no one else seemed to get the joke. The Draconian just stared, more confused than frightened of the gathering menagerie.

Shadar absorbed the shield back into his glove so that he could use both palms to rub his eyes wearily. "I'm not going to play the introduction game," he grumbled.

"Gavriel dar Aitia," offered the Draconian as he pointed to his bare, ivory-scaled chest. "Surveyor for the Nan Roin."

"That's nice," Shadar said with a dismissive wave. "Donnalaich. Crystal Square. Synthesis guys. Where?"

Gavriel cast his eyes about as if the tumble had made him lose his bearings. Then, he pointed behind his right shoulder. "That way, if you're going straight."

"We would have probably missed it the way we were heading," the half-elf mumbled to himself, too annoyed to appreciate the Draconian's sense of direction in the gloom.

"Searching for synthesis ingredients?" Gavriel asked as he used the sword to get to his feet. Even standing in the shifting muck, and with Shadar hovering slightly above it, they were still eye to eye.

Shadar glared and nonchalantly floated a bit higher. "I need ingredients?" he asked sharply.

The Draconian lifted his heavy sword and braced it lazily upon the back of his shoulders. Brigitte almost met the tip of it, setting her into a fluster that had feathers flying as she hopped farther up the trunk. Jackal laughed uproariously, and Gavriel sheepishly said, "Sorry," with a little more wandering eye than necessary. Before it could be considered a leer, he looked back at Shadar and flashed a smile that had too many sharp edges. "I've got some ingredients for anyone willing to help me out. If you have time..."

Shadar crossed his arms and raised a brow. "Shoot."

"I'm here to survey the Graosta ruins. They're back the way you came and a bit farther north. But, there's a wyrven mother, like a small dragon, nesting there. We need someone to get rid of her."

"She's too strong for you to deal with? Even with an enchanted sword?" Shadar interrupted in a tone that was as condescending as the Draconian's pants were wet.

Gavriel bared the blade to Shadar. Even without the magical glow, it was in imposing chunk of metal. "She's a big one. But, you seem fast. If you..." The Draconian stopped as Shadar licked his lips. His black eyes narrowed and he took a defensive step back, probably wondering what kind of appetite the hovering man had for dragon flesh.

"Deal," Shadar snapped. Then, he immediately spun in the air and shot off in a line just slightly offset from the trajectory he had approached on. Brigitte followed him with a hasty push into the air, and Jackal's illusion disappeared with a hungry glimmer in his eyes as well.

"Bring the eggs back if you can," Gavriel called toward the grey light as it flickered behind the trees. Then, he winged his way in the opposite direction using no light but the shimmer of his obsidian eyes. Once he was a safe distance away, he ground his pointed teeth together and shivered, causing scales to scrape together audibly. "What a weird person," he muttered.