Drache

[Ebonfort] The Edge of the Map

The Azure Rising drifted away from the docks into the deep water, her blue sails billowing taut in the breeze as the crew rushed around to adjust the rigging to take advantage of the wind. Seagulls screeched overhead, trailing after the ship, bobbing in and out of the fluttering tail of the long black Ebonfort penant. It didn't take long for Azure Strand's waterfront to shrink and fade, though the ship kept close to the coast for a while. Captain Blaine steered the ship himself, calling his orders to Darshane from the helm, the huge darfellan repeating them up and down the deck to the rest of the crew.

During the cast off, most of the passengers hovered along the decks, either watching the landscape fade into obscurity behind them or look out into the infinite expanse of the ocean ahead, their hearts full of adventure. After an hour or so, it was the waving grasslands of the Valley of Screamers sliding by that earned a bit of attention, for crowded along the sandy shore was an entire tribe of Screamers, their customary tents rising up along the dunes.

But those too passed by, and once Blaine laid their course in and turned the helm over to the helmsman, who appeared to be some kind of were-creature, though for now it was impossible to say what species, he was free to walk along the deck and speak with the crew and passangers. Some of the crew were sailors he had worked with before, but most were new faces, and not all the eyes who watched him pass by were friendly.

At last, Blaine came upon Kira Kodera and grinned charmingly as she saluted, giving her a nod as he reached for her hand, "Well blow me down..." he muttered, whistling through his teeth as he was confronted with a whole lot of woman. His squeezed her palm firmly, glad to feel the tough skin on her fingertips. "They told me you were right for the job but I haven't the damndest idea what you just said."

Hooking a thumb through the belt holding his scabbard around his hips, mainly to keep from resting his palm on the hilt of his rapier, Blaine motioned with his other hand for Kira to accompany him as he moved along the railing, his sharp eyes flicking alternately between the buxom woman before him and the rest of the crew.

"You'll be in charge of the defense of this vessel until we're back in Azure Strand. You answer only to me, but I suggest taking advantage of Darshane as the man has been sailing longer than you and I combined. You'll have the only key to the armoury. None of the crew should have any weapons on deck, so if you come across so much as a knife that looks a bit too sharp for carving potatoes I want you to confiscate it. I suspect the passengers likely have their own blades or whatnot stashed in their rooms, but so long as they stay there..." He let that trail off, producing a bronze key from inside his vest and handing it to the swashbuckler in front of him. "It's been a terrible long number of years since anyone sailed out past Sharkfin Island and I don't rightly know what to expect. Fortunately, our good Master Cavendish has seen fit to stock us up. Ye'll see what I mean when you take stock of the Armoury later."

While he was talking, they had squeezed through the open doors down into the lower decks of the galleon, passing the crew's quarters where hammocks swung empty in the poor light. For now, even the lower decks were clean and orderly, but that would change as the days went by. The wooden grate in the floor revealed little except that the cargo hold in the bottom of the ship was very full indeed. They moved then through to the nicer but still cramped passenger cabins. "This one's yers." Lifting an arm casually against the doorjam, the Captain lifted a blonde brow and grinned a little. "The scuttlebutt is you're good with a crossbow and a fiddle. I expect there'll be plenty of time to find out if it's true." There was a hint of suggestion in his eye before he moved on. "Be sure you talk with Jharnia. You'll find her on the bow, most like. She's a mage what hasn't been picked up by the Knights yet."

With that, he left Kira to her duties, humming a sailor's drinking song under his breath as he moved back out into the light.

--

By mid-day, the land behind the ship was lost beyond the horizon, nothing to see in any direction except a calm sea that gradually darkened as the sand beneath them slid down into the depths. It would take another day for the last of the seagulls to turn back, their presence in the sky replaced by the occasional glittering shoals of fish. And as the hours slipped by as if blown by the wind, a radiant sunset lit the deck, striking the blue sails until they looked nearly magical. Part of the crew went to bed, snoozing in their hammocks as the cycle of shifts began. The rest gambled around carefully watched cookstoves on the deck, occasionally breaking out in raucous laughter. Blaine had retired to his cabin, though the brown-skinned black-haired woman known as Jharnia was still lingering on deck, as was Darshane.

Dain Crest in his human-sized cabin would find himself rudely awoken by a shrill loud scream as one of the ship's cats pounced on and rapidly dispatched a rat right outside his room.

[Ebonfort] Days of Grass and Dust

Working through the discomfort of the sword slash on his shoulder was just another part of life on the grassland to Asher. His people didn't have the luxury of laying up to heal. So when Verissa crossed her arms and glared at him, her cross expression was met with a confused lift of Asher's scarred eyebrow as he followed her gaze to his shoulder, uncertain what he'd done to earn her displeasure. He was injured. Of course it would bleed...

When Verissa took his hand in hers, Asher's mouth opened as if he was going to speak, but his expression darkened and he followed the blonde wordlessly into the bare interior of the tent. Not much was left inside, only what they would need before the entire tribe became a caravan moving through the dry winter grass of the plains. He noticed a couple of other tribesmen watching, grinning at the way he was letting himself be manhandled by his slave, but he was not bothered. Perhaps having a woman in his life before kept him from being rankled by such things anymore, and the sooner his friends saw him accepting Verissa, the sooner they would follow suit.

Dark eyes watching, trying only partially succesfully to stifle a grin as Verissa cluck-clucked around at him like a mother hen, Asher sat down and let the healer work on his wound. It was hard to see the laceration without the use of a mirror, which was now packed, so he flexed a little and looked at it out of the corner of his eye, worried that he'd somehow made it worse by working too hard. In the end he watched Verissa's face, his nose scrunched against the aching jabs as her fingers prodded the rent in his skin, comforted by the fact that she didn't seem too distraught by what she saw. How funny that he was already content to trust her...

Asher grinned amusedly as she made him stay put instead of helping with dinner, though he was curious about what she was making and fidgeted. Years of being his own cook were not easy to set aside. Settling down to be her translator helped, naming everything she picked up for her to learn. "The rest wont take long in the morning. The hardest part will be folding the tent. The only heavy piece left is the stove. I usually let the fire die on the night before a move so that it's not hot in the morning." It meant her bedroll would be far more chill tonight than it had been the night before, but there was no doubt in Asher's mind that offering to share his would be met with those frightened eyes.

He wished Wren were still alive. She was so much better at dealing with people than he was. "You're right. It wont be very much fun for me if my arm rots off before we get there."

"Just leave some water aside so I can clean up after we eat," Asher asked, eventually getting up in spite of her pointed looks. There was a metal clanking as he fiddled with the chains attached to the pole in the center of the tent, disconnecting them completely before carrying them out into the darkness, and a second clatter as he threw them into the bottom of the wagon.

When Asher returned, his footsteps were quiet on the leather floor, intending to sneak up on Verissa to see what she was adding to the soup next. The scent of rosemary had filled the tent and he was planning to tell her that it was one of his favourites. But his words failed when he watched the woman plunge her hand into the seething surface of the water.

"Verissa, no!" he shouted, shocked, reaching around her waist with one mighty arm to pull her from the stove, the other darting swiftly for her wrist. Undeniably strong fingers trained for gripping swords closed around her wrist as he brought it up, a strangled noise of dismay working out of his throat as his heart leaped to his throat. "What did you do?!"

Confusion swept over his face as he brought his other hand to her palm, carefully spreading her fingers open to inspect them. Asher had seen burns before, and expected the mixed blotched red with pale blisters already bubbling...to find her skin scaled and painful. His distress at the idea of her being hurt was pure and genuine, not hidden by the dark broody mask he normally wore. But instead of finding her maimed, Verissa's hand was as pale and flawless as before, and she would be able to watch the realization dawn in his steely eyes as they panned slowly from her hand to her face.

"You're a mage."

[Ebonfort] Days of Grass and Dust

-

[Ebonfort] Days of Grass and Dust

The Swordmaster followed Verissa with his eyes when she stepped away from him, wondering if he'd said something she found offensive, his scarred brow arched slightly over a stormy eye as he watched her gaze travel up to his face. She was so nervous, scared, and it reminded her of the yales that ran in huge herds on the grassland. They were graceful, but prone to bounding away at the slightest noise.

And he didn't correct her when she used his name. Any title other than Swordmaster would have made him feel soulless.

"I will," he promised, falling even more solidly into the habit of saying everything in Kvaren first and then translating it into Common for her. It was tedious, but he wanted her to trust him. Even if her urgency to adapt to life here was purely in the interest of self-preservation, he couldn't help but hope that perhaps one day it would lead to something more. "If it had been up to me, Verissa, I would have simply left you in your home. But now that you're here I'll...I'll do what I can to make you happy."

He held his hand out for the staff and took it, but rather than toss it back into the grass where Verissa had found it, he turned and heaved his arm back, throwing it like a spear until it clattered into the empty bed of the wooden cart. The mule attatched to it pinned his ears back and looked up, chewing on a mouthful of grass and glaring disdainfully at the fighter.

"It's a little bit too tall for you, but I'll shorten it and clean it up so you can keep practicing. Now, let's head back to the tent. We have some packing to do tonight."

Asher motioned for her to walk at his side and led her back to his tent, the huge mule and rough cart rumbling beside them.

"There are only a few ways a slave can become a free member of the Thunderfang tribe," he began, taking his time before answering her question. He eyed her at length, hesitating. "The first way is to marry your Master," he started, though there was something in his tone that discounted that possibility immediately. "Luckily for you I am not the kind of man who would consider taking a second wife. The second way would be to have my child, whether I married you or not." To Asher, becoming a free member of the tribe seemed poor consolation for women captured and raped by his fellows, but he supposed it was better than nothing. He glanced down at Verissa again, "I hope I made it clear last night that I don't intend to do that to you, Verissa."

They were coming up on his pavillion tent now, and Asher tied the mule to a post and beckoned for Verissa to help him start loading much of the stuff from inside his tent into the back.

"The third way is the Hunt. Not every tribe allows slaves to take it, and they still need their Master's permission, but it's the same Hunt that children go on to become adults. The Kerawac, what you call "The Valley of the Screamers," and he grinned somewhat amusedly at that, "is full of many deadly animals. Knowing them, hunting them, defending ourselves against them, that's how we survive. A young Kvaren will take a weapon and a small pack of supplies and go out into the grass to kill something. Upon bringing proof back, they are accepted into the tribe as an adult. Or in the case of a slave, free."

He lifted the coppery and black wolf hide down from the wall and ran his hand through the soft fur as he rolled it up. "This is the maned wolf I killed to earn my place in the Tribe. This is his fang too." He pulled the heavy fang pendant from his neck and handed it to her to look at. "Maned wolves aren't especially large or dangerous compared to other things, but they are not very common."

When they had finished, the mule (as well as Phantom) were hitched outside, munching muffledly in their leather nosebags and snoozing before the start of their long journey in the morning. Asher was sweating, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and his cheeks hot from lifting heavy crates into the back of the cart. He had pulled off his shirt, the resulting effect somewhat spoiled by the bandages around his shoulder. There was strikethrough on the white linen, proof that he'd overdone himself.

[Ebonfort] The Edge of the Map

Darshane blinked slowly at the black-garbed woman's incomprehensible accent, frowning heavily, taking a solid ten seconds to even realize that she had addressed him in the Common tongue.

"You must be the First Mate, Ms. Kira Kodera?" He said slowly, looking her up and down and awaiting her confirmation before scratching her name off the list. "Your cabin is with the passengers rather than the crew's quarters." He fished in his pocket and held out a key for her. He wasn't happy about having to serve under a woman, but at least this busty human seemed a bit more serious than a fairy.

Only a few more figures boarded after Kira, most of them late crewmembers who were each in for a tongue-lashing from the tall bosun.

All in all there were about 100 sailors to crew the vessel, all of them rushing about to get her under way. It was tense, an effect not improved by the way many of them seemed to be glancing at each other conspiratorially.

--

"Not mine," the Captain shook his head, his blue gaze scanning the sky for a moment to try to spot the bird again, but there where so many gulls wheeling noisily overhead that finding one white crow in the flock was impossible. Giving up on the crow, he glanced back at the fairy just as Dain landed with his trunk on the crate. "Don't get too many fairies here in Azure Strand, m'boy," he observed, a searching glance flitting to the locked trunk. "Especially those wanting to sail to distant lands on a whim."

Standing smoothly on the rocking deck, Blaine reached down for his blue greatcoat, shrugging it over his shoulders. The garment went a long way to changing Blaine's somewhat casual appareance to that of the Captain of the sleek new vessel. He towered over the fairy.

"Didn't expect a merchant's assistant whose passage was paid for in advance to ask questions about provisions," Blaine remarked knowingly, an amused grin playing across his face. He adjusted his coat so that it fit smartly across his chest, letting his thinly-veiled suspicion linger for a moment. "Whoever paid for your passage sent provisions ahead. They're already in your cabin."

"Come find me later, after we set sail. Once our course is laid in I'll be in my cabin. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the stern. I'm sure we will have much to talk about, Mr. Crest."

The blonde man patted his thighs for a moment, searching his pockets until he produced a small iron key. It wasn't fairy-sized, of course, more akin to something that would fit a padlock.

"Yours is the only door with a padlock on the window. Hopefully you'll find that easier to manage." With that, the Captain moved towards the railing and looked over. A chorus of shouts swept through the crew and the huge ropes holding the ship to the docks began to fly, the gankplank raised. "Look sharp, Bosun! If we wait any longer to set sail these lads'll be able to use their beards to swab the decks! Let's shove off!" His voice was loud, commanding, but still somehow cheerful.

Figures began to sweep up into the rigging to loose the sails, climbing up as nimbly as spiders or monkeys. The Azure Rising drifted slowly out into the water but then began to turn as the wheel spun under the helmsman's hands. Darshane lifted a small brass whistle to his lips and blew hard, the shrill noise audible above the rest of the noise.

"Weigh anchor!"

A Heart Frozen (Ebonfort)

Quite sure that while she didn't approve of the giantess' methods for acquiring help with the rams, Rilana decided that Chartrose hadn't exactly been helpful on this journey so far, and it made her feel better to have one less person to worry about.

The Moon Fey was quiet as they moved through the tunnels, coming to a stop with the opening to the bat tunnel at her booted feet. Ortha sniffed interestedly around the hole, drawn to the musty acrid stink of the guano and the evidence of the creatures' passage, but even as Rilana bent down to trace the small scratch-marks with her fingertips, she doubted that the bats' passageway would lead her down to Lady Moira.

"Splitting up will cover ground more quickly, but if one group finds the others it will take time to track the other group down. I don't want to split up. Alya, do you still hear that sound?"

Expecting the others to be confused, Rilana unrolled the hide and translated the riddle again aloud for all of them, finishing by explaining that it was written by someone she knew. "I can't make sense of it."

She tucked it away with the null shard inside and reached for Kona, fluffing his ear tufts with her hands. "I need you with me." With another glare all around, the gryphon's shape blurred and seemed to float towards Rilana before disappearing, leaving nothing but clear air where he had stood and Rilana rolling her shoulders at the sensation of his Mark spreading across her back.

Glancing down at Ortha, wishing she could Mark the balauradon as well, Rilana started down the left-hand tunnel, choosing it at random. Her blue eyes scanned the walls of the tunnel, looking for anything that put her in mind of hearts or fire. She thought briefly of the northern lights that her people knew as skyfire, but for now could only find ice and rock and what snow had blown in from the outside.

Ortha didn't follow, but slipped down the bat tunnel, following the smell of the furry creatures. Rilana almost turned back to fetch her, but of the rest of the group, at least she would always be able to find her Familiar again.

[Ebonfort] The Ash Peak

@Twhirtley

[Ebonfort] The Ash Peak

Starting Date and Time: Jedayan 35th, 301DM

Starting Location: Western Kerawac traveling towards Pyresia

CS URLs: Raffey Silafin & Drachiathoryx

The days grew gradually warmer as Dibney carried Drache and Raffey south and east towards the City of Dragons, though the constant wind across the grassland held a chill that neither of the warm-blooded travelers much appreciated. The smooth scuttle of the huge beetle ate up mile after mile of flat plains, and Drachiathoryx soon decided that Raffey's company was worth the loss of speed that flying under the power of her own wings would have afforded her.

It was harder than she would have imagined to flee from the God known as Coria, and there were times that she nearly turned back, gazing with a painful frown over her shoulder until a word or touch from the Keremis drew her attention away from that vile pull.

The Kvaren had spared enough food to last them the first half of their trek, and the Kerawac provided the rest. Once or twice they spotted campfire smoke on the horizon, but Drache urged Raffey to steer Dibney away from the pinpoints of heat and light she could feel burning in the distance.

Trying to take her mind off of recent events, Drache asked Raffey to teach her more of his language, enjoying the sound of the words on his tongue. In return, she taught him some Draconic, and told him about her magic, about Pyresia, about her travels. It would become evident to the Keremis that although Drache had been born in the city she sometimes referred to simply as "The Mountain", she didn't have anything resembling a sense of 'home'. She didn't belong anywhere, an absence that lent itself well to a life of travel and a proclivity for wanting to immerse herself in new cultures, fleeting though her time there might be.

At night, the wind was cold, but the silk tent kept out the worst of it, and together they sat in the warmth of Drache's campfire, eating and talking. Now and then the half-dragon would work on her logbooks or write in her journal, sometimes drawing while surreptitiously glancing at Raffey out of the corner of her eye. Occasionally she would play with the fire, making it swirl and dance to follow the motions of her hand, but it reminded her of Laurel, which reminded her of Kraven, so it didn't last long. It was during one of these lazy evenings that Cinder awoke in Drache's hands as she idly traced her claws over the hard orb, blazing into life with a yawn in the shifting features of his tiny face.

And when they slept it was in the same bedroll, Drache's limbs coiled greedily around Raffey while he snuggled for warmth.

--

Early one bright morning, the travelers crossed over the edge of a rise in the grassland and they looked up to see a dark smudge rising on the horizon. Beyond this point, the terrain began to buck and roll, the waving fields of grass giving way to higher brush and the first real trees they had come across in a while. The dark hint of even thicker vegetation on the horizon beckoned.

Ebonfort

A Profitable Death has been started between GM and Gaulirax.

[Ebonfort] A Profitable Death

Starting Date and Time: Vermillio 25th 288DM

Starting Location: Gaulirax' cell to Luthelia's Balcony in Pyresia

CS URLs: Gaulirax

The summons came for Gaulirax in the form of a heavy booming knock at the door to his room. Little more than a prison cell, the round room had been cut into the dark igneous rock that formed the volcano and its roots for dozens of miles in all directions. Dwarves had made the space somewhat livable by laying the floor with smooth tile and fitting a white crystal chandelier into the ceiling with a small lever that could cut off the sunshine filtering down from the distant world above. Unfortunately for Gaulirax, he was nearly twice as tall as most dwarves and would be forced to stoop his horns somewhat everywhere except the center of the room.

Sparsely furnished, Gaulirax' mistress hadn't seen the need to supply him with anything more than the basics. A bed, a chair, a chamberpot, a trunk to store what few clothes he had, a few harmless training weapons. Not only did Gaulirax not own much, there was no window to his prison home.

Giving the half-dragon mere moments notice, the door opened outwards and two shapes filled the doorway. One was tall, a black-skinned man with a long chain in his hand that he obviously intended to attach to the flat steel collar that was ever around Gaulirax' neck. The other was short, long black beard dangling to his stout knees.

"Look pursentible, lizard. Your Mistress wants ta see ya, though by my rekkining she ain't missin' out on much."

The tall man moved into the room to secure Gaulirax before they hauled him out of his room and into the hall. It was a part of the city not designed for dragons, the passageways all too small for their immense bodies. Glow crystals lined the corridor at large intervals, though the half-dragon's eyes would see easily in the shadowy patches between.