Legend of Ransera

The Harbingers were not the only company who had awoken before dawn. Their commander, Pasiphaë Len'Minoa, did not blast horns or scream at her soldiers; that was the sort of behavior of lesser races, fallen to brutishness. Her soldiers were well-trained and dedicated to the cause: the protection and succor of Sol'Valen and the Hytori.

Some eyes opened of their own volition, trained to a schedule. Others were roused quietly by their fellows. Morning ablutions were quickly followed, and they marched. A traveler opened a portal and the filed through, trotting expeditiously out of one of several similar portals upon an airfield outside of the city proper. This area was well lit despite only the faintest hints of dawn peeking over the rugged eastern horizon of mountains and clouds.

As they filed into parallel lines, some soldiers recognized friends, acquaintances, and even sometimes lovers among the others, sharing smiles, quiet jokes, and sleepy greetings. Each file led to a beam of light from the bottom of an elegant airship hovering high above. Pausing in each spotlight, a soldier would disappear, magically taken up into the ancient vessel.

The Venerable, it was rumored, had gone rogue when the Hytori were defeated by the Lysanrin, and had remained free until Taegan Sol'Eilran reunited the Court of Princes and the scattered First People. It was exciting for many a Hytori soldier to be walking the halls of history, a connection, perhaps, to lost immortality.

Commander Len'Minoa hadn't told them what their mission was, merely that their orders were to report to the airfield before dawn, and here they were, buzzing with excitement and curiosity. Some of the newest recruits to the Harbingers had never been upon a military airship; there was even one country girl who still got airsick in the flying taxis that flew through the city below.

One of Thimryl's comrades caught him by the elbow. "Len'Lavian, word is we gather to receive orders in an hour. Until then, we are free to explore. Don't get caught anywhere you oughtn't to be."

With a wink, he moved off and, before Thimryl could get his bearings, he slammed into a wall of flesh that caught him before he could fall.

As Thimryl's eyes had gone looking for the best view, he had wandered into a monstrously tall elf with wings, who looked apologetic even as large hands steadied the soldier.

"Apologies," he said with a bit of a rustic dialect. "I should watch where I am going."

The winged elf seemed built for war, save his gaze was soft and an air of kindness clung to him. More used to how the airship functioned, though, he pointed out a less obvious vantage.

"That's a better spot to observe, actually, and you won't venture so far you can't hear when your commander calls you in for debrief."

The emblem over his heart marked him as one of those specialized soldiers whose ancestors had taken on the alterations of Garel the Necromancer. The average elf only knew the basics of their history: built to combat the Hellmaw; the traits only holding true to those assigned male at birth; nigh immunity to cold. A specialized soldier to be sure. He would spend a great deal of time on airships, dropping with his shield-brothers in a dangerous flock.

The emblem over his heart would also show his name and company: Len'Kouneli, Turuher. Firebirds.

He would linger a moment to see if the landbound Harbinger had any other questions.

Turuher's good deed for the day done, he turned to go back about his business but his movement was arrested by the other elf's return.

"Oh, my wing is stationed at the airfield," he supplied. "But this is not our first mission aboard Venerable."

At first, he took the man literally. With the Avialae augmentation, he rarely felt the cold. But when he realized the soldier was speaking in metaphor, his brow furrowed a bit in thought.

"I don't know. I..." He hadn't actually compared notes with a landsman about the feel of an airship, especially one like this. "I feel the thrum of the engines through my feet. I hear the rarefied airs crashing against the hull. The sounds of crew, temporary and permanent, moving through corridors, having conversations."

His brow beetled further. He was not a raw recruit, but he was still young enough in his military career that he felt as though any question was a test, even if it came from someone other than a superior officer.

"They say she's haunted, but I've sensed no restless spirits. And if you mean the Symphonies of Mesmers, hm... possibly their are enchantments in place to dampen the cacophony of so many souls." He spread his hands helplessly, but perhaps the other elf would clarify.

Turuher still didn't know whether the man was speaking in metaphor or code, but at least his following question made more sense.

"Not specifically, no," he said. "I believe our commanders would have already briefed us if we were flying into a violent situation. Thankfully, the wisdom of our princes and the wards and warnings keep us safe. We often go on training missions with other companies we haven't worked with before, ostensibly so we have experience working with more diverse companies and remain adaptable to face whatever threats might arise in the future."

The massive winged soldier paused, eyes going faraway for a moment. Whatever sort of song he heard while aboard an airship, it had shifted, and then the light shifted, subtly but noticeably, and moving from one end of the observation deck to the next.

"Gate," he supplied with a small smile.

"Harbingers, debrief," came a curt voice from behind Thimryl. Apparently, he was about to get more answers.

Turuher, not being one of the Harbingers, was not standing in the same crowd, but for continuity's sake, he was within Thimryl's view if the soldier ignored his commanding officers in order to seek out his winged form. The flying elf seemed to have been pulled into a knot of conversation with a few other gigantic Avialae.

Much to Thimryl and other green recruits' dismay, they were scheduled for yet another patrol. Captain Len'Minoa reminded them that they ought not to wish for incursions beyond the wards their ancient ancestors had created and the more brilliant modern mages had managed to reconstruct. She was sharp, but not unkind.

"If you die," she noted wryly, "then I would have failed. I do not fail."

Hours later and Thimryl was on the ground.

They were still somewhere in Tronóridan, the principality ruled by Ailuin, but he couldn't have pointed out exactly where on a map. While he was alone, he was not without support. Turuher soared above this sector, keeping an eye on Thimryl and several other Harbingers. They weren't even near the border, which was boring, of course, but those mages whose responsibility it was to monitor the homeland had flagged this area as shifting aetherically and so the endless training missions now involved a very real investigation.

Turuher landed far enough away that he hoped not to startle Thimryl, nor kick up grit to obscure his vision. His cheeks were flushed from the cold air that didn't bother him and from the exertion of near constant flying between one Harbinger and the next. He stretched his wings, then furled them, then took a knee. His great barrel of a chest heaved as his body took the moment's respite to rest.

Warm brown eyes were alight with excitement, and he pointed. The direction was relatively near to the direction Thimryl was intending to go, but seemed a bit more difficult than he would have liked. It was not the path of least resistance.

Turuher pulled a canteen off his belt and drank, taking slow, measured sips so as not to upset his stomach or deplete his supply.

"Ruins," he managed.

Then, after a few more steadying breaths as he sought to return to normal, "Wouldn't have seen it. Wind turned just so. Come on."

And then he was back on his feet, his long legs eating up the distance as he moved in the direction he had indicated.

!	Message from: Hekatos
	Yes, the ruins will be your Ring of Triumph. Feel free to find it and explore it somewhat. It will be more obscured by the forest canopy than the picture you provided for the time being. Please leave any phantom warriors to me. We will explore and develop your idea together through play and then I will make whatever tweaks necessary and then make it official. Assuming we don't die.