35th Day of Ash, 122nd Year of the Age of Steel
The skies were blessedly clear as Masagh clambered out of the well into the Triforge Square above. The air was chilly but did not blow around them. The moon shown in a half crescent above, illuminating the world in silver light.
Sabrione growled softly as she clambered over the side and rolled to her feet. She looked around with narrow eyes, also scanning the rooftops. “Great night for a bit of skullduggery.” She turned and glanced at Riah, they last to leave the well. The newest member had been brought along to give her more experience above in the streets. Masagh was well aware this mission was intended to be a training one for her, but he hoped to get a bit of flying practice in as well.
He needed to master the skill if he was going to be able to navigate the gusty northern coast and find that damned ruin he had been obsessing over. He moved and helped Riah out of the well and pulled her over into the deeper shadows.
“Weaponmaster.” Masagh whispered, his voice grating in a gravel rasp. “Perhaps I could scout in flying form, give us a more complete picturel.” He suggested casually.
“We already know they’re at the docks.” Sabrione said, narrowing her eyes. “Some fences in the bay district up Northside have been smuggling crude wands through the Grey River somehow. We know which shops they’re coming out of.”
Masagh shrugged. “I just meant maybe some tactical information about the situation tonight specifically.” He sighed at the look on her face. “Look I wanted to practice my flight. It isn’t great yet and I want to improve.”
Sabrione snorted. “Why didn’t you just say so.” She said sardonically. “Go ahead. Riah and I can make our way there. Don’t go too far ahead, circle back if you lose sight of us.” She ordered.
“Right, wouldn’t want any patrols getting the better of you.” Masagh teased softly, fishing in his belt pouch for the pterincus totem.
As he brought it out Sabrione rolled her eyes and ushered Riah closer. As the Weaponmaster began to debrief Riah, Masagh conducted his transformation. By the time they had finished and were ready to set out, Masagh was a small winged reptilian, pale and pathetic looking. The form was far from pathetic though.
Masagh trotted forward on the stout legs and flapped his wings to take off. He set off down the alley and felt the familiar initial jolting as his Animus altered body gained altitude. Then suddenly he was bursting above the line of grooves and Sabrione and Riah were diminishing to the size of toys. Masagh caught a gentle front of air and felt his wings stabilize out. He stretched them out and settled into a wide circling arc.
When he first took the Animus Rune he hadn’t wanted it. He had thought something like Negation would be better tactically. While he still planned to bully his mother into initiating him into Negation he had grown to appreciate the great utility of the Animus Rune. This form alone promised a much less intensive form of scouting and travel than the slipspace. While flying would take longer, it was less costly on his aether reserves.
The city splayed out below him, houses lit in warm yellow from within. He could see the bay, dark and glistening in the moonlight, in the distance. While he was more comfortable now with the form and the flight, Masagh was still nervous to fly too high. He circled low enough to make out his two companions.
Masagh watched with a careful red eye as the two knights darted from shadow to shadow. As they made their stealthy way down the street he followed along as best he could from above. While he could now stay aloft, his movements were belabored and his flight slow. He hadn’t yet learned the trick of gliding with speed, or how to conserve his strength when beating his wings. So often Masagh would have to spiral down to land and rest his wings mid-flight.
They were hard to keep tabs on, moving as quietly and in shadows. Masagh was ablest keep occasional sight of them because he knew his sister so well and the path she would take, and because he knew their destination. His flight became easier as he found another front of air that he was able to glide along on. His wings beat occasionally and fed more speed into his pace. This efficiency was what he had seen many birds and pterincus maintain as they flew over the city and hunted the small vermin that collected there.
It was a frustratingly essential skill for any flyer. He knew this because he had attempted the art and found himself lacking that skill. Now, however, he was gliding like the rest of them. Masagh only wished he could figure out how it had happened. Nonetheless, the undead pterincus angled towards the bay and followed behind the figures of Sabrione and Riah below.
Eventually they came to the docks district where the select group of fences were supposedly smuggling goods along the Grey River and flooding their much needed market. While not strictly a threat to the well-being of House Creth, a new source of magical wands in the city’s underbelly could remove the need for alliance with them for the goblins. That would have dire circumstances indeed.
So sabotage was the name of the game tonight. Masagh scanned the crowded neighborhoods and sprawling warehouse district of the bay. This was the capital of an Empire, and trade was its lifeblood. The bay was huge. Sabrione and Riah were just entering the dock districts below and he saw her pale claw rise and beckon to him.
The Animus tucked his wings in and dove down to meet her. The rush of wind around him and the lurch in his guts told his instincts to extend his wings again, but Masagh refused them. He let himself slip down to about twenty feet above the street and then stuck his legs out and flapped the wings. Landing somewhat more gracefully than usual in front of Sabrione he clicked his pterincus beak at her.
Sabrione crouched before him and peered down both ways of the street they waited in. “Okay, fences who it might be are…” She pulled a sheet of parchment out of the belt pouch and unrolled it with one hand. “Red building on the north corner of Salt Pier Street and Shipwright Way, says it belongs to a lady called Gerta. Then there’s Old Grok’s warehouse, you know the one along the Gray with that stupid ship’s prow above it? The mermaid with the tits far too large? Yea.” Sabrione shook her head in disgust at the memory. He clicked his beak twice to let her know he remembered. “We’re going to make our way to Gerta’s spot first. Gi9ve us a heads up if you see anything.”
Masagh moved out into the street and shuffled into his running start. Then with a great burst of effort and flapping of wings, he was aloft again. Rising above the houses he angled himself in the direction of Gerta’s shop. He had never been there but he knew the city relatively well, having lived there for two hundred years. What was more, he had a uniquely strong mental image of the cityscape thanks to his recent outings as a flying beast.
So it was with confidence he made his way over to the shop. He was gliding above the rooftops and warehouses, looking for the distinctive red panels of Gerta’s shop when something caught his eye. Lights flickering in the bay. That in and of itself was not peculiar, but it had been much larger than was typical.
He angled himself towards the darkly glittering water and gazed down at the ships arrayed there. Dark masts reached for the sky above and the decks reflected the moonlight to some extent. Each ship had a pair of lanterns at least at their prow and stern, with larger ones hanging watch lanterns from masts as well. He could see no sign of the light that had caught his eye.
