Airships Over Aranor 15

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We rejoin Leona and Whys quite some time after our last view of them. Presently they are walking along the street, Whys concluding his basic practical tutorial on the legal use of Fylenis powers, or at least those actions she is powerful enough to perform. Or I should say, he's just now finished. And they come upon a certain tavern.

Leona glances through the windows of the tavern and quickly ducks back. "Say. Would you mind joining me in a little act?"
"Well, that depends on who I'm supposed to play."
"Do you know Karua?"
"Well, I did meet him once or twice. I know what he looks like at any rate." Whys' illusion flickers a few times and switches to the Red Claw Neshobe's likeness: Maroon-dyed fur, tinted eyeglasses and all. "But I don't think I could play the part all that convincingly," he adds.
"Just let me do the talking then, dear. Just look grumpy and mutter or yell about fire."
"Like this?" Whys momentarily individualizes an illusion for Leona in which he shouts: "FLAMING SON OF A BURNT STICK!"
"That'll be perfect," Leona laughs. "Now, I think our audience is already on the way out. Play along."


The conversation between Xach and Arozi has gone quite predictably, he having related the story of how the crew of the Farran almost killed Captain Verra Kriset. It's the kind of story one doesn't forget after experiencing. Whatever other conversation they had after that was not terribly important or interesting, so we move on to their walking out of the tavern, about to part ways. Arozi takes a whiff of the air around them, and abruptly turns in a particular direction. Without the benefit of a bizarre sight-smell ability, Xach has to infer what is she 'sees', because for the moment he is only really aware of her storming in the direction of two people.

"What are you doing--Karua, what is she doing here?"
The man hesitates to answer, and the woman jumps at the question before he can recover. "No need to get your hackles up, dear, he was just showing me around town."
"You've been to this town more times than he has! Why is her arm around yours?"
"Uh--"
"Dear, I don't know if you know it but it's customary for a gentleman to lead a lady around by the arm. Isn't that right?"
"Sure. Yeah."

"..You stop answering for him. Karua, what are you doing in Rysinth? The last time I saw you you said you were planning to stay on Magis for the next decade."
"Is it too much for a guy to change his flaming mind every once in a while?"
"Really? How's your scar doing?"
"Which one do you mean?"
"The one on your wrist. Right here." And with that, the noise of her punching him in the face, eyeglasses breaking.
"OW! Okay, okay, I didn't know it was that personal. You can count me out, lady." The Shadow Fang notices that instead of the stranger leaving, he just walks up next to Xach and stands there to watch.

"What are you even trying to do?"
"I just wanted to know how you might respond to the very real possibility that Karua would prefer my company to yours."
"He's in love with me."
"Is he really? I thought he hated everyone. I hardly think you have the experience to warm a cold heart like that."
"Nobody needs your kind of experience!"
"My dear, if you mean to impinge my honor I have only one way to respond to that." Said response seems to involve unsheathing a sword.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" The noise of metal on metal: Arozi's using her own weapon, but it doesn't sound like she's deployed the blade or spike on it. She starts using the same kind of clicking sounds Xach usually uses to judge her opponent's position, and as a result he, too, can more clearly perceive the battle.

The elf starts an overly theatrical swing at Arozi's side, which she blocks with a straight hit, and holds the cane against the sword hard, trying to knock the latter loose. The other woman rapidly swings the sword away from the cane and brings it in an arc around the Neshobe's head, swinging as if to hit her neck before suddenly drawing back; Arozi's cane would have been just barely in time to save her throat, but now she's holding it awkwardly.

She isn't given time to recover; the woman makes a downward chop, forcing Arozi to duck aside, and once the sword is low to the ground she swings it at Arozi's feet. The cane stabs the ground, blocking the sword, and Arozi recovers a firm grip. Then she aims another hard strike in an effort to clock the woman in the head; she blocks with the sword and slides it along the cane, moving close to the hand holding it and forcing Arozi to step back.

Xach has barely had time by this point to wonder whether he should step in. But the elf doesn't seem particularly intent on actually cutting Arozi, just in producing a bunch of near-misses. And, for as well-trained as he knows her to be, Arozi is clearly outclassed in skill here, and probably won't be hurting her either, barring a lucky strike. It doesn't help that she's angry and her opponent calm. The fight goes on for only a few more seconds, however, before someone else steps in.

Okay, I think that's quite enough of that. All at once Whys' illusion reverts to the ordinary 'average-looking person' shape, and each combatant perceives the other dodging around all her present attacks and running away--in opposite directions. Each chases after the illusory opponent for a good few minutes (thanks to some clever directional decision to keep them in Whys' "reach") before the illusion disappears, leaving her far away from the real thing.

Whys turns to Xach. Sorry, I didn't know what Leona was up to but I didn't expect that.
"It's fine. We were just about to separate anyway."
Hm..I think I forgot to warn her about the Ekim.
"What of them?"
Oh, Leona recently gained some Fylens powers, long story. I was teaching her a few simple things about her powers, and the law, and marking her as my territory to lower the risk of any..."overzealous" enforcers doing something nasty. But Ekim are..different. We technically can read their minds like everyone else, but their souls are hard and sharp. It's like the difference between strolling into a building and walking into a dense jungle--if you know what you're getting yourself into, and you're careful and skilled enough you'll probably be okay, but otherwise it can really hurt. He pauses a moment. Oh well, what are the chances she'll meet one anytime soon anyway? Then Edward arrives, looking a little out of breath.


Let's back up a little bit. Edward, now walking quickly toward the tavern, considers possible reasons for the misinformation involving the dragon. The trick to Raoclem's way of telling the future is that he is invariably accurate in what he says, but what he says is usually quite vague. Predicting a bleeding moon in no uncertain terms, in a public place no less, simply isn't something he would do if there were no truth to it. It's hard to be vague about that sort of thing, other than the timing--but even given that it is the truth, he obviously brought it up to send Edward away before he could notice that the excuse about the dragon made no sense. The best conclusion is that Raoclem wanted them to meet the dragon for some reason...the prophecy he related to the dragon is the only remaining clue.

The first half is of no use other than identifying the Farran. The second half, however, is more interesting:
Your life or death, dragon of fire, hold its crew in their hands,
Though ignorant of the task set before them, they would do it all the same.
 
The two lines need not be related--the task they are to do need not have anything to do with Arizan whatsoever. The first and second phrases' meaning may be reversed: The dragon's life or death may be a choice whose decision holds the crew in its hands. That doesn't mean she is in any danger right now, but it means that if she were in danger it would probably be in their best interests to help her out. Unless it means that their lives are at greater risk with the dragon alive, but...while Raoclem's prophecies have a tendency of causing trouble, they have never outright prescribed murder when understood correctly.
 
The only task so far that the crew of the Farran has had set before them, which they were initially ignorant of but would do all the same, was the defense of the ship. Against Verra. Was their task to protect some other ship by acting as bait, given Verra's propensity for seeking vengeance? No, nothing related to the prophecy or its results seems to have effected the attack. Barring the interference of a third party, this was something that was going to happen anyway. There must be another task in the future, or at least it is very likely that there is. Perhaps he wants them to find out what it is on their own? The only real conclusion Edward can draw before he arrives at the tavern and find Whys and Xach there is that prophecy is confusing.

"Xach. There you are."
"So I am. What happened to you?"
"I met Raoclem, or rather he intentionally made certain I came upon him. He said a few things, not all of which I can account for, but most importantly he predicted a blood moon coming."
Did you give him a good punch for Conall? interjects the Fylenis while Xach is busy processing the information.
"Yes. Actually, he seemed to be expecting me to."
A shame, that.


Meanwhile, Conall and the Neshobe seek the latter's friend. They come upon a tavern where the barkeeper says someone matching her description played a harp in there a while ago, then left with a man who seemed to be her friend. His description of the friend is considerably more vague than that of the girl, and it doesn't exactly match a description given by a bar patron who was also present at the time. Once they leave, Conall says, "Her friend was a Fylenis. Might have been Whys, actually." Khazu nods, and they head off in the direction the pair were seen to turn after leaving the tavern.


 Again meanwhile, though perhaps a bit later, somewhere in the middle of a forest less than a day's walk away from the outer edge of Rysinth is a wrecked though not too badly damaged ship. The crash landing was as careful as it could have been, only took down a few trees, and thankfully nothing is smoking or on fire. The wood is thick enough to hide the ship from aerial view, so for the moment there is nothing to be worried about.

The Neshobe's clothes are lightly singed, but his eyes are the worst off. They look as if they had soot glued to them, all pitch black and clearly unseeing, not to mention slightly unsettling to look at. Heedless of his present blindness, he continues work on the bandages for his captain's various wounds. The captain is lying on her side on a cot taken out of the ship for this particular purpose. He comes to the tail and starts work on it. "Keep thtill. It'll jutht thtay thore forever if I don't do thomething about it." He works on immobilizing the base of the tail, using a sturdy piece of branch wrapped in bandages as a makeshift splint. "Honethtly, how do you even manage to pull your tail in a fight?"
"You'd be surprised." She seems just about ready to make him pull his own tail off, if he weren't so busy patching her up.

Several minutes later he finishes. "Okay, that'th everything I could find. You can get up n..who goeth there?!" Callor turns abruptly in the direction of the noise of someone walking not four yards off.
His call is answered by a loud meow, a hiss, and then the voice of a man saying, "Calm down, it's only me." The owner of the voice steps out into view--well, Verra's view at any rate, not that it matters since Callor knows that particular shade of 'meow' anywhere. The person who has found the captain and pilot is a human man, from the looks of him somewhere in his early thirties. His attire is that of a traveling noble: practical, but fancy with a little bit of gilding and jewels to let people know he's better than a commoner. He doesn't seem to have a weapon, unusual for a lone traveler on Aranor, and seemingly instead he carries a housecat on his shoulder. A black cat she is, and positively glaring at the Neshobe.

Verra, standing up, says the man's name in greeting. "Bernard? What're you doing so far out?"
"Well I came to see you of course. I had some important business to take care of in Rysinth, and when I looked up I couldn't help but notice your ship going down in what looked like a less than optimal manner." Bernard stretches his arms to either side in a mock-innocent 'search-me' gesture. The cat leaps off and starts walking toward Callor, as if to stalk some prey.
"Are you saying you came to warn me, or to finally turn me in?" Verra grins.
He chuckles. "Neither, I checked and nobody else saw what I did. Interesting fluke, don't you think?" The cat pounces at Callor, who dodges to one side. "I just wanted to say hello."

"Would you keep your cat off me?!" Callor doesn't know much about Bernard. He knows that he is some kind of noble, politician, or emissary of one of the smaller, more obscure countries of Draconis. He knows that he is slightly corrupt, and has gotten Verra out of a few arrests. He knows that he has occasionally had her at his house for as much as month at a time, or had her bring him across to Magis on "diplomatic" missions. He knows that Bernard is uncannily good at getting information--accurate information, on just about anything one could desire--for a price. But what he knows most of all is that that cat has been with Bernard every single time he's shown up, and that it is the most annoying creature on the face of Aranor. It seems to think it's some kind of giant predator, and Callor is a smaller fry encroaching on its territory. When it's not trying to jump on him and claw his face off it's scratching at his clothes or wandering around the Gran Daora breaking things. He swears that cat has been around for a long time, or else somehow transferred its personality to every new pet Bernard bought when the prior one died of old age.

"Gretchen," says Bernard with a chastising tone. "Leave the man alone while he's blind, will you? It's hardly a fair fight." The cat mewls as if in response and walks back over to him. He offers her his arm and she climbs right up to his shoulder in a flash, her claws not even lightly scratching the delicate cloth of his shirt's sleeve.

Gretchen. What a disgusting name. It sounds like the noise you make when you have to sneeze in the middle of crowd. Callor is still thankful for the reprieve, though he knows Bernard is only demonstrating his control over the cat to tease him; next time he won't do anything about it and the Neshobe will be stuck dealing with the cat for however long their meeting lasts.

"You never just want to say hello. What are you really after?"
He chuckles again, that condescending kind of chuckle that lets everyone in earshot know they aren't really in on the joke. "Not in a playful mood today, I take it? Callor, would you mind leaving us alone for a little while? ..If you're finished tending to the lady's wounds, that is."
"Thertainly. I'll be in my quarterth if you need me." He starts to stalk off to the entrance of the airship. He turns his head back for a second. "Don't let that cat out of your thight."

"Will do," says the noble with a wave and a grin. Once he's out of sight, Bernard turns to Verra once more. "Now, whatever happened to you?"
"You don't already know? That's a surprise."
Bernard smiles wide. "Indulge me."

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