Mizu
Software Developer
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
I'd assumed it didn't work because Shiro and Desu were split in what to do, with only one of them trying to summon the spirit. And thus it didn't count for the spirit, as rituals go.
A Fine Sediment (Inheritance Cycle SI)
- Thread starter Chairtastic
- Start date
Wow. The Ra'zac kicked the absolute shit out of the Riders. And these were just the guys that fought a war against a human kingdom and crushed them (and notably did it when said humans are only starting to fall from their peak of sorcerous knowledge).
But then... apparently the Elves/Riders stayed completely separate and protected in the heavily warded Du Velden Warden, and it sounds like their mind-first magic combat style is extremely effective against the humans encountering it as an ooc problem (and no, I'm not taking Goda's word for it that attack barriers are a human thing, because he caught veterans of the war with Palancar off-guard with it, and humans didn't have a reason to really develop mental defenses till they came to Alagaesia.)
So I guess, arguably...that wasn't really a fight at all. Just a greater power relentlesslyair striking dragon raiding a weaker one from an unassailable position, only the weaker party had no mountains/jungles to hide in and play guerilla warfare from.
Then they fight the Ra'zac which are physically their match, numerically still near their peak from genociding most of a continent (albeit, still transiting to Alagaesia in pursuit of the humans, so there could be MORE coming still), and totally immune to telepathic detection and attacks...which the Riders are over-reliant on.
Eesh, nasty, nasty.
But then... apparently the Elves/Riders stayed completely separate and protected in the heavily warded Du Velden Warden, and it sounds like their mind-first magic combat style is extremely effective against the humans encountering it as an ooc problem (and no, I'm not taking Goda's word for it that attack barriers are a human thing, because he caught veterans of the war with Palancar off-guard with it, and humans didn't have a reason to really develop mental defenses till they came to Alagaesia.)
So I guess, arguably...that wasn't really a fight at all. Just a greater power relentlessly
Then they fight the Ra'zac which are physically their match, numerically still near their peak from genociding most of a continent (albeit, still transiting to Alagaesia in pursuit of the humans, so there could be MORE coming still), and totally immune to telepathic detection and attacks...which the Riders are over-reliant on.
Eesh, nasty, nasty.
How can the Ra'zac kill so many Riders when they all probably have extensive wards? To the best of my knowledge, the Ra'zac can't use magic.
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Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
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Wards only work to a certain point, and only against what you specifically word them for. Killing Riders is tough, but possible. Don't discount the lethrblaka either, they're cunning.
Altered
Duality | Redeemed
- Location
- Terra
Are y'all aware Paolini posted a video and images of the world map of Eragon, the true world map now apparently? Multiple continents, islands, etc?
I'm suddenly terrified that the Ra'zac managed to drive the humans away and that apparently elves and dwarves left the continent humans came from first way before them.
I'm suddenly terrified that the Ra'zac managed to drive the humans away and that apparently elves and dwarves left the continent humans came from first way before them.
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
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Yep, I find the version he posted to twitter has the highest resolution.
And dwarves are native to Alagaësia, while elves, urgals, and humans are the invasive species.
- Location
- USA
It's been a while since I've read Eragon, but considering Riders all carry swords, I assume repeated physical force can overload wards?
- Location
- Massachusetts
Yikes. That Goda intro did not come off as anything even remotely resembling sympathetic. Also we have an elf whose unique power is the pratfall whose personality is one with the carpet.
So he's your classic unjustifiably overpowered, sarcastic SI constantly dumping on the world's beliefs and established powers but with a cane? That really only works when the reader is along for a journey of discovery into the local magic systems.
Normally I'd read more before making a call but whew - what an ass.
How was "there are hundreds of us in an interlocking support system. You only have yourself." Not raised as a point here?
Also, the tone of "Galbatorix wasn't a big deal, y'all just suck" seems to be building very strongly.
I have no words for how mind-meltingly condescending this is.
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
It should be understood that Goda is physically a 17-ish year old human. Mentally he's a thousands-of-years-old-something-else. He isn't being condescending with that statement. He's speaking from personal experience with being semi-immortal, and regular interactions with other facets of himself that also have that problem.
He is probably somewhat wrong - Dúnedain probably wasn't phoning it in so much as taught Sëylid the only way he knew how because he didn't have it in him to try teaching another way, but the end result of her never really having a chance is the same.
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- Location
- Massachusetts
This might be true in meta context but stylistically isn't communicated at all.
It's all minimization and cheap sarcasm about a mildly convenient pet instead of true concern about a burgeoning friend and companion. It doesn't help that the elf basically has nothing going for her in terms of narrative weight.
Vaalintine
Wild Wondorous Wolfalope
I loved that bit where they opened that one up like a lobster. And poorly crap are they going to be taking Goda more seriously now.
Goda's Journal #7
New
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
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Goda's Journal -- Entry Seven
---
I'm getting medicine, something that's supposed to help repair my joints and back. Only it's hideously painful because the potions and poultices to do that aren't friendly to human physiology.
So, Anurin is Angela? Or, proto-Angela? No idea what is up with that -- or what's up with Cassandra. Anurin's dragon wasn't mentioned literally anywhere, so that's a massive blank spot in the mythos. Also, while Anurin is described as a man, I'm wondering if it's a deliberate deception on her part to throw off facts about her.
Her time as Grand Master was marked only by the inclusion of humans in the pact -- building Doru Araeba isn't part of her legacy. Maybe that's intentional? I don't know.
What I do know is the Elders are asking questions about the ra'zac and lethrblaka finally. I'm going to write down some things in case someone finds this journal.
When ra'zac first hatch, they are mindlessly hungry. Back in Panahedan the hypothesis was that there wasn't enough resources to grow themselves to full size in their eggs so they had to be fed almost immediately when they hatched or they'd starve. Now, when lethrblaka only laid a couple eggs at a time, they could afford to build up a larder of human corpses to feed their hatchlings.
But once they started having larger clutch sizes, they ran into the problem of the ra'zac leaving the nest because their parents' larders were nonexistent, or insufficient. That leads to them mindlessly chasing after humans near their hatching site, regardless of strength, numbers, or hazards. And the lethrblaka try to grab their spawn and take them back to the nest before they die.
That's what the lethrblaka and ra'zac down by the Jiet river did, it's what happened here.
The easiest way to kill a lethrblaka is to exploit their parental instincts. They will put every thought out of their heads to try and save their spawn, which was pretty feasible when they usually only had two ra'zac at a time to care for. Staggered clutches.
One of the reasons we have a call for ra'zac is to teach new monstertötungs cane hunters what to listen for. Another is that if you're really lucky you can use a ra'zac distress call to lure a lethrblaka down to the ground.
Go for the eyes and the tongue -- bloodloss is the most efficient way to kill one.
Back before I had my shocking revelation about why you don't ask spirits to inhabit a weapon without a gemstone or insulated handles, I didn't have the words to describe this -- but I think ra'zac and lethrblaka mostly see in the infrared spectrum.
Those bonfires we make? They don't produce enough light to seriously hurt a ra'zac or lethrblaka. But when you're near one they have to rely on their other senses to find you.
It's also why I fill spaces with Dancing Flames, because when I do it accomplishes the same effect but without a massive open fire. Also, a neat trick I found back on Panahedan.
Once you summon a Dancing Flame, they can't move. But they also can't be moved. You can summon a Dancing Flame underwater and it'll heat up all the water -- fill a room with them and they'll burn anything that gets too close to them. Even if they're encased in chitin.
Which I would have been able to use more effectively if there were any finished stone buildings in this 'city'. Fill a choke point full of the little fairies, goad the ra'zac into going in, and watch them burn themselves to death.
Doesn't work so well against lethrblaka, they typically feel the updraft long before they get close and know something's up.
So, while I had Anurin's ear I asked her a very fair question: Why did they decide to build an entirely new city rather than settle in Ilirea, which has a central location and would require less work?
She explained that Ilirea is still considered the property of the elvish monarchy, a holding of Du Weldenvarden. Which is also why the Silverwood elves haven't moved in. Technically speaking, the Silverwood elves are subjects of the queen, but outside her ability to actually govern.
I find the situation similar to the British Commonwealth system. But Ilirea needs to be vacant for a certain span of time before the settlement is considered abandoned by elvish law. At least a century more.
Originally the plan was actually to settle in the dwarf city of Orthíad, but the dwarf king turned the Riders down for a fair reason: The dwarves are in the middle of an archaeological dig there -- documenting their history. And they don't expect to be done for fifty-seven years.
After that, the city will be considered open for settlement.
Speaking of time. Anurin tells me that given the rate of progress I'm getting from her medicine, I shouldn't expect to be back on my feet reliably for six months. I'd be more okay with that if it wasn't for the damn intermittent incontinence.
Robert Baratheon said it best. They never tell you how you shit yourself, they don't put that part in the songs.
---
---
I'm getting medicine, something that's supposed to help repair my joints and back. Only it's hideously painful because the potions and poultices to do that aren't friendly to human physiology.
So, Anurin is Angela? Or, proto-Angela? No idea what is up with that -- or what's up with Cassandra. Anurin's dragon wasn't mentioned literally anywhere, so that's a massive blank spot in the mythos. Also, while Anurin is described as a man, I'm wondering if it's a deliberate deception on her part to throw off facts about her.
Her time as Grand Master was marked only by the inclusion of humans in the pact -- building Doru Araeba isn't part of her legacy. Maybe that's intentional? I don't know.
What I do know is the Elders are asking questions about the ra'zac and lethrblaka finally. I'm going to write down some things in case someone finds this journal.
When ra'zac first hatch, they are mindlessly hungry. Back in Panahedan the hypothesis was that there wasn't enough resources to grow themselves to full size in their eggs so they had to be fed almost immediately when they hatched or they'd starve. Now, when lethrblaka only laid a couple eggs at a time, they could afford to build up a larder of human corpses to feed their hatchlings.
But once they started having larger clutch sizes, they ran into the problem of the ra'zac leaving the nest because their parents' larders were nonexistent, or insufficient. That leads to them mindlessly chasing after humans near their hatching site, regardless of strength, numbers, or hazards. And the lethrblaka try to grab their spawn and take them back to the nest before they die.
That's what the lethrblaka and ra'zac down by the Jiet river did, it's what happened here.
The easiest way to kill a lethrblaka is to exploit their parental instincts. They will put every thought out of their heads to try and save their spawn, which was pretty feasible when they usually only had two ra'zac at a time to care for. Staggered clutches.
One of the reasons we have a call for ra'zac is to teach new monstertötungs cane hunters what to listen for. Another is that if you're really lucky you can use a ra'zac distress call to lure a lethrblaka down to the ground.
Go for the eyes and the tongue -- bloodloss is the most efficient way to kill one.
Back before I had my shocking revelation about why you don't ask spirits to inhabit a weapon without a gemstone or insulated handles, I didn't have the words to describe this -- but I think ra'zac and lethrblaka mostly see in the infrared spectrum.
Those bonfires we make? They don't produce enough light to seriously hurt a ra'zac or lethrblaka. But when you're near one they have to rely on their other senses to find you.
It's also why I fill spaces with Dancing Flames, because when I do it accomplishes the same effect but without a massive open fire. Also, a neat trick I found back on Panahedan.
Once you summon a Dancing Flame, they can't move. But they also can't be moved. You can summon a Dancing Flame underwater and it'll heat up all the water -- fill a room with them and they'll burn anything that gets too close to them. Even if they're encased in chitin.
Which I would have been able to use more effectively if there were any finished stone buildings in this 'city'. Fill a choke point full of the little fairies, goad the ra'zac into going in, and watch them burn themselves to death.
Doesn't work so well against lethrblaka, they typically feel the updraft long before they get close and know something's up.
So, while I had Anurin's ear I asked her a very fair question: Why did they decide to build an entirely new city rather than settle in Ilirea, which has a central location and would require less work?
She explained that Ilirea is still considered the property of the elvish monarchy, a holding of Du Weldenvarden. Which is also why the Silverwood elves haven't moved in. Technically speaking, the Silverwood elves are subjects of the queen, but outside her ability to actually govern.
I find the situation similar to the British Commonwealth system. But Ilirea needs to be vacant for a certain span of time before the settlement is considered abandoned by elvish law. At least a century more.
Originally the plan was actually to settle in the dwarf city of Orthíad, but the dwarf king turned the Riders down for a fair reason: The dwarves are in the middle of an archaeological dig there -- documenting their history. And they don't expect to be done for fifty-seven years.
After that, the city will be considered open for settlement.
Speaking of time. Anurin tells me that given the rate of progress I'm getting from her medicine, I shouldn't expect to be back on my feet reliably for six months. I'd be more okay with that if it wasn't for the damn intermittent incontinence.
Robert Baratheon said it best. They never tell you how you shit yourself, they don't put that part in the songs.
---
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Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
wonder if magic can fix that?
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
It is just... slowly, because the medicine isn't made for humans. I suspect a human-variant would have him back on his feet in weeks, rather than months.
Also, it definitely sounds like someone/something magically fucked with the lethrblaka to make them into a continent-devouring plague instead of a controllable menace.
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- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Hm. On the upside: he has nothing to focus on but his studies in magic/the ancient language. With his knowledge of modern sciences, he should be able to do some impressive stuff with just a few words... though his magical stamina may be a chokehold for a long while yet
Mizu
Software Developer
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
You reckon? I'm not really sure what you could pull off with modern scientific knowledge using Eragon magic. Transmutation of charcoal to diamonds, perhaps? From memory we can do that artificially via machines.
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
Mostly the ability to tell without guessing what is going to get more bang for your buck, magic wise. For example knowing elemental transmutation is... unwise.
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
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Really lucky it's not giving him heavy metal toxicity, too.
Not true, there's also the pain. Delicious pain, served hot and fresh.
Stuff that for us requires high precision but low energy. Eldest uses the production of lace as an example -- it's precision work, time consuming, but not energy intensive.
"Yes, you can turn lead into gold but it'll be radioactive." "What's that?" "...It'll be cursed." "Oh!"
It's frustrating for Goda too. But if it allows him to use stairs again, or express love-as-violence, he'll do it.
- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Part of the ancient language is that you, the caster, have to be able to draw a line of connection between the words you say, and the effects you want to create.
You could say "unbind" and cause a nuclear explosion by splitting an atom.
You could say "expel" and expel all the water from inside an enemy caster, mummifying them.
You could say "limit" and inhibit an enemy's secretion of certain neurotransmitters/endorphins, thus giving them ADHD or depression.
You could say "thicken" and still the Soundwaves coming out of an enemy spellcaster. And since only the most experienced/old Dragon Riders are taught about nonverbal spellcasting, they would be unable to use magic.
You could even say "filter" and filter all of the oxygen from the atmosphere around your enemy, slowly suffocating them.
There are many ways to use our modern understanding of the world to cause advanced effects with a minimal (or misleading) vocabulary.
Or you could use modern understanding of physics to reduce friction, suspend gravitational forces, create a death laser by collecting/directing sunlight, etc.
And since this world is very much not equal to our understanding of the natural sciences, enemy spellcasters would struggle to counter your effects.
Ch 8
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Chairtastic
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Chapter Eight: Rest.
---
Sëylid
It took her a long time to realize she was truly rescued. It wasn't a trick, a hallucination to ease her pain.
Skaelbrosa, in worse physical pain than she, tried to reassure her whenever he could. But it was infrequent, as the treatments visited on him were agonizing.
They didn't allow her a mirror, or to see her partner. When they found her she was maddened by pain, hunger, and the cold.
All around were the scrabbling of claws on stone. Only she and Dúnedain were left. The werelight they had conjured cast everything in a red glow. It was impossible to tell a pit from a puddle, as she found out when she took a wrong step and fell.
Sëylid would frequently slip into waking dreams of when she and her fellow Riders went underground. Some smell, noise, or a name would reach her and she would become overwhelmed with memory.
She didn't know how long it was before she was allowed to sit up, and see herself – she'd gone to sleep laying down, with bandages over her eyes, and woke up sat up with her eyes uncovered..
Her sword arm was covered in thick padding and bandages – from which emerged quills seemingly made of aquamarine crystal flecked with dry blood. Her wrapped arm was held off from her body, and in place by belts and wooden poles with crescent-shaped rests attached to her cot. When she tried to move it, smaller shards pressed against the bandages in between the bigger ones. A feeling like an electric shock ran up her arm from until she relaxed her muscles.
Sëylid saw that she was in a tent – massive in size, colored gold. But that was all she could see – curtains had been put up to protect her privacy, for they had her in a loose robe with no sleeves under her blankets.
"I hear movement!" A familiar voice – Goda! Called from nearby. "Someone's awake."
There was a soft thwap. {"No dwarvish during lessons."} A female voice responded, familiar and playful.
Sëylid processed for a moment before she realized who that was – Anurin! The head of the Order!
'Please calm down', Skaelbrosa asked her, plaintitive. Pain coated his thoughts like tar. His voice, if put onto a mortal race, would sound as if it were inches from crying. But dragons couldn't cry.
Anymore.
In the seconds it took Sëylid to calm down, the head of her Order parted the curtains and pulled them shut behind her. {"First of all, I'm glad you came back to us safely."} Anurin looked her over, created a werelight on the tip of her pointer finger to make Sëylid follow it, and made sure her other arm was fully functional. At one point she had Sëylid squeeze her hand as hard as she could.
When Anurin pulled her hand away, Sëylid slipped into memories again.
Mial's hand slipped from hers. She raced down the rough cavern after the screaming.
{"It's a trick! She's gone!"} Sëylid shouted after her as Dúnedain urged her to keep going.
{"Help me! Somebody! Please!"} Thaecosdi's voice rang out from the caves Mial had just run down. It sounded so much like her, but it was a trick.
Goda had warned them, they could mimic voices.
Anurin had eyes only for Sëylid when she snapped back to the present. She stood, beside the cot, without pity in her eyes – only understanding. {"We know something bad happened down there. And we'll want to hear about it – but only when you're ready."}
{"Thank you,"} Sëylid responded. The memories had her heart hammering, her breathing out of control. It took her a moment to calm down enough that she didn't fear her heart would burst in her chest. {"Skaelbrosa?"}
The Grand Master's lips tightened. {"Regrowing his wings will… be difficult. And painful. But it can be done. Honestly, getting all those shards out of your arm worries me more."}
Sëylid strengthened her mind to not recall how Skaelbrosa lost his wings – lest her partner feel it across their bond. That left her unable to fight the memory of Isildûr's aquamarine exploding into her arm from the surface.
More energy than she had ever known flooded her. The crystal longed to be free, but it had forgotten how. It knew Sëylid had the knowledge it lacked, so it gave her its seemingly infinite energy to free them.
Lightning arched along Isildûr's blade, gathered at the aquamarine in its pommel, and exploded as too much energy filled the gem. Sëylid's arm was impaled many times, but she didn't care.
Freedom was a word away.
{"Rise!"}
{"I'm taking over as Goda and Thuviel's teacher."} Anurin said, as Sëylid came back to the present. {"But Goda's about two meters over, and will be for a couple months. You two can chat as you like. Skaelbrosa's over in the opposite direction, I'm going to go see him in a minute. If you have any questions, shout and I'll come skipping. Not running."}
"Hey while you're conscious, what's a five letter word for feeling sorrow or regret in the ancient language?" Goda's voice called from over the curtain. "Doing a crossword here!"
Anurin took a deep breath, hopped on one foot to remove one of her fuzzy slippers, and left the curtains quickly.
"Ack!" Goda was seemingly under assault seconds later from a flurry of soft thwap noises. "La chancla!"
{"No dwarvish during lessons!"}
Sëylid was able to laugh a bit, as she imagined Anurin beating the human softly with a slipper. Her amusement was sent across to Skaelbrosa who seemed glad for the distraction.
'Hit him some more,' the pale blue dragon sent to anyone in the vicinity. 'It makes growing my wings back hurt less.'
--
Thuviel
Fira-ebrithil was dead. After having lost so much, it felt more like a weight on his neck than another devastating blow. Perhaps he had started to grow numb.
Anurin replaced Fira as his instructor. Before the massacre, he would have been terrified of the prospect of being apprenticed to the Grand Master of the Riders. But, whenever those old anxieties would rear up he remembered Nami's face.
She was terrified to the point of tears, and still tried to protect him. She had acted as a Rider should, in that moment.
Thuviel wouldn't risk bringing shame upon her by association with a coward.
Though Goda wasn't allowed to move much, he instructed Thuviel in the monstertötungs cane combat via word and mental communication.
Nami had a soft voice in her mind – like mist. Goda's was titanic in scope, like a nation of people all at once.
Monstertötungs canes had two primary styles of combat. The one Goda had most used was called 'chanting bird' once translated. It was designed for meticulous dismantling of the ra'zac one fought. It relied heavily on anticipation, one had to imagine where and how the enemy would move as they started to move.
Chanting bird did not block hits, it deflected them away from the body. The whole cane was used to accomplish deflection and retaliatory strikes. Priority targets were the joints. Just like when Goda had fought Yidun.
The second style was translated as 'flowing fountain'. And it used primarily the crook and tip of the cane. Goda shared memories of the style in action, as he couldn't demonstrate it and Thuviel wasn't considered advanced enough for it.
Thuviel saw the crook of the monstertötungs cane spun around the hunter's wrist to build momentum, then lash out with it to smash through ra'zac chitin. Flowing fountain was how human hunters would build up enough force to hit with comparable strength to an elf – but it was risky.
One mistake would cause the monstertötungs cane to go flying, which left the hunter unarmed.
Goda described it was a sadistic style of combat – one which a hunter would only use when they wished to use ra'zac as live bait for their parents. Or when the relevant hunter was, bluntly, pissed beyond all reason.
Before Sëylid was brought to the tent, Thuviel asked Goda: "Why didn't you cry after our friends died?"
Goda's response was put softly, but horrified Thuviel to imagine. "I'm younger than you are, in years lived. I've seen thousands of people die to ra'zac. Thousands. It will be years – potentially decades – before I feel safe enough to cry about it."
Thuviel couldn't fault that line of logic.
After Sëylid returned, and Thuviel learned Fira was dead, Thuviel asked Goda to show him how to do the tiny braids he used in his hair.
Five braids, for both of them. Mansa: Didn't say goodbye. Minne: Didn't say goodbye. Lisbet: Didn't say goodbye. Fira: Didn't say goodbye. Nami: Didn't react in time.
Thuviel paid Goda back for the instruction and braids by helping him to learn the ancient language according to Anurin's lessons.
She was eccentric to put a fine point on it. Often she would teach rhetoric by way of questions. She used odd games to teach language. Ludicrous situations to teach maths was another favorite of hers.
Fira was very top-down with her education methods, she taught the most efficient ways to reach a level of skill. Anurin meanwhile favored a lateral approach. With little interest in making new friends, Thuviel spent weeks in the healer's tent as they ministered to Goda and Sëylid's injuries.
Thuviel sat beside Goda's cot, a writing slate on his lap while he contemplated the linguistic lesson Anurin had put to him. She had given Goda and Thuviel riddles to solve.
{'In my pocket I have a surprise. This surprise goes from your hips to your thighs, and would look pleasing to certain eyes. To other eyes, it elicits cries. Cries of shock and fear at this surprise! Everyone should have something like this, if they are wise. The surprise is yours, you should apologize. What have I got in my pocket?'}
{"I think this is a knife,"} Thuviel said and looked up at Goda. {"Doesn't this sound like a knife, to you?"}
Goda looked up from his slate to look at Thuviel's. His eyes narrowed behind his lens ornament – a tool to fix damaged eyesight. {"I… think that's too obvious."}
{"What's too obvious?"} Sëylid asked, from the other side of the curtain. She listened to Thuviel repeat the riddle, then gave her opinion. {"A knife does sound too obvious to be the answer."}
Thuviel sighed and held his head in his hands. {"But nothing else makes sense. What could be so small, be something everyone should have, and cause shock and fear?"}
{"You might need to rest your brain a bit."} Goda shrugged. {"Take your mind off it, do something else, and come back later mentally refreshed."}
That was something Goda continued to hammer home: Rest. His problems with his joints and back were a result of insufficient rest, he said. Rest would make Thuviel recover faster, think more efficiently, and have better reaction time.
So, absent anything else to do for his lessons, Thuviel got up to do rounds for the injured in the tent. He refilled Skaelbrosa's water and added winterberries to his medicine so it would be palatable. He changed Sëylid's bandages on her impaled arm, and refreshed the poultices on Goda's back and knees.
Then, he started on the laundry. With so many injured in the tent, there was always a plethora of linens in need of cleaning. But he also handled his own laundry and Anurin's. Which, he discovered, were put into the same wicker basket rather than their own – at some point, Thuviel's basket had been appropriated by bandages in need of cleaning.
While Thuviel was hanging their laundry to dry in the tent's warm air, he had a revelation. Like his thoughts had been slightly off-center earlier and suddenly snapped into place. Anurin's clothes featured overlarge pockets – he'd found smaller articles inside them when he went to hang up her clothes. Socks, ribbons, and so on.
With a face redder than winterberries, Thuviel quickly trotted back into Goda's section of the tent and picked up his slate. Without a word to his friend, he wrote his answer to Anurin's riddle. {'Smallclothes.'}
He returned to the laundry, and took extra care to double-check all the pockets for items ready to dry.
--
Sëylid
Goda hummed a chipper tune as he read scrolls in his cot, and Sëylid read books in hers.
Anurin had taken down the curtains that separated the two, once Sëylid had the final shards of Isildûr's aquamarine gemstone removed from her arm. Many times, they thought the shards had all been removed but found that smaller pieces remained – because the smaller pieces grew into spines again.
The aquamarine was filled with so much energy that it forced the gemstone to grow and move like a living thing – until it was drained. That was how they finally ended the painful growths – Sëylid tapped into the fragments and drained them to power a spell to remove them.
Months after the fact, and everyone who went to the Southern Isles told her that the crystal she'd raised to escape the caves was still there. It floated high above, and radiated its pale light.
Not once did Goda ask her for details, or offer condemnation for the loss of life she suffered. He never even asked for details on the ra'zac or lethrblaka. For that Sëylid was grateful.
She'd tried to talk about it, volunteer the information. But when she did, she was lost in memories – the pain came back fresh.
Skaelbrosa thrashed as two of the lethrblaka pulled the wings from his shoulders, and sent him into the sea. His pain was white hot – she couldn't touch his mind at all. The lethrblaka shrieked and dropped Skaelbrosa's wings, the dragon's blood had burned their feet – set them alight.
They burned to death by inches, afraid to douse themselves in the cold water.
Both her pain, and Skaelbrosa's. It came back, fresh as if it had just happened.
To repay Goda letting her process it on her own, she had refrained from asking about the massacre. Anurin told them that afterward the construction for the city had been expedited. With magic, the buildings could be constructed quickly. Defensive structures in the event of further ra'zac activity were the first ones to go up. However a lot of the early work went into the intended sewer system.
Because it would be annoying to build the sewers after the fact, and because it would be effective traps for ra'zac. Their avoidance of the light would entice them in, where wards would trap them.
And furthermore – a plan for civilian settlement was put together. The Giddo architects and their families had been promised the ability to settle in Doru Araeba or elsewhere on Vroengard, at their leisure. But Anurin had convinced the Elders to allow more civilians to come to the island.
Such as the Amusel people she had first met at the Jiet river's north shore, some Surdoni and Ceunon Broddrings. Elves from Du Weldenvarden that disagreed with the Rider's banishment had been the ones to suggest widespread civilian settlement.
The Riders would be a state unto themselves, rulers of a country and peacekeepers across the continent all the same.
Some dwarves had even agreed to come and live in Vroengard for a time, to set up passes and tunnels through the island's mountains. Only the wild dragons had thus far remained at arm's length – likely, for the best.
Sëylid had oscillated between fear and hope at the news. Fear, because her mate and their children could be among those who would come to live in the city. And hope for the exact same reason.
What would they say, when they saw her? She would be physically well again by that time, but the mental scars would still linger. Sëylid would likely still slip into memories at random, become unresponsive for minutes at a time. And Skaelbrosa would still be in the process of growing his wings back a year from then.
It would be an estimated two years after their regrowth that he would even be able to start learning how to fly once more.
Her clumsiness would be only worsened by her lapses into the events on Bierland. Would her mate finally get fed up with that, and end their union? Would her children be ashamed to be associated with her for such weakness?
'You're thinking too loudly,' Skaelbrosa sighed. Months of growth had reduced the pain that coated his mind – reduced, but not removed. 'Rithis would've left you long before now if his annoyance could grow to outweigh his love for you. Distract yourself, or go to sleep.'
Sëylid frowned in his general direction, then turned her head to Goda. For the first three months he'd been only allowed to rest on his stomach, but once he could start the process of retraining his legs he was allowed to lay on his back.
In a scant few minutes, Thuviel would return with Anurin to start another round of that painful training. And she would be released from the tent to return to her own. Not to return to full service, but to have bodily autonomy again. She wanted to say something, since she would see him less as his recovery moved him more to Anurin's circle than hers.
Goda beat her to it.
"It's partly my fault that all this happened. And since you're getting out today, I want to apologize to you and pretty-boy."
Skaelbrosa arched his neck over the tops of the curtains to glower at Goda. 'Apology accepted. When I get you, I'll give you the option of quick or painless.'
Goda blew him a kiss, then met Sëylid's confused gaze. "When we first got here… I was supposed to ask you to teach me to scry. So I could show you places I knew ra'zac were." His shoulders lowered, his dour expression became sorrowful. "But I forgot. I only remembered when I read an old journal entry of mine."
Sëylid felt a bit of warmth bloom in her chest at the attempt to shoulder some of the blame, and shook her head. "I should have scried the Southern Islands as soon as you mentioned being attacked there."
"Maybe you would have if I wasn't being needlessly confrontational."
"I wouldn't say it was needless – you'd just come off a massacre and been attacked again."
"Yes, but I may have been a bit too -- "
'I will set the both of you on fire if you don't knock it off right now.' Skaelbrosa, sick of their nonsense, put an end to their attempt to shoulder blame with a rumbling snarl. He winced afterward. 'Ow. Okay. Growled too much. Wing bones hurt. Set yourselves on fire, I need to go back to laying down. Ow.' Then his head vanished behind the curtains again.
"Last I will say on this," Sëylid said with her finger raised. "We both admit to having made mistakes. And… we've both paid for those mistakes." She looked down at her sword arm – and was momentarily lost in the memory of how Dúnedain had looked at her, helpless, as she fell down a pit.
Down, deep into the earth where she found the living crystal.
"...You going anywhere with that, or…?" Goda twirled his hand in a gesture to keep talking.
"No, that's what I meant to say. We made mistakes, and paid for them."
"That's an incomplete thought, though. You had a little past and present, but left out any future in that."
"What are you talking about it's entirely -- "
When Anurin and Thuviel arrived, minutes later, both Sëylid and Goda had minor singes, soot, and grumpy expressions.
---
Yes, Sëylid's adventures in the caves of Bierland are not going to be discussed now. She needs to process the trauma, reach the point where she's willing to talk about it. Especially because some sort of crystal was involved in her surviving.
There will be a bit of an actual timeskip between 8 and 9, not terribly long just enough to get this city finished.
Chapters 8, 9, and 10 are going to be pressure release from the drama of 6 and 7. Then I can start building pressure again with 11.
---
Sëylid
It took her a long time to realize she was truly rescued. It wasn't a trick, a hallucination to ease her pain.
Skaelbrosa, in worse physical pain than she, tried to reassure her whenever he could. But it was infrequent, as the treatments visited on him were agonizing.
They didn't allow her a mirror, or to see her partner. When they found her she was maddened by pain, hunger, and the cold.
All around were the scrabbling of claws on stone. Only she and Dúnedain were left. The werelight they had conjured cast everything in a red glow. It was impossible to tell a pit from a puddle, as she found out when she took a wrong step and fell.
Sëylid would frequently slip into waking dreams of when she and her fellow Riders went underground. Some smell, noise, or a name would reach her and she would become overwhelmed with memory.
She didn't know how long it was before she was allowed to sit up, and see herself – she'd gone to sleep laying down, with bandages over her eyes, and woke up sat up with her eyes uncovered..
Her sword arm was covered in thick padding and bandages – from which emerged quills seemingly made of aquamarine crystal flecked with dry blood. Her wrapped arm was held off from her body, and in place by belts and wooden poles with crescent-shaped rests attached to her cot. When she tried to move it, smaller shards pressed against the bandages in between the bigger ones. A feeling like an electric shock ran up her arm from until she relaxed her muscles.
Sëylid saw that she was in a tent – massive in size, colored gold. But that was all she could see – curtains had been put up to protect her privacy, for they had her in a loose robe with no sleeves under her blankets.
"I hear movement!" A familiar voice – Goda! Called from nearby. "Someone's awake."
There was a soft thwap. {"No dwarvish during lessons."} A female voice responded, familiar and playful.
Sëylid processed for a moment before she realized who that was – Anurin! The head of the Order!
'Please calm down', Skaelbrosa asked her, plaintitive. Pain coated his thoughts like tar. His voice, if put onto a mortal race, would sound as if it were inches from crying. But dragons couldn't cry.
Anymore.
In the seconds it took Sëylid to calm down, the head of her Order parted the curtains and pulled them shut behind her. {"First of all, I'm glad you came back to us safely."} Anurin looked her over, created a werelight on the tip of her pointer finger to make Sëylid follow it, and made sure her other arm was fully functional. At one point she had Sëylid squeeze her hand as hard as she could.
When Anurin pulled her hand away, Sëylid slipped into memories again.
Mial's hand slipped from hers. She raced down the rough cavern after the screaming.
{"It's a trick! She's gone!"} Sëylid shouted after her as Dúnedain urged her to keep going.
{"Help me! Somebody! Please!"} Thaecosdi's voice rang out from the caves Mial had just run down. It sounded so much like her, but it was a trick.
Goda had warned them, they could mimic voices.
Anurin had eyes only for Sëylid when she snapped back to the present. She stood, beside the cot, without pity in her eyes – only understanding. {"We know something bad happened down there. And we'll want to hear about it – but only when you're ready."}
{"Thank you,"} Sëylid responded. The memories had her heart hammering, her breathing out of control. It took her a moment to calm down enough that she didn't fear her heart would burst in her chest. {"Skaelbrosa?"}
The Grand Master's lips tightened. {"Regrowing his wings will… be difficult. And painful. But it can be done. Honestly, getting all those shards out of your arm worries me more."}
Sëylid strengthened her mind to not recall how Skaelbrosa lost his wings – lest her partner feel it across their bond. That left her unable to fight the memory of Isildûr's aquamarine exploding into her arm from the surface.
More energy than she had ever known flooded her. The crystal longed to be free, but it had forgotten how. It knew Sëylid had the knowledge it lacked, so it gave her its seemingly infinite energy to free them.
Lightning arched along Isildûr's blade, gathered at the aquamarine in its pommel, and exploded as too much energy filled the gem. Sëylid's arm was impaled many times, but she didn't care.
Freedom was a word away.
{"Rise!"}
{"I'm taking over as Goda and Thuviel's teacher."} Anurin said, as Sëylid came back to the present. {"But Goda's about two meters over, and will be for a couple months. You two can chat as you like. Skaelbrosa's over in the opposite direction, I'm going to go see him in a minute. If you have any questions, shout and I'll come skipping. Not running."}
"Hey while you're conscious, what's a five letter word for feeling sorrow or regret in the ancient language?" Goda's voice called from over the curtain. "Doing a crossword here!"
Anurin took a deep breath, hopped on one foot to remove one of her fuzzy slippers, and left the curtains quickly.
"Ack!" Goda was seemingly under assault seconds later from a flurry of soft thwap noises. "La chancla!"
{"No dwarvish during lessons!"}
Sëylid was able to laugh a bit, as she imagined Anurin beating the human softly with a slipper. Her amusement was sent across to Skaelbrosa who seemed glad for the distraction.
'Hit him some more,' the pale blue dragon sent to anyone in the vicinity. 'It makes growing my wings back hurt less.'
--
Thuviel
Fira-ebrithil was dead. After having lost so much, it felt more like a weight on his neck than another devastating blow. Perhaps he had started to grow numb.
Anurin replaced Fira as his instructor. Before the massacre, he would have been terrified of the prospect of being apprenticed to the Grand Master of the Riders. But, whenever those old anxieties would rear up he remembered Nami's face.
She was terrified to the point of tears, and still tried to protect him. She had acted as a Rider should, in that moment.
Thuviel wouldn't risk bringing shame upon her by association with a coward.
Though Goda wasn't allowed to move much, he instructed Thuviel in the monstertötungs cane combat via word and mental communication.
Nami had a soft voice in her mind – like mist. Goda's was titanic in scope, like a nation of people all at once.
Monstertötungs canes had two primary styles of combat. The one Goda had most used was called 'chanting bird' once translated. It was designed for meticulous dismantling of the ra'zac one fought. It relied heavily on anticipation, one had to imagine where and how the enemy would move as they started to move.
Chanting bird did not block hits, it deflected them away from the body. The whole cane was used to accomplish deflection and retaliatory strikes. Priority targets were the joints. Just like when Goda had fought Yidun.
The second style was translated as 'flowing fountain'. And it used primarily the crook and tip of the cane. Goda shared memories of the style in action, as he couldn't demonstrate it and Thuviel wasn't considered advanced enough for it.
Thuviel saw the crook of the monstertötungs cane spun around the hunter's wrist to build momentum, then lash out with it to smash through ra'zac chitin. Flowing fountain was how human hunters would build up enough force to hit with comparable strength to an elf – but it was risky.
One mistake would cause the monstertötungs cane to go flying, which left the hunter unarmed.
Goda described it was a sadistic style of combat – one which a hunter would only use when they wished to use ra'zac as live bait for their parents. Or when the relevant hunter was, bluntly, pissed beyond all reason.
Before Sëylid was brought to the tent, Thuviel asked Goda: "Why didn't you cry after our friends died?"
Goda's response was put softly, but horrified Thuviel to imagine. "I'm younger than you are, in years lived. I've seen thousands of people die to ra'zac. Thousands. It will be years – potentially decades – before I feel safe enough to cry about it."
Thuviel couldn't fault that line of logic.
After Sëylid returned, and Thuviel learned Fira was dead, Thuviel asked Goda to show him how to do the tiny braids he used in his hair.
Five braids, for both of them. Mansa: Didn't say goodbye. Minne: Didn't say goodbye. Lisbet: Didn't say goodbye. Fira: Didn't say goodbye. Nami: Didn't react in time.
Thuviel paid Goda back for the instruction and braids by helping him to learn the ancient language according to Anurin's lessons.
She was eccentric to put a fine point on it. Often she would teach rhetoric by way of questions. She used odd games to teach language. Ludicrous situations to teach maths was another favorite of hers.
Fira was very top-down with her education methods, she taught the most efficient ways to reach a level of skill. Anurin meanwhile favored a lateral approach. With little interest in making new friends, Thuviel spent weeks in the healer's tent as they ministered to Goda and Sëylid's injuries.
Thuviel sat beside Goda's cot, a writing slate on his lap while he contemplated the linguistic lesson Anurin had put to him. She had given Goda and Thuviel riddles to solve.
{'In my pocket I have a surprise. This surprise goes from your hips to your thighs, and would look pleasing to certain eyes. To other eyes, it elicits cries. Cries of shock and fear at this surprise! Everyone should have something like this, if they are wise. The surprise is yours, you should apologize. What have I got in my pocket?'}
{"I think this is a knife,"} Thuviel said and looked up at Goda. {"Doesn't this sound like a knife, to you?"}
Goda looked up from his slate to look at Thuviel's. His eyes narrowed behind his lens ornament – a tool to fix damaged eyesight. {"I… think that's too obvious."}
{"What's too obvious?"} Sëylid asked, from the other side of the curtain. She listened to Thuviel repeat the riddle, then gave her opinion. {"A knife does sound too obvious to be the answer."}
Thuviel sighed and held his head in his hands. {"But nothing else makes sense. What could be so small, be something everyone should have, and cause shock and fear?"}
{"You might need to rest your brain a bit."} Goda shrugged. {"Take your mind off it, do something else, and come back later mentally refreshed."}
That was something Goda continued to hammer home: Rest. His problems with his joints and back were a result of insufficient rest, he said. Rest would make Thuviel recover faster, think more efficiently, and have better reaction time.
So, absent anything else to do for his lessons, Thuviel got up to do rounds for the injured in the tent. He refilled Skaelbrosa's water and added winterberries to his medicine so it would be palatable. He changed Sëylid's bandages on her impaled arm, and refreshed the poultices on Goda's back and knees.
Then, he started on the laundry. With so many injured in the tent, there was always a plethora of linens in need of cleaning. But he also handled his own laundry and Anurin's. Which, he discovered, were put into the same wicker basket rather than their own – at some point, Thuviel's basket had been appropriated by bandages in need of cleaning.
While Thuviel was hanging their laundry to dry in the tent's warm air, he had a revelation. Like his thoughts had been slightly off-center earlier and suddenly snapped into place. Anurin's clothes featured overlarge pockets – he'd found smaller articles inside them when he went to hang up her clothes. Socks, ribbons, and so on.
With a face redder than winterberries, Thuviel quickly trotted back into Goda's section of the tent and picked up his slate. Without a word to his friend, he wrote his answer to Anurin's riddle. {'Smallclothes.'}
He returned to the laundry, and took extra care to double-check all the pockets for items ready to dry.
--
Sëylid
Goda hummed a chipper tune as he read scrolls in his cot, and Sëylid read books in hers.
Anurin had taken down the curtains that separated the two, once Sëylid had the final shards of Isildûr's aquamarine gemstone removed from her arm. Many times, they thought the shards had all been removed but found that smaller pieces remained – because the smaller pieces grew into spines again.
The aquamarine was filled with so much energy that it forced the gemstone to grow and move like a living thing – until it was drained. That was how they finally ended the painful growths – Sëylid tapped into the fragments and drained them to power a spell to remove them.
Months after the fact, and everyone who went to the Southern Isles told her that the crystal she'd raised to escape the caves was still there. It floated high above, and radiated its pale light.
Not once did Goda ask her for details, or offer condemnation for the loss of life she suffered. He never even asked for details on the ra'zac or lethrblaka. For that Sëylid was grateful.
She'd tried to talk about it, volunteer the information. But when she did, she was lost in memories – the pain came back fresh.
Skaelbrosa thrashed as two of the lethrblaka pulled the wings from his shoulders, and sent him into the sea. His pain was white hot – she couldn't touch his mind at all. The lethrblaka shrieked and dropped Skaelbrosa's wings, the dragon's blood had burned their feet – set them alight.
They burned to death by inches, afraid to douse themselves in the cold water.
Both her pain, and Skaelbrosa's. It came back, fresh as if it had just happened.
To repay Goda letting her process it on her own, she had refrained from asking about the massacre. Anurin told them that afterward the construction for the city had been expedited. With magic, the buildings could be constructed quickly. Defensive structures in the event of further ra'zac activity were the first ones to go up. However a lot of the early work went into the intended sewer system.
Because it would be annoying to build the sewers after the fact, and because it would be effective traps for ra'zac. Their avoidance of the light would entice them in, where wards would trap them.
And furthermore – a plan for civilian settlement was put together. The Giddo architects and their families had been promised the ability to settle in Doru Araeba or elsewhere on Vroengard, at their leisure. But Anurin had convinced the Elders to allow more civilians to come to the island.
Such as the Amusel people she had first met at the Jiet river's north shore, some Surdoni and Ceunon Broddrings. Elves from Du Weldenvarden that disagreed with the Rider's banishment had been the ones to suggest widespread civilian settlement.
The Riders would be a state unto themselves, rulers of a country and peacekeepers across the continent all the same.
Some dwarves had even agreed to come and live in Vroengard for a time, to set up passes and tunnels through the island's mountains. Only the wild dragons had thus far remained at arm's length – likely, for the best.
Sëylid had oscillated between fear and hope at the news. Fear, because her mate and their children could be among those who would come to live in the city. And hope for the exact same reason.
What would they say, when they saw her? She would be physically well again by that time, but the mental scars would still linger. Sëylid would likely still slip into memories at random, become unresponsive for minutes at a time. And Skaelbrosa would still be in the process of growing his wings back a year from then.
It would be an estimated two years after their regrowth that he would even be able to start learning how to fly once more.
Her clumsiness would be only worsened by her lapses into the events on Bierland. Would her mate finally get fed up with that, and end their union? Would her children be ashamed to be associated with her for such weakness?
'You're thinking too loudly,' Skaelbrosa sighed. Months of growth had reduced the pain that coated his mind – reduced, but not removed. 'Rithis would've left you long before now if his annoyance could grow to outweigh his love for you. Distract yourself, or go to sleep.'
Sëylid frowned in his general direction, then turned her head to Goda. For the first three months he'd been only allowed to rest on his stomach, but once he could start the process of retraining his legs he was allowed to lay on his back.
In a scant few minutes, Thuviel would return with Anurin to start another round of that painful training. And she would be released from the tent to return to her own. Not to return to full service, but to have bodily autonomy again. She wanted to say something, since she would see him less as his recovery moved him more to Anurin's circle than hers.
Goda beat her to it.
"It's partly my fault that all this happened. And since you're getting out today, I want to apologize to you and pretty-boy."
Skaelbrosa arched his neck over the tops of the curtains to glower at Goda. 'Apology accepted. When I get you, I'll give you the option of quick or painless.'
Goda blew him a kiss, then met Sëylid's confused gaze. "When we first got here… I was supposed to ask you to teach me to scry. So I could show you places I knew ra'zac were." His shoulders lowered, his dour expression became sorrowful. "But I forgot. I only remembered when I read an old journal entry of mine."
Sëylid felt a bit of warmth bloom in her chest at the attempt to shoulder some of the blame, and shook her head. "I should have scried the Southern Islands as soon as you mentioned being attacked there."
"Maybe you would have if I wasn't being needlessly confrontational."
"I wouldn't say it was needless – you'd just come off a massacre and been attacked again."
"Yes, but I may have been a bit too -- "
'I will set the both of you on fire if you don't knock it off right now.' Skaelbrosa, sick of their nonsense, put an end to their attempt to shoulder blame with a rumbling snarl. He winced afterward. 'Ow. Okay. Growled too much. Wing bones hurt. Set yourselves on fire, I need to go back to laying down. Ow.' Then his head vanished behind the curtains again.
"Last I will say on this," Sëylid said with her finger raised. "We both admit to having made mistakes. And… we've both paid for those mistakes." She looked down at her sword arm – and was momentarily lost in the memory of how Dúnedain had looked at her, helpless, as she fell down a pit.
Down, deep into the earth where she found the living crystal.
"...You going anywhere with that, or…?" Goda twirled his hand in a gesture to keep talking.
"No, that's what I meant to say. We made mistakes, and paid for them."
"That's an incomplete thought, though. You had a little past and present, but left out any future in that."
"What are you talking about it's entirely -- "
When Anurin and Thuviel arrived, minutes later, both Sëylid and Goda had minor singes, soot, and grumpy expressions.
---
Yes, Sëylid's adventures in the caves of Bierland are not going to be discussed now. She needs to process the trauma, reach the point where she's willing to talk about it. Especially because some sort of crystal was involved in her surviving.
There will be a bit of an actual timeskip between 8 and 9, not terribly long just enough to get this city finished.
Chapters 8, 9, and 10 are going to be pressure release from the drama of 6 and 7. Then I can start building pressure again with 11.
Last edited:
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Thank you! He could, but Sëylid needs to reach the point where she's comfortable asking for help.
I do so love taking hammers and fixing the canon!
Goda's Journal #8
New
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Goda's Journal -- Entry Eight
---
Have I mentioned how much I dislike having to learn swordsmanship? Swords are a side-arm, they are meant to be gently inserted into your opponents when they get in close. Spears, ooh I'm all up in that. Maces, I can and will relish that satisfying crunch.
Even guns! Guns are more enjoyable for me than swords. Axes, eh. They exist.
But the Riders require swordsmanship. It is literally a requirement of theirs for becoming a full Rider -- the odd priorities just keep being displayed.
Yidun has been assigned to spar with me and Thuviel as we learn swordsmanship and she's not a terrible instructor. Certainly not Vanir's level of viciousness. Apparently for a while after our fight, she wanted a rematch desperately.
Not because of ego, but because she didn't understand how I'd accomplished what I had. She's a scholar of combat, it seems.
Sad to say, a lot of my monstertötungs cane skills don't translate well because I have to worry about stuff like 'edge alignment' and 'what is wrong with you don't grab the blade with your bare hands' stuff.
Bah. Thuviel wanted to talk about what our Rider swords would be named. He wants to name his as Hvitrvissa. 'White Lily', because of Kjöti's coloration and his hometown's famous flowers.
I was so powerfully tempted to refuse to name my sword just to get a rise out of him. I'd ask the smith how many Rider swords she'd made previously and then just stamp it with the production number. I had a whole bit too, but alas. Alas!
I'm growing to like him more than I like to torment him. I blame Shiroderu.
Kjöti and them have been getting sweet on each other for a while. Deru more than Shiro, but Shiro gets the same endorphins Deru does so her resistance to his charms wears thinner every day.
If Shiroderu agrees to The Plan, that will be one batch sorted out. We need a bit more than they can produce though -- genetic diversity and all that.
Ah, but I digress. I can tell I'm going to be brow-beaten into taking something from that smith woman, might as well imagine a name for it. Though if she makes a single comment about Shiroderu's color in the negative I will make the whole experience unpleasant.
Two and I might just pull a Thanos. Cast the smith's hands in metal.
Without the constant pressure to survive and keep others alive I'm feeling my old malevolence return. Ah, it's like feeling circulation return to a long-sleeping limb.
I might name my sword in order to express my malevolence. Everyone should -- it's good for you. My plans for the weapon, though, might need me to consult with that helpful spirit who gave me an electrifying wake-up call previously.
They might have opinions, see.
Hmm, my first instinct: Sauron, is just a bit too on-the-nose. Annatar would appeal to the elves and match with Sëylid's Isildûr. Apparently the name has historical significance for them. A peace offering surrounding an implicit threat of violence -- I so love to do that. I'm feeling ever-so-slightly French at the moment so perhaps Argost? He was just so charming. "Greetings and bienvenue~"
I might be too typecast, afraid to pull my fangs in this regard. The spirit who helped me last time was a wolf-spirit, so perhaps something canine. Fenrir's taken, I asked. Hmm, what other malevolent dogs do I know of. Cujo? No, that poor dog didn't choose to be the villain there.
Aha.
Cù-sìth. Perfect.
---
---
Have I mentioned how much I dislike having to learn swordsmanship? Swords are a side-arm, they are meant to be gently inserted into your opponents when they get in close. Spears, ooh I'm all up in that. Maces, I can and will relish that satisfying crunch.
Even guns! Guns are more enjoyable for me than swords. Axes, eh. They exist.
But the Riders require swordsmanship. It is literally a requirement of theirs for becoming a full Rider -- the odd priorities just keep being displayed.
Yidun has been assigned to spar with me and Thuviel as we learn swordsmanship and she's not a terrible instructor. Certainly not Vanir's level of viciousness. Apparently for a while after our fight, she wanted a rematch desperately.
Not because of ego, but because she didn't understand how I'd accomplished what I had. She's a scholar of combat, it seems.
Sad to say, a lot of my monstertötungs cane skills don't translate well because I have to worry about stuff like 'edge alignment' and 'what is wrong with you don't grab the blade with your bare hands' stuff.
Bah. Thuviel wanted to talk about what our Rider swords would be named. He wants to name his as Hvitrvissa. 'White Lily', because of Kjöti's coloration and his hometown's famous flowers.
I was so powerfully tempted to refuse to name my sword just to get a rise out of him. I'd ask the smith how many Rider swords she'd made previously and then just stamp it with the production number. I had a whole bit too, but alas. Alas!
I'm growing to like him more than I like to torment him. I blame Shiroderu.
Kjöti and them have been getting sweet on each other for a while. Deru more than Shiro, but Shiro gets the same endorphins Deru does so her resistance to his charms wears thinner every day.
If Shiroderu agrees to The Plan, that will be one batch sorted out. We need a bit more than they can produce though -- genetic diversity and all that.
Ah, but I digress. I can tell I'm going to be brow-beaten into taking something from that smith woman, might as well imagine a name for it. Though if she makes a single comment about Shiroderu's color in the negative I will make the whole experience unpleasant.
Two and I might just pull a Thanos. Cast the smith's hands in metal.
Without the constant pressure to survive and keep others alive I'm feeling my old malevolence return. Ah, it's like feeling circulation return to a long-sleeping limb.
I might name my sword in order to express my malevolence. Everyone should -- it's good for you. My plans for the weapon, though, might need me to consult with that helpful spirit who gave me an electrifying wake-up call previously.
They might have opinions, see.
Hmm, my first instinct: Sauron, is just a bit too on-the-nose. Annatar would appeal to the elves and match with Sëylid's Isildûr. Apparently the name has historical significance for them. A peace offering surrounding an implicit threat of violence -- I so love to do that. I'm feeling ever-so-slightly French at the moment so perhaps Argost? He was just so charming. "Greetings and bienvenue~"
I might be too typecast, afraid to pull my fangs in this regard. The spirit who helped me last time was a wolf-spirit, so perhaps something canine. Fenrir's taken, I asked. Hmm, what other malevolent dogs do I know of. Cujo? No, that poor dog didn't choose to be the villain there.
Aha.
Cù-sìth. Perfect.
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