This is perhaps one of the best one line explanations of Lawful Evil ever...bravo!
Scaling Up
- Thread starter Kryslin
- Start date
You know, it'd be pretty funny if Firkraag was still around, especially if he manages to pull a Patches on Taylor(for context, Firkraag is a Red Dragon who used to skulk about around the Baldur's Gate area. His most noteworthy trait was his constant use of his natural charisma to send parties of adventurers on wild goose chases intended to get them killed so he could loot their stuff. Comparing him to Patches is a very apt comparison, with the only exception being that Firkraag isn't a coward who begs for his life if things go wrong).
- Location
- The Old Dominion
I recall Firkraag most for his taking revenge by proxy on the Bhaalspawn to try make his foster father swarm in the afterlife which got him killed by everything from my Human Bhaalspawn paladin to my elven sorceress in my various playthoughs in Baldur's Gate II...
It was his own fault for framing me for kidnapping the child of the lord he usurped and stole the lands of, somehow bringing back Tazok, holding onto a holy avenger and walking into the many traps I had set before the battle.
It was his own fault for framing me for kidnapping the child of the lord he usurped and stole the lands of, somehow bringing back Tazok, holding onto a holy avenger and walking into the many traps I had set before the battle.
I learned of him from the Battle for Baldur's Gate MTG set, where he was the star of a preconstructed deck that, rather predictably, revolves around making your enemies fight each other via the Goad mechanic. His personality bio included with the deck describes him as frequently sending parties of Adventurers on wild goose chases and looting their stuff if they die in the process.
A Midsummer Night's ??? : 05 - To be, or not to be...
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Baumann Parahuman Detention Center
"More tea?" Ciara asked her guest.
"Yes, thank you," the guest answered.
As she poured, Ciara took a glance at her guest. Mab looked just a little taller than she was, and just a bit older. Though with any Fae, exactly determining their age could very well be an exercise in futility. She was dressed in colors benefiting royalty, a rich purple dress with orange and green accents. Yet the woman behaved about as far from the way she expected royalty to act as she could believe, with her merriment and humor.
Oh, and the fact that she also sometimes acted like she was a hummingbird who'd just found a tanker of high fructose corn syrup and energy drink.
"May I ask a question?" Ciara asked.
"Certainly!"
"Cousins?"
"Why yes," Mab responded. "All royalty is related, somehow!" With a gesture and a smile, a whiteboard appeared, along with miniature polar bear and raccoon stuffed animals. "With me, it's quite easy," she gushed, and a picture of her appeared on the whiteboard. "You have my mother, my grandmother, and then her mother." Pictures of each, along with their names appeared, until it reached the last.
"Great-great grandmother doesn't like her picture being taken," Mab admitted, "and no one likes it when she gets angry."
Ciara's mind was working as fast and as hard as it could. The last name on the whiteboard was Danu.
"Now, you, that's more interesting," Mab said, cracking her knuckles. "We've got you," and with that, the Fae queen started working her way back down Ciara's family tree. "… And finally, we get to Morrigan, my mother's sister. So, cousins! Are you OK?" Mab asked. Ciara had stood to get a better view of the whiteboard, and now she'd started to feel faint.
"My apologies, Queen Mab," Ciara said as she sat. "I thank you for the genealogy." Once seated, she took a sip of tea. "I never knew my parents, since I was orphaned."
"Awww," Mab cooed, her eyes turning liquid. "That's soooo sad! And cool! Every good tale should have at least one character with a tragic backstory."
Ciara looked croggled for a moment, thought, 'No shortage of those on Earth Bet,' then began laughing. "You're not what I expected," she admitted to the being sitting across from her.
"No one expects the Faerie Exposition!" Mab said, jumping up and posing. "Our main weapons are tea and surprise! And cookies! Comfy chairs, too." Pretty soon both were giggling as Mab sat back down.
"I suspect I've got to be boring now," Mab said with a frown. "I actually came here for an important reason."
"Whatever questions you have, I'll try to answer." Ciara said, feeling much better. Mab very much embodied the season she claimed to be the queen of. Typically pleasant, but with quick changes. She suspected an angry Mab was like a supercell thunderstorm that spawned tornadoes, leveling everything in its path, but didn't last too long. But a happy Mab was like an early summer day, and a determined Mab would be as intense as a sweltering midday sun. She suspected – but didn't want to find out – that a sad Mab was like a rainy day.
If Mab was going to be rather literal in her interpretation of words, then Ciara didn't want to be flooded out by the rain.
"My husband and I would like to see the dragons in a place called Brockton Bay, if only to pay our respects to them, and enter into a non-interference pact with them if possible." Mab suddenly looked concerned. "We really don't want them upset with us!" she pleaded.
Ciara boggled. She'd been to Brockton Bay a long time ago, so she hadn't seen the dragons herself. "Well," she hedged, "from what I remember, it was a nice enough city. They did have a nice open air market or two, and the Boardwalk offered a nice view of the harbor. The gangs weren't too bad at the time.
"Various faeries have talked to me about the place. Most of the gangs are now gone, with only the normal ruffians, instead of the robber barons," she continued. "Naurelin, Helbrede, and Mizuchi's sponsors are not to be trifled with." Her voice had taken on a serious note. "The one called Tiamat may be not-evil, but that doesn't mean she'll be nice about punishing someone who needs it. The one called Bahamut, given sufficient motivation, will make sure any punishment will fit the misdeed. And Mizuchi's sponsors are very Asian about things, which, fortunately, keeps them from being too visible."
Mab had been listening intently, actually taking notes on a little notepad that she'd pulled out of the neckline of her dress. Along with a quill pen. "Don't piss off the five headed hell beast, got it," she murmured. "Don't upset the good one, either. Anything else?"
"The older dragons are likely to be amused with someone's antics, but the platinum champion has little tolerance for actual frivolity. His herald, however, has a good sense of humor. One thing neither has any sense of humor at all about is threatening their offspring. The best advice I can give you is simply don't."
Mab waved her right hand airily. "Certes, cousin. We have no desire to become char-broiled," she stated with as upper an upper crust accent as she could possibly manage. "Roast faerie smells awful, too." She winked at Ciara, who started to giggle.
Soon, she was joined by Mab.
Other prisoners in Glaistig Uaine's cell block wondered what the hell was going on down in her cell.
"So, tell us how the world has changed," Mab asked. "'Tis been a long while since we last walked the world."
"What was going on the last time you were in the mortal realm?" Ciara asked.
"They were making quite the ruckus," the Summer Queen stated. "Digging all those trenches all over the place, burying those explodey things all over the countryside. The complaints I had from the dwarves and gnomes about those! Oh, and the complaints from the merfolk and selkies about all those ships being sunk! Davey wasn't happy about that."
"Davey? As in Davy Jones?" Ciara asked.
"Yep. Nice guy, if you're not littering his oceans with too much stuff," Mab somehow said while drinking another cup of tea. "He really wanted to do something about that, but that Leviathan chap had him running around for a while, and he had to use power he'd accumulated for something else to keep the pesky creature from doing too much damage. The last of it got used when the Leviathan sank Vinland."
Glaistig Uaine shook her head. "Where to start?" she mused. "Well, they're not shooting at each other all the time in Europe now. They had a second war not more than twenty years after the first which was worse than the one you remember. That one finished, and any fighting now is in smaller areas and doesn't last nearly as long. The world is a much changed place, your majesty, at least in mortal terms. I suspect the two most important changes are that men have walked on the Moon, and the advent of Parahumans.
"Actually making it to the Moon and landing on its surface by purely mortal efforts brought back a sense of wonder to the world, a curiosity about what lies over the next hill, and new stories to be told." Ciara paused to drink the last of her tea. "The advent of Parahumans and Powers, of new, strange courts and faeries, and of new stories, begins with a golden man appearing…"
As Ciara spun her tale, she noticed she had Mab's undivided attention.
Taylor looked around the dreamspace she found herself in. She stood before an impressive archway, the rubble of the destroyed defensive works mostly cleaned up, and the gates currently under two large tents, one to each side. She could hear the work being performed. While curious, she also knew it wasn't a good idea to just walk into anywhere someone was doing metalwork.
She walked up to the gateway itself. Sitting there, off to one side under an awning, sat a winged man, dressed almost entirely in red. He had spiky blond hair, blue eyes that sparked with perceived merriment and wore a pair of orange glasses. Taylor had seen some people walking around with them before. When she'd asked, she'd been told they helped reduce glare and improve contrast a bit.
Why would someone need them in a dreamscape?
The other thing that stood out was the straight, silver trumpet that was resting nearby. Right now, the being? Man? Was more concerned with cleaning the exceedingly large handgun on the table in front of him.
Taylor shook her head. She wished her dreams would make more sense. She cleared her throat quietly, not wanting to disturb whoever it was while they were cleaning a gun.
"Hey," the man said, not looking up from his task. "I'll be with ya in a minute."
Taylor nodded, and watched as he put the weapon back together with practiced ease. Once he was done, he pointed it away from everyone else, spun the cylinder, made sure the mechanism worked, then holstered it.
"Hey, thanks for waitin'," he said. "I'm Varchaniel, acting as Lord Bahamut's assistant today." He stood up, the large, eagle-like wings folding up neatly. "You must be Naurelin? He told me to expect you."
Taylor nodded. "That's kind of unusual. Normally, whoever is teaching meets us."
"Yeah," Varchaniel answered. "The Big B tends to be kind of busy with various things. Still, I was told to let him know when you'd arrived." He turned to face the tents where the metalworkers were hammering away. "Hey, Moradin!"
"What?"
"Your crews better get their ear protection on!"
"Augh, you're gonna play that damned horn of yours?"
"Boss' orders, sorry."
There were a few shouted orders. "Blast away, we're good!" Moradin's voice came back.
Something sailed through the air, and Varchaniel caught it without looking. "For you, young lady," he said with a bow. It was a rather mundane looking pair of safety earmuffs, similar to what the DWU had for visitors. She promptly put them on.
The tall skinny being raised the silver trumpet to his lips, took a deep breath, and played a single note. That note started off quiet, then gained harmonies from somewhere, becoming more awesome and majestic in the few seconds he played. The note stopped, and he began counting down. "4… 3… 2…" and with that, he clapped his hands over his ears.
She grabbed her earmuffs to make sure they stayed put.
What had been sent out as a beautiful glimpse at celestial harmony came back as primal sound. The shockwave blew her hair back. Looking at Varchaniel, she could see that he had a goofy grin on his face. "The echoes around here are awesome," he stated.
Taylor shook her head. At least he enjoyed his job.
It didn't take long for Bahamut to appear. He looked much like Taylor had seen before, the commander of men, the father you wished you'd had, someone who inspired you to greater heights. How he could manage that in a simple, unadorned robe while standing in a ruined gateway…
"Hello, Naurelin," Bahamut said. "Welcome to what's left of my abode in the Outlands." He gestured that she should proceed through the archway. "While I do have a few things I wish to discuss with you today, I invited you here to answer your questions, and to see how you are doing with your abilities."
They talked as they walked up the mountain. While there were a bunch of less important questions, Bahamut knew that she had one really important one she wanted to ask. He wondered if he could answer it without seeming like some kind of manipulative, aloof asshole who was playing games with mortal lives. And then she said it.
"Why all this for me?" Taylor asked. She'd already transformed into her dragon form, still walking beside him on the road.
"Ah, and we come to the heart of the matter," Bahamut said with a sigh. "I know you're not ungrateful about it. You genuinely want to know why we chose you." At Naurelin's nod, he continued. "If I were to say it was the right thing to do?"
"I would counter that you could have healed me and used Restoration to bolster my soul," Naurelin said in the most respectful way she could. "This seems a bit… extreme. And unsubtle."
"You are indeed correct," Bahamut said with a chuckle, which dispelled the tension. "When acting directly, no dragon is subtle. When acting indirectly, however, that is another story. I shall have to introduce you to my brother, Chronepsis, one of the most consistently subtle dragons.
"He watches the lives of every dragon, and records their lives," Bahamut continued. "He knows when a new dragon is about to come into the world, and when one is about to leave."
"Sounds like the three fates of either Norse or Greek mythology," Taylor answered.
"He has often worked with them, as they keep track of similar things. Every dragon has a clock, if you will, one that counts down their lifespan. Fifteen years ago, the 'clock' for Naurelin began to start counting up, adding years to a lifespan that had stopped literally at the last second."
By this time, they'd come to a manor near the flattened top of the mountain. "Welcome to my humble abode," he said with a bow. "I don't have much here, but I do have some of Kurya's cookies, and some rather refreshing water to drink."
He brought her into a library the likes of which she'd never seen before. Bahamut shifted to a smaller version of his normal form, which was necessary to retrieve a rather large book from a high shelf.
"Naurelin," he began, "was unique. Not often were there children between the three factions of our internecine war, but it did happen. She was the only survivor of the single clutch that were reared by Chidanul, a gold dragon, and Teneiss, a red dragon that had had enough of the war and Tiamat." As he spoke, images formed above the book, showing how Chidanul and Teneiss appeared at the time of the original Naurelin's hatching.
"A dragon's childhood is never easy, even under the best circumstances," Bahamut continued. "With her father's breed wary of her mother's heritage, and her mother's breed considering her mixed parentage an abomination… " Bahamut shook his head. "She was very lonely, and larger than others her age. I believe humans call this 'hybrid vigor'."
"So, how did she die?" Taylor asked.
"Of a broken heart," Bahamut answered. "The human whom she thought loved her betrayed her in a manner most foul. In despair, she rent her wings and threw herself off one of the highest cliffs, and fell to her death.
"When Teneiss found out, she gave her hoard to Chidanul to watch, and expressed her grief through the ire and wrath her breed was known for. The kingdom that had sheltered Naurelin's suitor was laid waste, nothing left but dust and ash. Nothing grows there now, and it is said you can hear Teneiss' howls in the wind."
Bahamut took a drink of water before continuing. "Chidanul's response was more subtle. Naurelin's suitor had escaped Teneiss' carnage by no longer being in that place, so he thought about it for a while, and put his plan in motion. He systematically destroyed the suitor's good fortune, good reputation, everything the man had won through his betrayal. In the end, as the broken man lay on his deathbed, Chidanul appeared and told him that the man now knew how his victim felt, and then granted him a quick end to his suffering, to ensure he would never recover.
"Chidanul had his own atonement for his deeds to perform, and settled in the city of Sigil. You have cousins, of a sort, living there to this day." Bahamut nibbled on one of the cookies.
"So, when I was born, Naurelin's clock started rewinding?"
"That would be one term for it, yes. More importantly, that's not what happens when a dragon's soul reincarnates. The two of you were connected, but you were not Naurelin reborn. Then on the night you were locked in the locker, we felt something call to us. Tiamat noticed it first, and had watched as Crystrani rescued you and took you home. I joined her shortly after you'd arrived home.
"It was at that point you were knocking on Death's door, and we decided to act. To keep things balanced, we both acted, and thus, we are acquainted, and you are Naurelin." He finished the exposition with a slight bow and a chuckle.
Taylor nodded. "That's all well and good, Sir," she said. "It still doesn't answer the question of why."
"Sometimes, Naurelin," Bahamut said gently, "there is no single, definite reason. That it was the right thing to do for two people, that you did have a friend, possibly when and where you needed it most. Did we have ulterior motives? Yes, but they're more along the lines of 'There needs to be more dragons.' One might even say that it is the best reason to act, but I might be biased.
"Once we had merged Naurelin's and your souls to strengthen them and allow you both to live again, your 'clock' began to function normally again, counting down your life at a dragon's pace."
"How much time is left on that clock?" Naurelin asked. "Or is that something I'm not allowed to know?"
"There are ways to find out, but it's usually better and easier to not know. And quite honestly, I don't actually know what it settled at, only that it's functioning normally again."
The talk was interrupted by Varchaniel poking his head in. "Excuse me, Naurelin," Bahamut said. "It appears I have business to attend to. Feel free to peruse the library in my absence."
"More tea?" Ciara asked her guest.
"Yes, thank you," the guest answered.
As she poured, Ciara took a glance at her guest. Mab looked just a little taller than she was, and just a bit older. Though with any Fae, exactly determining their age could very well be an exercise in futility. She was dressed in colors benefiting royalty, a rich purple dress with orange and green accents. Yet the woman behaved about as far from the way she expected royalty to act as she could believe, with her merriment and humor.
Oh, and the fact that she also sometimes acted like she was a hummingbird who'd just found a tanker of high fructose corn syrup and energy drink.
"May I ask a question?" Ciara asked.
"Certainly!"
"Cousins?"
"Why yes," Mab responded. "All royalty is related, somehow!" With a gesture and a smile, a whiteboard appeared, along with miniature polar bear and raccoon stuffed animals. "With me, it's quite easy," she gushed, and a picture of her appeared on the whiteboard. "You have my mother, my grandmother, and then her mother." Pictures of each, along with their names appeared, until it reached the last.
"Great-great grandmother doesn't like her picture being taken," Mab admitted, "and no one likes it when she gets angry."
Ciara's mind was working as fast and as hard as it could. The last name on the whiteboard was Danu.
"Now, you, that's more interesting," Mab said, cracking her knuckles. "We've got you," and with that, the Fae queen started working her way back down Ciara's family tree. "… And finally, we get to Morrigan, my mother's sister. So, cousins! Are you OK?" Mab asked. Ciara had stood to get a better view of the whiteboard, and now she'd started to feel faint.
"My apologies, Queen Mab," Ciara said as she sat. "I thank you for the genealogy." Once seated, she took a sip of tea. "I never knew my parents, since I was orphaned."
"Awww," Mab cooed, her eyes turning liquid. "That's soooo sad! And cool! Every good tale should have at least one character with a tragic backstory."
Ciara looked croggled for a moment, thought, 'No shortage of those on Earth Bet,' then began laughing. "You're not what I expected," she admitted to the being sitting across from her.
"No one expects the Faerie Exposition!" Mab said, jumping up and posing. "Our main weapons are tea and surprise! And cookies! Comfy chairs, too." Pretty soon both were giggling as Mab sat back down.
"I suspect I've got to be boring now," Mab said with a frown. "I actually came here for an important reason."
"Whatever questions you have, I'll try to answer." Ciara said, feeling much better. Mab very much embodied the season she claimed to be the queen of. Typically pleasant, but with quick changes. She suspected an angry Mab was like a supercell thunderstorm that spawned tornadoes, leveling everything in its path, but didn't last too long. But a happy Mab was like an early summer day, and a determined Mab would be as intense as a sweltering midday sun. She suspected – but didn't want to find out – that a sad Mab was like a rainy day.
If Mab was going to be rather literal in her interpretation of words, then Ciara didn't want to be flooded out by the rain.
"My husband and I would like to see the dragons in a place called Brockton Bay, if only to pay our respects to them, and enter into a non-interference pact with them if possible." Mab suddenly looked concerned. "We really don't want them upset with us!" she pleaded.
Ciara boggled. She'd been to Brockton Bay a long time ago, so she hadn't seen the dragons herself. "Well," she hedged, "from what I remember, it was a nice enough city. They did have a nice open air market or two, and the Boardwalk offered a nice view of the harbor. The gangs weren't too bad at the time.
"Various faeries have talked to me about the place. Most of the gangs are now gone, with only the normal ruffians, instead of the robber barons," she continued. "Naurelin, Helbrede, and Mizuchi's sponsors are not to be trifled with." Her voice had taken on a serious note. "The one called Tiamat may be not-evil, but that doesn't mean she'll be nice about punishing someone who needs it. The one called Bahamut, given sufficient motivation, will make sure any punishment will fit the misdeed. And Mizuchi's sponsors are very Asian about things, which, fortunately, keeps them from being too visible."
Mab had been listening intently, actually taking notes on a little notepad that she'd pulled out of the neckline of her dress. Along with a quill pen. "Don't piss off the five headed hell beast, got it," she murmured. "Don't upset the good one, either. Anything else?"
"The older dragons are likely to be amused with someone's antics, but the platinum champion has little tolerance for actual frivolity. His herald, however, has a good sense of humor. One thing neither has any sense of humor at all about is threatening their offspring. The best advice I can give you is simply don't."
Mab waved her right hand airily. "Certes, cousin. We have no desire to become char-broiled," she stated with as upper an upper crust accent as she could possibly manage. "Roast faerie smells awful, too." She winked at Ciara, who started to giggle.
Soon, she was joined by Mab.
Other prisoners in Glaistig Uaine's cell block wondered what the hell was going on down in her cell.
- - - - - - - - - -
"So, tell us how the world has changed," Mab asked. "'Tis been a long while since we last walked the world."
"What was going on the last time you were in the mortal realm?" Ciara asked.
"They were making quite the ruckus," the Summer Queen stated. "Digging all those trenches all over the place, burying those explodey things all over the countryside. The complaints I had from the dwarves and gnomes about those! Oh, and the complaints from the merfolk and selkies about all those ships being sunk! Davey wasn't happy about that."
"Davey? As in Davy Jones?" Ciara asked.
"Yep. Nice guy, if you're not littering his oceans with too much stuff," Mab somehow said while drinking another cup of tea. "He really wanted to do something about that, but that Leviathan chap had him running around for a while, and he had to use power he'd accumulated for something else to keep the pesky creature from doing too much damage. The last of it got used when the Leviathan sank Vinland."
Glaistig Uaine shook her head. "Where to start?" she mused. "Well, they're not shooting at each other all the time in Europe now. They had a second war not more than twenty years after the first which was worse than the one you remember. That one finished, and any fighting now is in smaller areas and doesn't last nearly as long. The world is a much changed place, your majesty, at least in mortal terms. I suspect the two most important changes are that men have walked on the Moon, and the advent of Parahumans.
"Actually making it to the Moon and landing on its surface by purely mortal efforts brought back a sense of wonder to the world, a curiosity about what lies over the next hill, and new stories to be told." Ciara paused to drink the last of her tea. "The advent of Parahumans and Powers, of new, strange courts and faeries, and of new stories, begins with a golden man appearing…"
As Ciara spun her tale, she noticed she had Mab's undivided attention.
= = = = = = = = = =
Taylor looked around the dreamspace she found herself in. She stood before an impressive archway, the rubble of the destroyed defensive works mostly cleaned up, and the gates currently under two large tents, one to each side. She could hear the work being performed. While curious, she also knew it wasn't a good idea to just walk into anywhere someone was doing metalwork.
She walked up to the gateway itself. Sitting there, off to one side under an awning, sat a winged man, dressed almost entirely in red. He had spiky blond hair, blue eyes that sparked with perceived merriment and wore a pair of orange glasses. Taylor had seen some people walking around with them before. When she'd asked, she'd been told they helped reduce glare and improve contrast a bit.
Why would someone need them in a dreamscape?
The other thing that stood out was the straight, silver trumpet that was resting nearby. Right now, the being? Man? Was more concerned with cleaning the exceedingly large handgun on the table in front of him.
Taylor shook her head. She wished her dreams would make more sense. She cleared her throat quietly, not wanting to disturb whoever it was while they were cleaning a gun.
"Hey," the man said, not looking up from his task. "I'll be with ya in a minute."
Taylor nodded, and watched as he put the weapon back together with practiced ease. Once he was done, he pointed it away from everyone else, spun the cylinder, made sure the mechanism worked, then holstered it.
"Hey, thanks for waitin'," he said. "I'm Varchaniel, acting as Lord Bahamut's assistant today." He stood up, the large, eagle-like wings folding up neatly. "You must be Naurelin? He told me to expect you."
Taylor nodded. "That's kind of unusual. Normally, whoever is teaching meets us."
"Yeah," Varchaniel answered. "The Big B tends to be kind of busy with various things. Still, I was told to let him know when you'd arrived." He turned to face the tents where the metalworkers were hammering away. "Hey, Moradin!"
"What?"
"Your crews better get their ear protection on!"
"Augh, you're gonna play that damned horn of yours?"
"Boss' orders, sorry."
There were a few shouted orders. "Blast away, we're good!" Moradin's voice came back.
Something sailed through the air, and Varchaniel caught it without looking. "For you, young lady," he said with a bow. It was a rather mundane looking pair of safety earmuffs, similar to what the DWU had for visitors. She promptly put them on.
The tall skinny being raised the silver trumpet to his lips, took a deep breath, and played a single note. That note started off quiet, then gained harmonies from somewhere, becoming more awesome and majestic in the few seconds he played. The note stopped, and he began counting down. "4… 3… 2…" and with that, he clapped his hands over his ears.
She grabbed her earmuffs to make sure they stayed put.
What had been sent out as a beautiful glimpse at celestial harmony came back as primal sound. The shockwave blew her hair back. Looking at Varchaniel, she could see that he had a goofy grin on his face. "The echoes around here are awesome," he stated.
Taylor shook her head. At least he enjoyed his job.
It didn't take long for Bahamut to appear. He looked much like Taylor had seen before, the commander of men, the father you wished you'd had, someone who inspired you to greater heights. How he could manage that in a simple, unadorned robe while standing in a ruined gateway…
"Hello, Naurelin," Bahamut said. "Welcome to what's left of my abode in the Outlands." He gestured that she should proceed through the archway. "While I do have a few things I wish to discuss with you today, I invited you here to answer your questions, and to see how you are doing with your abilities."
They talked as they walked up the mountain. While there were a bunch of less important questions, Bahamut knew that she had one really important one she wanted to ask. He wondered if he could answer it without seeming like some kind of manipulative, aloof asshole who was playing games with mortal lives. And then she said it.
"Why all this for me?" Taylor asked. She'd already transformed into her dragon form, still walking beside him on the road.
"Ah, and we come to the heart of the matter," Bahamut said with a sigh. "I know you're not ungrateful about it. You genuinely want to know why we chose you." At Naurelin's nod, he continued. "If I were to say it was the right thing to do?"
"I would counter that you could have healed me and used Restoration to bolster my soul," Naurelin said in the most respectful way she could. "This seems a bit… extreme. And unsubtle."
"You are indeed correct," Bahamut said with a chuckle, which dispelled the tension. "When acting directly, no dragon is subtle. When acting indirectly, however, that is another story. I shall have to introduce you to my brother, Chronepsis, one of the most consistently subtle dragons.
"He watches the lives of every dragon, and records their lives," Bahamut continued. "He knows when a new dragon is about to come into the world, and when one is about to leave."
"Sounds like the three fates of either Norse or Greek mythology," Taylor answered.
"He has often worked with them, as they keep track of similar things. Every dragon has a clock, if you will, one that counts down their lifespan. Fifteen years ago, the 'clock' for Naurelin began to start counting up, adding years to a lifespan that had stopped literally at the last second."
By this time, they'd come to a manor near the flattened top of the mountain. "Welcome to my humble abode," he said with a bow. "I don't have much here, but I do have some of Kurya's cookies, and some rather refreshing water to drink."
He brought her into a library the likes of which she'd never seen before. Bahamut shifted to a smaller version of his normal form, which was necessary to retrieve a rather large book from a high shelf.
"Naurelin," he began, "was unique. Not often were there children between the three factions of our internecine war, but it did happen. She was the only survivor of the single clutch that were reared by Chidanul, a gold dragon, and Teneiss, a red dragon that had had enough of the war and Tiamat." As he spoke, images formed above the book, showing how Chidanul and Teneiss appeared at the time of the original Naurelin's hatching.
"A dragon's childhood is never easy, even under the best circumstances," Bahamut continued. "With her father's breed wary of her mother's heritage, and her mother's breed considering her mixed parentage an abomination… " Bahamut shook his head. "She was very lonely, and larger than others her age. I believe humans call this 'hybrid vigor'."
"So, how did she die?" Taylor asked.
"Of a broken heart," Bahamut answered. "The human whom she thought loved her betrayed her in a manner most foul. In despair, she rent her wings and threw herself off one of the highest cliffs, and fell to her death.
"When Teneiss found out, she gave her hoard to Chidanul to watch, and expressed her grief through the ire and wrath her breed was known for. The kingdom that had sheltered Naurelin's suitor was laid waste, nothing left but dust and ash. Nothing grows there now, and it is said you can hear Teneiss' howls in the wind."
Bahamut took a drink of water before continuing. "Chidanul's response was more subtle. Naurelin's suitor had escaped Teneiss' carnage by no longer being in that place, so he thought about it for a while, and put his plan in motion. He systematically destroyed the suitor's good fortune, good reputation, everything the man had won through his betrayal. In the end, as the broken man lay on his deathbed, Chidanul appeared and told him that the man now knew how his victim felt, and then granted him a quick end to his suffering, to ensure he would never recover.
"Chidanul had his own atonement for his deeds to perform, and settled in the city of Sigil. You have cousins, of a sort, living there to this day." Bahamut nibbled on one of the cookies.
"So, when I was born, Naurelin's clock started rewinding?"
"That would be one term for it, yes. More importantly, that's not what happens when a dragon's soul reincarnates. The two of you were connected, but you were not Naurelin reborn. Then on the night you were locked in the locker, we felt something call to us. Tiamat noticed it first, and had watched as Crystrani rescued you and took you home. I joined her shortly after you'd arrived home.
"It was at that point you were knocking on Death's door, and we decided to act. To keep things balanced, we both acted, and thus, we are acquainted, and you are Naurelin." He finished the exposition with a slight bow and a chuckle.
Taylor nodded. "That's all well and good, Sir," she said. "It still doesn't answer the question of why."
"Sometimes, Naurelin," Bahamut said gently, "there is no single, definite reason. That it was the right thing to do for two people, that you did have a friend, possibly when and where you needed it most. Did we have ulterior motives? Yes, but they're more along the lines of 'There needs to be more dragons.' One might even say that it is the best reason to act, but I might be biased.
"Once we had merged Naurelin's and your souls to strengthen them and allow you both to live again, your 'clock' began to function normally again, counting down your life at a dragon's pace."
"How much time is left on that clock?" Naurelin asked. "Or is that something I'm not allowed to know?"
"There are ways to find out, but it's usually better and easier to not know. And quite honestly, I don't actually know what it settled at, only that it's functioning normally again."
The talk was interrupted by Varchaniel poking his head in. "Excuse me, Naurelin," Bahamut said. "It appears I have business to attend to. Feel free to peruse the library in my absence."
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Hello!
I, the author, have a case of the YuCkS! right now, probably food based. Still , the story must get posted and all that.
Also, tonight's posting is brought to you by the letter "H", for Hamlet.
Edits by McClaw.
I'll be back later to read the comments.
BTW, since no one asked... Reactive's "Powered Armor"... was a 55 ton battlemech called a Bushwhacker. The PRT is trying to figure out where he got the Zuni rockets and 105mm cannon and rounds...
I, the author, have a case of the YuCkS! right now, probably food based. Still , the story must get posted and all that.
Also, tonight's posting is brought to you by the letter "H", for Hamlet.
Edits by McClaw.
I'll be back later to read the comments.
BTW, since no one asked... Reactive's "Powered Armor"... was a 55 ton battlemech called a Bushwhacker. The PRT is trying to figure out where he got the Zuni rockets and 105mm cannon and rounds...
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I hope you're feeling better soon, Kryslin.
- Location
- Russia
Ha! I knew it, that Ciara is actually of Fae blood, even if distantly.
*whack* Bad author! *whack* We need a newspaper emoji for things like this.
YuffieK
(Verified Ninja Princess)
Uber and Leet are also interested. Because he a) stole their schtick, and b) got it working more accurately to the game than Leet could have done.
Tale some Antihistamine, any brand or generic works. Food poisoning, diarrhea, stomach cramps, gas and bloating; anything gut related technically counts to your body as an allergic response, so anti-allergy stuff suppresses the symptoms.
The catch is that antihistamines leave your digestive system quickly in their journey to the rest of your body, so it is necessary to take them periodically for the benefits to continue.
Source: a several appointments talking with my doctor about my family's history of irritable bowel syndrome. Turns out the insurance companies require them to sell the drugs first before antihistamines officially recommended, because money, explicitly.
Jadesteele
Out of my Mind - Back in 5 Minutes
- Location
- half-way between 'Crazy' And 'Eccentric'
OK, The idea of 'The Queen of Air and Darkness' herself making a Monty Python Joke is at the same time both boggling and hilarious.
Or, to quote myself over on HP and the SHipgirls, a Squirt Bottle Emote....
Insert 'why not both' meme here.
MaimakteriAnn
(Verified Sleepy)
- Location
- Enormous And Round Terran Homeworld
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Dr
/me laughs in Vietnam war? Also, like, a lot of wars between ww2 and the divergence of Earth Bet.
Blackkyuubi6
Excalibur was first.
Varchaniel . . . . and that description . . . . oh lord what have you done. What did Taylor/Naurelin do to deserve him anywhere close?
EXPN? Google is not helpful, in that it only turns up the original post.
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Ok, the basic description is : Tall, skinny guy, spikey blond hair, blue eyes, orange shooter's glasses. Wears a red duster. Also carries a rather large reverse barrel revolver.
IOW,,,
IOW,,,
Vash the Stampede. Yes, this is a cameo from the Original TRIGUN. Here, he's a trumpet archon.
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
... Well, that makes about as much sense as anything else involving That Man..
- Location
- Here
Could be worse; he could have gone for a 70 ton HotHammer* instead. Or an all-energy weapon mech like a Black Knight or Charger. Though, why anyone would ever WANT a Charger is beyond me...
* A Warhammer variant where the machine guns are replaced with flamethrowers; reduced risk of ammo explosions, plus as good anti infantry functionality in a slightly lighter package...
And yes, while any Battlemech would be overkill against civilian targets, the Warhammer and it's variants are a special type of overkill. You'd need an Atlas to to really hammer in how much they screwed up to surpass a Warhammer...
My brain has apparently decided that this Mab is a cameo from the Mab in the DMFA webcomic so this is… nearly perfectly in character.
- Location
- Best England - United Kingdom
This ones petty easy all's he needs is access to somewhere that does either work with Sounding Rockets, Rocket Sleds or 5in/127mm pipes and appropriate sized and powerful rocket motors and access to or the ability to make explosives.
Oh no. The Warhammer isn't overkill in situations involving civilians. That dubious honor goes to a number of Light Mechs characterized by being designed exclusively for an Anti-Infantry role, primarily represented by the Firestarter and, ugh, the Piranha.
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
Any battlemech would be overkill against civilians (or infantry) due to just how quickly an entire platoon gets wiped out by even the weakest mech grade weapon systems. That said, putting a machine gun on a mech is always a bad idea if it doesn't also have a CASE system. Good way to end up reducing your entire mech into scrap metal.
Well, yes, but some mechs are even more overkill than others, mainly anything mounting multiple Flamers, MGs, and/or Small Pulse Lasers.