Yami Aku

AHLAT and SESS

“Ha! That’s how you do it Ahlat!” The both of you look over in surprise to see that Gaard has overheard your conversation, perhaps even eavesdropped. By the tone of it, it sounded as if the minotaur was in favor of Ahlat in this conversation and perhaps even on his side if there ever were one. The two of you both know that racism was prevalent in Nede, and social prejudices likely wouldn’t subside just for the reason of your world crumbling due to an apocalypse. “Sounds like a fine enough plan – go ahead wraith, see what’s up there. Report back what you see… if you’ve a shred of loyalty…”

The contempt he held for Sess in Gaard’s voice was clear enough – he visibly distrusted you for whatever reason he had, but it was clear that he wanted you to scout ahead towards the south, where the smoke off in the distance was coming from. Although it was true that you were perhaps the most competent one here when it came to scouting – you were silent, you had no need for food or drink, and although you contrasted against the grass more so than the minotaurs around you, you were also quicker. It was also likely that he just wanted to get rid of you… you couldn’t help but share a similar disdain for him.


***


FARORN and OSCAR

Upon taking a step onto the stage, you begin to notice that the crowd was at least twice as large than you thought it was, and that half of the crowd wasn’t even paying attention that much, and half of the people that were, were so drunk out of their wits that you actually felt better about being on stage! It was reassuring to know that most of these people weren’t sober enough to understand most of what was going on. What you also learned though, was that the jester that had called you upon stage didn’t look as neat and clean as he did about forty feet away. His tired, bedraggled exterior was only highlighted by what appeared to be a lack in hygiene. He smelled of ale, his clothes were stained, and his skin and hair was dirtied and oily. Despite his unpampered appearance however, he took no time to hesitate on your question, jumping on your question like a starved cougar would pounce on a rabbit.

“Ah, well you see, here I am doing my last trick, yes? I want you to help me, and first, I want you to answer me a couple of questions about yourself, hm?”

The performer made a chain of cracking sounds that came from his hands as he pressed his knuckles together, prompting a small amount of laughter from the audience.

“Your name? Your favorite drink? Your hopes, your dreams? Do you think the king is a biased pig and his queen a cheating scoundrel? More importantly, and this pertains to actual show, you see…” he fished a couple of chortles from the front row, “do you believe… in dragons?”

Dragons. There hasn’t been a report of dragons since… ever, really. It was common belief that dragons don’t exist, border-lining on fact even, if it weren’t for the fables and children bed-time stories fueling the myths. Not even the first settlers of Galiea had ever encountered one of the beasts. You’d have to be a mad beggar with little-to-no-education that’s doped up on xanis mushrooms (highly toxic to the liver and known to induce potent hallucinations to the degree of schizophrenia) to believe in one.


***


RAO

“I see…” Cinna droned, seemingly inspecting you up and down. The other man, clearly far more gruff, taller, and stronger than Cinna had approached from behind him, and clearly far more judgmental than he was as he was leaning against a thin tree with his arms crossed and his eyes glaring straight towards you. His chest was bare and scarred, and he wore a kilt made from the pelt of a small bear. The beast’s head was fashioned into a large pouch and placed appropriately over the genitals sided by its two large paws in a neatly fashion.

“You sure you a hunter?” grunted his raspy voice. “Where’s your kill? You’ve any kill?”

The intimidating beast of a man had almost put you into submission if it weren’t for Cinna coaxing the two of you with refreshing assurance. “Come now Hart, don’t get too hasty.”

He had turned to you with an apologetic glance before saying slowly: “Do you have any kill? We’re asking because lately some of the other guys have been takin’ in freeloaders and they took up a lot of our resources. I had to go out hunting last night and we had Hart here chop down a couple of small trees…”

You glance around seeing the abundant amount of meat here, which brings you to two conclusions: Cinna was likely a masterful hunter if he were to bring in this much meat, and that there was a lot of meat here. This leads you to believe that they may in fact be poachers.


***


YAZMIN

Leaving behind the two fussing nobility, you couldn’t help but feel, perhaps, maybe, even a twinge of regret as you bounded off deeper into the mountain range – or perhaps not, and it was simply the exhilarating thrill of adventure and curiosity enrapturing your attention and tightening your chest. You hear the steady stream of curses as you continued on your trek towards the mysterious beacon. You payed them little heed though… adventure!

Of course, it was getting a wee bit dark and you may have to find a place to rest soon before you can’t see what you’re doing. Your curiosity and ambition to reach your destination competed with this thought however, and you had pretty good eyesight to begin with. It comes with living life outside for the most part. If anything, worst comes to worst, you can find a small hole to crawl in and rest for an hour to get your energy back and bound off again like a rat in a warehouse.

A good amount of your time was spent wandering the mountains, perhaps even an hour. Your target hardly seems closer, but you can definitely get a trace of where you’re headed. The sun is setting and you have difficulty picking out reds and oranges from the flash you thought you had seen earlier. The throbbing and shaking of your knees don’t provide you much relief either, though. You only seem left with the choices between stopping here for a couple minutes or heading into that cave a little way up the way to settle in for good until you’re ready to go again.

"I have a rabbit if that accounts to anything." Rao mumbled apologetically. "Haven't had much luck as of late, but don't worry about me freeloading or nothin'. I don't plan on sticking around too long." Rao gave a nod after he finished speaking and began just fiddled with is clothing, waiting for the others to speak. Every so often he would give the man Hart a slight glance and maybe what you could possibly consider a glare. He wasn't quite fond of the man, though he couldn't place exactly why. His attitude was unsavory, but Rao had encountered plenty of unsavory people before and gotten along fine. Not to say he couldn't get along with this man, just that he didn't plan on enjoying it.

The other was more pleasant, though Rao's disposition was still neutral. It irked him a tad that these men seemed to be so keen to kill and skin whatever moved, but it wasn't in his nature to go calling people out on whatever things they'd done or may have done. It didn't concern him. He'd be gone in no time and forget all about them anyways.

What felt like a while was only a moment and Rao spoke again, disregarding his earlier plan to let them respond.

"Sure is a lot of, er, meat. Explains a bit why I didn't see much out in those woods." He gestured towards the trees and then just stood there, finally allowing them to reply if they wished.

“My name is Farorn.” He began, not liking where this was going to be going. Still, he’d chosen to do this, and he might as well go all the way, as he sighed and started his series of responses. “Whiskey, doing something worth remembering, I don’t pay any mind to politics, and… I’d have to say no, I’ve never seen a dragon in my life.”

Those were safe answers as far as he was aware. Nothing was being risked by saying them, and there was little he felt the jester could do to twist him into the butt of any jokes, which would hopefully speed this along right to the trick, and right done with it. It of course dawned on him, that if the dragon was an important part of the trick, he’d likely be about to ‘see’ a dragon, ‘course illusion was as it was; it would be fake, and probably a trick of the light.

“’Course, I suspect you seek to change that for us all, now don’tcha?”

Sess Ilee was expecting this sort of thing to occur. The immediate distrust, the need to rely on the other minotaurs. She didn't like crowds, groups, whatever they wanted to deem themselves as. When you have more than one conflicting ideal in a group heads were bound to roll. She didn't want to include herself in something like that. Far, far too risky.

Yet she stood there, listening to him accuse her of something that wasn't even on her mind. Possession, she was capable of it. All wraiths were capable of it. She was no stranger to the idea of possessing anything, key word being anything. Not anyone. Just anything.

She cleared her throat and waved her hand submissively at the thought. "I'll assure you of this minotaur, I was never one for possessing creatures who have consciousness beyond themselves. Self awareness, a drive for more than just survival. Emotions, ideals, ethics." She let the words roll off her tongue like honey. Sweet sounding to the very last syllable. Yet there was an eeriness about it that would make anyone question what she was getting at.

Then, in that moment, she was caught off guard by another minotaur. Tche, a drawback. She floated there in silence as the intruder tried to steer her and her target off course. She had lost this pact before it even began. She should have realized that minotaurs were going to be the hardest to persuade. She chose her words carefully for Gaard.

How to deal with the unpredictable factor...

"It seems you distrust me minotaur. Sending me to my demise. I guess it does keep your hands clean." She turned away. "And when I return, hmmm, even then I doubt you'd take me seriously. No less, I'll gather your information. Expect my return." She paused and looked back at Ahlat.

So much for you. I've wasted my time. You're no better than the rest are you?

She headed off towards the smoke in the distance. Already her mind was racing with ideas, for solutions to her arising problems. Everything did not go as according to plan and yet it was entirely expected. She wouldn't be trusted easily. She would be accused of things she had no intentions of doing. She would be banished. She needed to find...a free thinker. An individual.

Now where on earth was she to find one of those?

Ahlat watched her go, caught off-guard and baffled. The sheer amount of offense she'd taken was incredible. Yes, he'd tried to be the reasonable one, and Gaard might have been a touch too heavy-handed for the situation (but that's just how minotaurs were, much like wraiths were underhanded and always wanting to borrow your physical faculties), but they were hardly sending her to her death. She'd come through the portal, so she'd have to do her part, just like everybody else.

He shrugged and got back about his business, setting up a sleeping tarp while there was still daylight. Next on the order of business was a small mud or stone furnace - something he could use to get some heat built up.

"Gaard! Is anyone getting water or wood yet?" he asked. Truth be told, he was interested in going out and looking at the new world himself; he just didn't have an excuse to do so just yet.

AHLAT

Gaard looks towards you, seemingly concentrated on other important matters as clued by him looking deeply into a tome and other minotaurs scurrying about. “Hm, what? Ah, as a matter of fact, no. We don’t. The trees are sparse around here and the nearest forest or jungle is miles off – can barely see it. I sent a head to check it about… say, six hours ago?”

Spending six hours to get wood likely meant that they weren’t coming back.

“There’s water… somewhere. Hiding in the plains here under the grass. Up north there’s a small cliff overlooking an ocean. Shouldn’t be too hard to climb down, though I don’t believe the water to be very drinkable.”

Gaard presents you with two equally hopeless sounding tasks. On one hand, you could dehydrate yourself looking for water in the thick grasslands, or on another hand, you could venture south towards the jungle and possibly get eaten alive by whatever is there. You may do either of those, depending on how brave you’re feeling at the moment, but you could also do what you wish here in the camp. In the same direction of the jungle far south lies traces of smoke, likely a sign of civilization, where you have already sent the wraith.


FARORN and OSCAR

“Oh my, he actually answered all of them,” the jester croaked, tugging at his collar. It being obviously for some failed comedic scheme, it did no good for the mostly drunken audience. He regained his posture and turned to face you, aiming to get back on track.

“In any case, no, my son, mister Farorn, what would make you think such a thing? As we all know, dragons have been extinct for hundreds upon hundreds of year – maybe even thousands! You see, my friend, this has little to do with dragons… but with the legends of their descendents!

“We all know the legends of the Dragonhearts, yes?” He asked the audience. “The descendants of mighty dragons’ power, their blood coursing through their very veins? Yes, many believe these walking demi-gods to have walked these grounds after the downfall of their draconic ancestors! They have been thought to have died off long ago…” Oscar pauses his monologue to turn towards you, and your suspicion begins to catch up with him.

“…but still, I believe they walk amongst men, unaware of their great heritage.” Oscar walks towards you, pacing even. There occasional comes the urge to disrupt his thunder and ruin his show just so you can get out of here faster, but something keeps you from doing so. Curiosity, perhaps. Curious on where he’s going with this. The performer raises his hands above your head, “I see it in this man’s eyes! A Dragonheart from the tales of olde!”

Oscar conjures up a small metal torch, its head soaked in fuel, and he lights it from a lantern overhead. It blooms into colorful orange and yellow flames, and he holds it in front of him. “But surely you don’t believe in all this nonsense, do you? Do you Farorn? You don’t feel the dragon’s blood?”

You’re fairly sure you don’t – in fact, you’re even positive! All of this was a huge lie, there was no logic that could drive him to believe you’re a Dragonheart, especially considering those were little fairy tales to inspire some awe into children. The very idea of their even existence was more preposterous than dragons.


RAO

The two men seemed to accept Rao’s claim of having a rabbit, though the larger one in particular seemed to stand up a little straighter and more imposing – obviously acting as if he were superior to you, being surrounded by kill with a rabbit being all you had to offer. He stuck up his nose and turned back to the cabin and Cinna just accepted your time here.

As the time of silence past, and you raised your question, Cinna had managed to answer before the ruder Hart. “Hunting is our passion – we hunt for sport, and we do it for a living. We eat well. We’ll cook up some of this, have a big dinner, and then we usually haul it up towards Caprest. Though this time, we’re taking half of it to Sandwatch. It’s good money; it makes us rich.”

As effective as it is, it also likely wasn’t within the law.

“We’re all hunters – predators – if you want to catch your prey, you’ll have to compete better with the others.


SESS

Your trek goes relatively undisturbed. The signal of smoke ahead acts as the beacon of your destination, and it grows larger as you approach closer to what appears to be civilization. You can see the trace outlines of a village, inciting doubts within your mind on your reception – the previous quarrel has naturally left you bitter, obviously influencing your outlook. You’re logical enough to be aware of this. But an unshakeable feeling leaves you cautious as you float closer towards the alien village. They seemed generic enough: they were mostly made of wood, their tops likely being less so, and cushioned with hay and straw, which was bound together with rope, to keep it from flying off. Behind the village are what appear to be several acres of farmland, fit to feed half a kingdom. You never got a look at any of the inhabitants, leaving you the option to leave now and inform the others immediately of alien life, or satiate your curiosity by going closer.

Rao could agree with that for the most part. Though he supposed most predators just ate how much they wanted, not hunt until their full, and then go hunt some more animals. That was the only flaw with that statement. We may all be predators, but humans were an exceedingly greedy predator that ever so often wouldn't feel content with just a little. Men must make their fortunes, however. It gave Rao a bit of pride to compare himself to these men and feel like someone who was respectful to nature. He felt above them and their skins and assorted meats.

((I'll see if I can't add more to this. Just wanted to post something before the end of the day.))

"Well, how many more should we be expecting through the portal soon? If we can't get wood or water, seems to me we won't be able to stay here longer than a day, two at most. Seems we should move a bit closer to one or the other - probably the water, since there should be animals near there as well." Ahlat was mostly thinking aloud at this point. "Portal should be secure, if anyone trying to touch it gets vaporized. We might just leave a couple people here on rotation, if we can spare enough people to do that...

"But anyhow, I'll take a look for water, if that's all right with you. I won't stay out too long at this point; hopefully the wraith will bring us good news about the settlement, and the people here will be friendly."

He waited for a moment for confirmation on his thoughts, or perhaps a second hand to cover more ground, if one could be spared.

Farorn laughed, as he shook his head from side to side. This jester was madder than he thought. Dragons were one thing, he could imagine some magic somewhere may have made giant lizards with wings, but for these same beasts to breed with man, or to somehow cross with such was just preposterous.

As he finished, realizing he was just going to be a pawn in whatever scheme the jester had in mind anyway, he sighed and resigned himself to his fate. “No, no I can’t say I do. I’m rather pathetic for someone with the blood of a so called dragon.”

This was the truth, if any of this was real, there was no way he could be it. His body was weak, his courage thin, to be a dragonheart would be so ridiculous that it simply could not be. A dragonheart could have saved those people…

Yazmin thought about the old honeymooners more than she would have liked to on her hike up the mountain. She did not tire easily but today had been particularly harrowing. The couple had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back and sent it scuttling up into the mountains after a mysterious red flash.

Perhaps she had been a tad rude when she abandoned them up there. She began to feel very guilty about the whole affair but decided that she would not turn back - after all, for doing such a horrible thing as abandoning an annoying old pair of lovers on a mountaintop, she must surely be expected to suffer the consequence of a boatload of guilt.

Nevertheless, Yazmin began to feel a sort of kinship with the whining woman in particular. Her knees were becoming weak from a long day of trudging up and down dusty trails, so she bit her lower lip and began to search for a place to rest.

When she came upon the cave, she was reluctant to throw herself inside, but opted to at least investigate its hollow black depths. Yazmin nimbly ascended a small bluff and stood outside the mouth of the cave - she almost expected to feel a gust of wind as the rocky maw breathed its last evening breath before night fell and sleep overtook the countryside.

Yazmin took a stone in her hand and skipped it inside the cave, hoping to evaluate its vacancy.

AHLAT

Gaard only shrugged. "I am not one to be working on the math, I just notice a couple of Nedians passing through every couple hours or so. But yes, I and one of the other warriors here will look into relocating. Though you must scout the north waters, first." The senior warrior had just barely finished his sentence when the large teepee tent that was being pitched behind him collapsed onto two poor workers, one minotaur and the other an orcoid. Having turned around, you could see the hair on Gaard's back bristle and stand. "What are you two fools doing! You call that pitching a tent? I could have a single bard set that damn thing faster than you lot! Let me see that!"

You know full well that this could end either hilariously or disastrously for the two on the receiving end of Gaard's temper. Usually with a display of more manuel dexterity than you would expect from an old bull, embarrassing the recipients, and either tearing down the whole thing to have them do it the way he did or kicking one square in the chest with the hoof. Regardless, you're fairly positive you won't be sharing any more words with Gaard for a while and the adventure serenades you with its call. A cool breeze with a hint of salt flows to and fro the north and the afternoon sun begins to redden. A curious thought, though, is what kind of creatures roam this world's nights.



FARORN and OSCAR

"Aw, don't be so down on yourself buddy!" He said rather half-heartedly. "We shall see for ourselves." Following this, Oscar did a couple stretches in his neck, arms and legs and got into a crouched stance. He stuck the torch two feet or so in front of your face and cleared his throat. "Now they say that the ancient word for 'fire' was 'eva-kar'! Ee - va - kar! You got that?"

You nod your head and silently mumble it to yourself a couple times. The jester appeared to be readying himself a bit before giving you the cue. "Alright, I want you to yell it out at this torch at the count of three, yeah? Full of passion, full of fire! Are you ready?"

You nod. Of course not.

"One...", you relax yourself, "two...", you take a deep breath, "... three!"

You followed the instruction to the letter. You yell it out as close as you can get it to passionate sounding, straight from your chest. And out of the corner of your vision at the last second, you can see Oscar's outstretched hand jerking forward right before you feel an intense heat radiating against your face. A large ball of fire exploded forward before dissipating once again, leaving only a dead torch. The display had sobered up some of the half-drunken members of the audience and joined the rest in the outrageous applause of cheering and shrill whistles. You barely had time to register the event before Oscar stands up dramatically and points his arms towards you. "Laaadies and gentlemen! Thheeee Dragonheart!"

His prompting only tuned up the volume of the cheering directed towards you. Men cheered with envy and respect and you noticed the admiration shining from some of the women as well, where perhaps staying another night here wouldn't be totally a bad thing. You almost get caught up in what had happened until you turn your head and see the performer with a half-hearted smirk. It hit you - you hadn't felt any power surging through you like one would expect, there was no power. He had fabricated the whole event. A glimpse of a particularly busty wench may prompt you to talk to this "Oscar" guy some other time, in private. As if reading your face, the performer walked off stage and walked into a back room, just barely closing the door, leaving a crack of light to shine through - looking behind only once.



RAO (assuming Crim returns)

"Anyways," Cinna continues, "if you're tired, feel free to rest in the cabin. The bed is comfortable enough, doesn't smell like kill, and the smoke from the fire keeps away the mosquitoes and flies. The cabin on your right does in fact look pretty comfy compared to the itchy outdoors. All made of wood though, and the fireplace is likely made of stone of course. Likely with an iron gate to keep the embers from falling on the floorboards. The bigger, meaner guy, Hart, glanced at you and the cabin, clearly untrustworthy of you. "You keep on far right side," he said, "you leave bed and chest next to the window 'lone. Keep on your side."

Cinna sighed and motioned you to step inside. Once in, you'll find there isn't a lot of space to set your things, but the bedding was stuffed with cotton and blanket was made of wool and sheep skin. On the other side of the cabin, you notice a variety of tools including what looks like a large crossbow, a coyote cloak, and two devious looking scimitars. Of course, you figure they belong to the big guy. The man seems like a walking arsenal for goodness sake.



YAZMIN (assuming Mata returns)

Judging by the sound of the stone you chucked, the rock went practically nowhere. It was practically a crevice in the earth shrouded from the sun. It went about three feet deep and it smelled like a badger's nest. Though being particularly nocturnal, it likely had just left to go hunting and foraging. You could probably rest in it for two hours before it would feel like coming home again. Though likely safe for the time being and being much bigger than a badger, there is still the chance of there being danger. Animals had a tendency of acting unpredictably. But on the other hand, it was getting dark, and this area was treacherous at night without something to guide you. Especially with tired, wobbly knees.

Ahlat nodded. "Yes sir," Ahlat said quietly, not that he particularly expected Gaard to be paying attention, what with the impending schooling that the greenhorns were about to be in for. He returned to his gear to grab a waterskin and a couple of buckets and check his knife before heading out.

The walk was going to be long, and it would probably take him at least an hour to get anywhere of note. But, that at least would give him a chance to look around and see what manner of interesting things this world had to offer. The only terribly interesting thing for the first fifteen minutes or so was a mall sapling, about two inches in diameter; this, Ahlat half-kicked, half-cut down and carried it with him, stripping the branches with his knife and making a walking stick - equally useful for carrying water (a task for which he didn't care to use his actual weapon) or self-defense.