Vote Result:
[X] You're going to be a guard. (Go meet with Grandmother Eyari to learn what she knows about being dungeon born, and then do what you can to go explore the dungeon you came out of. If you came out of it, then it makes sense that the way home is in the same place.)
Muali and Carline don't seem to have much to say after their explanation, and as much as they seem uncomfortable in the silence, you have too many thoughts whirling around in your head to worry about them right now.
The dungeon, whatever that is.
The way they use the word has definitely given you the impression that 'dungeon' for you and 'dungeon' for them were two vastly different things.
For you, a dungeon was a place where one was kept while imprisoned by nobles.
For them… It seemed to be a place that… produced people? But only rarely. But they had guards at the entrance, so the dungeon must produce more than just people.
Unless they were lying.
They could always be lying, and taking them at face value could be dangerous.
You sigh, and your ears twitch in the silence.
"The rain's stopped."
"Has it?" Muali perks up, and hurries to the window to look outside. "It has!" They cheer, and turn back to Carline.
"Can I—"
"Go get Grandmother Eyari?" Carline interrupts them smoothly, "Yes. Yes you can."
Muali droops. "But Carliiiiine!"
"No!" Carline snaps, finally losing whatever patience she'd manage to hold on to. "Don't you but me! Eyari! Now!"
"I could go with them," you offer. "If they don't want to try to convince her to leave her den, then I don't mind going."
"You don't even have clothes!" Carline says, exasperated. "Not to mention boots, and it's early spring, and we're in the foothills of the Wayren Mountains! If half that rainfall isn't already iced over, I'll call myself a bilefrog!"
"You can come," Muali contradicts her, and Carline whirls on them, her mouth already open to object, only to be cut off when Muali holds up a neatly folded bundle of clothes.
Carline's mouth snaps shut.
"Boots?" She asks instead, a moment later, and Muali points over to the door where a pair of boots stood, tops folded down neatly.
"Will those even fit me?" You ask, stretching out one digitigrade leg and glancing between it and the boots, which look like they're made for the human leg configuration.
"They're Adventure Wear." Muali assures you. "They'll fit, or the people who make them will design something that will for free."
You blink. "That's generous."
"Eh," Muali shrugs, and comes over, tossing the clothes in your lap when they get close. "Sort of yes, but mostly no. Their reputation is really important to them, and it's built on the fact that once you buy Adventure Wear gear, you only ever need to buy one of any given thing.
"It's magic, so it's supposed to adjust itself to fit you, no matter your body arrangement. It'll clean itself, though it might take a little longer if you go rolling around in the mud, it'll try to keep you at a reasonable temperature, and if it can't it'll keep you at least five degrees cooler or warmer than the area around you, and it repairs itself, within reason. You can't just cut off a sleeve and have it 'repair' that sleeve into a new adventure wear shirt, or anything, but rips and tears will fix up in a couple hours or so."
You stare.
"That… that's insane."
Muali grins, pleased. "Not really. That's not even getting into the armored gear. Some of that stuff is absolutely insane. We're talking about plate armor that eats other metal to repair itself level bonkers."
Your eyes widen even further, and you're distantly aware that you probably look at least a little ridiculous, but what Muali had just said…
Having armor like that could change everything! If you could get a set and take it home…
You shake your head, shaking the thought away. You weren't going to stay long enough to get your hands on something like that, which was probably ridiculously expensive.
"Right." You say instead, dropping the quilt and standing so you can dress. "Thank you."
"No worries, no problem." Muali waves you off, glancing out the window. "Jasper keeps a spare set on hand in case of dungeon born."
Huh.
That itself is telling, but telling what, you can't quite be sure.
Carline waits until you're dressed before sighing loudly and coming over, another steaming mug in her hands.
"If you're going to go, I want you to drink another one of these before you do. It's cold, and I don't want you getting sick, alright?"
"What is it?" You ask, taking the mug. Your nose twitches at the bitter scent, and you can't help making a little bit of a face.
"Herbs that are good for warding off colds and pneumonia." Carline informs you. "Drink it. A little bitter now is better than what I'll have to feed you if you fall ill."
You grimace, but lift the mug and drink the brew down in a series of hasty gulps, gasping for air when you pull away.
Muali snorts at the look on your face, and Carline rolls her eyes.
"It's not that bad! Storms, the drama…"
"Here." Muali tosses you the boots, and, after a moment's wrestling, you pull them on.
For a moment, nothing happens, and your ears start to flatten in embarrassment at falling for such an obvious lie when the leather squirms around your feet, writhing and twisting and shifting until, not even ten seconds later, the boots fit.
Your heel is comfortable. Your paw is protected. The leather doesn't bunch when you cautiously flex and bend your legs, and, when you take a couple of testing steps, they're comfortable.
"This is amazing…" You breathe, your ears lifting, and it is. The last time you'd had to get boots, it'd take four fittings to get right, and even then they weren't the most comfortable things.
You'd think with how many people with this kind of legs there were, they'd have figured out how to make boots that fit, but apparently not.
"Ready, then?" Muali asks from over next to the door, and you startle, then nod.
"Yeah! Let's go!"
Grandmother Eyari's den was at the edge of town; a cave that'd been cut neatly into the side of the mountain, with a stone door that hung on large metal hinges.
Muali didn't even bother trying to knock. Instead, they marched up, reached into the bush that was taller than they were at the side of the door, and gave something a yank.
Distantly, you hear a bell ring.
"Grandmother Eyari!" Muali shouts. "You've got a guest!"
Nothing happens, and Muali scowls.
"Grandmother Ey-ar-i!" They shout again, and the door swings open to reveal a dragon, scales perfect and gleaming a dull, polished bronze, horns long and sharp, eyes bright and irritated.
"I heard you the first time, brat!" the voice that rumbles out of the dragon's mouth is strong and deep, but obviously female, and Muali scowls harder.
"Then you should've answered the door faster!"
"These old bones will move exactly as fast as they'll move!" The dragon snaps, and Muali rolls their eyes.
"Anyway, I've brought you a guest. Grandmother Eyari, this is Vaxus, the new dungeon born. Vaxus, this is Grandmother Eyari."
"Well met." You offer Eyari a short bow, and she sniffs lightly, then snorts in surprise.
"Well met yourself." She grumbles, and her eyes slide over to look at Muali. "Alright, piss off. You've done your job, and I'm not going to eat the child, so go away."
Muali snorts, but turns to go. "Whatever. Vaxus, if you need anything, I'm in the purple house, okay? And that house that you woke up in? With the yellow door? You can stay there for the night once you're done here. I'll swing by in the morning with something for you to eat, and we'll see about getting started getting you settled."
"Right." You say, with no intention whatsoever in 'settling.'
Eyari must be able to sense that, because she snorts again, and turns, and walks back into the cave.
"Come on, and shut the door behind you."
You nod, and stepping into the den, swing the door shut behind yourself.
The thing about dragons is that, for all they live a long time, it's spread out. They aren't children for a few years, teenagers for a few years, and then adults for the majority of their lives. That's not how dragon aging works.
At least… That's not how it worked with any dragon you'd ever met before.
And as you follow Grandmother Eyari out of the dimly lit entryway and into a comfortably appointed larger cavern, you start to suspect that it might work that way with this one, too.
The room she guides you to is set up with chairs and couches, and a large pile of furs and cushions for her, just across from a large fireplace. There's crystals that glow with inner light scattered around the room, mostly growing out of the walls and ceiling, and for all that it looks comfortable, there's none of the general hoarding tendencies that older dragons tend to exhibit in evidence.
That, coupled with the healthy, unmarred sheen of her scales, the strength of her voice, and the lack of any sort of mane…
If Eyari is much older than you are, comparatively, you might just eat your fancy new boots.
"So." She says, flopping into the cushions and furs. "How is Chaelu doing these days."
That's one theory confirmed.
"Not sure about the world as a whole," you admit, "but Midnes is doing alright, I think. Oh, but Tremaine and Yaelin had a war a few years ago."
"Midnes? Tremaine?" She asks, "I don't know those places. I'm from Marmere, on Malfeir."
"Oh," You nod. "Yeah, Midnes is in Trealve, on Fernil. Tremaine and Yaelin are countries north of us. We get ships in from Marmere, sometimes. You're the place that grows chocolate, right?"
She lights up. "Yes! Gods I miss chocolate. And vanilla. And coffee."
You blink, dismayed. "They don't have coffee here?!"
That's it, this is the third circle of hell.
"Nope." Eyari says, stretching out to lounge a little more, her golden eyes on you. "Sucks."
"Yeah…" You say, then, "Good thing I'm not staying."
Eyari snorts. "Good luck with that. There's no getting home. Not that I've found, and I've been here a hundred and fifty-three years."
[] "Is that why everyone thinks you're a venerable grandmother?"
[] "That's a long time."
[] "What've you tried?"
[] Other (Write In)
