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 No.753511[View All]


Seven months ago, five drifters arrived in the far flung pocket of reality known to the outside world as the Echoes. With nothing save for their names and the clothes on their backs, they carved out a living for themselves, beginning a journey across the foreign land, gaining new allies and new enemies alike. The winds swept them across the wilds, bringing them to a forsaken desert known as the Shifting Sands, where they met someone they did not expect: a being long thought myth, known to many as Discord. Wisely opting not to free him, or retrieve the artifact he coveted, they moved on.

In Braildorn, one of the great cities built in this world, they crossed their most mortal foe of all: Lysander, a dragon of great renown and a collector of rare and magical items. They bested him, claiming his ship as their own, and were marked as his enemies forevermore. This caught the attention of an unusual couple: Dawn Chorus, a great magician, and her knight Carabas. Mortal foes of Lysander, they joined forces with the drifters, explaining the object of his desire: the Cuckoo's Egg, a harbinger of dimensional annihilation, and the very same artifact they had discovered in the Sands. Lysander wished to claim it in the name of an entity that haunts the Echoes, known only as the Oneiromancer. With the help of Cecile Grosvenor, Lady of Braildorn, these three would stop at nothing to claim the Egg for themselves.

Fate carried them across the plains, back to the fiery Shifting Sands. There, Discord was freed, and Lysander was on his way to retrieve the Egg for himself. Not only that, but he had betrayed the Oneiromancer; he rejected the entity from Outside, wanting the Egg for himself and claiming some of the Oneiromancer's powers. A great battle ensued, and Carabas was lost amidst the sands, but the Egg was wrenched from Lysander's claws, safe with the drifters, for now.

While traveling with the Egg, the party was subject to several fortunate and misfortunate adventures including the return of the Oneiromancer to the corporeal plane. The question remained of what to do with the Egg from here; after much deliberation, a plan was hatched. They would set sail for the Isle of Glass, a forsaken, beast-infested rock far removed from the rest of the Echoes. Here, they would challenge Lysander to a decisive combat, and determine the fate of the Echoes once and for all. On the eve of their final voyage, two of their number abandoned them to pursue their own goals: the warrior Hermodur, their ally from the start, and the great warlock Black Pudding. The latter departed with a nebulous promise of his return ere the end of their ordeal.

Now, the drifters prepare for what the dawn will bring. Lysander's ship lies ahead. Below, a great volcano. Above, the stars align for a celestial event. Behind, a great storm brews, and the skies blacken over the mainland.

The stage is set for war, and to the drifters, fate's finger beckons.
1017 posts and 12 image replies omitted. Click reply to view.


Liliane groans and gets up. "I'm awake, I'm awake. What's… oh."

The 'oh' is directed at a large spidering crack in the ceiling, through which you can see a pale green light beginning to shine through. This distracts you for long enough to get hit from behind by the leader's lightning bolt, knocking you flat on your face. You recover just in time to see him leap through the archway. There's a flash of white light, and a sound like beating wings, then… nothing on the other side.

The last prisoner manages to fend off the sentries, picks up the injured one in a fireman lift and races past you to the doorway where you entered. As you move to join him, there's another quake, and chunks of loose debris almost crush you, blocking the way out. Fernald reappears next to you, looking up at the strange green light seeping through.

"It's finally her time…"

You're not quite sure what he's talking about, but there's not much time to ponder it. Liliane quickly springs to action trying to dig through the rubble to the exit, but it doesn't seem to be doing much. The building will collapse on you before you can get out that way.



The dragon struggles to stand, her legs trembling beneath her. "Have I… No.." She stops, knowing herself to still be alive. She rises, trying to take account of what's going on.

"Her time?" She says, holding her head. "Not a time for prophecy."


He smirks. "Don't worry. You'll catch up if you survive. Or not."

Rubble falls around you, coating everything in a dusty haze. Liliane soon gives up on going that way, following a crumbling sound from the other side. "No… it can't be over…" She starts looking around frantically for any way to escape, even going so far as to try and climb the walls. To little avail. Fernald doesn't seem all that fussed, given the circumstances. "You just gonna keep standing around?" he asks casually, making his way through the crumbling room towards the mysterious archway.


Sensing the futility of Lilianes efforts Tlawīli walks over to her to gently place her claw on her shoulder. "We will endure. We survived this, we can survive whatever lies beyond." She says, sheathing her blade on her back and stepping towards the archway as she speaks to Fernald.

"Do not make me regret trusting you." She says, her eyes thinning at him.

She steps through the archway, ushering Liliane to follow her.


"Fair, I mean I wouldn't trust me either. What, you think I know what I'm doing? I have no idea what that thing is. But the other guy went through, and it's better than standing around waiting to get crushed by rubble. Right?"

Liliane pulls herself together, taking a deep breath and following you onward. Fernald looks at the strange archway, shrugs and takes a few steps back. "Geronimo!" He runs and dives through it. His body is consumed by silver sparks, and he vanishes.

Before going through yourself, you stop and take one last look around. You see an alternative out: the roof itself, where that green light is shining through. You could fly up there, but it'd be difficult to do so while carrying Liliane, even with your strength. You could attempt this, or follow Fernald's hunch. Either way, it's a plunge into the unknown.


The dragons fists tense as she considers her options. Fly away into the roof? Or step into this ominous arch? Either options feels merely like stepping into a great and infinite unknown. She looks over Liliane, and reflects on their quest thus far.

"Liliane." She says, her claw glowing with a purple glow. "Come, we endure together." The dragoness says as she protects Liliane from whatever may lie ahead.

She closes her eyes, and steps into the light of the gateway.

Inure [1d10] (Liliane) (Dark)

Overhealing [1d10] (Liliane)

Roll #1 4 = 4 / Roll #2 3 = 3


She doesn't seem to respond to her name for a moment, then comes around. She nods. You cast a protective spell on her, and as one, you step through the archway.

There's a flash of silver light, and you are plunged into darkness. Liliane vanishes from your side, and your guts leap into your throat as you feel yourself hurtling through shadow, your head spinning out of control. Lights and shapes whizz by you in the dark, faces you don't recognize, voices you've never heard. You hear the beating of a great heart, and see green rings in the sky, coalescing into a strangely familiar shape.

Then, it all comes to a halt. You see that figure from your dreams once again. A black stag, an orb of dripping shadow floating between his antlers, his body formless and nebulous. His face is draped in black, and in lieu of eyes, two pairs of teeth bare at you. You can't move, or speak, and feel yourself being moved inexorably closer to it.

The figure raises a foreleg, extending it impossibly far, pointing at you, right between your eyes. The figure sprouts black feathered wings, and the mouths in its eyes whisper to you.

The door is open.


You taste dirt. Your head pounds and your body aches as you come to. Your vision is blurred. You slowly start to realize you're flat on the ground. You're not in that dark tower anymore. You're somewhere else entirely. It's hard to get a bearing on your surroundings just yet, but you think you can hear someone else nearby.


Tlawīli lies on the ground, panting in exasperation from the agonal experience still flowing through her mind. Her claws dig into the dirt beneath her as she tries to raise to her feet. Her legs tremble behind her causing her to settle for merely kneeling where she was. She closed her eyes tight, trying to shake off the haunting imagery still looming inside her.

After what felt like eternities she slowly opened her eyes, surveying her new surroundings.

Perception [1d10]

Roll #1 10 = 10


Slowly, you shake off the grime, and come to. Your head still feels like it's going to explode, but you power through it, as best you can. Eventually, you get up, and start looking around.

The world has changed.

You are in a flat, rocky landscape, blanketed in a neverending colorless fog. The earth is dry and cracked, and in the distance, you can see rocky mountains. The sky is grey, and there is no sun. Hanging in the sky above you are three sets of three emerald circles, interlinked. You've seen it before; in flashes of dream, when you were first captured.

Looking back, you can see the remains of what you assume must have been the portal; it's just a pile of rocks now. They're covered in dust already. It's like it's been in ruins for a long time. In your immediate vicinity, you see Liliane lying nearby, slowly coming to with a soft groan. Fernald's already up and about, looking up at the floating runes in wonder. There's no sign of the saurian cultist; he must have left before you came through.


She looks around in disbelief.

"Incredible. This strange world still continues to change and amaze me. It seems even oblivion can get worse." She says, annoyed and upset. She eyes over Fernald, glad to see he shares in her fate. "Is this… to be expected? A prophecy of sunless skies and strange talismans on the horizon?" She asks as she helps Liliane up, closely inspecting her for wounds.


Liliane starts getting up on her own. She seems to have had an easier time than you. "I'm… I'm awake," she mumbles. It takes her a moment to notice her surroundings, looking up in awe. "Where… where ARE we?"

"Well if I'm right, it's not a question of where, but when," says Fernald. "I thought something like this might come about. Much more impressive in person."

"What…? Who are you, really? Did you know this would happen?" Liliane starts pressuring him for answers first, as lost as you are.

"More or less," he replies, turning around to face you. "Unfortunately, this means we're parting ways from here. I've got my own business to attend to, figuring out this whole mess. You," he says, pointing at you, "would do best to watch your back, you hear. Been watching over you since they first grabbed you."


The dragoness is confused at first, but compared to all the chaos she's faced thus far a mysterious guardian angel isn't too far out of the question. She nods at Fernald and gives a genuine thanks to him. "tlasokamati. Thank you. Perhaps our paths will cross again when this world is making more sense." She says solemnly.

She thinks to herself for a few moments. "Fernald." She begins, curious. "If we had not stepped through that gate and somehow escaped where- or when- would we be right now? In what significance lies that cursed arch?"


"Probably dead, like the rest of 'em. I don't know much, truth be told. Grosvenor always said something like this would come soon. Guess it's time to find out what she meant by it." You've heard that name before, but you can't remember where. "As for the arch, I'm assuming it's how they were able to get around the Echoes so quickly. It was a portal. No going back now though."

"What do you mean you were watching over us?" Liliane asks. "Or, her at least."

"Mental barriers," he answers. "Those freaks have some special interest in your friend here. Seen any shadow men lately?"

He seems to know the answer already from the look on your face. "Some of 'em were just taken away and gods know what they did to 'em. But as for us, we were being probed. The Daydreamers serve that thing. Or it puppets them. Not sure which. Anyway. I've picked up a few magic spells of my own here and there. Grosvenor trusts me enough with that. I was able to keep us blocked from their probing. They couldn't risk brute forcing our minds either, for fear of damage. You're welcome."

"They probably would've broken through eventually, but we got lucky that all this happened. Not exactly in their plans." He looks around, noticing the saurian's absence. "Hm. Shame. Kuwabara's gone. Could've wrung something more out of him."


The dragoness takes a while to process this information. Her mind is wracked with concerns: "Why would they take me? Why do they seem to know my fears? Was this part of their plan? Will they still come after me?" No prayer could answer her questions. She exhales and speaks simply. "We will survive. This time, whatever time is to come." She says, beginning to accept her achronistic existence.

"Yes, we were lucky. But even more so in this blessing of purpose." She says, reaching her hand behind her back and grasping the handle of her blade without unsheathing it. "I will enact appropriate vengeance to this… cult." She says, her resolve renewed.


"That's a slippery slope, luv. Revenge is all well and good, but don't let it swallow you. Or you won't like what comes after the deed is done."

"Anyway. I should be going. Long road ahead and all." He looks over to you and starts rummaging in his pockets. "Next time you're in a civilized place, if there are any left, find someone who knows the name of Catspaw, and give them this."

Fernald pulls out a piece of lint. He frowns. "That's not it." He rummages again and pulls out a coin. Both sides have an image of a cat. He tosses it for you to catch with a wink. "There. Don't lose it. Don't forget: Catspaw. The rest'll fall into place."


Scowling at Fernald's dismissiveness of her conviction the dragon goes to open her maw in a retort but is stopped by the coin landing in her claws. She looks it over for a while, strangely enamored with the notion of a coin used as such a powerful message. It reminds her of something, but she can't quite place it.

"Catspaw. I understand." She concedes. "The rest will fall into place…" She repeats to herself quietly. She tucks the coin away into a pocket of her armor. "Until our paths cross again?" She asks Fernald.


"Till then," he nods. Liliane, who's been listening with confusion this whole time, can't think of anything to say, except ask the question she didn't get an answer to before.

"Who are you? Really?"

"Me, I'm an agent of a greater cause. But if you're asking about me as in this face, well…"

He sees an opportunity to leave an impression. He tilts his head, beginning to glow with a pale green light. With a flash, and a magical sizzle, there is someone else entirely standing before you: a black, chitinous equine with sharp fangs and bulbous compound eyes. He's a changeling.

"Fernald's dead. For now. Cheerio."

He nods, touching his forehead in a sign of farewell, pulling his cloak around him, and vanishing without a trace. On closer inspection, you can see him leaving hoofprints, slightly dampening his dramatic exit.

"…Well that was… something," Liliane remarks, not quite sure what to make of the strange traveler. She's left looking around at the barren landscape. "…What now?…"


She isn't very surprised at "Fernald"'s transformation as he walks away. "I am not shocked. He acted like he had something to hide." She says, turning to Liliane and outstretching a claw.

"We endure. This world challenges me just like the previous, and I emerge not always victorious, but alive. I hope you will do the same." She says, confident in her own will.

"We must seek others, see if ones know of these strange changes. Is there any way to tell where we are or could go?"


She hesitates before extending an ironclad hand, meeting your handshake. "We've made a good team up till now, haven't we. And… well, I'm at a loss for what to do. I've never seen anything like this. We should stick together."

"There's, uh… something you should know. If we're going to be traveling together for good, that is. Since B… Uncle Rourke isn't here anymore. …I shouldn't be telling you, but… well, I don't have anyone else to trust. …My name isn't Liliane. It's Nicola. And I'm… well, please don't freak out?…"

Hesitantly, she reaches for her iron helmet, then removes it. There's nothing but an empty suit of armor underneath. She quickly puts it back on, and shrinks away, as if ashamed. "M-maybe we shouldn't stay together, actually," she stammers, taking a few steps away as if to leave. "I shouldn't… Never mind."


"Oh." She says, lost for words at the strange reveal. Looking over the living armor she silently contemplates the strange behaviors she had seen before and how they made a lot more sense now. She carefully considered her next words, trying not to offend her.

"Nicola. I am sorry about your unc-" She stops herself. "I sympathize with losing ones close to oneself. In these times, being alone is not what you should do. We have better chances of survival together." She says, trying her best to keep Nicola calm.

"I will not let this world take another of my friends."


Seeing your calm reaction, she turns back, a bit more open now. "He was a friend of my father's. There are… people that were after him. And me. We had to take precautions, you see. We, er, planned to interrogate you to make sure you weren't one of them." She sounds a bit embarrassed at that. "But we- I- trust you. After what we've been through, I don't know who else I can. So if you don't mind having me, I'll be happy to come along! I don't get tired, anyway. Or hungry. So we'll be able to help each other out."

She looks away as you call her a friend, not quite sure how to react to that. You get the feeling she's not used to having someone else around like this.

She surveys the landscape again, folding her arms. "So, er, should we get going? It might get dark soon. …Though, I'm not sure if there's even a night or day anymore. What could have happened?…" She looks up at the strange runes that have replaced the sun in bewilderment, trying to think of what to do from here.


The dragoness smiles at the living armor. She looks around.

"There must be a reason the gate sent us here."

She surveys the landscape carefully, searching for any noticeable landmarks that could point her in direction, be them terrain features or celestial bodies.

Navigation [1d10]

Roll #1 6 = 6


You fly up to get an idea of your surroundings. Looks like there's a few ways you could go from here:

Straight ahead, the rocky mountains are impassable, but there's a slight dip that makes for a small passage through them. It looks like a promising place to shelter for the night.

To the east, you can see that the barren wastes give way to a patch of mostly dead forest. What lies beyond, you can't see.

To the south, you can see you're not far from the ocean. The land becomes grassy, giving way to a steep cliff drop, which overlooks the sea. There seem to be the remains of a settlement nestled there.

To the west is a stretch of swampland, and then more mountains. It looks traversable, but hostile.


Figuring the escape and trip to this strange place has taken a tax on both herself and her companion, the dragon opts for the mountain range to camp out for the night.

"We should rest. Times of great change tend to precipitate times of great change." She thinks to herself "Perhaps that saying was more fitting in Trakalian. No matter. Do you agree in resting?" She asks Nicola, treating her as an equal in their adventures.


She's not quite sure what you're trying to say, but doesn't question it. She weighs the options you list. "I think it might be good to head towards the settlement after resting," she points out. "If there's still people there, maybe someone knows what's going on! We should see about camping, though, you're right. We don't have much, but I can try and get a fire going, depending on what we find."


"The world is in a great state of change. I do not doubt that things may continue to be… altered as time goes on. We will see." She says, starting off towards the mountains.

The dragoness laughs at the comment for what feels like the first time in forever. "I will handle fire." She says, tufting off a small flame from her maw as she speaks.


"Oh, right. You are the fire. …" There's a bit of an awkward silence, like she can't think of what else to say.

You travel. The three great runes that have replaced the sun linger ominously in the ash-grey sky, drenching everything in pale light. There's little sound, save for your trudging footsteps, and the warm and gentle breeze that blows up dust around you. Few words are exchanged as you focus on your goal. Several hours tick by as you approach the foot of the mountains, and the pass snaking through them. They loom over you ominously, like ancient guardians silently watching over you, judging your every move.

Before long, you're out of the barren plains and in rocky terrain. The path carving through the mountains lies ahead, and with it comes the night. It seems there's still day and night; by the time you get here, it's starting to get dark. In the distance, you hear the rumble of thunder, and black clouds on the horizon. "At least there's still rain," Nicola comments. "W-we probably shouldn't waste time. Who knows what might happen after dark." She starts looking around, trying to find a suitable place to camp for the night.


Tlawīli turns her head to the gray clouds above, carefully studying them as she thinks. Her thoughts are conflicted. The world has changed. Part of her is hurt to see yet another reality torn away from her. The deep distant rumble of gray thunder sends her thoughts into memories. She had always enjoyed the rain. But this… didn't feel the same. Perhaps it never would.

Bringing her face back down, she turns to go find some sort of shelter from the weather while also looking for some sort of material to burn for the fire.

Perception [1d10]

Roll #1 2 = 2


You look around for shelter and tinder, squinting in the encroaching dark. Your search is fruitless, until you spot the silhouette of a single lonely sapling sprouting from a ledge up above. It should serve as good kindling.

All of a sudden, something slams you from the side, hurling you face first into the dirt. It's Nicola. Before you can ask, you see what prompted her to shove you all of a sudden. A boulder from above has loosened, tumbling down the mountainside and coming to a stop where you just were, lifting a cloud of dust. Another second and you would have been crushed.

"Sorry. Didn't have much time… Are you alright?" She offers to help you up, a bit shaken from the close call.


She looks at the boulder bewildered. She then looks at Nicola beside her. "I am… fine. That was shocking; how fast you are capable of reacting" She says, accepting the help and standing up with her.

"I have questions I fear may be… incorrect to ask." The dragon says, trying her best to be sensitive about things.


She tilts her head- or helmet- inquisitively. "There's no point in hiding what I am," she shrugs. "I have to admit, I'm rather curious about you as well. We've been travelling together a while, but we don't really know each other well, do we." She chuckles awkwardly. "How about you ask me a question, and I get to ask you one? … People do that, right?"


The dragoness giggles. "Is that your question?" She sits against a nearby rock face, bending one knee up and outstretching the other.

"I understand it is not. These are jokes." Her tone becomes more serious. "How did you… or were you always… Ah." She can't quite find the words. "What are you, exactly?" She doesn't seem content with that wording either.


The attempt at humor seems to have gone over her head. As you lean against the rock face, she attempts to mimic your actions rather clumsily, taking a moment to talk before you resume the search for shelter.

"That's… Hm. To be honest, I'm not quite sure. I… have a father. Or someone that says he is. Though I don't know think I was ever born. I was never told much about myself. The first thing I remember is waking up in this body. And that must have been… three months ago? Four? Or maybe it was more… I'm still new to it all, you see. But I don't think I was anything before this. This metal shell is all I have. I'm sorry I can't really answer much more. I don't really know what I am. Only that, well, I am." She giggles.

"But, um… I suppose I could ask you the same question. I've never seen anyone like you before. What kind of being has scales and wings? Are they common on the outside? I've never been there, you see. …Though that's a bit obvious."


"Ah. I am not unfamiliar with such a concept. Beings of strange nonexistence are something I have encountered. There is no rush to know what you are." She says, smiling at the armor.

"Ah. Dragons. Or ketsalkuetspallin to be more specific." She perfectly tumbles over the syllables, not tripped up at all by the daunting term. "In my time, we were fairly common. Our presences stretched to all major kingdoms. Primarily Trakali of the Tratakt and the Tehtle of Tletepetl. My kind, Trakali, bear both scales and wings." She says, outstretching one of her white-gold wings. "Tehtle bore no wings, long since burned away from the fires of mount Tletepetl. They chose instead to run the dusts of the volcano at speeds beyond even those I can fly. I have not seen a Tehtle since arriving here. There are other species, yes, but we are all mostly the same. Dragons. Scalekin." She says with a strange sense of comradarie.

"I have been told that…" She's choked up. "Neither kingdom survived long past my time. I am likely one of the only dragons in this… strange world." She pulls herself together. "Trakali knew of this dimension, capable of sending ones to it. To my knowledge, no other dragon kingdom knew of this."

She's quiet for a bit, but then perks up a bit. "I could share stories on our way to town, if you would like?" She says with excitement, not having someone to listen to her histories in a long time.


"I'd like to find out. Someday. My father, Clifford never let me ask too many questions. I don't really think he was my father at all. Though, he created me. I think. So maybe it is apt. Do you have parents if you weren't born?" She seems to be losing her train of thought, making a conscious effort to stop rambling and listen to you instead.

"Kets… ketsalcoat…" She tries to pronounce it, but fails miserably.

"Oh, a dragon! That makes sense. But I thought dragons were bigger? At least…" She stretches her arms out as far as she can. "…Three times bigger than this. And that they walked on four legs. I guess the stories were wrong?"

She grows more somber as you reflect on your plight. "It must be awful," she muses. "Being trapped down here, I mean. But don't lose hope! There has to be a way out of this place. You might yet be able to go back to where you came from." The implication of returning to your home knowing it's doomed to die goes way over her head.

"Oh, that'd be lovely!" she answers cheerily. "We, er, should find a place to camp first though." She keeps looking around for a place to hole up for the night. "What's it like out there, anyway? On the outside, I mean. I've heard it's a paradise compared to down here."


"Ah. You refer to amo-nikan or the Old Ones. Dragons consumed by greed and grown to their terrible true sizes. We are ancestors of such, yes. And our gods ar- were such." She quickly tries to hurry along, trying to rush over that slip. "In my time, we are so separated from such that we no longer are the same as those dragons. Though different kingdoms adopted different aspects of amo-nikan. Tehtle ran on all four limbs, for instance. The Atōyatl of the northern rivers could breathe certain elements naturally. Trakali…. I do not know what we inherited from our ancestors. Their greed? Diplomacy? Hubris?" She says, ashamed of her people.

"I… do not know if I would return. All this time I did not expect to have. Before I was sent here I merely expected oblivion. Nothingness. Death. This is all… borrowed time to me. I would not return happily. I would enact vengeance upon my brothers and sisters who sent me here and-" Her building rage stops suddenly. "When would I return? This place is outside of time. If I could return at any time it could be more than just when I was banished… I could return to my tlasohtlalistli…" She says, not explaining that word.

The dragoness breathes deep, calming herself down. "Those questions will be answered when they are answered. For now, I focus on what is before me."

"Paradise? Yes, Trakali was nice but I know not of the rest of the world. My time was torn by an evil warlord. Although I have heard of kingdoms of gold and silver such as Mersmeria and daring and colorful places like Keslik. I have grown to appreciate this place. The people are more willing to help one another. We struggle together." She says with a smile.

She looks around for a better spot to bare the weather before morning.

Navigation [1d10]

Roll #1 7 = 7


She side eyes you as you start getting worked up. "Maybe it's better to let go of the past," she muses. "This place isn't perfect. Far from it. But it's not all bad. Even if it gets… weird." She looks up at the symbols in the sky. "Maybe, if enough people were to come together, and help each other, this place could be a goodly home. I mean, there are whole towns and cities. What if they were to help each other more, instead of sticking to themselves?"

You notice that where the boulder dislodged, it left an overhang. It's narrow, but it would protect you from rough weather, and make for a decent camping spot. It's not far from that sapling you spotted, either. You could get a fire going there.


"Ah. Yes. What is this but just another world? Same as the previous." She says, removing herself from her previous bout of rage.

She flies up to the sapling, tearing it from the ground and bringing it to the overhang below. She breaks pieces of it off, slowly assembling a small firepit. Her wings fold inwards as she lays down and breathes small, focused puffs of burning light into the side of it, trying to start a modest fire.


She does a double take as you take off without pointing out the overhang. She eventually puts two and two together, and starts climbing the rocky face with ease, reminding you of some strange ape. With a metallic rattle, she stations herself on the overhang, sitting on her haunches patiently as you rip up the sapling. She can't help but stare as you breathe a brilliant beam of light onto the collected tinder, starting a small but comfortable fire. "Wish I could do that," she jokes.

"So, er… what now?"

It soon dawns on you that you have nothing to eat for the evening, nor do you have anything to sleep on. It's going to be a rough night, and the flashing thunderclouds don't help much.


"Maybe you can, I couldn't until a red wolf fire witch taught enlightened me with such after I ate a gem she didn't want falling into the wrong hands- err hooves." She corrects herself like THAT was the confusing part of that.

The dragon looks past the overhang, surveying for anything else they could scavenge up.

Perception [1d10]

Roll #1 3 = 3


"Oh. I see." She decides not to question any of that.

You squint in the dark, trying to make out something you can hunt or gather, but you can't see much. Nicola notices you looking. "Do you want me to go have a look around?" she offers. "I'm pretty good at scrounging things up. Though, I'm not really sure what dragons eat. …You're not a soulfeeder like that Changeling, are you?…" She sticks her metal hand into the fire without regard for the danger, grabbing a burning stick to use as a torch. It doesn't seem to affect her at all.


"Our diets vary by species. Luckily, mine are omnivores. Plants, meat, even gems. Especially gems. What I would not do for a ruby right now…" She muses, her own hunger obvious. "If you would like to look for something to eat, please. Just be careful please."

She's amazed at Nicola simply ignoring the fire. "You… are not burned?"


"Why would I be?" she asks amusedly. She holds up her metal hand and twirls it. It spins like a top in its socket.

Your stomach growls in agreement. "Alright. I'll see what I can find. I won't be long, don't worry. I'm just going to the top of the rocks and back." She jams the flaming stick into where her face should be, closing the visor to hold onto it before starting to climb. It's not long before sounds of her movement fade into the distance as she goes to try and find something.


A few quiet minutes of contemplation go by, before a loud clanking and rattling heralds her return. "I couldn't find much. Sorry." She passes you some pulled up carrots, a branch of wild berries, and a single weird looking rock. The latter is completely inedible. She means well.


She smiles at Nicola's safe return, politely taking a carrot to munch on. She studies the rock closely, given she has nothing better to do.

"It is fine. My species can spend months without eating, thought it is not enjoyable." She says before tearing into her carrot. "Some of Trakali's most devoted were said to only consume sunlight, but I do not know if that is true."

"Do you eat?" She asks, trying not to sound offensive but still very curious.


It's a rock. It could be thrown at an enemy. Quite thrilling.

The carrot is barely stomachable. She watches expectantly, eager to please. "Living off sunlight?" she parrots. "Like the plants do? How strange. Though, no stranger than being kidnapped by mute cultists only to escape to find the sun having vanished, I suppose."

She blinks at your question. "No, what for?" she asks, completely genuinely. "I don't need to eat, or drink, or sleep. What's it like, anyway? I'm curious now."


"It is… carnal. Unexplainable. It is merely a form of desire that can be satiated. At least, that's what the most devoted said. I… really cannot explain it." She says, almost confused at the question.

"Sleep however, I could not go without. It is nice to be able to stop the day and spend time away from it. It is like sorting ones life into little periods of sixteen or so hours. It is… comfortable." She says, yawning at the tail end of it.


"Ah. Well, that cements it then. You should probably do that when you're ready, and I'll keep watch for anything that happens in the night. I'm used to spending a lot of time alone at night anyway. When I was with Father, I'd go on walks through the city at night. …It wasn't a nice place. Gloomy. Unwelcoming. Lifeless, even. The people there were… suffering. And my father always wanted me to…" She trails off. She doesn't seem to have many good memories.

"…I wouldn't go back there. Looking back on it. Have you ever been there? Last Hearth? It's… well, I don't know where we are now, but it's on the northern side of the river. Inland, at the foot of the great mountain."


The dragon nods solemnly before settling down for the night. "Nicola, if you need anything, even just to talk. Do not hesitate to wake me. I do not want you to be lonely." She says, closing her eyes and laying down.\

She speaks with her eyes closed. "I have not been there." She yawns. "But we will face it together, and whatever happens, happens." She says, her usual prose lost to sleepiness.


She nods as she sits down. "Thanks. But I should be okay. Really. …Sleep well, Tlawili." She seems unsure of whether she should be saying that, awkwardly shuffling to face away from you, and stand guard.

The floor is hard and uncomfortable, but you'll have to make do. Seems that storm's going to pass over, at least. It takes a while to get comfortable, but eventually, you slip away, drifting into a deep, dreamless slumber. Time will only tell what tomorrow will bring.
>+2 Enlightenment points!

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