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It isn't long before Arizan arrives on the bridge, and has a look around. As may be expected, she is taller than anyone here. It isn't terribly spacious, but the giant windows keep it from feeling cramped. She singles out the human standing in the center of the room. "Are you the captain?"
"Yes." And once again, the leader-human stereotype pays off. There is a very long-standing supposition that humans are usually the best leaders. Something about the wisdom of urgency that supposedly comes with being the shortest-lived sentient beings, and the idea that a person who has less life to live is less likely to be a tyrant since they obviously won't be able to hold on to power forever. It doesn't really make much sense when you get right down to it, but so many people follow it without even thinking about it that, when looking for a leader in a group of varying races, it's generally best to single out the human first. As far as how well it actually works out, well, results are certainly mixed. Rithara's government has worked for millenia on essentially a single dynasty of human kings and queens, but that says more about the success of the dynamic constitutional monarchy system (created largely on the experience and wisdom of said country's namesake) than it does about the individual rulers.
Everyone stands there awkwardly for a few seconds or so. Finally, Arizan speaks. "...Very well. I want your protection until whatever danger the prophet referred to has passed. However, my permanent possessions are few if any. I would offer you some favor or service of similar value."
The captain looks thoughtful. His hands catch fire again (in the same magical manner as before), and he has to pull his right hand away from his face because his thoughtful look involves bringing that hand to his face. He shakes them out again, glad for once his little issue gave him something useful: An idea. "Well, for someone as strong as yourself, and able to fly, I would ordinarily ask you to help protect our vessel should it come under attack. Clearly that won't do, as it is far too plausible a way to fulfill the Choneiji's prediction." (Most people refer to the seven by title rather than occupation) "Perhaps, however, something could be arranged...do you know whether focusing your attention in one direction causes more magic to go that way?"
(This requires another little bit of explanation. Aranoran dragons are special, unique from all other races of the planet in one very important way: While the other peoples use magic, dragons are magic. By internal processes nobody quite understands, dragons radiate magic into the world around them constantly. If there were no dragons, and after enough time for the leftover magic to be used up, nobody would be able to use magic.)
"I have no idea."
The captain looks over his shoulder. "Edward?"
"The hypothesis was first proposed by Lisare, which lends it some credence. However, since there exists no reliable way to measure the magical intensity exuding from a single source, there is no definitive proof. History has proven that proximity is important, however."
He nods. "That's good enough." Then, speaking to the dragon again: "The Farran's engine was designed to use magical energy first, before consuming its other fuel sources. Merely being on the ship is quite helpful to its efficiency, but if you could remain near the engine room whenever possible it would be most appreciated." The truth is, he doesn't want to ask much more than that because it is generally a terrible idea to provoke a fire-breathing dragon on a ship largely built of wood.
"That is acceptable, if someone would show me the way there..." Whyskars appears to stand up and leave the room; she follows the illusory image out, and then the perhaps-real one reappears in the corner where he never moved from.
A few minutes later, the woman with giant eagle-like wings returns. "Might have trouble. Someone's behind us, getting closer."
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Meanwhile, or actually about five or six minutes ago, a woman sits in a chair in the center of another airship's bridge. Her features are unusual, to say the least: Her eyes fully yellow, irises catlike, skin the sort of permanent tan that results from living entirely under the sun for decades on end, the ears and tail that typically mark a Neshobe, but with a bizarre sort of mixed shape to them. Her hair and fur is all of a murky brown coloration, except for a couple of lighter blotches on the tail. Unsheathed claws tap the armrest of the hard captain's chair impatiently.
This ship's helmsman is no less a Neshobe than Edward, but not pure Blue Tail. His mixed descent is evident in an unusual manner: His left ear, and the left half of his tail, is blue, while the right half of both is a bright red. His eyes, presently trained on the bank of levers and valves before him, are colored the same way, and his clothes too, though of darker tones likely intended to reduce the garishness of the outfit. It is him who speaks first, with a diastrous lisp, which is here reconstructed in English for your reading pleasure: "No, mithh Krithet, we are not there yet. We are not even halfway acrothh the thea. We have taken thouthanth of journeyth both wayth, and you thhoud know very well by now how long it taketh to get from one thide to another."
The woman in the chair, Verra Kriset, chuckles. "And I thought I was the psychic one! But really, this trip is soooooooo booooooooring. Haven't seen a single ship since leaving Rith-Ard." (She is using the more informal name for the continent that isn't Draconis.)
"Yeth, I'm thure you'd abtholutely love to meet a Peathkeeper vethhel with barely half our uthual crew." Peacekeepers are a fairly recent development, basically anti-pirate vigilantes of the skies. Most countries tolerate them since they only target pirates. Some are pirates themselves pretending to be helpful, and as a result others of the more scrupulous sort are calling for a more strict organization. In any case, they are all enemies of normal pirates like these two.
"Hey, it eightn't my fault they jumped ship! Not entirely, at least. I mean, a mutiny's a mutiny. They should know better--"
"--than to methh with the Daora-Majou. I know, I know. Be quiet for a minute, we're hitting thome turbulenthe." (A Daora is a variety of monster best described as a gigantic spider, if you're wondering. And 'Majou' means something like 'child' but without the implication of youth.)
Verra gets up and prepares to do something to relieve the boredom. What should she do?
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From: http://www.mspaforums.com/showthread.php?42524-Airships-Over-Aranor-Prose
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