(( OOC: OKAY. Before we start ANYTHING, I want to establish a few basic rules within the thread. This is for moving on from the “Dragon Whisperer” thread, but new people are allowed, within reason:
- Read everything THOROUGHLY before entering: these rules, the posts a page or two before you enter a character, and so on. I don’t do a lot of “nothing, let’s do whatever” posting or environments. If you just have a character pop into magma-land, or a holy dragon shrine or something, they might get melted and blasted. If you don’t know how to reasonably enter with what’s going on, send me a PM and I can give you some suggestions!
- It drives me INSANE to wait two weeks on a thread just because one person decides to be absent without notice, stop caring, or otherwise loses track of things. So my general posting rule is, “Post ahead within reason; if a character is a non-conversationalist, taking a few posts before their turn is not necessarily rude. Do not completely bypass someone in the same potential conversation and/or interaction. If characters end up divided, or in different areas, separate posting orders are allowed. In the end, be respectful in all ways to the flow and interaction of the story, and the enjoyment of your fellows."
If reasonable posting without an individual has reached its limit, that individual has three days before being sent a reminder PM. A reminder PM does not mean you have to post IMMEDIATELY, but it is a polite request asking where you are, and how long we will have to wait before you post. Even if excused, if a person takes more than seven days to reply, he or she will be extracted from the current flow as politely and reversibly as possible (heck, people have to go to the bathroom SOME TIME). If you feel someone is taking too long and I missed it, PM me and I’ll check it out for you, don’t PM them directly, let the GM handle it.
These rules are waived in combat, wherein all involved parties must post once per turn, for fairness, but the general time-based requirements continue. I don’t expect a whole crapload of combat though, so hopefully that’s unnecessary to say. But in D&D terms, “Speaking is a free action.” I know this sounds like a lot to ask but it’s actually really simple: Stay in contact, let us know what’s going on, post when you can, and be friendly.
- In your FIRST POST, please put up an OOC bracket (( )) talking about what days and times are good for you or that we can expect you accessing the internet. If you don’t have a set time, tell me what days you CAN’T get online. The more information the better. Time zones, and time brackets, are appreciated. For example, if I find that on Fridays, between 4 and 8 PM EST, everyone involved has a good chance to be online, I might tentatively set a meeting time for 5 PM on Fridays, so everyone knows to try to log in and we can have some active-time events! Even if that’s just casual talking, I find planning a few potential “active days” helps endlessly with development! We won’t hang you by your nails if you don’t show up, but just do what you can to make it! If it’s a meeting day and in the time bracket, hit the “Launch Chat” button and keep an eye out, even if nothing’s happening too quickly yet. Other people might just be waiting for YOU!
- Please don’t assume anything about the environments. These are long-time established environments, with specific structures, enchantments, sometimes even maps and floor plans, but I like to keep it as simple and word based as possible, like a novel. However, if you have any questions about something, DO NOT HESITATE TO PM ME. I’m very friendly and will gladly tell you how many doors are down hall A, B, or C, and what might be in them when you inquire specifically, so to speak, so you can know if you’re walking into, say, a library I didn’t describe because the doors were closed. As you can already see my posts get ginormous even when I’m not detailing every little thing.
- Combat is always intended to draw out maximum party potential, even if one member is a super powerful sorcerer dragon-vampire crossbreed of doom, and another’s a chick with a sword. I tend to custom arrange events so everyone’s characters can have their moments. While this does not ALWAYS work out it is always my intention, so please don’t be offended or argue if I say “Your fireball missed”. Strategy, dynamic, and team planning has always been very important to me. When a powerful group of heroes went to the Serpent’s Isle, it was the cowardly thief without magic that struck the final blow to Zenthus, after all.
- Also, effort. I shouldn’t have to say this, but I reward effort. I understand that often a few words or lines can suffice as a proper interjection to a conversation or event, but if I feel like I’m constantly just getting dead weight posts, you’ll get dead weight responses and someone else will get the opportunities. I don’t use stats, or dice rolls (though I may ask for or use one when I really can’t decide on the right outcome), or character sheets—I measure an RPer by a mix of their creativity, their style and their effort in this free form world. I don’t care if you use exact proper grammar, or spelling, btu fi u tipe lik diz, or never brew up more than a line, then you might see me caring a little less. I did better than that when on an old, not-smart cell phone, so I expect someone else to in just about any circumstance.
- In general I leave constant opportunities for quests, even if most are unknowingly passed by. Be vigilant, explorative, have fun, and see where the world leads you. Aside from general RP etiquette there is no “right” or “wrong” for you to do. Yes, a character may take an action that ends up having repercussions. Sometimes curiosity may kill the cat. However, sometimes, it can open into a whole new story branch that nobody expected, even if it means trouble for them in character. Friction, drama, and tension are the heart of a good story, so never see it as a punishment, but an opportunity as long as a character plays their cards well, and their player knows how to handle a situation. I also do, however, try to play realistic responses, so if someone walks all smug-like into the metaphorical lion’s den, please don’t get angry at me if they get mauled. Be bold and assertive in action, but responsible for your character’s decisions! Keep IC and OOC distinctly separate, and know a character reaction punished isn’t you being punished, and just because something seems natural to you doesn’t mean it will be to everyone (if you blast a hole in a holy temple, I’m not being an ass if the deity comes to flay you—yes, this happened once, and the player got mad at me, so please DON’T.)
ULTIMATE SETTING: Fantasy world, the land of Szurane, a medieval-magical world; if you have any questions about the setting specifically, PM me and I can refer you to old websites and forums. Pretty much anything is racially accepted as long as it falls into the general era (if you have a cyborg, I want to hear a good reason how he got there and why), although high rank demons, gods, and dragons are “restricted races”, demons and gods especially as they have a very specific system and they would need to be visiting outworlders. Basically, don’t assume anything major about the world setting that isn’t yours, like claiming to be the demon king or something; even Lucifer or Satan are relative nobodies here, it’s all about Hel Crux and his five dukes infernally, and Qinglau and his two dukes and prince abysmally, and so on. This thread is devoted to dragons, dragon history, and generally cool dragony stuff, but will cross over with many parts of the world.
IF YOU’RE STILL HERE after that big block of text, my actual post is coming after, hah. If it’s TL;DR… get off my bus. >( ))";
- Read everything THOROUGHLY before entering: these rules, the posts a page or two before you enter a character, and so on. I don’t do a lot of “nothing, let’s do whatever” posting or environments. If you just have a character pop into magma-land, or a holy dragon shrine or something, they might get melted and blasted. If you don’t know how to reasonably enter with what’s going on, send me a PM and I can give you some suggestions!
- It drives me INSANE to wait two weeks on a thread just because one person decides to be absent without notice, stop caring, or otherwise loses track of things. So my general posting rule is, “Post ahead within reason; if a character is a non-conversationalist, taking a few posts before their turn is not necessarily rude. Do not completely bypass someone in the same potential conversation and/or interaction. If characters end up divided, or in different areas, separate posting orders are allowed. In the end, be respectful in all ways to the flow and interaction of the story, and the enjoyment of your fellows."
If reasonable posting without an individual has reached its limit, that individual has three days before being sent a reminder PM. A reminder PM does not mean you have to post IMMEDIATELY, but it is a polite request asking where you are, and how long we will have to wait before you post. Even if excused, if a person takes more than seven days to reply, he or she will be extracted from the current flow as politely and reversibly as possible (heck, people have to go to the bathroom SOME TIME). If you feel someone is taking too long and I missed it, PM me and I’ll check it out for you, don’t PM them directly, let the GM handle it.
These rules are waived in combat, wherein all involved parties must post once per turn, for fairness, but the general time-based requirements continue. I don’t expect a whole crapload of combat though, so hopefully that’s unnecessary to say. But in D&D terms, “Speaking is a free action.” I know this sounds like a lot to ask but it’s actually really simple: Stay in contact, let us know what’s going on, post when you can, and be friendly.
- In your FIRST POST, please put up an OOC bracket (( )) talking about what days and times are good for you or that we can expect you accessing the internet. If you don’t have a set time, tell me what days you CAN’T get online. The more information the better. Time zones, and time brackets, are appreciated. For example, if I find that on Fridays, between 4 and 8 PM EST, everyone involved has a good chance to be online, I might tentatively set a meeting time for 5 PM on Fridays, so everyone knows to try to log in and we can have some active-time events! Even if that’s just casual talking, I find planning a few potential “active days” helps endlessly with development! We won’t hang you by your nails if you don’t show up, but just do what you can to make it! If it’s a meeting day and in the time bracket, hit the “Launch Chat” button and keep an eye out, even if nothing’s happening too quickly yet. Other people might just be waiting for YOU!
- Please don’t assume anything about the environments. These are long-time established environments, with specific structures, enchantments, sometimes even maps and floor plans, but I like to keep it as simple and word based as possible, like a novel. However, if you have any questions about something, DO NOT HESITATE TO PM ME. I’m very friendly and will gladly tell you how many doors are down hall A, B, or C, and what might be in them when you inquire specifically, so to speak, so you can know if you’re walking into, say, a library I didn’t describe because the doors were closed. As you can already see my posts get ginormous even when I’m not detailing every little thing.
- Combat is always intended to draw out maximum party potential, even if one member is a super powerful sorcerer dragon-vampire crossbreed of doom, and another’s a chick with a sword. I tend to custom arrange events so everyone’s characters can have their moments. While this does not ALWAYS work out it is always my intention, so please don’t be offended or argue if I say “Your fireball missed”. Strategy, dynamic, and team planning has always been very important to me. When a powerful group of heroes went to the Serpent’s Isle, it was the cowardly thief without magic that struck the final blow to Zenthus, after all.
- Also, effort. I shouldn’t have to say this, but I reward effort. I understand that often a few words or lines can suffice as a proper interjection to a conversation or event, but if I feel like I’m constantly just getting dead weight posts, you’ll get dead weight responses and someone else will get the opportunities. I don’t use stats, or dice rolls (though I may ask for or use one when I really can’t decide on the right outcome), or character sheets—I measure an RPer by a mix of their creativity, their style and their effort in this free form world. I don’t care if you use exact proper grammar, or spelling, btu fi u tipe lik diz, or never brew up more than a line, then you might see me caring a little less. I did better than that when on an old, not-smart cell phone, so I expect someone else to in just about any circumstance.
- In general I leave constant opportunities for quests, even if most are unknowingly passed by. Be vigilant, explorative, have fun, and see where the world leads you. Aside from general RP etiquette there is no “right” or “wrong” for you to do. Yes, a character may take an action that ends up having repercussions. Sometimes curiosity may kill the cat. However, sometimes, it can open into a whole new story branch that nobody expected, even if it means trouble for them in character. Friction, drama, and tension are the heart of a good story, so never see it as a punishment, but an opportunity as long as a character plays their cards well, and their player knows how to handle a situation. I also do, however, try to play realistic responses, so if someone walks all smug-like into the metaphorical lion’s den, please don’t get angry at me if they get mauled. Be bold and assertive in action, but responsible for your character’s decisions! Keep IC and OOC distinctly separate, and know a character reaction punished isn’t you being punished, and just because something seems natural to you doesn’t mean it will be to everyone (if you blast a hole in a holy temple, I’m not being an ass if the deity comes to flay you—yes, this happened once, and the player got mad at me, so please DON’T.)
ULTIMATE SETTING: Fantasy world, the land of Szurane, a medieval-magical world; if you have any questions about the setting specifically, PM me and I can refer you to old websites and forums. Pretty much anything is racially accepted as long as it falls into the general era (if you have a cyborg, I want to hear a good reason how he got there and why), although high rank demons, gods, and dragons are “restricted races”, demons and gods especially as they have a very specific system and they would need to be visiting outworlders. Basically, don’t assume anything major about the world setting that isn’t yours, like claiming to be the demon king or something; even Lucifer or Satan are relative nobodies here, it’s all about Hel Crux and his five dukes infernally, and Qinglau and his two dukes and prince abysmally, and so on. This thread is devoted to dragons, dragon history, and generally cool dragony stuff, but will cross over with many parts of the world.
IF YOU’RE STILL HERE after that big block of text, my actual post is coming after, hah. If it’s TL;DR… get off my bus. >( ))";
After they sorted out past Zento’s indecisive mind, and pointed him in a direction, he flew. The rest had been needed, as it took an entire day to land in a forest where an indentation already indicated he had been there before. A warping vortex pulsed around the eldest, most ancient tree there, which only swelled when anything was put towards it. In this case… his nose entered first, and body tucked in, < Hold on tight. Being separated may lead us to different planes. > He warned. Stick close, clearly.
For a moment, all went black. Or maybe blue. And blinding white. There was little definition to the full detail of it, save for the mental imprint of another tree, perhaps residual from the gate, cast in light or shadow against the warping reality, blooming in nodes of all colors where a void of radiant light sat at the top, towards which they apparently climbed, and quickly. A silvery sphere filled vision, and soon, he pushed through that as well. Silver turned black in distortion like the first gate as a new world came into view. He really had come from a long long way away and at the same time… not too horribly distant.
The world they entered seemed apocalyptic. Not post, but here-and-now. As the distortion settled, and the vision of a cragged tree faded into reality, a barren, glowing landscape was painted for the visitors. The sky burned in eternal sunset, where traveling clouds and storms of rolling ashes brought choking night. The earth, cragged, glowed like cooling magma between scorched black patches, and the running river was liquid fire.
The big, blue beast shuddered at the first few footsteps, which released steam from under his feet. That idea that all dragons live in volcanoes, or breathe fire—might not be so applicable here watching the blue one’s extreme discomfort, almost battling the land to walk. Ahead, a sea of fiery gold and red scorched the petrified, claw-like trees hanging over it, last remnants of a forest long-lost. There, past the smoke and ashes, laid a grand cathedral. The heat of the small, inland ‘sea’ made it seem almost like an oasis illusion, surreal and intangible.
< Breathe sparingly. > He warned. Rightfully so. The air was choking, sulfurous, something like the pits of hell.
He took to the air, which might seem frivolous with as close as it appeared. However, after five minutes of flight it barely looked any larger, indicating it had been, in fact, a great deal away. It was only visible from its size.
Many of its influences could have been compared to east Indian, with traces of mosque. The dark stone was a marbled mix of red and black, almost lost to the hot earth around it were it not for intricate lacings of gold embossing it from the environment, and spiral and flame-like roofs capping it, littered in odd designs and large, precious stones carved like artwork set into the pillars.
Even navigating there was to take a bit, so they had their time to... 'appreciate the scenery'.
For a moment, all went black. Or maybe blue. And blinding white. There was little definition to the full detail of it, save for the mental imprint of another tree, perhaps residual from the gate, cast in light or shadow against the warping reality, blooming in nodes of all colors where a void of radiant light sat at the top, towards which they apparently climbed, and quickly. A silvery sphere filled vision, and soon, he pushed through that as well. Silver turned black in distortion like the first gate as a new world came into view. He really had come from a long long way away and at the same time… not too horribly distant.
The world they entered seemed apocalyptic. Not post, but here-and-now. As the distortion settled, and the vision of a cragged tree faded into reality, a barren, glowing landscape was painted for the visitors. The sky burned in eternal sunset, where traveling clouds and storms of rolling ashes brought choking night. The earth, cragged, glowed like cooling magma between scorched black patches, and the running river was liquid fire.
The big, blue beast shuddered at the first few footsteps, which released steam from under his feet. That idea that all dragons live in volcanoes, or breathe fire—might not be so applicable here watching the blue one’s extreme discomfort, almost battling the land to walk. Ahead, a sea of fiery gold and red scorched the petrified, claw-like trees hanging over it, last remnants of a forest long-lost. There, past the smoke and ashes, laid a grand cathedral. The heat of the small, inland ‘sea’ made it seem almost like an oasis illusion, surreal and intangible.
< Breathe sparingly. > He warned. Rightfully so. The air was choking, sulfurous, something like the pits of hell.
He took to the air, which might seem frivolous with as close as it appeared. However, after five minutes of flight it barely looked any larger, indicating it had been, in fact, a great deal away. It was only visible from its size.
Many of its influences could have been compared to east Indian, with traces of mosque. The dark stone was a marbled mix of red and black, almost lost to the hot earth around it were it not for intricate lacings of gold embossing it from the environment, and spiral and flame-like roofs capping it, littered in odd designs and large, precious stones carved like artwork set into the pillars.
Even navigating there was to take a bit, so they had their time to... 'appreciate the scenery'.
((My schedule is going to be wonky for the next few weeks--as I begin teaching full time. Um, tentatively, Friday afternoons work as would possibly mid-afternoon when school lets out. Apologies ahead of time for any delays.))
Unfortunately the warning to breathe sparingly was too long in coming as, once her eyes adjusted, Lidia sucked in a gasp of awe. And then promptly began a fit of coughing and gasping that made her eyes stream.
At last, through sheer grit of will, she managed to recover herself, covering her mouth and nose with the collar of her shirt to filter out what she could of the potent smells. Not that this was much better. She could use a shower--but at least it diffused the overpowering rotten-egg smell. That would take ages to get out of her clothing, not to mention her hair.
She risked a glance over her shoulder to see if the others had come through as well. She had hoped they would make it. The thought of being on a different 'plane' made her nervous.
Unfortunately the warning to breathe sparingly was too long in coming as, once her eyes adjusted, Lidia sucked in a gasp of awe. And then promptly began a fit of coughing and gasping that made her eyes stream.
At last, through sheer grit of will, she managed to recover herself, covering her mouth and nose with the collar of her shirt to filter out what she could of the potent smells. Not that this was much better. She could use a shower--but at least it diffused the overpowering rotten-egg smell. That would take ages to get out of her clothing, not to mention her hair.
She risked a glance over her shoulder to see if the others had come through as well. She had hoped they would make it. The thought of being on a different 'plane' made her nervous.
(I'll be able to RP all day during summer. When school starts I'll be abelable only in the afternoon from 3 to 9. On the weekends I'll be available unless I mesage you otherwise)
David landed next to Zento and Lidia. He looked up at her "so is this what you expected it to be?"
David landed next to Zento and Lidia. He looked up at her "so is this what you expected it to be?"
Somehow she had been pulled from her dragon form. She too had fell to the ground, the lack of wings making gravity an enemy that took advantage of her state. Landing with a thud on the other side of Zento, she coughed and shook her head. Nikie's short cropped hair was out of proportion and was filled with leaves and other dust particles. "What in the name of-?" she looked around. Since when had she moved from the creek?
David turned human and went to the other dragon when he saw her fall. "I didn't know you were human" he said helping her up
((My schedule will be put around the others, but the easiest is any time after 4 PM CST on weekdays. So far Friday afternoon is looking the most promising for us. I might say see who can log on Fridays 6 PMish central (7 Eastern, 4 Pacific; midnight in Britain). If you can come sooner and lurk in the chat window that's fine and appreciated. This is prone to tweaking as we find out how our schedules interact!))
Hey, at least his back was a valid surface for anyone to land on. He didn’t flinch or even seem to notice anyone falling atop him. He was such a large, hard-scaled surface he probably wouldn’t feel a hammer against him. That is, where his scaling was still strong. As long as everyone was together, all was well! In the very least, he heard the conversation. < …Did I hear of another transformation? > He couldn’t… really turn and see effectively. He flew on, though it sounded like some sort of shock to him.
The glowing pool was, in fact, a horizon all its own once hovering over it, flight eased from the uplifting heat but leaving visible steam trails from their host. It became evident it was not unwatched: two dragons waited at the mouth of the lair, with grand church doors sealing shut in the drawn likeness of sharp wings.
They trumpeted their distaste for the approach, and coiled when the large, blue dragon landed in coiled posture so as to tuck his rear in from the scalding lake of fire, in spite of some impressive property and ‘lawn’ between building and hellish sea. They were no small creatures themselves, within 15 feet of each other in size and neither less than 125 feet. Still, as the blue dragon returned the ferocity, maw open, it became evident he could probably cleave them with his jagged teeth. They were a fairly typical depiction of dragon: Brick red and fire toned scales, a fierce dinosaurian visage, and the overall implication of the average dragon slain by a knight. If the size could be called average. Zento’s bellow failed to shake either of them, and they rose up and puffed their chests.
They spit back and forth, mixing their rough tongue with natural, dominating sounds and motions, almost feral. When Zento’s wings spread and shadowed a fifth of the propostorous structure’s width, however—the other two backed down, rumbling and rattling their discontent while spitting out some harsh, screaming word. Glyphs on the door, a foreign language to most, but still close to forms of draconic multiversally, ignited and the path opened. One ‘guard’ turned, stomping into the walkway ahead of them, which was at least fifty feet broad.
Zento failed to follow, but instead extended his neck—as much as he still could—to encourage them to lower onto the safer, stone walkway. It would still be a drop from his large, blockish head, but hanging on the right jagged scales, clinging to a nostril or lip, and some such should make it descendable. < You’ll have to forgive that. > The charming young voice, deceptive for the form especially in contrast to the former roaring, sounded embarrassed. < Water and fire do not well-mix. They puff their chests and I spread my warning, but both tribes reluctantly depend on each other. In the end… neither will strike the other. > Well, hopefully.
Inside the opened doors, creamy whites injected themselves tastefully for the short main hall, which opened into a stadium-sized affair. Here, pillars were like skyscrapers, mixed whites and trimmings of gold, with stairs descending into room-sized pits with shelving, and others hiding actual stairs into the earth. Why anyone would have had to build downward with the seemingly endless wings in the three remaining primary directions might be beyond most. As it was, the large red dragon seemed to have no trouble stomping towards the back, taking post at another, equally impressive door at the back-wing’s end as the first and doing his best impression of a statue.
The wings to either side were lined in mirrors, as did most of the place seem to be, making a dizzying mazework of side corridors. Pyres lit the way, releasing strong, mixed burnt smells and refracting from the halls, making it difficult to tell true flame from reflection. Up high, the pillars were trimmed in odd patterns of a bird striking at a snake, which was always placed below it. The doming ceilings painted mythical renditions of an odd phoenix, with turtle-humped back, long neck, and mixes of odd features, as well as peacocky tail-feathers of red, blue, white, yellow, and black, some laid in mosaic pieces of rare stones rather than carvings. These dragons did not just hoard treasure, they built lairs of it.
Outside, they might catch glint of the bright, blue-tinted light, the brief chill, and a small snowblast from the first odd meeting, leaving the image of a short, young man coming through the redwood-thick gates and dusting himself off. Just because he couldn’t see the offending ashes didn’t mean he couldn’t smell them. “You should find a seat… off to the side, and out of stepping range.” He warned with odd melody and humor. “I should go speak with Seiran. I’ll send someone to keep you occupied in the meanwhile. Don’t be surprised if there’s a wait. Most of us have a different idea of punctuality.” The door would have never accommodated his overgrown, bloated form. “Don’t wander without an escort, or you’ll surely commit something they’ll find reason to call crime. This is holy ground. …Or so they call it.” And yet it felt… empty. For all its size there was little motion, and even the air lacked any charm as one might expect an ancient temple—all its mysticism in appearance, but no phantasm of the air. That and… it was just damn easy to get lost in. For all it was worth, it seemed entirely free of ashes or debris.
Finding a seat might be its own task, all things considered. Most were dozens of feet overhead as laying ledges. Further in, towards the descending ‘rooms’, however, conditions were built for rare avatar usage, with more human-sized benches (what looked plush would still be incredibly stiff, meant to support draconic… posterior weight), shelving and so on. Further ahead, towards where the blue priest walked—the dragon at the far back—were lines of seating by the currently protected door; for those rare, and now nearly lost days, where delegates would come and wait. Transformation was not some common draconic feat in this world, or the breeze it seemed to be with David and Nikie; some never achieved it in a life time. The pure magical force demanded to hyper-compress an extreme amount of mass was mostly reserved to elders and greats, and even then there was no guarantee of a convincing human appearance. Most were mistaken as half dragons, or odd lizard beastmen if spotted. That was if they even knew their anatomy well enough for that. In short, the only seating available seemed to be privileged, posh, and somehow elegant.
Hey, at least his back was a valid surface for anyone to land on. He didn’t flinch or even seem to notice anyone falling atop him. He was such a large, hard-scaled surface he probably wouldn’t feel a hammer against him. That is, where his scaling was still strong. As long as everyone was together, all was well! In the very least, he heard the conversation. < …Did I hear of another transformation? > He couldn’t… really turn and see effectively. He flew on, though it sounded like some sort of shock to him.
The glowing pool was, in fact, a horizon all its own once hovering over it, flight eased from the uplifting heat but leaving visible steam trails from their host. It became evident it was not unwatched: two dragons waited at the mouth of the lair, with grand church doors sealing shut in the drawn likeness of sharp wings.
They trumpeted their distaste for the approach, and coiled when the large, blue dragon landed in coiled posture so as to tuck his rear in from the scalding lake of fire, in spite of some impressive property and ‘lawn’ between building and hellish sea. They were no small creatures themselves, within 15 feet of each other in size and neither less than 125 feet. Still, as the blue dragon returned the ferocity, maw open, it became evident he could probably cleave them with his jagged teeth. They were a fairly typical depiction of dragon: Brick red and fire toned scales, a fierce dinosaurian visage, and the overall implication of the average dragon slain by a knight. If the size could be called average. Zento’s bellow failed to shake either of them, and they rose up and puffed their chests.
They spit back and forth, mixing their rough tongue with natural, dominating sounds and motions, almost feral. When Zento’s wings spread and shadowed a fifth of the propostorous structure’s width, however—the other two backed down, rumbling and rattling their discontent while spitting out some harsh, screaming word. Glyphs on the door, a foreign language to most, but still close to forms of draconic multiversally, ignited and the path opened. One ‘guard’ turned, stomping into the walkway ahead of them, which was at least fifty feet broad.
Zento failed to follow, but instead extended his neck—as much as he still could—to encourage them to lower onto the safer, stone walkway. It would still be a drop from his large, blockish head, but hanging on the right jagged scales, clinging to a nostril or lip, and some such should make it descendable. < You’ll have to forgive that. > The charming young voice, deceptive for the form especially in contrast to the former roaring, sounded embarrassed. < Water and fire do not well-mix. They puff their chests and I spread my warning, but both tribes reluctantly depend on each other. In the end… neither will strike the other. > Well, hopefully.
Inside the opened doors, creamy whites injected themselves tastefully for the short main hall, which opened into a stadium-sized affair. Here, pillars were like skyscrapers, mixed whites and trimmings of gold, with stairs descending into room-sized pits with shelving, and others hiding actual stairs into the earth. Why anyone would have had to build downward with the seemingly endless wings in the three remaining primary directions might be beyond most. As it was, the large red dragon seemed to have no trouble stomping towards the back, taking post at another, equally impressive door at the back-wing’s end as the first and doing his best impression of a statue.
The wings to either side were lined in mirrors, as did most of the place seem to be, making a dizzying mazework of side corridors. Pyres lit the way, releasing strong, mixed burnt smells and refracting from the halls, making it difficult to tell true flame from reflection. Up high, the pillars were trimmed in odd patterns of a bird striking at a snake, which was always placed below it. The doming ceilings painted mythical renditions of an odd phoenix, with turtle-humped back, long neck, and mixes of odd features, as well as peacocky tail-feathers of red, blue, white, yellow, and black, some laid in mosaic pieces of rare stones rather than carvings. These dragons did not just hoard treasure, they built lairs of it.
Outside, they might catch glint of the bright, blue-tinted light, the brief chill, and a small snowblast from the first odd meeting, leaving the image of a short, young man coming through the redwood-thick gates and dusting himself off. Just because he couldn’t see the offending ashes didn’t mean he couldn’t smell them. “You should find a seat… off to the side, and out of stepping range.” He warned with odd melody and humor. “I should go speak with Seiran. I’ll send someone to keep you occupied in the meanwhile. Don’t be surprised if there’s a wait. Most of us have a different idea of punctuality.” The door would have never accommodated his overgrown, bloated form. “Don’t wander without an escort, or you’ll surely commit something they’ll find reason to call crime. This is holy ground. …Or so they call it.” And yet it felt… empty. For all its size there was little motion, and even the air lacked any charm as one might expect an ancient temple—all its mysticism in appearance, but no phantasm of the air. That and… it was just damn easy to get lost in. For all it was worth, it seemed entirely free of ashes or debris.
Finding a seat might be its own task, all things considered. Most were dozens of feet overhead as laying ledges. Further in, towards the descending ‘rooms’, however, conditions were built for rare avatar usage, with more human-sized benches (what looked plush would still be incredibly stiff, meant to support draconic… posterior weight), shelving and so on. Further ahead, towards where the blue priest walked—the dragon at the far back—were lines of seating by the currently protected door; for those rare, and now nearly lost days, where delegates would come and wait. Transformation was not some common draconic feat in this world, or the breeze it seemed to be with David and Nikie; some never achieved it in a life time. The pure magical force demanded to hyper-compress an extreme amount of mass was mostly reserved to elders and greats, and even then there was no guarantee of a convincing human appearance. Most were mistaken as half dragons, or odd lizard beastmen if spotted. That was if they even knew their anatomy well enough for that. In short, the only seating available seemed to be privileged, posh, and somehow elegant.
(sorry to Pen. Won't skip again if its not wanted)
"Yeah, well I like keeping that part hidden." she let him help her up and turned away from him to look at the scenery." this is beautiful." she walked up the neck of the large dragon which she had yet to learn the name of. Choosing to sit somewhere along the broad neck, she sat in silence.
"Yeah, well I like keeping that part hidden." she let him help her up and turned away from him to look at the scenery." this is beautiful." she walked up the neck of the large dragon which she had yet to learn the name of. Choosing to sit somewhere along the broad neck, she sat in silence.
(ooc: not a problem!)
Lidia managed to clamber down from her riding spot atop Zento's broad neck without killing herself in the process. It was a combination of sliding and controlled falling until she managed to hit the ground and follow the dragons wherever they might be leading them.
She looked at Nikie and David. "You two are okay?" Her voice was soft, calm, and deep.
Looking around in wide-eyed wonder, however, she almost didn't notice the emptiness of the holy ground. Though she quickly nodded and took the advice of the young man who warned them about finding a seat. "Just anywhere?" she asked, looking around her with a combination of awe and trepidation.
Lidia managed to clamber down from her riding spot atop Zento's broad neck without killing herself in the process. It was a combination of sliding and controlled falling until she managed to hit the ground and follow the dragons wherever they might be leading them.
She looked at Nikie and David. "You two are okay?" Her voice was soft, calm, and deep.
Looking around in wide-eyed wonder, however, she almost didn't notice the emptiness of the holy ground. Though she quickly nodded and took the advice of the young man who warned them about finding a seat. "Just anywhere?" she asked, looking around her with a combination of awe and trepidation.
((Don't worry about exact posting orders. 
I wouldn't have put that BIG BLURB at the top saying not to worry about it if I didn't mean it. It just means someone has a little more to work with when they do post, as long as nobody totally leaves them behind. And, of course, gives people the right to post when inspiration hits them rather than waiting with a thumb up their butt for days.))
((Similarly I'm going to be launching the chat here soon and leaving it up since it is said Friday Evening! Even if you don't want to post ahead go ahead and 'check in'. You know, let us know you're here! Let's see if we can get this moving!))
They certainly had their time to talk; in fact, go ahead and post onward if comfortable. But ultimately, within an hour--unusually punctual for the long-lived ones--someone came to greet them.
A nuisanced looking dragon-man did his best to appeal to a human audience. He still stood a few inches over seven feet, and his skin looked somewhere between ‘worst sunburn’ and ‘beta-keratine overdose’, perhaps touched with ‘Hepatitis’. His loose-fitting robes and cross-armed stance seemed fitting of some arrogant, spiritual hierarchy – and possibly dangerous with its affinities towards black, matching the temple outside. His hair was wiry, and his face looked somewhat alien, with all features being too straight, firm, and unmoving. Yellow, slitted eyes slid from the dragon-ken to the human, the last one causing a noticeable curl of the lip. “Come. The Ra’Alish has stated that you will likely be going on a long, cold journey after stopping in Ashtar. Such cold most aren’t designed for. Disgusting cold which we would not tolerate, but have garbs designed that may make it more manageable for your… kinds.” Not all were a fire spirit at the core. He turned as if to walk, assuming they would join.
Well, David had said dragons could be jerky. Here it seemed true enough.
I wouldn't have put that BIG BLURB at the top saying not to worry about it if I didn't mean it. It just means someone has a little more to work with when they do post, as long as nobody totally leaves them behind. And, of course, gives people the right to post when inspiration hits them rather than waiting with a thumb up their butt for days.))((Similarly I'm going to be launching the chat here soon and leaving it up since it is said Friday Evening! Even if you don't want to post ahead go ahead and 'check in'. You know, let us know you're here! Let's see if we can get this moving!))
They certainly had their time to talk; in fact, go ahead and post onward if comfortable. But ultimately, within an hour--unusually punctual for the long-lived ones--someone came to greet them.
A nuisanced looking dragon-man did his best to appeal to a human audience. He still stood a few inches over seven feet, and his skin looked somewhere between ‘worst sunburn’ and ‘beta-keratine overdose’, perhaps touched with ‘Hepatitis’. His loose-fitting robes and cross-armed stance seemed fitting of some arrogant, spiritual hierarchy – and possibly dangerous with its affinities towards black, matching the temple outside. His hair was wiry, and his face looked somewhat alien, with all features being too straight, firm, and unmoving. Yellow, slitted eyes slid from the dragon-ken to the human, the last one causing a noticeable curl of the lip. “Come. The Ra’Alish has stated that you will likely be going on a long, cold journey after stopping in Ashtar. Such cold most aren’t designed for. Disgusting cold which we would not tolerate, but have garbs designed that may make it more manageable for your… kinds.” Not all were a fire spirit at the core. He turned as if to walk, assuming they would join.
Well, David had said dragons could be jerky. Here it seemed true enough.
((All times work for me, i'm central time, free from sun up till sun up the next day, everyday right now. If that changes in the coming weeks I wlll update you to this fact.)) "When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end.. The goddess descends from the sky. Wings of light and dark spread afar. She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting." The voice that begun to drift through the corridor was completely oblivious of those overhearing her, and spoke with a passion and dedication that couldn't be faked. The voice was young, but definitely female. After a few moments of silence a young girl, standing maybe 4'3" stepped into view. Around her frame were thick white robes, as if she was trying to get warmer in the ungodful place. The robes had a hood that hung loosely behind her head, for she couldn't wear it with the horns atop her head making her actually height closer to 5'8". The edges of the robe were embroidered with red triangles, for no reason what so ever. The girl was incredible pale, and looked durable enough to be snapped in a passing breeze. Her inhumanly large eyes widened just slightly as she saw the people in the passage way, the shock returning to a controlled smile as soon as she realized she was doing it. "Visitors? But this place is so far out of the way..." She muttered to herself, thinking inwardly before putting on a bit of a determined face. "May I ask you, only as a neutral party in all worldly matters on this plane, what it is that you're doing in this barren land?" Her voice held an edge, not an aggressive one. It seems more like a trained edge you'd her in a politicians voice, hiding their true intent behind a vale of muis-direction. She knew the dragon-man at the forefront of the group, but missed what he had been saying, so she was clueless that she was interrupting anything that was going on here.
As if being in such a strange location surrounded by so many dragons wasn't awe-inspiring enough, when the voice drifted through the cavern she shivered and crept a little closer to Zento. Of all of them, he seemed the most likely to know what was coming next. Or who.
But Lidia had to do a double-take when a robed figure emerged. Were those horns on her head? And not just small ones either. The robes looked warm, too, and Lidia wondered if the white signified anything.
"Um," Lidia glanced to Zento wondering how he was going to react. "We were...exploring?" she offered hesitantly. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
But Lidia had to do a double-take when a robed figure emerged. Were those horns on her head? And not just small ones either. The robes looked warm, too, and Lidia wondered if the white signified anything.
"Um," Lidia glanced to Zento wondering how he was going to react. "We were...exploring?" she offered hesitantly. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
Apsu had gotten used to dragons in her stay here, Zento didn't seem to surprise her. The girl who spoke up for the group seemed hesitant to speak openly about what they were doing here. She easily kept a friendly smile as she was asked a rather rude question. "I'd rather be asked who I am, not what. That's a bit complicated. My name is Apsu. I'm here as an observer, somewhat to the distaste of those staying here." She admitted, even if the people here had been civil, she could tell when someone wanted her to leave.
She waited for a few moments, wondering if anyone would offer her more information. After a minute she'd speak up again, "I'm sorry for the intrusion, I should be going now." She said and gave the group a quick bow before turning and disappearing back down the path she came from, heading into the labyrinth like corridors she had gotten used to in her stay here.
She waited for a few moments, wondering if anyone would offer her more information. After a minute she'd speak up again, "I'm sorry for the intrusion, I should be going now." She said and gave the group a quick bow before turning and disappearing back down the path she came from, heading into the labyrinth like corridors she had gotten used to in her stay here.
Zento had actually taken his leave, but she had the stuffy, red-faced dragon-man to hide behind if she liked. Apsu earned an odd side glance from him. "She asked who you were, not what. What was inquired as to your reasons to be here." He... didn't seem near as friendly as the jolly jester of a priest. His nose appeared permanently elevated.
If they chose to follow, the walk would probably seem endless. It was not a place designed to be navigated by human feet. As it was, certain “shallow” steps were still physical feats to pull an average person over, and the dragon man often ended up waiting a few feet ahead with a meager teleportation spell, a gold glow displacing him from the bottom to the top. A few smaller side halls seemed designed for pure human form use, and once appreciated luxurious red carpets, but had long since been worn through. Here, they entered an over-glorified walk in closet. “We have not sorted this closet since the last rogues came through.” Their host pondered, shuffling the hangers of mixed clothes influence. He pulled down a few thick-collared jackets. “Yeti leather and baihu fur, skinned right from Maeligust’s men. It should cut any wind.” He passed them towards the man. “We’ve matching gloves and boots around here, if you look. …He instructed me to give the woman a dress, but I do not much care to listen, elder or otherwise.” He pulled at a fire-toned dress with a surreal fabric that shifted in color like a hearth as different lights hit it. Any clothes even near it seemed naturally warmed. It was slit in each side, but had layers above and below in crimson and gold-trimmed ribbons and pleats that flowed like a feather skirt. “It is not only his to give much less to...” He drifted off. The closet was still full of miscellaneous affairs: robes, foreign one-pieces, and headwear all of appropriate coloration. Some glossed unnaturally much like the dress. Have fun, freeform idealized designs from the mentioned culture, and take anything your character might appreciate.
“Pack quickly and be prepared. We will want you gone by tomorrow’s noon. Your staying chambers are out from this room to your right. Pick one and sit unless the elders call for you.”
The rooms were still elegant in their own way, still made of mostly stiff beddings but decorated lavishly in firey colors, with benevolent and protective carvings, paintings, and embroideries of phoenixes, and other paintings of their proud moments—in this clan, idealizations of hundreds of spear-bearing dragons congregating over a mysterious blue boogey-man figure, figure left haunted and empty amongst otherwise intricate work, as if fighting a ghost. Many of the tomes weighed at least a dozen pounds, sometimes multiples, and had pages so aged they were like turning paper-thin glass. A few were in common, the others in a borderline-alien text. Inspection of any texts will give further details. Texts in common script involve The Growth and Extinction of Holy Magics; Fire Shamanism Advanced; Strangled in Death
In the center chamber, the elder’s advisor roared at Zento from a hulking 200 foot form arcing around a good deal of the enormous room, shrouding the visual of an even larger elder curled awkwardly in the back in a magma pool—though his weathered head protruded, eyes drifting open and shut. He looked not much better than Zento’s dragon form, although rather than growing thick in age his features had sharpened dangerously, making some ridiculous triangular head on a weakened neck, which laid long over the ground. “WHY do you insist on bringing mortals here?” The advisor bellowed, albeit in a far harsher draconic tongue that probably sounded more like rabid sputtering down the long halls.
“Their short lives make their fires bright, and keep me young.”
“Young! You are an old fool!”
Zento giggled from his small, unimposing human position before the beast. “That’s not very nice.”
”Mrrrraar… be nice to the boy.” the slumped head yawned.
“Milord Seiran! That is no boy!”
“Mm… Zento? Were we to go nesting today?”
Both dragon and little priest cringed. The other dragon’s capacities weren’t quite there, so that could pass. Sort of. “No, sir. I just required a place to rest my head before bringing journeymen further on their way. I do not care for these hot places, so you will not see me here long.”
“And how fares… your priestess? She has not given in to the grapefruit vine yet has she?”
“Um… no…” Zento squinted oddly, more expression than trying to get a good look. “…A…anyways… Travelers....”
From there, the exchange grew far calmer, not carrying through the halls.
If they chose to follow, the walk would probably seem endless. It was not a place designed to be navigated by human feet. As it was, certain “shallow” steps were still physical feats to pull an average person over, and the dragon man often ended up waiting a few feet ahead with a meager teleportation spell, a gold glow displacing him from the bottom to the top. A few smaller side halls seemed designed for pure human form use, and once appreciated luxurious red carpets, but had long since been worn through. Here, they entered an over-glorified walk in closet. “We have not sorted this closet since the last rogues came through.” Their host pondered, shuffling the hangers of mixed clothes influence. He pulled down a few thick-collared jackets. “Yeti leather and baihu fur, skinned right from Maeligust’s men. It should cut any wind.” He passed them towards the man. “We’ve matching gloves and boots around here, if you look. …He instructed me to give the woman a dress, but I do not much care to listen, elder or otherwise.” He pulled at a fire-toned dress with a surreal fabric that shifted in color like a hearth as different lights hit it. Any clothes even near it seemed naturally warmed. It was slit in each side, but had layers above and below in crimson and gold-trimmed ribbons and pleats that flowed like a feather skirt. “It is not only his to give much less to...” He drifted off. The closet was still full of miscellaneous affairs: robes, foreign one-pieces, and headwear all of appropriate coloration. Some glossed unnaturally much like the dress. Have fun, freeform idealized designs from the mentioned culture, and take anything your character might appreciate.
“Pack quickly and be prepared. We will want you gone by tomorrow’s noon. Your staying chambers are out from this room to your right. Pick one and sit unless the elders call for you.”
The rooms were still elegant in their own way, still made of mostly stiff beddings but decorated lavishly in firey colors, with benevolent and protective carvings, paintings, and embroideries of phoenixes, and other paintings of their proud moments—in this clan, idealizations of hundreds of spear-bearing dragons congregating over a mysterious blue boogey-man figure, figure left haunted and empty amongst otherwise intricate work, as if fighting a ghost. Many of the tomes weighed at least a dozen pounds, sometimes multiples, and had pages so aged they were like turning paper-thin glass. A few were in common, the others in a borderline-alien text. Inspection of any texts will give further details. Texts in common script involve The Growth and Extinction of Holy Magics; Fire Shamanism Advanced; Strangled in Death
In the center chamber, the elder’s advisor roared at Zento from a hulking 200 foot form arcing around a good deal of the enormous room, shrouding the visual of an even larger elder curled awkwardly in the back in a magma pool—though his weathered head protruded, eyes drifting open and shut. He looked not much better than Zento’s dragon form, although rather than growing thick in age his features had sharpened dangerously, making some ridiculous triangular head on a weakened neck, which laid long over the ground. “WHY do you insist on bringing mortals here?” The advisor bellowed, albeit in a far harsher draconic tongue that probably sounded more like rabid sputtering down the long halls.
“Their short lives make their fires bright, and keep me young.”
“Young! You are an old fool!”
Zento giggled from his small, unimposing human position before the beast. “That’s not very nice.”
”Mrrrraar… be nice to the boy.” the slumped head yawned.
“Milord Seiran! That is no boy!”
“Mm… Zento? Were we to go nesting today?”
Both dragon and little priest cringed. The other dragon’s capacities weren’t quite there, so that could pass. Sort of. “No, sir. I just required a place to rest my head before bringing journeymen further on their way. I do not care for these hot places, so you will not see me here long.”
“And how fares… your priestess? She has not given in to the grapefruit vine yet has she?”
“Um… no…” Zento squinted oddly, more expression than trying to get a good look. “…A…anyways… Travelers....”
From there, the exchange grew far calmer, not carrying through the halls.
Lidia was at first taken aback by the sheer selection in the closet, and then deciding that a full change of clothes would be for the best, entered to sort through the clothing. The dress in particular caught her eye, though at the moment it would be impractical to wear. Well, it would be if she decided to go dragon-riding. She did hold it up to herself to see what it might look like on her.
Eventually she decided to grab some warm weather gear. She would be well enough if they stayed in the warmer areas, but she had little to protect herself against the cold. So she grabbed a thick, long scarf, a pair of gloves, and a thick coat that she might have need of. And then because she really couldn't take her eyes off that dress, she carefully folded it up to bring with her. No telling when she might need to be formal; and it couldn't hurt.
That decided, she followed the instructions to her room and plopped her selection of clothing onto the nearest flat surface before eying the books. She was immediately drawn by the titles before selecting one of them: The Growth and Extinction of Holy Magics.
Eventually she decided to grab some warm weather gear. She would be well enough if they stayed in the warmer areas, but she had little to protect herself against the cold. So she grabbed a thick, long scarf, a pair of gloves, and a thick coat that she might have need of. And then because she really couldn't take her eyes off that dress, she carefully folded it up to bring with her. No telling when she might need to be formal; and it couldn't hurt.
That decided, she followed the instructions to her room and plopped her selection of clothing onto the nearest flat surface before eying the books. She was immediately drawn by the titles before selecting one of them: The Growth and Extinction of Holy Magics.
She had a few hours in her room before a head poked into the hall.
“Hellllooooo.” It looked like a very large… kitten head. The base fur was silver with white frilling, and rosettes passed as glyphs on the shiny fur. A large, black patch covered one eye, giving more the appeal of domestic housecat than overall leopardess as it should be. Radiant eyes glanced about, as if expecting something to pop out of a corner at her, before she slid into the room. She wasn’t quite as young as she once looked, but never once lost her youth. A short, somewhat pudgy leopard-woman invited herself into the room, yet still seemed bashful with her arms behind her and chin tucked down, twisting back and forth subtly. She wore a close form-fitting ruby-red tunic and white cloak trimmed in silvers, much like her boots, gloves, and loose sash. One arm, over her long sleeve, sported a thick silver band with the indentation of a dragon, open-winged; she wore a pendant that matched, as if perfect to slot into it.
“Um… daddy’s here!” She exclaimed, but… then realized that either wasn’t as important to Lidia as it was to her, or it was no news. “Um… right. Mhnhn.” Her ears laid back into her hair as she giggled nervously, a mottled mix of brown and unnatural red pulled into a mid-back-length braid, save for outgrown bangs flaring out fully around her face and the sides of her head. “He said you might be ‘bored’, and that the Rubies might have ‘put you in a box’,” she furrowed her brows, trying to mimic his voice and failing, as her version of Zento was far more authoritarian than the pleasant, chiming priest. If they even realized who she was speaking about… considering she was a CAT. “And he said… ‘they can’t scold you for being here, so take them somewhere… fun’.” Her ears perked as she focused on the guest. “Do you want to… go do something? We can get the others. Maybe I can show you the old Crypt den, or… the Dragon Slayer effigies.” Because those sounded positively charming. Only not. The Rubies were a bit thin on entertainment, it seemed.
Apsu, similarly, was sought out. Each occupied chamber was peeked into. Well, David seemed to have gone on his own way at some point, but what of Nikie? She was ripe with energetic suggestion.
“Maybe the library works. Father started arguing with the advisor again. ‘Rarara, why you bring humanfolk and ferals here, rara, they don’t even have strong auras, rara, I doubt they could cast a Ton di Fan.’ “ She didn’t seem thrilled by the attitudes of the primary hosts. Behind her was a large, full snow leopard tail—too full, in fact, to be typical, and bordering on skunkish in raw size. It efficiently dusted the hall way behind them as it flicked… even if accidental. “So he said, ‘then teach them!’ and they went quiet for a minute.” She beamed, apparently quite fond of her ‘father’. “Then of course they started bickering that they didn’t have the time to deal with you… old codgers. So here I am. Who wants history, and who wants magic?” She looked for votes, ears flicking eagerly.
“Hellllooooo.” It looked like a very large… kitten head. The base fur was silver with white frilling, and rosettes passed as glyphs on the shiny fur. A large, black patch covered one eye, giving more the appeal of domestic housecat than overall leopardess as it should be. Radiant eyes glanced about, as if expecting something to pop out of a corner at her, before she slid into the room. She wasn’t quite as young as she once looked, but never once lost her youth. A short, somewhat pudgy leopard-woman invited herself into the room, yet still seemed bashful with her arms behind her and chin tucked down, twisting back and forth subtly. She wore a close form-fitting ruby-red tunic and white cloak trimmed in silvers, much like her boots, gloves, and loose sash. One arm, over her long sleeve, sported a thick silver band with the indentation of a dragon, open-winged; she wore a pendant that matched, as if perfect to slot into it.
“Um… daddy’s here!” She exclaimed, but… then realized that either wasn’t as important to Lidia as it was to her, or it was no news. “Um… right. Mhnhn.” Her ears laid back into her hair as she giggled nervously, a mottled mix of brown and unnatural red pulled into a mid-back-length braid, save for outgrown bangs flaring out fully around her face and the sides of her head. “He said you might be ‘bored’, and that the Rubies might have ‘put you in a box’,” she furrowed her brows, trying to mimic his voice and failing, as her version of Zento was far more authoritarian than the pleasant, chiming priest. If they even realized who she was speaking about… considering she was a CAT. “And he said… ‘they can’t scold you for being here, so take them somewhere… fun’.” Her ears perked as she focused on the guest. “Do you want to… go do something? We can get the others. Maybe I can show you the old Crypt den, or… the Dragon Slayer effigies.” Because those sounded positively charming. Only not. The Rubies were a bit thin on entertainment, it seemed.
Apsu, similarly, was sought out. Each occupied chamber was peeked into. Well, David seemed to have gone on his own way at some point, but what of Nikie? She was ripe with energetic suggestion.
“Maybe the library works. Father started arguing with the advisor again. ‘Rarara, why you bring humanfolk and ferals here, rara, they don’t even have strong auras, rara, I doubt they could cast a Ton di Fan.’ “ She didn’t seem thrilled by the attitudes of the primary hosts. Behind her was a large, full snow leopard tail—too full, in fact, to be typical, and bordering on skunkish in raw size. It efficiently dusted the hall way behind them as it flicked… even if accidental. “So he said, ‘then teach them!’ and they went quiet for a minute.” She beamed, apparently quite fond of her ‘father’. “Then of course they started bickering that they didn’t have the time to deal with you… old codgers. So here I am. Who wants history, and who wants magic?” She looked for votes, ears flicking eagerly.
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