A Fine Sediment (Inheritance Cycle SI)
- Thread starter Chairtastic
- Start date
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Not always, it depended entirely on the Rider. But they did require names, as each was considered an art piece.
- Pronouns
- he/him/his
I can't tell if this is Goda being helpful or an asshole, because that's a large part of what Sëylid is currently feeling.
It is good that Thuviel has found a way to grieve and remember. By giving his regrets a physical form, he does not carry them solely in his heart, lessening the burden (in theory). By carrying their names and memories forward, he honors fallen friends, lost too soon.
I, uh. It may take a bit of creativity to kill someone slow and painless while they are aware you're doing so.
The rock of Kuthian vault had about a hundred dragon eggs in it in addition to the eldunari. Is The Plan in addition to that contingency?
- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
That only happened when Galbratorix took over and started winning, if I'm remembering correctly. I don't think the Kuthian Vault exists yet, even in theory.
Goda might be planning to spread the Wild Dragon populations outside of the current continent?
Ch 9
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Chapter Nine: Leap Forward.
---
Shiroderu
They circled their opponent who circled them. It was so jarring, that a creature as small as a human didn't behave defensively at all in the face of their bared fangs, their brandished claws.
Goda held the monstertötungs cane low, so low it almost dragged on the ground. For the first time in months, he smiled as he and Shiroderu orbited a central point. Each of them looked for an opening to attack.
Shiroderu's massive steps echoed in their new home. They fought in a stone chamber, large enough for multiple adult dragons to do battle at once. Though that day, it was only a dragon and their Rider who fought.
The room was open, high enough for Shiroderu to stand on her rear legs without hitting the roof. An arcade surrounded the room, the pillars thick and wide enough to stop a dragon that ran into them. Despite the intent for the room to be for fighting, the architects had insisted on some decorative design aspects.
Along the wall past the arcade were blind arcades, the archways of which served as frames for wall-mounted fairths. To give them something to look at as distraction from their violence.
Shiro saw that they needed to attack, and let loose a stream of red-orange fire at their Rider. Deru recoiled from the sudden decision. Her sister's thought process was as quick as strike-spark-fire, she hadn't had time to react.
Goda's reaction was to backpedal toward Deru's flank, which forced Shiroderu to turn and follow him with Shiro's fire. {"Thrust."} Goda said and held up his marked hand. The silver scar from their bond burned with orange light.
A sudden unseen force struck Deru's head with vigor, and sent her smashing into Shiro's.
'Idiot!' Shiro snapped as she ceased her firebreath. 'You messed up my concentration!'
'No, he hit me with a spell!'
'Why would he hit you with a spell when you aren't doing anything – just being useless!' Shiro snapped her jaws at her sister's neck. 'Whatever, let's go.'
The two of them rounded on Goda who had gone back to a relaxed stance. As one, they rushed forward with gnashing teeth and swiping claw.
He backstepped past scenes from Panahedan on the walls. A city that had grown a forest on top of a mountain, until the boughs overlapped the city's walls and created an illusion of a giant mushroom: Mount Massive. A city at night, lit bright from great bonfires on road to its golden gates designed after a smiling man's face; Barad.
Evidently, their speed was less than that of a lethrblaka – for Goda sidestepped them, backed away exactly the steps needed, or just moved so that their chomping jaws missed. After so many misses, they reared back on their back legs to stomp him.
Goda darted toward them as they reared up and rolled under their belly and rear legs to escape. He chose that moment to strike back, in the instant before Deru could use their tail to catch him. There was an unfortunate spot in the region of their body Goda had escaped through – the cloaca.
He struck it widthwise with the monstertötungs cane as he moved away.
For one single moment a bright light filled Shiroderu's brain and excluded all other thoughts. Then, as the light began to fade, the pain started to catch up to them. They could feel something on their back and realized as one – Goda!
Their Rider made his presence known as he grabbed the inner barbels that grew from their eyebrows. His weight on sensitive organs like that was enough to create another blinding flash of pain. To escape the pain they instinctively drew their heads closer together.
{"Bind."} Goda used another word of magic, and released the sisters' inner barbels.
But when they tried to pull away from each other, their barbels remained in contact – and sharp pain came from the tugging. Goda had bound the barbels together with magic, which forced the sisters to be nose-to-nose to avoid pain.
He looked so pleased with himself as he backed away rapidly.
Deru went on the offensive then. She used her superior dexterity with their tail to lash it like a whip. Cracks filled the air where their tail curled on itself and created an explosion of sound and force.
He seemed to get the message he'd upset them after his ears started to bleed from the repeated sound explosions.
An awkward situation came about as Shiroderu tried to flame him together – because of how their barbels were bound together, they could only create a right angel of fire as their two jets went in different directions.
Goda realized that the moment they did, and was ready to exploit it when Shiroderu had a sudden idea.
They continued their firebreath and advanced on him. They walked steadily closer to the wall, which made the safe gap between their jets smaller. As quickly as they could, they got Goda pinned in between two jets of flame that would ignite him in a moment.
'I yield.' Their Rider told them across their bond. All at once, his binding magic ended and the two could freely move their heads.
When they stopped their jets, their Rider was singed. But he looked so pleased with them.
"I really thought you two being snagged like that would get you to fight each other," he told them in Dwarvish as he approached.
Six years had passed, and they had grown large. Their necks were the thickness of tree trunks, their body sturdy, strong. Over the years, Goda had begun to learn the words of the ancient language to adjust one's body to their tastes – and he plied those spells upon them at their request.
Their scales were unnaturally strong and durable. While they lacked the luster of more colorful dragons, they still retained the ability to reflect amber and orange lights, to glitter in sunlight. Goda sang to their muscles, and had them grow stronger than other dragons in their age group. Their tail was significantly more flexible, with better gripping power.
Goda was forbidden from changing himself until he became a full Rider – free of apprenticeship. So he practiced by helping others. Many dragons had come to them to ask for stronger scales at least, as the costs for dragon armor was – frankly – ludicrous. In lieu of dramatic physical changes, he had grown taller, stronger, to the point he had to work hard to maintain flexibility.
He told them how proud he was of their violence as they calmed down from the fight. "And you two hardly fought each other at all." Goda rubbed their snouts, always careful to go with the grain of the scales. "Last time I could get you to tear into each other."
'Last time you stuck your cane up my nose and made me think she hit me.' Deru muttered. 'That hurt a lot.'
'And it lost us the fight.' Shiro rolled her eyes. 'You need to widen your spell usage, Goda. You're running into the problem where you're only able to hurt us. At no point in that fight did I think you could potentially kill us.'
A sentiment Deru had to agree with. She looked at Goda, who by happenstance stood before a fairth of a foggy city. Familiar black-chitin creatures loped across the distant walls, in foggy daylight lethrblaka flew away with entire horses. The gates had crumbled to ruin. Nyberg.
"I'm running into the problem where the changes I help you make to yourself also make it harder to kill you in these fights." Goda gestured toward the doors, that they could walk and talk. Like all doors in Doru Araeba, properly constructed, they were enormous – to accommodate dragons of six hundred years and smaller. "We're reaching the point where I can't find ways to kill you in a straight up fight." He sighed, and tapped his cane against the floor more noticeably. "Not with this."
Goda's monstertötungs cane was unenchanted steel. The absolute most it could do was cause them pain – potentially a great deal of pain – but it wasn't a lethal weapon anymore. Their scales, their muscles, and their bones were too thick for a steel stick to harm them.
Shiroderu made ready to suggest something which would undoubtedly make Goda tetchy for the rest of the week – when he took the words out of their thoughts.
"I'm being afraid to pull my fangs," he announced as they started up the stairs out of their basement arena to the ground floor of their home. "As much as I hate to say it… I need to retire this old girl." He carried the cane with both hands, like it was a religious icon.
As a weapon that had been party to the death of hundreds of ra'zac, they supposed it would be to a human.
--
Thuviel
Doru Araeba had gone from a collection of tents to a city, with some minor setbacks. Vroengard, as it turned out, was a volcanic island but had been dormant for all of recorded history. So the Elders had decided to wake it.
In order to alter the climate just enough that they didn't need to create massive stockpiles of wood or coal for winter.
Thuviel didn't quite believe the story that the dragons had used their inscrutable powers in dire need to reach down and wake the volcano. There wasn't a dire need, it was more convenience.
Either way, the volcano was awake again. Lake Ilwaní had become warm enough to stay thawed all year round, and hot water springs were easily engineered with magic. Doru Araeba's valley would never again know the frigid cold like when the Riders first settled there.
Thuviel had to admit – the Giddo architects had done well. Rider homes were built according to the age of their dragon partners, ranging from yearlings or less to nine hundred years old. Dragons of millennia age would have to carve their own lairs from Vroengard's mountains.
Despite being so big, the city did not lack for beauty the way Kuasta did when last Thuviel was there. A place Thuviel liked the linger when he needed to practice poetry was Bid'Daum Plaza. In the space where Anurin's tent once stood was a great stone plaza divided into two rings. The outer ring was for market functions – vendors would sell their wares to Riders, apprentices, and civilians. While the inner ring was reserved for dragons to land in.
At the heart of the plaza was a statue of one of the two founders of the Rider Order – Bid'Daum, the great white dragon who had partnered with Eragon of old, and brought peace to elves and dragons. The long-dead Elder dragon was depicted as he had allegedly first appeared – wings flared, tail curled, mouth open. In dragon body language, it was the pose used to convey 'stand down'.
Thuviel sat on a bench between pits filled with fine golden sand from the Hadarac desert, intended for dragons to safely land in. What seemingly no one had anticipated was how many dragon hatchlings would love to play in it. He watched dozens of little heads appear in the sand, duck back down and burrow away. The wormsign in the sand was all the indicator they gave of where they would pop up next.
His poem was going to be about the whimsical times of youth and how fleeting they were – so he thought the best way to capture that was to watch young dragons at play.
Hatchlings, not even a week old, were chaos incarnate.
Thuviel's growth spurts often left him with deep pain in his limbs and back – for which he was given the instructions to rest by Anurin-ebrithil. Icing or sitting in a hot bath after training was all but required of him for the past four years, but less strenuous activities were selected for his education just as much.
Hence why he was practicing poetry rather than trying to learn love-as-violence from Goda and Shiroderu.
Kjöti walked between the sand pits and made sure none of the hatchlings were in the pits when a big dragon came in to land. The other dragons in their posse, such as Aya and Errol, had laid down for the young dragons to climb on them.
Maahes and Morito would entice the hatchlings with play, instead.
{'To be new to the world, to find joy in being, a treasure beyond parity / Finding shelter in friendly faces, warmth in kind embraces, until it becomes a rarity.'} He wrote the words with a dwarven glass pen. A gift from Anurin, who found them easier to use than feather quills.
His rest was interrupted by a brush of thoughts against his.
'Is now a bad time?' Goda's voice, towering like a mountain over an ant, asked him.
'Not at all, just doing poetry. What do you need?' Thuviel responded and put away his pen.
'I need to ask a smith to make me a new cane, something I can store magic in or in a different style than what I have now. You spend way more time in the market than I do, could you help me find a reputable vendor?'
'Of course, I'll meet you at Porölen's Gate.' Thuviel stood and put his writing slate under his arm. His knees and hips screamed at him, and the sudden shift of elevation made him feel light-headed. He still wasn't used to being two meters tall.
Thuviel had taken to wearing a new type of fabric – to support the Amusel weavers who created it. It was made from shed seal fur, woven into threads with Vroengard nettles. The Amusel would take each strand of shed seal fur they collected from the pups of native seal species and implant it into a base of the nettle fabric so the fur would stand up.
He had a fluffy white seal fur coat without any seals having died for it.
Porölen's Gate was closest to their homes, so Thuviel waited by it for Goda to arrive. He greeted some civilians as they passed by the gate, explained the history of Porölen to a few young ladies that seemed unaware of Anurin's predecessor.
They asked if they could come to him with any other questions about the Riders – though they phrased it as 'Riding' – and of course Thuviel agreed. He wanted to appear as a fully accredited Rider as much as possible.
Shiroderu's unique silhouette was visible long before Goda's. Deru reached over Shiro to lick Thuviel on the forehead as she passed by.
'And now I have the taste of elf sweat in my mouth, thank you so much,' Shiro broadcasted as she walked them toward the plaza's inner ring. If a tone of voice could kill, hers would have been acid splashed in the face.
'You're welcome!' Deru returned, chipper.
Goda arrived seconds later, and the two of them moved to the smiths section. He had traded layers upon layers of coats, overcoats, capes and cloaks for a style of dress the Broddrings had invented. Jack-of-plate, where plates of metal were inserted in the layers of fabric used for clothes. Goda had an entire wardrobe of them – trousers, tunics, jerkins, and coats. Only his chemise shirts and smallclothes were not of that style.
Or so Thuviel earnestly hoped.
One would be forgiven for thinking the smiths were the section of the outer plaza where most of the dwarves would be found. Or perhaps the brewers. But no – dwarves were actually the minority in the smiths, and the brewers. Human craftspeople were more widely present there, with elves as a the second most numerous.
Thuviel started to talk about the smiths that Yidun frequented as a mark of their quality, but had barely started to talk about them when Goda interrupted him.
"Is that the symbol for Dûrgrimst Ingeitum?"
Thuviel followed where Goda looked and saw a banner which depicted twelve stars in a ring around a smith's hammer. A dwarven clan marking.
"Well, yes," Thuviel said, ever so slightly unhappy that Goda had noticed it straight away. He'd hoped to work up to the smiths which represented the royal clan of the dwarves. "Though I'm sure any number of the smiths here would – and he walks off. As usual…."
Goda had immediately wandered toward the forge that bore the Igneitum banner. A pleasant building with etched glass in the windows where most forges lacked windows entirely. On the inside, they could see wood workers in the front of the shop – fletchers making arrows, carvers creating scabbards and handles.
Dwarves, short and stocky, hairy like humans but thrice the density, were hard at work. A brown-haired dwarf in an apron came from beyond a door to the rear of the shop, saw them through the window, and quickly scurried over to the door.
"I'm terribly sorry, Argetlamar," he told them as soon as he opened up. "But our shop is closed today, we should be open tomorrow morning." He was gruff, but respectful.
Thuviel would be a liar if he said he wasn't happy that it gave him more of a chance to show off other smiths, but he bowed his head at the dwarf anyway. "Thank you for being prompt in letting us know."
Goda added in, "could I create an appointment, then? Leave my name, and come at a certain time to speak to a weaponsmith?"
The dwarf nodded, and extracted a wax slate and stylus from his apron's pockets. "Of course, we're grateful for your patronage." He took Goda's name down, and they selected on a time. "Excellent. Our weaponsmith is Hrothgar, he'll see you tomorrow. Pleasant day, Argetlamar." Back into the shop he went.
Thuviel saw Goda's eyebrows shoot up, then quickly come back down. Surprise? Did he know a Hrothgar already?
"Two possibilities emerge," Goda said as he turned away from the shop. "Either dwarves live longer than anticipated, or that's a more common name than I thought. Anyway – shall we?"
--
Shiroderu
Their plan was simple, and effective. Find Kjöti, bid him come back to their lair for mating, and discuss Goda's The Plan with him.
Neither understood why he always used weighty thoughts to discuss The Plan, but it was how he had introduced it to them.
Shiro had the idea to use his endorphins to secure Kjöti's oath to keep their secret, but Deru wanted to give him the option of saying 'no'. Yes, it would make The Plan less secure, but it also improved the odds of them not being betrayed.
Leashed with his oath, Kjöti might have found an unexpected way to talk of it, but with willing participation he could be trusted to not take such opportunities.
After they had laid together for a time, they coiled together in their home's basement chamber. Surrounded by scenes of woe from the humans' homelands.
'And… I'm the last to know?' Kjöti asked, a bit out of breath.
'Yes,' Shiro informed him with sharp thoughts. 'The others needed direction for their lives, some target for their fangs.'
Kjöti rumbled, and laid his neck down across Shrioderu's back, in between her spines. 'That makes sense. And explains how they were able to recover. But… I don't understand why it has to be secret?'
'If things go well, it won't be for long.' Deru twisted her neck around to lick at Kjöti's face. 'Goda's composing a way to propose the idea to the Elders. And if they agree, we won't have to sneak around anymore.'
'Am I allowed to tell Thuviel? He is my heart – I won't keep unnecessary secrets from him.'
'We can't stop you from telling him, even if we wished to.' Shiro laid her head on Kjöti's hip. It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that. 'Just take care how you put it to him? So he doesn't do something foolish.'
"Thuviel is passionate." Goda's voice called down the stairs moments before he opened the door to the basement chamber. "That does not make him foolish."
'He is growing from being a child to being an adult. That time period leads to foolish decision making.' Shiro snorted. 'Like when we tried to wear scarves. Hideous, in hindsight.'
"Hmm." Goda closed the door behind him, and approached. Once in the light of the erisdars they could see he had a new coat. Black leather with pronounced folded cuffs, buttons that depicted the phases of the moon, and metal ornaments on the shoulders that depicted the upper jaw and head of wolves.
Epaulets, that was the word for them.
Goda didn't ask what they thought of it, as they hadn't come to a consensus on it. Instead, he asked them: "How was he? Good enough to perhaps entice a wild dragon?"
'He was great!' / 'He was adequate.' The two sisters gave different answers, which prompted them to raise their heads and glare at each other.
Kjöti, wise beyond all measure in that instant, chose not to comment. Instead, he snorted and turned his eyes on Goda. 'I daresay I can manage that.' He raised one of his eyebrow barbels. 'Your The Plan… has merit.'
"I'm glad you can see that." Goda tilted his head and glanced at his partner. "Do I need to ask Aya to come down here and give me an unbiased opinion on his performance or can you two come to a consensus?"
'He was more than adequate, we have no doubts he can perform to The Plan's requirements.' They hastily reached an agreement at the thought of Aya being asked to clean up after them. Their words were thought in lock-step with each other.
"Good. If all goes well with the Elders, it won't become necessary." The human shrugged, his face as dour as ever. "But when do things ever go well with the Elders?"
--
Glossary:
Dûrgrimst: Dwarven word for clan. Thirteen clans exist at present, some named and themed after wildlife in the Beors, others for specific functions they perform in dwarf society.
Ingeitum: Current royal clan of the dwarves. Founders of the dwarven state, some of the best smiths in existence, and most experienced herders of cats to have ever lived. They have the most periods of being the royal clan, and are among the richest of the clans. Their day-to-day lives are mostly spent keeping the other clans from collapsing the dwarven nation state, even when not ruling themselves.
---
A six-year timeskip is rather small considering this is a setting where people thousands of years old stand around doing the Macarena all day every day.
I've had to deviate somewhat from the outline here, so if there's a bit of clunk I hope you can forgive me.
Many elves in ethically sourced seal-fur coats upon you all!
---
Shiroderu
They circled their opponent who circled them. It was so jarring, that a creature as small as a human didn't behave defensively at all in the face of their bared fangs, their brandished claws.
Goda held the monstertötungs cane low, so low it almost dragged on the ground. For the first time in months, he smiled as he and Shiroderu orbited a central point. Each of them looked for an opening to attack.
Shiroderu's massive steps echoed in their new home. They fought in a stone chamber, large enough for multiple adult dragons to do battle at once. Though that day, it was only a dragon and their Rider who fought.
The room was open, high enough for Shiroderu to stand on her rear legs without hitting the roof. An arcade surrounded the room, the pillars thick and wide enough to stop a dragon that ran into them. Despite the intent for the room to be for fighting, the architects had insisted on some decorative design aspects.
Along the wall past the arcade were blind arcades, the archways of which served as frames for wall-mounted fairths. To give them something to look at as distraction from their violence.
Shiro saw that they needed to attack, and let loose a stream of red-orange fire at their Rider. Deru recoiled from the sudden decision. Her sister's thought process was as quick as strike-spark-fire, she hadn't had time to react.
Goda's reaction was to backpedal toward Deru's flank, which forced Shiroderu to turn and follow him with Shiro's fire. {"Thrust."} Goda said and held up his marked hand. The silver scar from their bond burned with orange light.
A sudden unseen force struck Deru's head with vigor, and sent her smashing into Shiro's.
'Idiot!' Shiro snapped as she ceased her firebreath. 'You messed up my concentration!'
'No, he hit me with a spell!'
'Why would he hit you with a spell when you aren't doing anything – just being useless!' Shiro snapped her jaws at her sister's neck. 'Whatever, let's go.'
The two of them rounded on Goda who had gone back to a relaxed stance. As one, they rushed forward with gnashing teeth and swiping claw.
He backstepped past scenes from Panahedan on the walls. A city that had grown a forest on top of a mountain, until the boughs overlapped the city's walls and created an illusion of a giant mushroom: Mount Massive. A city at night, lit bright from great bonfires on road to its golden gates designed after a smiling man's face; Barad.
Evidently, their speed was less than that of a lethrblaka – for Goda sidestepped them, backed away exactly the steps needed, or just moved so that their chomping jaws missed. After so many misses, they reared back on their back legs to stomp him.
Goda darted toward them as they reared up and rolled under their belly and rear legs to escape. He chose that moment to strike back, in the instant before Deru could use their tail to catch him. There was an unfortunate spot in the region of their body Goda had escaped through – the cloaca.
He struck it widthwise with the monstertötungs cane as he moved away.
For one single moment a bright light filled Shiroderu's brain and excluded all other thoughts. Then, as the light began to fade, the pain started to catch up to them. They could feel something on their back and realized as one – Goda!
Their Rider made his presence known as he grabbed the inner barbels that grew from their eyebrows. His weight on sensitive organs like that was enough to create another blinding flash of pain. To escape the pain they instinctively drew their heads closer together.
{"Bind."} Goda used another word of magic, and released the sisters' inner barbels.
But when they tried to pull away from each other, their barbels remained in contact – and sharp pain came from the tugging. Goda had bound the barbels together with magic, which forced the sisters to be nose-to-nose to avoid pain.
He looked so pleased with himself as he backed away rapidly.
Deru went on the offensive then. She used her superior dexterity with their tail to lash it like a whip. Cracks filled the air where their tail curled on itself and created an explosion of sound and force.
He seemed to get the message he'd upset them after his ears started to bleed from the repeated sound explosions.
An awkward situation came about as Shiroderu tried to flame him together – because of how their barbels were bound together, they could only create a right angel of fire as their two jets went in different directions.
Goda realized that the moment they did, and was ready to exploit it when Shiroderu had a sudden idea.
They continued their firebreath and advanced on him. They walked steadily closer to the wall, which made the safe gap between their jets smaller. As quickly as they could, they got Goda pinned in between two jets of flame that would ignite him in a moment.
'I yield.' Their Rider told them across their bond. All at once, his binding magic ended and the two could freely move their heads.
When they stopped their jets, their Rider was singed. But he looked so pleased with them.
"I really thought you two being snagged like that would get you to fight each other," he told them in Dwarvish as he approached.
Six years had passed, and they had grown large. Their necks were the thickness of tree trunks, their body sturdy, strong. Over the years, Goda had begun to learn the words of the ancient language to adjust one's body to their tastes – and he plied those spells upon them at their request.
Their scales were unnaturally strong and durable. While they lacked the luster of more colorful dragons, they still retained the ability to reflect amber and orange lights, to glitter in sunlight. Goda sang to their muscles, and had them grow stronger than other dragons in their age group. Their tail was significantly more flexible, with better gripping power.
Goda was forbidden from changing himself until he became a full Rider – free of apprenticeship. So he practiced by helping others. Many dragons had come to them to ask for stronger scales at least, as the costs for dragon armor was – frankly – ludicrous. In lieu of dramatic physical changes, he had grown taller, stronger, to the point he had to work hard to maintain flexibility.
He told them how proud he was of their violence as they calmed down from the fight. "And you two hardly fought each other at all." Goda rubbed their snouts, always careful to go with the grain of the scales. "Last time I could get you to tear into each other."
'Last time you stuck your cane up my nose and made me think she hit me.' Deru muttered. 'That hurt a lot.'
'And it lost us the fight.' Shiro rolled her eyes. 'You need to widen your spell usage, Goda. You're running into the problem where you're only able to hurt us. At no point in that fight did I think you could potentially kill us.'
A sentiment Deru had to agree with. She looked at Goda, who by happenstance stood before a fairth of a foggy city. Familiar black-chitin creatures loped across the distant walls, in foggy daylight lethrblaka flew away with entire horses. The gates had crumbled to ruin. Nyberg.
"I'm running into the problem where the changes I help you make to yourself also make it harder to kill you in these fights." Goda gestured toward the doors, that they could walk and talk. Like all doors in Doru Araeba, properly constructed, they were enormous – to accommodate dragons of six hundred years and smaller. "We're reaching the point where I can't find ways to kill you in a straight up fight." He sighed, and tapped his cane against the floor more noticeably. "Not with this."
Goda's monstertötungs cane was unenchanted steel. The absolute most it could do was cause them pain – potentially a great deal of pain – but it wasn't a lethal weapon anymore. Their scales, their muscles, and their bones were too thick for a steel stick to harm them.
Shiroderu made ready to suggest something which would undoubtedly make Goda tetchy for the rest of the week – when he took the words out of their thoughts.
"I'm being afraid to pull my fangs," he announced as they started up the stairs out of their basement arena to the ground floor of their home. "As much as I hate to say it… I need to retire this old girl." He carried the cane with both hands, like it was a religious icon.
As a weapon that had been party to the death of hundreds of ra'zac, they supposed it would be to a human.
--
Thuviel
Doru Araeba had gone from a collection of tents to a city, with some minor setbacks. Vroengard, as it turned out, was a volcanic island but had been dormant for all of recorded history. So the Elders had decided to wake it.
In order to alter the climate just enough that they didn't need to create massive stockpiles of wood or coal for winter.
Thuviel didn't quite believe the story that the dragons had used their inscrutable powers in dire need to reach down and wake the volcano. There wasn't a dire need, it was more convenience.
Either way, the volcano was awake again. Lake Ilwaní had become warm enough to stay thawed all year round, and hot water springs were easily engineered with magic. Doru Araeba's valley would never again know the frigid cold like when the Riders first settled there.
Thuviel had to admit – the Giddo architects had done well. Rider homes were built according to the age of their dragon partners, ranging from yearlings or less to nine hundred years old. Dragons of millennia age would have to carve their own lairs from Vroengard's mountains.
Despite being so big, the city did not lack for beauty the way Kuasta did when last Thuviel was there. A place Thuviel liked the linger when he needed to practice poetry was Bid'Daum Plaza. In the space where Anurin's tent once stood was a great stone plaza divided into two rings. The outer ring was for market functions – vendors would sell their wares to Riders, apprentices, and civilians. While the inner ring was reserved for dragons to land in.
At the heart of the plaza was a statue of one of the two founders of the Rider Order – Bid'Daum, the great white dragon who had partnered with Eragon of old, and brought peace to elves and dragons. The long-dead Elder dragon was depicted as he had allegedly first appeared – wings flared, tail curled, mouth open. In dragon body language, it was the pose used to convey 'stand down'.
Thuviel sat on a bench between pits filled with fine golden sand from the Hadarac desert, intended for dragons to safely land in. What seemingly no one had anticipated was how many dragon hatchlings would love to play in it. He watched dozens of little heads appear in the sand, duck back down and burrow away. The wormsign in the sand was all the indicator they gave of where they would pop up next.
His poem was going to be about the whimsical times of youth and how fleeting they were – so he thought the best way to capture that was to watch young dragons at play.
Hatchlings, not even a week old, were chaos incarnate.
Thuviel's growth spurts often left him with deep pain in his limbs and back – for which he was given the instructions to rest by Anurin-ebrithil. Icing or sitting in a hot bath after training was all but required of him for the past four years, but less strenuous activities were selected for his education just as much.
Hence why he was practicing poetry rather than trying to learn love-as-violence from Goda and Shiroderu.
Kjöti walked between the sand pits and made sure none of the hatchlings were in the pits when a big dragon came in to land. The other dragons in their posse, such as Aya and Errol, had laid down for the young dragons to climb on them.
Maahes and Morito would entice the hatchlings with play, instead.
{'To be new to the world, to find joy in being, a treasure beyond parity / Finding shelter in friendly faces, warmth in kind embraces, until it becomes a rarity.'} He wrote the words with a dwarven glass pen. A gift from Anurin, who found them easier to use than feather quills.
His rest was interrupted by a brush of thoughts against his.
'Is now a bad time?' Goda's voice, towering like a mountain over an ant, asked him.
'Not at all, just doing poetry. What do you need?' Thuviel responded and put away his pen.
'I need to ask a smith to make me a new cane, something I can store magic in or in a different style than what I have now. You spend way more time in the market than I do, could you help me find a reputable vendor?'
'Of course, I'll meet you at Porölen's Gate.' Thuviel stood and put his writing slate under his arm. His knees and hips screamed at him, and the sudden shift of elevation made him feel light-headed. He still wasn't used to being two meters tall.
Thuviel had taken to wearing a new type of fabric – to support the Amusel weavers who created it. It was made from shed seal fur, woven into threads with Vroengard nettles. The Amusel would take each strand of shed seal fur they collected from the pups of native seal species and implant it into a base of the nettle fabric so the fur would stand up.
He had a fluffy white seal fur coat without any seals having died for it.
Porölen's Gate was closest to their homes, so Thuviel waited by it for Goda to arrive. He greeted some civilians as they passed by the gate, explained the history of Porölen to a few young ladies that seemed unaware of Anurin's predecessor.
They asked if they could come to him with any other questions about the Riders – though they phrased it as 'Riding' – and of course Thuviel agreed. He wanted to appear as a fully accredited Rider as much as possible.
Shiroderu's unique silhouette was visible long before Goda's. Deru reached over Shiro to lick Thuviel on the forehead as she passed by.
'And now I have the taste of elf sweat in my mouth, thank you so much,' Shiro broadcasted as she walked them toward the plaza's inner ring. If a tone of voice could kill, hers would have been acid splashed in the face.
'You're welcome!' Deru returned, chipper.
Goda arrived seconds later, and the two of them moved to the smiths section. He had traded layers upon layers of coats, overcoats, capes and cloaks for a style of dress the Broddrings had invented. Jack-of-plate, where plates of metal were inserted in the layers of fabric used for clothes. Goda had an entire wardrobe of them – trousers, tunics, jerkins, and coats. Only his chemise shirts and smallclothes were not of that style.
Or so Thuviel earnestly hoped.
One would be forgiven for thinking the smiths were the section of the outer plaza where most of the dwarves would be found. Or perhaps the brewers. But no – dwarves were actually the minority in the smiths, and the brewers. Human craftspeople were more widely present there, with elves as a the second most numerous.
Thuviel started to talk about the smiths that Yidun frequented as a mark of their quality, but had barely started to talk about them when Goda interrupted him.
"Is that the symbol for Dûrgrimst Ingeitum?"
Thuviel followed where Goda looked and saw a banner which depicted twelve stars in a ring around a smith's hammer. A dwarven clan marking.
"Well, yes," Thuviel said, ever so slightly unhappy that Goda had noticed it straight away. He'd hoped to work up to the smiths which represented the royal clan of the dwarves. "Though I'm sure any number of the smiths here would – and he walks off. As usual…."
Goda had immediately wandered toward the forge that bore the Igneitum banner. A pleasant building with etched glass in the windows where most forges lacked windows entirely. On the inside, they could see wood workers in the front of the shop – fletchers making arrows, carvers creating scabbards and handles.
Dwarves, short and stocky, hairy like humans but thrice the density, were hard at work. A brown-haired dwarf in an apron came from beyond a door to the rear of the shop, saw them through the window, and quickly scurried over to the door.
"I'm terribly sorry, Argetlamar," he told them as soon as he opened up. "But our shop is closed today, we should be open tomorrow morning." He was gruff, but respectful.
Thuviel would be a liar if he said he wasn't happy that it gave him more of a chance to show off other smiths, but he bowed his head at the dwarf anyway. "Thank you for being prompt in letting us know."
Goda added in, "could I create an appointment, then? Leave my name, and come at a certain time to speak to a weaponsmith?"
The dwarf nodded, and extracted a wax slate and stylus from his apron's pockets. "Of course, we're grateful for your patronage." He took Goda's name down, and they selected on a time. "Excellent. Our weaponsmith is Hrothgar, he'll see you tomorrow. Pleasant day, Argetlamar." Back into the shop he went.
Thuviel saw Goda's eyebrows shoot up, then quickly come back down. Surprise? Did he know a Hrothgar already?
"Two possibilities emerge," Goda said as he turned away from the shop. "Either dwarves live longer than anticipated, or that's a more common name than I thought. Anyway – shall we?"
--
Shiroderu
Their plan was simple, and effective. Find Kjöti, bid him come back to their lair for mating, and discuss Goda's The Plan with him.
Neither understood why he always used weighty thoughts to discuss The Plan, but it was how he had introduced it to them.
Shiro had the idea to use his endorphins to secure Kjöti's oath to keep their secret, but Deru wanted to give him the option of saying 'no'. Yes, it would make The Plan less secure, but it also improved the odds of them not being betrayed.
Leashed with his oath, Kjöti might have found an unexpected way to talk of it, but with willing participation he could be trusted to not take such opportunities.
After they had laid together for a time, they coiled together in their home's basement chamber. Surrounded by scenes of woe from the humans' homelands.
'And… I'm the last to know?' Kjöti asked, a bit out of breath.
'Yes,' Shiro informed him with sharp thoughts. 'The others needed direction for their lives, some target for their fangs.'
Kjöti rumbled, and laid his neck down across Shrioderu's back, in between her spines. 'That makes sense. And explains how they were able to recover. But… I don't understand why it has to be secret?'
'If things go well, it won't be for long.' Deru twisted her neck around to lick at Kjöti's face. 'Goda's composing a way to propose the idea to the Elders. And if they agree, we won't have to sneak around anymore.'
'Am I allowed to tell Thuviel? He is my heart – I won't keep unnecessary secrets from him.'
'We can't stop you from telling him, even if we wished to.' Shiro laid her head on Kjöti's hip. It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that. 'Just take care how you put it to him? So he doesn't do something foolish.'
"Thuviel is passionate." Goda's voice called down the stairs moments before he opened the door to the basement chamber. "That does not make him foolish."
'He is growing from being a child to being an adult. That time period leads to foolish decision making.' Shiro snorted. 'Like when we tried to wear scarves. Hideous, in hindsight.'
"Hmm." Goda closed the door behind him, and approached. Once in the light of the erisdars they could see he had a new coat. Black leather with pronounced folded cuffs, buttons that depicted the phases of the moon, and metal ornaments on the shoulders that depicted the upper jaw and head of wolves.
Epaulets, that was the word for them.
Goda didn't ask what they thought of it, as they hadn't come to a consensus on it. Instead, he asked them: "How was he? Good enough to perhaps entice a wild dragon?"
'He was great!' / 'He was adequate.' The two sisters gave different answers, which prompted them to raise their heads and glare at each other.
Kjöti, wise beyond all measure in that instant, chose not to comment. Instead, he snorted and turned his eyes on Goda. 'I daresay I can manage that.' He raised one of his eyebrow barbels. 'Your The Plan… has merit.'
"I'm glad you can see that." Goda tilted his head and glanced at his partner. "Do I need to ask Aya to come down here and give me an unbiased opinion on his performance or can you two come to a consensus?"
'He was more than adequate, we have no doubts he can perform to The Plan's requirements.' They hastily reached an agreement at the thought of Aya being asked to clean up after them. Their words were thought in lock-step with each other.
"Good. If all goes well with the Elders, it won't become necessary." The human shrugged, his face as dour as ever. "But when do things ever go well with the Elders?"
--
Glossary:
Dûrgrimst: Dwarven word for clan. Thirteen clans exist at present, some named and themed after wildlife in the Beors, others for specific functions they perform in dwarf society.
Ingeitum: Current royal clan of the dwarves. Founders of the dwarven state, some of the best smiths in existence, and most experienced herders of cats to have ever lived. They have the most periods of being the royal clan, and are among the richest of the clans. Their day-to-day lives are mostly spent keeping the other clans from collapsing the dwarven nation state, even when not ruling themselves.
---
A six-year timeskip is rather small considering this is a setting where people thousands of years old stand around doing the Macarena all day every day.
I've had to deviate somewhat from the outline here, so if there's a bit of clunk I hope you can forgive me.
Many elves in ethically sourced seal-fur coats upon you all!
The Plan requires...seducing the remaining wild Dragons with sexy single (and one still paired) Rider-aligned Dragons?
And it risks upsetting the elder council, but it's also not so radical that there's no chance of it being accepted at all...
I'll be honest, I've got no idea what this is or how it relates to things. The ongoing purge of the Ra'zac seems more like a matter of time and thoroughness then anything else. Maybe they'd kill a significant number of wild (and isolated) dragons left to themselves? And maybe the Elders would be too likely to stop the hunt too quickly? But that all doesn't seem right.
Is it related to the humans integrating on the continent? I thought that, barring the initial conflict with the Elves (and unfortunate loss of Sorcerous knowledge AND safety procedures that Goda has taken steps to halt), the humans mostly settled in to do their own thing just fine? Typical human conflicts and discord here and there, but there weren't really any big problems until Galbatorix made his evil empire?
That leaves the Urgals and...honestly trying to neutralize their threat without commiting to some VERY grim cultural (and probably literal) genocide would likely be a very tricky thing...but they also aren't exactly an overwhelming force of violence without supernatural unity. Just help protect settlements on the borders of them until they can be properly fortified, and then let their periodic, opportunistic, raiders break on them until they get the lesson. That, and don't completely ignore them so you can assassinate any budding Great Unifiers BEFORE they can pull a Genghis Khan and unite nomadic raiders into a horde of mass-murdering kingdom killers. And I'll be honest...I don't see how the wild Dragons are relevant to dealing with Urgals (assuming their even on the continent yet).
I guess that just leaves maybe making an opposition bloc for the Riders? Some way to keep them from getting complacent or over reaching (keeping them from being so weak/off-guard that Galbatorix can pull his little rebellion, or that the organization can over time become a tyranny in and of itself)? I guess getting a separate source of Dragons would be rather viral for that, but it also seems like a rather extreme and out-there option compared to just...building up an internal power-bloc amongst the next generations of Riders and then pushing the Elders council to not be complete idiots through internal politics and pressure.
And it risks upsetting the elder council, but it's also not so radical that there's no chance of it being accepted at all...
I'll be honest, I've got no idea what this is or how it relates to things. The ongoing purge of the Ra'zac seems more like a matter of time and thoroughness then anything else. Maybe they'd kill a significant number of wild (and isolated) dragons left to themselves? And maybe the Elders would be too likely to stop the hunt too quickly? But that all doesn't seem right.
Is it related to the humans integrating on the continent? I thought that, barring the initial conflict with the Elves (and unfortunate loss of Sorcerous knowledge AND safety procedures that Goda has taken steps to halt), the humans mostly settled in to do their own thing just fine? Typical human conflicts and discord here and there, but there weren't really any big problems until Galbatorix made his evil empire?
That leaves the Urgals and...honestly trying to neutralize their threat without commiting to some VERY grim cultural (and probably literal) genocide would likely be a very tricky thing...but they also aren't exactly an overwhelming force of violence without supernatural unity. Just help protect settlements on the borders of them until they can be properly fortified, and then let their periodic, opportunistic, raiders break on them until they get the lesson. That, and don't completely ignore them so you can assassinate any budding Great Unifiers BEFORE they can pull a Genghis Khan and unite nomadic raiders into a horde of mass-murdering kingdom killers. And I'll be honest...I don't see how the wild Dragons are relevant to dealing with Urgals (assuming their even on the continent yet).
I guess that just leaves maybe making an opposition bloc for the Riders? Some way to keep them from getting complacent or over reaching (keeping them from being so weak/off-guard that Galbatorix can pull his little rebellion, or that the organization can over time become a tyranny in and of itself)? I guess getting a separate source of Dragons would be rather viral for that, but it also seems like a rather extreme and out-there option compared to just...building up an internal power-bloc amongst the next generations of Riders and then pushing the Elders council to not be complete idiots through internal politics and pressure.
- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
This was a brilliant bit of phrasing. It really emphasizes just how much the Ra'zac haunt the human species' nightmares. They are the terror in the night, old bedtime stories come to life. They are the killers of humanity, hunters that drove humanity from their nests, and feasted while humanity fled across the sea to safety--only to find that their predators had chased them here, too.
I wonder if Wild Dragons will sneer at Rider Dragons who have lived in mortal-made houses, and have never had to claw their way into a mountain?
Well, perhaps it's just another data point that Wild Dragons will point to when they deem Rider Dragons "soft."
I look forward to seeing the cultural clash between Wild Dragons (many of whom never bother to learn any sort of language) and Rider Dragons (who are following this mysterious Plan of Goda's).
Can't wait! ^.^
No clunk at all
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Or just bringing wild dragon into The Plan, yep.
Longer-lived species like things to remain as they are. Substantial change is bad, wrong, upsetting. But there is always a chance they won't be afraid to pull their fangs. They deserve the chance to say 'no', at least.
Even if that 'no' accomplishes nothing.
Glad to hear it!No clunk at all
Goda's Journal #9
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Goda's Journal -- Entry Nine
---
It's shocking to know how little the elves know of how stone-based architecture works. They didn't seem to understand huge volumes of vertical space, windows and doors the size of fortress gates -- that all means these buildings retain little to no heat. All the hot air rises to the top six feet of the rooms!
I literally had to teach other apprentices how to summon Dancing Flames to keep from freezing because the damn tents retained more heat than these buildings. They eventually got around to fixing the problem -- but it was another black mark on their reputations.
They seemed more upset that I had a stop-gap than they were embarrassed to have made the mistake in the first place! Like dealing with idiots in parliament all over again. Ugh.
What fixed it long term was them turning to the more senior sorcerers in the Order, the elven ones. They had all the fully accredited Riders, elders, and dragons pool their resources to summon a fire spirit of sufficient strength to awaken the Vroengard volcano.
No idea how long it'll last. Doesn't really matter -- the only reason I know at all is because I'm a sorcerer and was asked to help guide the ritual. I'm going to start taking sorcery lessons from one of the senior sorcerers, though, since Anurin doesn't know it.
She seemed miffed that I wanted to continue the practice despite knowing more of the ancient language. Well she can be miffed all she likes, I'm pulling my fangs in adopting elven sorcery spirits but I'm not going to ditch such a big part of my culture.
-
Elven sorcery, as it turns out, is a lot less equitable than human. For them, enslaving spirits is the norm -- at best they use the threat of slavery to coerce assistance. I'm going to need to make amends to that fire spirit at some point, I can't believe I didn't realize what they were doing at the time.
So much of my time is spent trying to gently shift the sorcery doctrine away from enslavement and toward coexistence. I showed them how easy it was for me to beckon Dancing Flames, and they straight up couldn't believe it. It was like I showed them a tree made of meat, an elf with a beard, ethical capitalism -- something impossible.
-
The local spirits are starting to recognize me. Maybe they're talking to each other? Dunno. But it's amazing what being treated with basic respect, accepting when the answer is 'no', and talking to them rather than at them can accomplish.
I never really stopped to think of what the implications for elven sorcery defaulting to the enslavement method meant for their perception of other races in general. Anurin is much more receptive of my sorcery now that my teachers are telling her that I'm not a slave owning shitheel like they are.
Oh yeah, when they die I'm going to find their graves and add 'slave owner' to their tombstones. If that's how elven graves work. The only -- ONLY -- reason these people are changing their doctrines is because it's safer my way.
-
Maahes, Errol, Morito, and Aya are all onboard with The Plan. Shiroderu needs convincing, they don't seem to think these things are as set in stone as I do.
Changing a timeline is hard. This world works more off the Norse model of fate than the Greek model, but all my auguries tell me that things are likely to play out the same.
I'm breaking my rule of not talking about The Plan in my journal again. I have to stop doing that. Augh.
-
Boys and girls, we're in fucking danger. New batch of apprentices showed up today and I caught some of their names. Kialandí, and Formora. There were some human apprentices too -- another Amusel, Saerlith. Only one I could remember, because the little guy clung to me the moment he saw me. Amusel with a Broddring name, he might be of a blended household. I'm not going to ask, it's not my business.
Kid's about Lisbet's age, and he's scared to be away from his folks. I'm going to work with his teachers, make him comfortable being among them then back to my work.
But uh. I didn't anticipate running into some Forsworn already. Somehow I thought they'd all be closer to Galby's age.
This is going to be a problem.
-
House is done, got some good and tasty art around here.
Really trying to avoid getting Thuviel to swear an oath not to Be Not all over the place and smash it up. But that would just raise questions.
Shiroderu's on board with The Plan, suggested we make a pitch to Thuviel and Kjöti too. I'm not so sure, Thuviel has this pathological hatred of retreat as a concept now. It's to the point where I can exploit it in blind man's bluff.
Given the nature of The Plan, I can't see him supporting it. Kjöti might, but then we've inserted drama into their bond where it needn't have been.
I'm hoping to get Sëylid, Skaelbrosa, and Annúminas on board. But Deru wants to try her option first.
Rather than risk drama in our bond, I'll go along with it. Let's hope for the best!
---
---
It's shocking to know how little the elves know of how stone-based architecture works. They didn't seem to understand huge volumes of vertical space, windows and doors the size of fortress gates -- that all means these buildings retain little to no heat. All the hot air rises to the top six feet of the rooms!
I literally had to teach other apprentices how to summon Dancing Flames to keep from freezing because the damn tents retained more heat than these buildings. They eventually got around to fixing the problem -- but it was another black mark on their reputations.
They seemed more upset that I had a stop-gap than they were embarrassed to have made the mistake in the first place! Like dealing with idiots in parliament all over again. Ugh.
What fixed it long term was them turning to the more senior sorcerers in the Order, the elven ones. They had all the fully accredited Riders, elders, and dragons pool their resources to summon a fire spirit of sufficient strength to awaken the Vroengard volcano.
No idea how long it'll last. Doesn't really matter -- the only reason I know at all is because I'm a sorcerer and was asked to help guide the ritual. I'm going to start taking sorcery lessons from one of the senior sorcerers, though, since Anurin doesn't know it.
She seemed miffed that I wanted to continue the practice despite knowing more of the ancient language. Well she can be miffed all she likes, I'm pulling my fangs in adopting elven sorcery spirits but I'm not going to ditch such a big part of my culture.
-
Elven sorcery, as it turns out, is a lot less equitable than human. For them, enslaving spirits is the norm -- at best they use the threat of slavery to coerce assistance. I'm going to need to make amends to that fire spirit at some point, I can't believe I didn't realize what they were doing at the time.
So much of my time is spent trying to gently shift the sorcery doctrine away from enslavement and toward coexistence. I showed them how easy it was for me to beckon Dancing Flames, and they straight up couldn't believe it. It was like I showed them a tree made of meat, an elf with a beard, ethical capitalism -- something impossible.
-
The local spirits are starting to recognize me. Maybe they're talking to each other? Dunno. But it's amazing what being treated with basic respect, accepting when the answer is 'no', and talking to them rather than at them can accomplish.
I never really stopped to think of what the implications for elven sorcery defaulting to the enslavement method meant for their perception of other races in general. Anurin is much more receptive of my sorcery now that my teachers are telling her that I'm not a slave owning shitheel like they are.
Oh yeah, when they die I'm going to find their graves and add 'slave owner' to their tombstones. If that's how elven graves work. The only -- ONLY -- reason these people are changing their doctrines is because it's safer my way.
-
Maahes, Errol, Morito, and Aya are all onboard with The Plan. Shiroderu needs convincing, they don't seem to think these things are as set in stone as I do.
Changing a timeline is hard. This world works more off the Norse model of fate than the Greek model, but all my auguries tell me that things are likely to play out the same.
I'm breaking my rule of not talking about The Plan in my journal again. I have to stop doing that. Augh.
-
Boys and girls, we're in fucking danger. New batch of apprentices showed up today and I caught some of their names. Kialandí, and Formora. There were some human apprentices too -- another Amusel, Saerlith. Only one I could remember, because the little guy clung to me the moment he saw me. Amusel with a Broddring name, he might be of a blended household. I'm not going to ask, it's not my business.
Kid's about Lisbet's age, and he's scared to be away from his folks. I'm going to work with his teachers, make him comfortable being among them then back to my work.
But uh. I didn't anticipate running into some Forsworn already. Somehow I thought they'd all be closer to Galby's age.
This is going to be a problem.
-
House is done, got some good and tasty art around here.
Really trying to avoid getting Thuviel to swear an oath not to Be Not all over the place and smash it up. But that would just raise questions.
Shiroderu's on board with The Plan, suggested we make a pitch to Thuviel and Kjöti too. I'm not so sure, Thuviel has this pathological hatred of retreat as a concept now. It's to the point where I can exploit it in blind man's bluff.
Given the nature of The Plan, I can't see him supporting it. Kjöti might, but then we've inserted drama into their bond where it needn't have been.
I'm hoping to get Sëylid, Skaelbrosa, and Annúminas on board. But Deru wants to try her option first.
Rather than risk drama in our bond, I'll go along with it. Let's hope for the best!
---
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Lagoon12002
How far have I fell down into this deep deep sea
Given this, I would assume that The Plan is some form of saving/preserving the Riders from their destruction by hiding away. Specifically Goda's 'faction' (aka Those Who Are Not Bastards).
- Pronouns
- he/him/his
Modern physics, chemistry, and biology knowledge makes combat magic in this system really easy. Blades or needles of force with the same kinetic energy as a blunt strike, shearing space if you can handle it, removing air from the head and lungs, rearranging organic chemistry into hydrogen cyanide (HCN) or carbon monoxide, turning all the H2O in the eyeballs into H2 and O2, bent light illusions, finding the harmonic resonance of your opponent's body.
But moving electrons to electrocute the nerve that tells the heart what tempo to beat at, or turning a small part of the brain into sarin gas, is not something you do to your sparring partner. Hmm. Maybe blocking ion exchange in a small section of the spinal cord?
(Warding against a creative, educated person is really, really hard.)
It increasingly seems The Plan is to create a fallback position for the Riders and wild dragons. Or more accurately, a reserve population beyond the reach of Galbatorix's conquest. Though it is interesting that the timeline seems fated to largely go the same way. Goda himself, with his mental attack barrier and a mental voice composed of all his past lives, seems ideally suited for a telepathy duel with Galby's all-out attack style.
- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Big agree with this, but Goda is still new to the elven magic system, so his magical stamina is going to be low for the early years... but once he builds up a healthy stamina?
>:3
- Pronouns
- he/him/his
... Does the energy for magician magic have to be sourced from a living being, or can you like, use a waterfall to power a magic generator that dumps the energy into a large gem?
Speaking of gems and modern knowledge, synthetic gems. This magic system would be perfect for setting up a slow, uniform cooling of the crystal growth medium.
- Location
- Book Fort
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I think it's from a living being, only. That said, the fact that you can draw that energy from beings other than yourself and your dragon is a secret kept until Riders and their Dragons are well-experienced Riders with a well-developed sense of empathy.
According to the books Galbratorix wasn't always evil, he went mad from the loneliness in his own heart/mind after his dragon died.
(Standard "canon may not apply here" disclaimer. This is an AU fic, so stuff might be butterflied away, or outright changed. This is totally okay, and well-within the author's purview)
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
The answer seems to be yes it must be sourced from a living being: Not because there is any difference in energy types, but because the spells to siphon energy out of something require telepathic connection. Waterfalls don't have minds.
Elves can already convert matter into other matter, but it takes lots of energy. Using magic to streamline some
The novel Murtagh puts a bit of cold water on that. Not much, just a splash.
Amusingly, it occurs to me that if the Dragon Riders, as an organization, had therapists and grief counseling, Galbratorix may not have ever become a Big Bad Evil Guy
Ah... yeah.
In Murtagh it is revealed a witch used drugs and brainwashing to twist Galby's mind into going super cray-cray to destroy the Dragon Riders and kill off as many wild dragons as he could. Durza was also subject to these drugs and brainwashing. Because reasons.
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
I suspect The Plan is to create a faction if dragon riders on the (currently) abandoned human continent. They will necessarily be cut off from the main group and hence canon will be allowed to play out for just long enough for fate to be satisfied before the cavalry come charging in.
Find an enzyme vital to your target's health not vital to yours. Destroy all of it in a given area. Depending on what exactly it's an enzyme for this will kill in moment or days, but it will kill.
Especially nasty against Ra'zac, due to their quite different biology.
- Pronouns
- he/him/his
Gemstones don't have minds either (except for apparently that giant one Sëylid found and I guess eldunari). Clearly, the problem here is that they're not using the right spells to manipulate the energy. It's freeform magic with a language control interface, surely there is a way to convert energy from one form to another without a telepathic connection.
If I was in this setting, I would spend so much time throwing the scientific method at this magic system. So much.
What's the efficiency ratio of turning my energy into kinetic? Heat? Is exciting electrons more efficient than creating light directly? How much space manipulation can I get for a megajoule? What is the formula for the increased cost of doing magic at a distance? I would never run out of questions or things to attempt to disprove.
Oh! I've figured out how to make a microscope and mass spectrometer using magic. Took about ten seconds.
The problem is that people in setting have been looking for how to do so and have yet to find a method.
Well that and it sorta seems like the people most knowledgeable about magic are the more older dragons as seem in Eldest and given their showing there they aren't the best at being able to communicate explanations.
Iridium Flare
Cyborg Commando
- Location
- AC-130 Gunship circling overhead
I really dislike how authors seem to want to explain every single iota of a work of fiction, especially when their explanations are mediocre at best. That's some midichlorian-tier crap right there.
- Pronouns
- She/Them
Yeah, i think grief and ego are better explanations than "a witch did it"
Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
worldbuilders disease i think ive heard it be called
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Comes from the desire to forestall 'justify your potatoes' sorta arguments, methinks.
While the witch is not canon to this fic, I've already said Azlagûr is. Destroyer god sort of thing, you see.