Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Sat Jun 17, 2023 6:12 pm**

...continued from here.

Finn snorted delicately at the collusion between his friend and lover. Too charming was a matter of perspective and he didn't know that there was such a thing as too kind, so long as the kindness wasn't so self-sacrificing that the kindness harmed the kind person more than it benefited anyone else. But he was perhaps the least Solunarian of them, though he was slowly changing. He raised an eyebrow, glanced askance at Hilana, but he didn't say anything. Putting up too much resistence to a gift was unkind. He knew Hilana and her people were generous, but they were also survivors. Far be it from him to deny their hospitality and generosity when it was freely given.

He laughed, delighted at the illusions of past battles and his would-be father-in-law.

Later, he would circle back to the question about freeing the souls trapped in soul cairns. The fact of the matter was that he didn't know, but he did know wise mages who might be able to lead him down that path. He was far from being able to wield such a weapon, though he would if the soul wished to serve. His ambition and hunger for power had been awoken by his closeness to Aværys, but he wanted people to choose him of their own free will, not because he forced them into anything. Coercion was still immoral to his mind.

"Brave warriors indeed," he echoed. "And marvelously talented craftsmen." He didn't oversell it, though. He didn't know the desert people well enough to understand the nuances of their communication, but he would be a quick study, especially given he could hear their symphonies almost as well as Arvælyn could.

Posted: **Sat Jun 24, 2023 11:38 pm**

When Finn looked at her, Hilana just smiled up at him. She wasn’t about to say anything else, but it might well be something he would like if his arm recovered. And if she had any say in the matter, it would. Not that she was particularly allowed to do a whole lot there, not with the medical staff on hand to keep an eye out. But when he did manage to sneak in a visit, Hilana would always check the progress of his arm and shoulder. She could barely use her Semblance on him, especially if he was in his blacks, but the Vastiana went by feel and knowing what his muscles should be doing. It couldn’t be rushed, but careful massage and knowing what exercises would help with the mending process... There was clear delight and pleasure in her eyes when the image of the Crownwyrm took off into the sky, following its pathing until it returned to the enormous tusk. The mixed food samples continued to float around her, all while the wind spirits teased her about them, but she was not going to let them go until the Princeps Draconum was ready to resume them with his craft of kinetics.

“Your Highness is very perceptive,” the elder nodded at Arvaelyn’s question about whether it was flesh or stone. “We have found that some of the creatures that come from the Commonwealth or South Ecith are not entirely flesh like one might expect an animal to be. Sometimes they have an association, you might say, to the different elements. There are strange pigs with hides of iron and tusks of titanium, or birds that erupt in flames whenever they spread their wings. The loxodonta was very earthen. While its tusks are primarily ivory, there are traces of stones and metals within it that made it a delightful challenge to engrave, and its hide was like stone. Weapons did not penetrate without the aid of kinetics.” But it was quite clear that the man was proud of his family and their combined handiwork.

Arvaelyn’s and Finn's praise was effusive to the nomadic elder, and he bowed low to the Princeps Draconum first, and then again to the Magnatus. “We are honoured, Your Exalted Highness. We hope that it does justice to thy Exalted family, and that you will continue to grace our festival for years to come. Would you have us deliver it to the Sentinels by your tent?” he inquired. When they concluded and the elder had moved off of the path, Hilana could continue to lead the way through the makeshift stalls. She moved at their pace, offering a few explanations here and there to their vaunted guests as to what some things were or what they were made of, especially if they had some sort of particular significance.

“Which of Their Hallowed Highnesses came?” Hilana’s curiosity got the better of her at last. “Do you think they might like some baklava, or will I get turned into a crispy roasted kebab in the process of finding out?” she was cheerful as she glanced up at them, the snakes still hanging onto her shoulders. The smaller female was on the move, though, and Hilana brought her hand up to coax Fiya onto her wrist and arm, touching her lightly with her fingers as her tongue flickered.

Posted: **Wed Jul 05, 2023 11:44 am**

Arvælyn listened thoughtfully to the elder’s explanation. Ecith seemed a queer place. It was odd to think Solunarium shared a continent with the Orkish Commonwealth and the elemental wilds to the South. Odd in that the severe imperials suffered to limit themselves to the desert, when there was much to exploit abroad of Atraxia’s borders. It was challenging enough, he was learning, to hold onto a kingdom. Perhaps that was why his elven kin had shirked expansion all these years.

Arvælyn nodded, grateful for the elder’s offer to have his large bequeathed transported. As much as the demi-dragon appreciated an addition to his hoard, he wasn’t keen to carry more by mundane or arcane means if he could avoid it.

When the elder cleared the path and Hilana posed her question, Arvælyn replied without much thought.

“My Uncle Kire.” But upon reflection, he realised he’d used an overly familiar nickname used amongst his kin. “Kairyndralok.” He clarified, sounding as if the first utterance had been the result of stammering rather than thoughtlessness.

He laughed at the question about baklava, before realising Hilana was in earnest.

“What? No. He’ll not assume an elven seeming here, and a dragon… at least those of our Flight, is not wont to enjoy pastries. Victuals that have already been cooked are like to burn to ash on the tongue of a member of the breed Draconis Platinum. To say nothing of his size…” The prince glanced over to the dragon for whom an entire tray of baklava might have looked like a single grain of rice.

“Besides which Kairyndralok’s favourite part of a meal is the anticipation and thrill of the hunt. Fear is, as he says, ‘the most delectable sauce.’ I know not how simple honey rates with such a one as he.”

Posted: **Sat Jul 22, 2023 6:07 pm**

When Hilana's question brought insightful answers from Arvælyn, Finn's gaze tugged back toward his noble kinsman. A human life was to the dragons as a lightning bug to a human; he was doing what he could to learn more about them, the better to empathize and perhaps develop relationships with his lover's ancient kin. While he wouldn't feel right inciting some criminal to abject terror just to make the wyrm's maw slaver, he supposed he could compose music laced with all the terrors he had known to be performed for the dragonflight to whet their appetites when appropriate.

The bard would think on it, even if he only had his voice to work with.

So entwined had their symphonies been, even now their thoughts sometimes affected each other's. As Arvælyn wondered about the borders of his nation, Finn considered even gentle Hilana's animosity toward the Orkhan of Ecith. The Vastii too hated their neighbors. He wondered if the accession of Zalkyriax boded ill for the rest of the continent. Solunarium itself was largely of one mind; perhaps that mind's eyes would turn outward again. A shiver ran through him, but then he banished the thought and smiled.

For tonight, they could revel with the desert people, enjoy their hospitality and all.

His attention turned back toward his amatus his good arm flexing around the prince's.

"I am grateful honey still appeases you," he noted with good-humored teasing. A little spilled on his skin certainly made the golden prince use his mouth to delightful effect.

He wondered how long they ought to stay. It was a state visit, and so they couldn't revel as much as Hilana might like. Their presence and the invocation of the Gods would have the tribe talking for generations if they never returned, and it was always good practice to leave one's audience craving more.

Posted: **Wed Jul 26, 2023 1:58 pm**

Hilana nodded as Arvaelyn identified which of his elders had brought them. She remembered Kairyndralok from when he had seen them off earlier in the season, and she should have offered him a pastry then, too, but by the sounds of it... maybe they wouldn’t indulge in either seeming. Such was life: Phocion steadfastly refused everything she offered him, Valaera refused, she had no doubt Cithaera would refuse. Finn and Arvaelyn she could tempt, Raithen would tackle her cooking at any hour of the day or night without hesitation or question... but as disciplined as the Draconic Dynasty was, perhaps they didn’t want to bother with such things. But Arvaelyn’s words also suggested that her idea of bringing them a water bison was also forfeit, especially if they preferred the hunt. That was a bit disappointing, but she didn’t show much of any sign of it.

She would just have to keep thinking about it. Sooner or later, she’d find something that they’d like. Aside from the horn, but if she kept trying, maybe she could find something...

“Probably not high,” she admitted. Millions of bees spent their lives making it for them, and it took a lot of them to make up the honey that they collected and Hilana used in her cooking. Some part of her wondered if that effort in pursuit of the craft counted as a sacrifice, but then again, maybe not. Though she was with two that were marked by their gods, this was hardly the place to start a religious discussion. But when Finn teased his betrothed about honey sating him, the girl just grinned at that and kept going.

“Even if it didn’t, there’s herbs that will be passed around every night for the couples,” she told them as she got her steely python on her hand, fingers caressing her jaw as her tongue flickered. “It started as a tradition to encourage new couples that are arranged at the festival to, well, loosen things up, I suppose would be the polite way to say it. Arranged marriages are very much a part of the nomadic life, if only to keep blood circulating and make trades and alliances... but courtship may or may not happen before those arrangements are made, so we have special herbs that are distributed to the new couples to encourage them and get them in the mood. But since others often like it... it’s not unusual for established pairs to enjoy it, too.”

She didn’t know if they might stay for it or not, but, well, the offer was there. She was going to take some back to enjoy with Raithen, too, when he dropped in to visit... a little something to spice things up for the two of them.

Progressing through the marketplace meant others were still trying to offer food and treats to their royal, divinely-blessed guests. If they were of a mind for souvenirs, then they could be taken to the Sentinels by the tent to make sure that they were not inconvenienced by them. With the tour continuing back towards the dais, Hilana was determined to make another stop, winding them through the areas where the tents were set up. It was important for her people to see them among them, not just limited to the elders - but coming in close quarters made them seem more approachable than the lofty Re’hyaeans who had ruled over them from the capital for thousands of years.

There was a great deal of both curiosity and awe from those who had gathered in their symphonies. The nomads near the paths bowed, and as they moved into a cluster, the Mesmers likely understood that this group was Hilana’s maternal clan. The older woman that Hilana had been with while watching the sacrifices came up and bowed low to Arvaelyn and Finn. “My grandmother, Sahar Yusafiras Amina, of the Yusafiras clan, my mother’s mother,” she explained. “They travel the western side of the Expanse, mostly the west-southwest area.”

“Your Exalted Highness. Magnatus,” Amina greeted them, looking them over, and the food still floating around them. As a number of elders had thus far, she spat in the sands in their direction in respect. “Would you share our fire?”

Posted: **Wed Jul 26, 2023 4:21 pm**

Sensing the disappointment in Hilana's Symphony, Arvælyn arched a brow.

"There are gifts other than food, you know, and an ancient dragon is better bequeathed something he might hoard rather than something quickly digested and as fast forgotten." He might have been kinder in his delivery were he not still cross with her about putting Finn at risk. Such as things were, he would at least offer information that might be useful in reminding her that dragons were wont to gather troves. She might be disappointed that they were not as wont to express gratitude effusively as tributes were something deemed their due.

Arvælyn smiled faintly at the description of the aphrodisiacal herbs exploited by the nomads. If he had any designs to experiment with such, he kept them to himself, unless one interpreted the smile he cast in Finn's direction as being of a conspiratorial nature.

By and by, Hilana guided them to greet her kinswoman. Arvælyn would nod in acknowledgement of her deferential bow, and in answer to her invitation would reply:

"Aye, for a trice." In his High Vastian dialect. He allowed himself to be led to their hearthfire, where he would take a seat and regard any of the clansfolk who were assembled there. His gaze, a darker sort of fire akin to lava, rather than the bright yellow of that which danced before them, fell upon Amina.

"Why don't you tell me of the Yusafiras Clan? I have opportuned to learn much of the realm during my short time in these deserts, but little has been taught to me of those who roam the sands after the old traditions." This would likely be no surprise to the nomads, given the marked lack of interest the capital had displayed over the many centuries since Solunarium was founded.

Posted: **Mon Jul 31, 2023 7:18 am**

"Like a Kalzasern bard," he murmured with wicked glee.

Zalkyriax had Cithæra, and their son had Finn. He didn't know if any of the rest of Arvælyn's kin had people in their hordes. If Finn had ever really given dragons much thought outside tales and songs, it was when he first discovered his love of music and daydreamed about the dragonriders of Antiris and imagining befriending some brass dragon who would show him the world from above and inspire his music. No doubt the reality of Antiris would have been different; certainly, Arvine Venasyr hadn't enjoyed it much. For a moment, he imagined Arry hiding his horns and his ears under a knit cap as he said he used to, as if he could hide who and what he was now.

The bard almost laughed, though he wondered if Arvælyn ever missed his anonymity.

His eyes caught upon his lover's after aphrodisiac herbs were mentioned and he offered a prim smile that was entirely false. No doubt some would be acquired for future experimentation.

Magnatus or not, Finn bowed to Elder Amina. Whereas the dragon prince sat, he kept his head deferentially lower by leaning on his good elbow, his hair brushing against his amatus' arm. That was how a concubine was supposed to lounge, he figured. They weren't married yet, although that was a legal crisis he wasn't going to think about tonight.

He would be an attentive listener, of course, even if his ears were more tuned to the music still drifting along with the sounds of conversation, fires, and the desert wind. Hilana would likely find him singing back all these new songs back in Solunarium proper having only heard them once. He had trained his ear for it and if he couldn't ply his instrument, he could still use his voice.

Posted: **Wed Aug 02, 2023 11:38 pm**

Hilana nodded at Arvaelyn’s advice. Other things besides food. Things that might be better off collected. Dragon hoards were the stuff of legend, after all... “That is true. Gratias, Your Exalted Highness. I brought them some Fire Agates, if you remember, back in Ash, when we went to see the Crownwyrm.” Right after the trip to Kaladon, when the half-dragon was dealing with his sickness following the pilgrimage to the Mount. “But they went into the blood river.” The girl knew she didn’t really merit any feedback on her tributes, because tributes to the Draconic Dynasty were expected... but since they had gone into the river with the titanium scroll case, she hadn’t been sure that that was the route to go. Then again, she had not had the opportunity to return to the Thalamum Draconum after attuning and with the fact she was no longer on good terms with Arvaelyn...

Well, she supposed if someone called her a coward in that regard she’d have to accept it, because going into the Dragon Chamber when the Crownwyrm’s son and heir was angry with her did not strike the Vastiana as a wise choice in terms of self-preservation. Adrenaline junkie though she may have been, that was straight-up suicide. But perhaps today could be a start of slowly beginning to repair and rebuild their friendship. It would take a lot of time, but that didn’t bother her. This was at least an opening salvo, and if it helped thaw the frosty silence that had formed in the last months following the disastrous Ecithian expedition, Hilana would be happy.

Hilana shaped sand quickly to form a seat of sorts for her friends, and cushions and blankets were provided for the Prince and his Intended upon which to make themselves comfortable as the fires crackled. Hilana helped her grandmother sit before securing a bottle and some cups, pouring the wine and offering it first to Arvaelyn, then Finn, and then her elder before taking up her own. “Sit saluti,” Amina offered the familiar toast to the Royal guests. It was one of the Umbrian reds, Dragon’s Blood, and one could tell by the label on the bottle that Hilana had brought it from the lower city when she had come out this way. “The Yusafiras were farmers, long ago, back before the Orcani descended on our village. We lived in the northern areas, where the land was good and the ground fertile... but that, I imagine, she has told you, and you have surely learned more about it from the scholars. Since then, we have roamed the Sands, always following the call of the Earth and Air that sings to us out here in the Expanse. Others settle along the rivers, or retreat to the cities... but we remain on our journeys. We are born out here, and we die out here. From the sand we came, to the sand we will return.”

She lifted her hand, and the sands beside them were raised to form a rough map of the Expanse. “Our routes take us from here, near the southlands, to here, towards the more central part of the desert.” Paths were carved in the raised sand, showing a route that got them around the midway point of the desert, but not high enough to get closer to the Sacred City of the Capital, to the more southern tips that closed in on the mountains and hills that led into Southern Ecith. “We have seasonal places where we stop for perhaps a month at a time, and then we continue on. We are most northern in Searing, and most southern in Frost.” One could imagine why, what with the Frost Festival. “Yusafiras is one of the larger clans that still travels, and there are over four hundred of us. We trade often with the towns when we pass them, and with other clans as we meet. There are three other clans, allies, whose routes intersect with ours, but they do not travel with us,” she let the sand settle once more.

“As large as our clan is, as unwieldy as it seems to be for traveling through the Sands, in numbers there is strength. We hold many Runes here, as is proper in the eyes of the Founders, Blessed be His Divine Radiance and Her Argent Luminescence.” A glance at Hilana led to the younger Vastiana shrugging, but she certainly was not about to back-talk her Grandmother. Her friends knew the reason why she had done what she did, and she wasn’t going to justify her pig-headedness. Besides, Avaerys Himself had bestowed Elementalism on her, and she was certainly still feeling the threshold effects of the Rune of Semblance that had been painted upon her scalp. “We have ties to nearly all of the clans throughout the Sands. The Chenzira clan was originally to the northeast, for example, but we arranged for Lebaoth to marry my Maruth... and when their clan broke apart, a handful eventually joined the Yusafiras. That has happened over time... some clans choose to settle, but others of their number feel the call and cannot settle. Wildness does that.”

That energy that Hilana always had was here, too, amongst her kin. It may not have rang as loudly in their symphonies as it sang in hers, but in a great many of them, those songs were present. A young woman approached the two guests, kowtowing to Arvaelyn and to Finn as if to apologize for the disruption. “She needs your lute hand for the moment. To measure your fingers for something, with your permission, of course,” Hilana explained, and if permission was given, the young woman would take a very slender wires and coil and drape them around Finn’s five fingers to get measurements and shapes for something, before bowing once again and retreating with it. “Gratias,” she smiled after her cousin. She could bring them back to the capital with her later and give them to Finn when she saw them. “They have interest in the maps,” Hilana told her grandmother. “They would like to see the ones that we keep the locations of the ruins that we have found over the years on.”

“That could be arranged,” Amina mused. “Copies of ours could be provided, if it would please His Exalted Highness. We can talk with the other clans, too, and see if we cannot get copies of that information for you as well.”

Posted: **Fri Aug 04, 2023 12:48 am**

"I remember little from that time given my erstwhile condition..." Arvælyn replied, at Hilana's mention of their visit to the Crownwyrm. He'd been barely lucid, afflicted as he was with what he would later learn to be 'Greater Threshold Sickness'. It had been an abysmal blight that scourged him during the early days of his metamorphosis and rendered him quite delirious during that encounter, though it grieved him deeply that he couldn't recall that inaugural audience with his father. He started to speak at her mention of the River of Blood, but paused himself, deciding it was not his place to reveal the ancient mysteries of his kin.

With the shifting of sand into seating at Hilana's arcane bidding, the prince would recline and accept the wine, gladly.

"Saluti." He lifted the cup and his gaze, before sipping and settling in to listen to the elder's tale. "Your family's memory is long." Arvælyn acknowledged, wondering if this clan could truly trace their origins all the way back to the pre-Atraxian era. Before the Vastii had found Vastium, what had they even been called? He'd never thought to ask and it never came up in the histories set before him, which tended to focus more on the elven and draconic diasporas than the human.

As the tale turned to the modern day, a few things surprised him. Firstly, that she spoke of their having many runes. From a respected elder, he was not surprised to see the manipulation of æther, but in the capital it was widely understood that the desert clans were rarely magically adept. He'd thought them to boast one or two witch-doctors specialising in a single magic each.

Another thing he learned was that Hilana's father's clan had 'broken apart'. He hadn't asked after her family history before... nor would he have likely been equipped to understand the context before very recently. As an interloper stepped in and genuflected, Arry knitted his brow bemusedly.

"Just please see that his hand stays attached this time, if you'd be so kind..." He said, casting his narrowed eyes in a sidelong glance toward Hilana as he sipped his wine.

Posted: **Sat Aug 12, 2023 9:42 pm**

Though he was better known for his voice, Finn proved an attentive listener. He was also attentive to his amatus while listening to the elder share histories both ancient and modern. He wondered how much oral tradition had changed over time; his studies had proven that history was rarely simple, and differing accounts could provide a kaleidoscopic view. Some of it he had heard from Hilana, but much of it was new, and he was fascinated by such things.

Confused, Finn sat up at the request. His eyes went to Arvælyn for a moment, but the warning was unnecessary. He began to carefully undo the bindings that held his arm to his chest and then splayed both hands for Hilana's cousin. He used the left to finger the frets and the right to strum the strings, and he wasn't sure which she needed.

There was no outward sign of his injury; in order to aim for a full recovery, however, the inward processes were slow. His left hand was softer now, the calluses giving way from lack of use. Perhaps it was paler, slightly weaker than his right now. He could feel his fingertips, though, and he could move it. Everything was just ginger and studied.

"Manus meas," he offered.

The bard allowed for her examination with all due patience, listening too to the talk of maps and such. He would certainly like to know the width and breadth of the Expanse, the oases and the sheltering caves. A part of him still worried that everything would go up in flames as it had at the wedding reception of Talon Novalys and that he would have to pull Arry from the embrace of peril through a portal. If nothing such happened, he would at least have an easier time as a Sentinel with business outside the capital city.

Legend of Ransera

A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

Re: A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]