[4.8]
Ludicrum et Conventus 2
Saturday morning found Taylor's "Stay away from the PRT building" order lifted, and she was on her way over for some her scheduled classes. This morning's was the Containment Foam one. And she had been told to bring clothes you didn't care about. In the afternoon, she had the first of several first aid courses as well.
The confoam course went about as well as she expected it to. The stuff got everywhere, and a long shower was required afterwards, in both her human and dragongirl forms, to get the stuff out of her hair and mane. It did not, however, stick to her scales. Even if she could use her shape changing ability to revert to a human form, it was still holding her by her hair. Trying to pull free from that had been painful enough that she wasn't going to repeat that.
There was a brief lull for lunch, which she enjoyed in one of thee cafeterias in the PRT building. She decided to make a quick turn through the gift shop, just to see what the PRT had come up with for her merchandise. After ten minutes of looking, she couldn't find any. "Excuse me," she asked, after getting the attention of one of the cashiers, "where is the Naurelin merchandise?"
"Sold out," was the answer she received. "And on back order. We've a waiting list for incoming orders that's fairly long now. I can put you down on the list if you want?"
"Thank you," Taylor replied, almost shocked. "I'll pass for now."
"Most people are ordering from the online store," the sales clerk offered. "Usually better availability. Ever since she was introduced, the little plush dragon dolls, t-shirts, and various size action figures have been selling quite well. We even had multiples of the 1/72nd scale, limited edition figure sell, and those things are expensive!"
I think I need to check my financials more often, Taylor thought to herself.
I'm obviously missing something here.
- - - - - - - - - -
Taylor looked at the clock, and she had another hour to go before the first of several first aid certification courses started. She filed a flight plan via the app on her phone. Then she went down to the Wards area to change into her costume, noted the acknowledgment of her flight plan on the phone, and made her way to the roof.
Once free of the elevator, she changed into her dragongirl form and launched herself into the air. After gaining a couple hundred feet of altitude, she changed again, with wings beating, she made her way out over the bay. It wasn't long before she'd picked up an escort. Legend pulled up along side, saluted her, and then shot off into the distance when she'd nodded.
She just soared along over the water, aware that cameras were out everywhere, pictures and video being taken as she enjoyed a brief bit of freedom in the air. She practiced her basic flight maneuvers, the basic aerobatics that Kurya had taught her in the dream realm.
"If it is worth doing," the great wyrm had said, "it is worth doing well."
The one move that was important for large, clumsy fliers – make no mistake, she had all the aerial maneuverability of a river barge – was the wingover, which allowed her to reverse her direction in a very short distance. Quite literally, to stand on her tail in the air, and change direction. Even a dragon twice her size and eight times her mass could do this, as Kurya had aptly demonstrated.
So, she practiced changing directions abruptly. She made several crossings of the bay, before slowing down, and then coming to a halt in the air, hovering over the old tanker blocking the mouth of the bay.
It was then she realized she had a couple of watchers.
She could see a couple of guys out in the ship graveyard, watching her with a pair of binoculars. She waved a forepaw at them, and then turned to figure out who was watching her much closer.
"Come on out," she rumbled. "I know you're there; I can smell you, hear you breathing."
"<Forgive me, great one,>" a strange voice said. She knew it was speaking Draconic, with a strange accent. "<I did not mean to intrude.>" And on the deck of the tanker, a form became visible.
It was small, perhaps a fourth of her size. A white hide mottled with light blue and gray scales. She looked for a suitably clear spot on the deck, and gently landed. The much smaller dragon was doing it's best to try and become one with the snow covered deck.
"<I am not going to hurt you>, she said slowly. She could understand Draconic better than she could speak it. Like many new speakers of a foreign language, she had to think about each word she was saying. "<Who are you?>"
"<I am Hunts-The-Ice>," the smaller white dragon whimpered. "<I was driven south from my home until I arrived here.>"
"<You may call me Naurelin,>" responded in kind. "<I do not mind your presence here. I would prefer it if you would not raid the merchants for food.>"
"<I know,>" Hunts replied, grumbling. "<The dread queen warned me of that as well. What shall I do for food? Hunting around here is poor, as is the fishing.>"
"<I shall make arrangements for the short term,>" Naurelin answered. "<We shall have to see about getting you back to your home.>"
"<Thank you.>"
"<As much as it galls me to have you stay hidden and out of sight,>" Naurelin continued, "<It is probably the safest course of action. I will ask a few questions. Shall we meet here again in two days time?>"
Hunts-The-Ice nodded. "<In two days time.>" he answered, and then faded from sight. She could feel the air move as he launched himself into the air.
As she took back to the air to make it back to the PRT building in time for her class, she could already tell that she was going to be talking to a number of people before she got out in the evening, as her phone had chimed four times before she had taken to the air.
- - - - - - - - - -
Hunts-the-Ice thought for a moment as he made his way back to his lair. He had no real reason to trust the gold dragon he had just talked with, just as he had no real reason to distrust her as well. His only contact with any other dragons had been his sire and dam, both of whom had fled whatever had happened and made their way here with a few of their treasures. He'd been told there were few, if any, dragons left, and that his generation would be the last.
White dragons were not known for their intelligence. Yet, instinctively he knew that there were far too few dragons, and the likelihood of him finding a mate was so low as to be non-existent, All he had left was to simply exist; hunt, sleep, collect a few trinkets, and eventually grow old and die. Or possibly be hunted down and killed by humans. His dam had been quite insistent about that.
He came in for a landing at the warehouse he had claimed. He made note of one of the noisy wheeled boxes that humans moved around in that were nearby. They weren't the black ones that the two heroes had come in, but rather a drab brown and rust colored one. He could see a couple of humans inside. Occasionally glancing towards the ruins he had claimed.
As long as they left him alone, and stayed out of the area he had marked as his, he would let them be.
- - - - - - - - - -
Randall and Kevin had been out in the ship graveyard, out testing various things that Kevin had built for their weekly shows, most of which had involved gaming videos, instead of highly entertaining, legally questionable acts recorded for playback on their video channel. They were just wrapping things up when Naurelin flew by over the water.
"Looks like she's learned a couple of new tricks," Randall said, looking at the dragon out flying over the water, practicing her wingovers, using a pair of old U-Boat binoculars he'd purchased from an old fisherman. "Remind me never to piss her off."
Kevin was using a tinkertech version of the macro binoculars from
Star Wars to watch. "Somehow I don't think there is enough ketchup in Brockton Bay to make either of us taste good," he replied, with a grin. "Wait a minute -- Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
"If you are talking about the small white dragon that just appeared on the tanker," commented Randall, "and is talking with Naurelin, then yes. And no, I can't read their lips. Dragons appear to not have any."
Kevin watched as the smaller dragon flew off, and disappeared from sight after taking to the air. "Best not to pry into the business of something that can turn you into charcoal." he muttered, noticing that Naurelin was looking straight at him. She sighed in an exaggerated fashion, then approximated a shrug as if to say "What can you do?", then launched herself into the air, flying back towards town. She performed a few more basic aerobatics before she was out of sight.
"So you still want to get her in on a video?" asked Randall. "I think we could come up with something that would pass PRT muster. Say, if we were to donate a portion to some charity?"
"Actually, yes," was Kevin's response. "And that sounds like an awesome idea. Now, we need an equally awesome idea for what to do to go with it.
"Let's pack things up," he said, putting the binoculars up. "I've got some tinkering to do, and then we can hand Protomancer's virtual ass to him tonight after we brainstorm some video ideas."
- - - - - - - - - -
The first aid course went well enough, a couple hours spent on the basics of first aid and the reporting requirements afterwards, and what it would take to be able to carry a first aid kit as part of your equipment. All in all, fairly basic stuff, but good to know.
As soon as she was out, she was off to Miss Militia's office.
"I understand you had an interaction with our strange creature who has been killing Merchants and freezing E88 gangers to the ground?" Miss Militia asked once Taylor had closed the door and sat down.
"His name is Hunts-The-Ice," she answered, using the best English translation for his name she could come up with. "He asked me not to kill him or drive him out, and complained about the hunting and fishing in the area, which is why he raided the Co-op. I said I would make some inquiries about matters, asked him to stay out of sight and not cause trouble and that I would meet him at the old tanker in two days time to tell him what I found out."
Miss Militia nodded. "Very well. It also appeared that you were practicing some new flight techniques. Who taught you?" she asked politely.
"Another dragon," was Taylor's answer. "I don't have their permission to reveal their identity. And before you can ask, it happens in my dreams, where they come and teach me what I need to know, and not out where a third of Brockton Bay can film it, unlike today."
Miss Militia grimaced a bit. "Very well," she said, then smiled. "On a more positive note, our local fliers gave you a score of 4 of 10 for your performance over the bay, which is a definite improvement from their review of your initial flight testing. Comments include 'Shows potential", "Much Improved', 'Definitely do not want to face in aerial combat', and 'Run Away!'"
Both of them were giggling at that point. "So I'm not in trouble?"
"Good heavens, no." Miss Militia replied. "Despite what everyone thinks, you do not always get called into the office here because you're in trouble, Clockblocker not withstanding.
"I suspect your inquiries on behalf of Hunts-The-Ice will include alternative food sources and removal back to his home range on Ellesmere Island. We would like him to peaceably leave the area, with little to no trouble," Miss Militia summarized. "That he wants to get back is good.
"The RCAF is investigating the impact that occurred near his original lair, and have determined it was not a natural occurrence. Meteorites come in at angles, this one was vertical. There are a number of worrying conclusions that could be made."
"Like Ziz being responsible?"
"Unfortunately. Since there are no military satellites capable of doing that, the leading suspect is Ziz throwing rocks from orbit."
"That means this is all according to some warped and convoluted plan?" Taylor asked, frowning. "Where does that particular rabbit hole end?"
"It doesn't." Miss Militia pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's all I had for you, and it's pretty much what Armsmaster and Director Piggot wanted. Gallant wanted to know if you wanted a ride from here to the Dallon residence, since you were invited to the New Wave monthly meeting."
- + [@] + -
A couple of quick messages later, explaining that she wouldn't be home for dinner to her father, and thanking Dean for the offer of a ride but she would make her own way there, and she was slowly soaring her way to the Dallon household. She landed on the sidewalk, and making sure there was nothing behind her in the street, walked up to the front door, then changed into her full dragon form, levitating ever so slightly above the grass and sidewalk so as to limit the amount of damage to the lawn and sidewalk.
She then used a minor power to press the doorbell.
The door opened to reveal a rather stern looking blonde, presumably Carol Dallon, Vicky and Amy's mother.
Naurelin smiled as best she could. "Can Vicky and Amy come out and play?"
"Gaaaaaaaah!" Carol Dallon's reaction was predictable.
"Change into something that can fit through the door," said Amy as she took over for her mother, "and get in here, you loony lizard!"
Cause a typical civilian only has 4-6 hit points. A level one magic missile can potentially kill them.
