[Official NPC]

After two whole weeks in the Badlands, the vanguard bursts out of the red mountains much worse for wear: Rusty Faelan succumbed to the leech vine and finding water became even more hazardous than the group had first suspected. Nevertheless, Jericho has caught glimpses of the Malaki brave's thoughts from time to time, and as the hard rock of the wasteland softens the further south they tread, Maaike and Aiden are able to spot footprints and other signs of his passing. Strangely, he is leading them not to his tribe but out of the Badlands altogether.

The land the vanguard enters now is a broad valley. Green mountains are just visible to the south but the immediate vicinity looks just as devoid of life as the Badlands seemed. The brave's tracks are perfectly clear now, and it seems the group is gaining on him. Oddly, his trail is circuitous rather than a straight shot across the valley, zig-zagging around small holes in the mud where steam wisps from the ground.

Still unable to locate the portal, the vanguard has only one option: Keep moving forward.

Note: Don't forget to worldbuild as you plot! You can now also create/join side threads to explore events through Chapter One and Two, or to finish previous chapter threads.

Vanguard Members

PCs will be added to this list as they join. If NPCs (italics) do not already have profiles linked, you can make them up as you go and their listed vitals will be updated per chapter. Struck-out names means they are dead or have left the party.

Aella Karakinos — Unaffiliated Ayad, blacksmith's apprentice
Aiden Roy — Therian
Aifric Ramsey — Therian Cartographer
Alain Gaston-Moreaux — Red Warden
Anatoli Vitalis — Rutilus, Espurian Guard
Faris ibn Alsyad — Purifier rep attached to LoP
Ionia Essytia — Skotadi representative, League of Adventurers
Kiel Taskel — Rutilus, League of Protectors
Maaike Sullivan — Therian scout, LoP-attached mercenary
Mortimer Jericho — Peteulanus, supplies & logistics
Nimisha — Sidhe forest guide for unmapped areas
Captain Olympias Lysistrata — Apali, Varagoi, no-nonsense, stereotyper
Raphael — Djinn bodyguard and hunter attached to Ionia
Ninian Aedh — Therian enforcer attached to Jericho
Rusty Faelan — Therian enforcer attached to Jericho
Shane — Shadowkin attached to Kiel

Current Objectives

• Catch up to the Malaki brave before he reaches his tribe.
  
• Find a way back to the portal and home.
  
• Cross Peace Valley.

Chronology

This chapter will end out of character at midnight (GMT) on the 7th of August. In-character, the events of this chapter will last two to three days. A vehicle for entering/leaving Acantha will be introduced in the middle of this chapter so new characters will be able to join then.

[Faris]

Faris felt like he was treading on a field of shattered glass. There were forceful, agitated currents that were shredding at the edges of his consciousness, coming from deep underground. The roiling movement he felt from far below was starting to extend to his stomach too. The place they were traversing was a bubbling, surging version the spring from which they had collected water from earlier. Faris had been adamant that they avoid the area; being on high alert for the past few days in case of possible traps had left him high-strung. Even now he could feel the fatigue that came from excessive use of his ability very keenly.

Unfortunately turning back was not an option for them right now; they were too far into this foreign landscape to find their way back. The atmosphere of the vanguard was grim, the future looking as desolate as the landscape around them. The first of their group had fallen, and there was no guarantee that Rusty would be the last victim, regardless of what they did. All they could hope for was to at least find out as much as they could before their journey ended.

They were heading into a new area; this much was obvious from the soil and air. The dirt they tread on was a paler hue of greying red now, while Faris could sense a higher level of moisture in the air. They got less dehydrated while moving now, allowing them to cover more ground. Faris still could not get rid of the unease that ailed him however. Nothing was what it seemed over here, if not even springs were 'safe' what more mysterious steaming ground? If they were going to move across this treacherous piece of land, it was best to do so quickly and efficiently.

"Mister Ramsey, Miss Sullivan. Is there any discernible pattern to the Malaki's tracks? Such a circuitous path is too inefficient even for someone adapted to the environment. I'm not sensing any possible traps like the one Kiel fell for either, whatever holes there are, they are plain in sight...Should we simply cut across the landscape? Either way the Malaki needs to cross this place, and when he does our telepaths will be ready and in range. Catching him would be easy then."

[Kiel]

Kiel had been kinda quiet (for him, at least) since he'd been yanked by the wrist out of that pitch black hole. Like, it wasn't enough that the hydras and the krakens and the bandits of his own world tried to kill him every chance they got, now even the ground was at it, too! Like, “Dude. That's so mean.” Like, for sers, man, what had he ever done to this place to deserve being eaten alive? Except, you know, the being alive part 'cause plants — and after some discussion they had pretty much decided that was what that whole trench network thing had been — apparently only saw things in black and white, alive or dead, food or not.

When Faris asked if they should follow the Malaki's trail exactly, Kiel was already cutting across the valley. Like, he skirted the holes 'cause he so didn't want to get stuck down there again. Like, the experience itself had been horrid, but now he'd never live that whole thing down, you know? But, like, “Guys, guys, c'mon! Like, he might be slowing down but so are we, you know? We've kinda been through Helfire and back, you know?” He didn't mention it, but they had lost time while Misha burned Rusty's body. Kiel had wanted to take the Therian with them so they could give him proper rites, but, like, even with their canteens refilled and with no idea how far the wasteland stretched, nobody had the energy or the strength.

“I dunno why the bull thing is weaving but, like, it's probably trying to throw us off its trail, like, right? So let's just cut across and make up some time and be all, like, ambushy and rawr, okay?” He didn't even have the energy to curl his fingers like claws and give the throaty roar he'd been practising. He just said the word like it was any other, you know?

[Ionia]

Days of walking through the cursed desert had turned Nia's mood sour, and after the leech vine incident, she'd adopted a sort of sullen silence that could not be lifted. Once their vanguard had regrouped, they'd burnt Rusty's corpse and spoken their prayers before continuing their efforts in tracking the Malaki. That had nearly cos them the Malaki at first, and they'd wandered for almost a day before Jericho located a ping of the bull's thought off in the south.

If anything, the 'vari had become more determined than ever in their pursuit of the running bull. As if killing the malaki would help avenge Rusty's death or make it less meaningless. To some extent, she felt that way as well. Acantha was a treacherous Helhole, and Nia wanted nothing more than to vent her anger of the place over the son-of-a-kelpie-wolf-Malaki.

The landscape had changed gradually as they travelled further south of the realm. While the scenery still appeared bleak and barren, at the very least, the sun's heat no longer felt as oppressive as it had been in the Badlands. She'd started walking more briskly, keeping an eye on the Therians in case they spotted something, and sweeping her own shadows out to prevent surprises.

The ground was pock-marked with holes, and rather than making a direct crossing, the malaki had taken more of a beeline through the broad valley. The steaming soil put Nia at edge, for they reminded her of the traps they'd encounter during the war.

But whatever, the steam was only bound to the ground. Her wings fanned open and twitched as she stretched them out. “Agreed, the weaving is getting us nowhere. Point me in the direction of this Malaki. I'll fly out, and if I find him, I'll follow until you guys catch up.” The vanguard had regained some energy once they'd arrived in the valley, and Nia was no exception. She had no doubt that she'd find him more quickly alone than with the rest of the group.

[Maaike]

Maaike had stopped when Faris asked about the pattern of the brave's tracks. “I was kind of wondering that myself.” She trailed off when she realised Kiel was already stalking out across the valley but didn't follow him. She couldn't put her finger on it but something about the deliberate weaving around the holes tweaked her subconscious. She just couldn't put her finger on what.

“Well, the idiot's right in a way.” She never thought she'd say that about the chatty Rutilus. “We can see the holes so if there are any more surprises, we should see them coming, and the steam looks harmless enough.” Kiel and his shadowkin hadn't keeled over dead from toxic fumes, at least. Then again, they'd seen the trenches before and not realised what they would lead to, so visibility wasn't everything. “If Ionia scouts ahead, we can gauge how much ground we have to make up and then find a spot to ambush him.” Scouting was Maaike's job but she was happy to let the Skotadi use those wings for once, and she still didn't have a heck of a lot of energy to morph so it made sense to use Ionia's in-built flying. At least they'd managed to clear up their misunderstanding, else Maaike suspected there'd be a lot more glaring on this trip. Though the woman still hadn't told her who Faolan was.

Following Kiel with her gaze half on the steaming holes and half on the hoofprints in the mud, Maaike nodded. “From the tracks, and despite the zig-zagging, he's headed south-east along the valley.” One of the first things they had had to decide on was directions for navigation. It had been difficult in the Badlands to tell which side the sun rose on because the blazing light had been diffused so far across the horizon and it rose and fell so quickly, but here in the valley they had been able to confirm the consensus. “Jericho, you concur?”

[Jericho]

Jericho followed the Rutilus with a determined set to his shoulders and stride. The mythril armour weighed heavy on his back and sweat had rubbed him raw in various places, but he noticed none of it. He hadn't fully returned to his own mind since Misha set Rusty's body alight.

He hadn't stayed to watch it burn or to watch the flames spread up and out to encompass the rest of the creeping moss, instead turning stiffly to head south with Ninian reluctantly keeping pace. A few minutes later, he felt Misha's hand slipping into his and the Sidhe pressed close to the length of his arm, but neither of them had said anything. Instead, Jericho concentrated on the telepathic feelers he'd put out for the brave and let his companions steer him in whatever direction the Therians felt the most likely route. He only muttered corrections when he felt a twinge here and there of the brave. Focusing on his work meant he didn't have to confront the guilt he shouldn't feel. Rusty was paid to keep him safe. It wasn't Jeri's fault the puppy-like moron got himself killed.

“Jericho, you concur?”

“What?” Jeri blinked, tugged back to face the woman with the orange-tipped hair by Misha's insistent hands. “Oh. South-east, yes.” He swept a thumb across his right eyebrow. “I'm getting a lot of images of some sort of rocky structure. I don't know exactly where it's going or why, but there's a definite sense of hope attached to the place. It doesn't make sense, though.” He had been picking at the brave's thoughts whenever he could, and he was almost positive the Malaki's home and tribe were back where they'd already been. It had been there and left, but still with a sense of urgency. He was also about ninety per cent sure the creature hadn't told anyone yet of Elysia's existence.

He told the group as much as they set off across the valley. Nin and Misha took it in turns to steer him around the holes; Jericho was so mentally fatigued he could barely see where he was going. “There's a sense of anger. It's not quite grief, but I suppose it makes sense seeing as we killed a good portion of his tribe. They seem to take an extraordinary amount of pride in themselves as fighters and hunters, but no, it's something else, there's another reason he's left the bad... Yes, Badlands. That's what that Helspawn place is called here.”

[Official NPC]

Wing Master Adras Tiana circled the southern end of the valley where it bordered the jungle mountains of Chinyelu. The alarm had gone up that a Malaki brave had been spotted in Peace Valley. Though he was apparently headed south-east away from Tiana's tree-top village, tension rippled through the squadron of Riders with her. Where was one Malaki came another and another: Brutal, hard, merciless. They raided the villages on the Chinyelu perimeter frequently and the Mystriders had learned to recognise the signs of an impending attack. When they came, the clan evacuated to the skies until the tribesmen had taken what they needed. However, breeding season had only just ended so there were a number of hatchlings not yet ready to fly but too big to carry so the clan couldn't just take off this time.

Besides that, there was something unusual about the brave. Tiana and her squadron had been sent to scout the valley for signs there were more, but he was alone. That in itself was not unusual; Malaki sent their young on solo hunts all the time to test their skills and courage. It was unusual for them to come this far south, though. Even a Malaki was vulnerable when alone.

With a cry and a click of her tongue, Tiana sent her squadron wheeling east along the valley. They would check the length of steaming mud all the way to the Badlands and try to understand where the brave was headed — and why he was in such a hurry.

[Faris]

Faris kept pace with Kiel, though he made sure to remain a good two paces behind the Rutilus at all time just in case. The man was a trouble magnet, no doubt about it The holes in the ground were gradually growing larger in size, and the amount of vapour in the air increased as well. With aridity and water loss no longer as great an issue as before, Faris became more talkative as well, remarking on Mister Jericho's words in a bid to keep the queasiness in his stomach at bay.

"Reason to leave the Badlands? I can think of plenty without even trying. Deary scenery and lackluster weather for example... Much more remarkable, I think, is the fact that any individual, much less a whole tribe, would even want to settle down there in this Mo'kferl Azo'hol^[1] in the first place."

Granted, the Malaki had been trying to take over the Chandric for themselves. Yet Faris had a firm suspicion that there were other similarly habitable places on this world. What could possibly be preventing the Malaki from moving from the Badlands and displacing others of their world? One obvious possibility was that the other inhabitants of this world were even more fearsome than the Malaki. Which meant that they were walking straight into the maws of another predator.

Mister Jericho had said that there was a 'sense of hope' however. And if someone who quite possibly had the most reason to be feeling depressed was saying that he felt upbeat, Faris was not going to be contrary. At least not out loud; being paranoid was tiring, usually thankless, work. He definitely did not share the Dracovari's feeling of hope. If anything, Faris' own perception was one with a strong uninterrupted current of unease. Turmoil even. None of the others seemed to be affected however. Eventually curiosity and an urge to identify the source of his disquiet overcame him. Straying slight away from the vanguard, Faris wandered nearer to an almost man-sized hole and peered into it cautiously.


^[1]Mo'kferl Azo'hol: Desolate Plains (Zanaryan)

[Ionia]

If the malaki had a definite sense of hope in reaching those rocks, then he should not be allowed to reach it. As Jericho spoke, Nia tightened the straps of her backpack and fastened the third belt around her torso. When she was a fledgling soldier, she'd quickly learned nothing was more annoying than having to fly after a fallen backpack, or collect things that had scattered from it during flight. Stretching her neck, shoulders, and wing muscles, she pulled lightly on one of her wings and waited as Jericho completed his scan of the malaki's mind. “Ugh yes, and the worst place for a portal,” she agreed with Faris, “so...south-east.”

As the azat wandered off toward a hole in the ground, Nia strode quickly ahead of the group. She acknowledged Jericho with a slight tilt of her head as she passed the 'vari. With Alain waiting back at the Elysian side of the portal, Jericho was the only reader left in their group. At first, she'd thought that he'd be more of a liability than anything while scouting in the Chandrics...but now they'd realized more than ever how much they needed to keep him alive. Her nod could have meant 'keep tabs on me', or merely 'stay safe'. Even Nia wasn't quite sure. Even though she didn't have many secrets worth sharing, she was loathe to having her mind pried, even in circumstances such as these. Clasping Raph lightly on the shoulder, she fanned out her wings and flapped them twice as a test. Then, she ran briefly for a few meters before putting all energy into her legs to launch her into the air. As each flap of her wings brought her higher into the air, Nia glanced down at the shrinking figures on the porous ground.

Wind tousling her hair, hitting her face, and ruffling her clothes, Nia launched herself toward the south, grinning eagerly at the regained sense of freedom.

She kept her eyes on the ground at first and noticed that the further she flew and looked, the larger the holes seemed to grow. Some spouted steam incessantly, causing a small clump of fog in the vicinity. In the mountainous distance ahead, the ground gradually appeared greener and rose into walls of lush saplings and trees. However, the area was still far, far away. She caught a current and relied on it to bring her closer southeast, and as she swerved in the air to get a better look around one ledge of the deep valleys, she thought she saw a lumbering figure in the distance. Gradually, what seemed like holes in the ground grew into puddles and ponds that steamed.

The ground exploded. A wide column of water jetted out toward Nia, and she'd avoided most of it by only fractions of a second. “Holy shi--!!” She couldn't suppress a high-pitched yelp as a misty spray of hot water hit her left. Even as she hurriedly brushed the hot water off her skin, she flapped her wings to fly higher. She'd stay as far away from the puddles and holes as she could, and she hoped the rest of her team would do the same.

[Official NPC]

Deep underground, water churned and broiled over an even deeper pit of magma. Over a period of time, the heat built up, creating a pressure cooker in the caverns beneath Peace Valley. The only signs above ground were the wisps of steam, thicker in some places than others, and the pop-pop of mud bubbles bursting around seismic vents.

Like Ionia, Faris had the misfortune of choosing to look into a hole that was just about to erupt: A geyser of steam, hot water and mild acid that would burn him alive in three, two, one—

[Kiel]

Kiel was slightly ahead of the others, Shane napping in his pocket like she had been pretty much the whole time since they got to this horrendous place (well, aside from when she stayed with the others in the shelter Maaike found. He bet they were glad she was around then, 'cause, like, they wouldn't have woken up until they were all like Rusty otherwise!). Like, Maaike and Aiden were meant to be the scouts, but it was like he had ants in his pants or something. Like, way worse than usual, you know? 'Cause, like, every time Jeri opened his mouth, the Pet gave them something new to worry about and fret over, and Kiel was getting crazy antsy, okay? He wanted this whole thing, like, over, okay?

His stomach grumbled. “Dude, like, I'm starving, man, for sers.” But then he realised it wasn't just his tummy. Like, his legs were trembling, his whole body, and it started at his feet. Like, the ground was vibrating. He stopped dead with his feet braced and his arms out like he expected to be tossed on his back, but it wasn't a bit, like, quake or something. It felt more like something was getting shoved fast through a thin hole.

“Wah, crap!” Kiel pivoted, almost slipping in the mud, and frantically waved the others off. “Don't go near the holes, don't go near the—!” Except, like, Faris was already getting up close and personal with one of them where steam was thickening around his legs like wispy hands. “Dude, don't!”

He didn't have time for Faris to get the point. Kiel launched himself bodily and tried to grab Faris around the waist so he could tackle the Marid out of the way of the exploding geyser. “Wahhhhhh! Hot hot hot hot”

[Maaike]

Maaike had given up on feeling useless. Though it was her job to scout ahead and make sure they weren't walking into any obvious traps, Kiel was the one leading most of the time. That was fine with her, and even when Ionia decided to take far point, Maaike left them to it. As long as she got back alive, she'd get paid regardless.

The tremor stopped her in tracks. They had felt a major quake while still in the Badlands that they had put down to the movements of those giant beetles, but this felt completely different. Maybe it was the consistency of the ground: Instead of the shallow but wide-spread vibrations that had knocked them off their feet and crumbled rock around them, this felt deeper and narrower — and suddenly, she knew why.

She echoed Kiel's shout, turning instinctively away from the geyser and launching herself at Aiden in an effort to bring the great lummox down. He was a large man but hopefully her momentum would carry them both to the ground — and if he was a gentleman (which she had learned he was), he'd let himself get caked in the mud so she wouldn't have to.

The blast of steam was huge, spearing what had to be a good two hundred feet into the washed-out sky. Maaike huddled under her arms, peeking out from under her elbow at plume of boiling water. It kept going, and going, and going... and then slowly petered out until droplets pattered onto the mud.

“Well,” she sighed. “At least now we know what the holes are for.”

[Official NPC]

Tiana saw the plumes of steam but thought nothing of them at first. Acanthans learned early in life that Peace Valley was anything but, so she knew better than to hope the brave had fallen foul of the steaming geysers.

Her squadron rounded a curve that took them north, wheeling through the air to avoid sudden bursts of acid and boiling water. Though the wildwomen of their village could heal the minor wounds that contact with the acid would bring, the steam alone could scald the flesh from their bones. Tiana's own father and his myst had suffered such a fate as a cadet; they still bore the scars to this day.

Below, the valley forked, one spur continuing directly north while the other diverted to the south-east where it would split again. The pass to the east would eventually take them to the grassy plains that led to Nanea, while the route south would hug the line of the jungle all the way to—

“Wing Master!”

Tiana turned in her saddle to look at Rider Sattar Fhen. The young man was new to her squadron but had sharp eyes. He was pointing over his myst's shoulder at a black-winged figure headed right for them.

“Bank! Split!” The rest of the command was a piercing cry like that of a hawk. Her squad split in half, the right banking east to check the pass while the left wheeled around to continue scouting north to the Badlands. Meanwhile, Tiana's dragon pitched up into a climb and flipped over while her rearguard dove to come up at the avian humanoid from below in a practised pincer move meant to bear their captive to the ground without doing too much damage.

With a whistle and a click, Tiana sent her myst into a swift dive, his claws out ready to grab. Tiana had never seen a creature like this before: Who and what was it, and why was it here?

[Faris]

Faris' body pitched sideways as Kiel collided into him, losing his balance rapidly even as he turned with a look of surprise. He took a step back, in an attempt to stay upright, but the force had too unexpected and too much - Faris slipped, his feet coming out from under him and sending both him and Kiel sailing on to the ground.

They landed with an squelch, warm mud creeping up the sides of their bodies as their weight pulled them down. A good part of Faris' face was covered in the dull reddish substance, but his attention was occupied by something else entirely.

Just a few strides away from them, a geyser had erupted. Seething water rushed up and sprayed out of the hole he had been looking into, writhing like a long-trapped beast that had finally found release. Steam clouded his vision, stray droplets of condensed steam drizzled on them from far above. They were hot, but in insufficient quantities to be scalding. Nevertheless Faris gathered the fine drizzle into a shield that covered both him and Kiel.

Half or even more of his body was in close contact with the ground, allowing Faris to feel the tremors that wracking the land. It was clear now, what kind of place they were in. He had been careless, and foolhardy. As someone who grew up in a volcanic area, he should have known better. Faris got up shakily once the geyser stopped erupting, and started cleaning his face of the mud as best as he could with the clean side of his sleeves. The mud would cake and fall off in its own, but nothing was what it seemed here. Faris did not want to take the chance; who knew what properties the mud had?

"Thank you, Kiel. Yes, that would probably be why the Malaki kept winding left and right..."

The road ahead was a treacherous one indeed. Just how many more tricks and traps did this foreign land have?

[Official NPC]

As two Riders wheeled east along the pass toward the plains, Riders Iosen Lysaedra and Ainetto Sylvea followed the valley north past the dark-winged avian toward the Badlands. Lysaedra wanted to stay with the Wing Master so she could sate her curiosity about the strange humanoid, but discipline was so ingrained that she didn't hesitate to follow Tiana's command.

With Sylvea and her myst on her right wing, Lysaedra steered her own dragon around a plume of steam. Their shroud thickened as particles from the geyser merged with the vapour Eicyel and Yarai produced, so it took Lysaedra's vision a second to adjust -- and then, with a shout and sudden tension in her knees, she sent both dragons into a spin so they could circle the figures below.

“What are they?” Sylvea queried, one knee bent at an angle to balance herself on the saddle as Eicyel banked sharply around a geyser. “They look like us, only not!”

Lysaedra could only shrug. They were definitely not Malaki, that much was clear, and they were too tall to be Mystriders -- most of them, at least. Their clothing was foreign, and none of the villagers would come this far west without an armed escort and a damned good reason.

“Let's go check it out!” Wing Master Adras had said nothing about what they should do if they encountered strangers here. Protocol for spotting Malaki was established long ago so she wouldn't have needed to under ordinary circumstances, but these were far from ordinary.

With a click of her tongue, Lysaedra nudged their mounts down. While Sylvea stayed in the air to back her up if need be, Lys hopped out of Yarai's saddle and pushed up the beak of her mask to reveal bright-eyed curiosity and a broad grin.

“Anai, tu!” she greeted in common Acanthan, hands held wide palms-up. At her back, Yarai clicked an orange tongue, shook his head briskly so the vapours in his shroud whirled and eddied around his body, and lit up with friendly blue flashes. “Be welcome here, but mind your step!”

[Kiel]

Kiel had claw marks where his trouser leg used to be. Like, he'd squished Shane-in-his-pocket again. Like, oops? He petted the warm bundle through the fabric of his pants by way of apology but she just sank her claws in even deeper. Like, yeah. She wouldn't be forgiving him any time soon, but, like, was it his fault he had a natural tendency to lean right when he tackled people? It wasn't like he did it deliberately!

“Huh? Like, oh, yeah, no problem.” He kinda wanted to dance around the Zanaryan and be all, like, "how do you like me now, huh, huh, huh?" but settled for wiping the mud off his pants instead. The effort was kind of a wasted one, though, you know? Until it dried and flaked off by itself, they'd be walking around in it -- and the stuff weighed an extra bazillion pounds, man, for sers. They better hope they reached someplace safe to rest soon.

“Man, I so need a bath. Like, for sers, man, I can't tell which of us stinks the worst any more.” He didn't even mean it as a racial slur, you know? Like, they'd been together so long he'd kinda gotten used to Faris' smell, but they were all pretty desperate for a bath at this stage. He eyed the geyser with some consideration, but, like, he kinda wanted his skin to stay on his bones, okay?

With the geyser making so much noise and taking a while to dissipate, killing his ears flat in the process, Kiel didn't notice they had company at first. Like, it was only when one of them landed and was talking to them that he realised, and he shot back behind Faris' wing with a startled, like, “Wah! Kill it dead! Like, wait.” Like, it was so good a thing that he couldn't understand what the chick was saying, right, 'cause that meant she couldn't understand him too, like, right?

“So, like, anyone speak...” He gestured vaguely at the tiny woman. She waved with a huge, crazy friendly grin so he totally waved and smiled back. “Like, whatever the heck she's talking?”

[Jericho]

Jericho never ever would have thought to miss a man. He didn't even feel the loss all that much when his lover disappeared for months on end or when he thought he'd never see Misha again, yet Alain's absence was like a thorn pricking his side or the mythril chafing various unmentionables: constant, annoying, and irritating in its very presence -- or lack thereof.

“I'm sure you lot think I'm some sort of power crystal with unlimited reserves. Track this, translate that.” His mental fatigue, exacerbated by grief he refused to entertain, made him snap. He was not overly concerned with others' feelings at the best of times, but after two weeks of non-stop telepathy, he was far beyond the boundaries of tired and way past courtesy.

He was even too tired to be surprised when they suddenly had company, or to be fascinated by the colourful, mist-enshrouded beast. It looked similar enough to a dragon to be related, though. Even the vapour it exuded was similar to the gases produced by air wyverns. There were plenty of differences, of course -- size being one of them -- but the similarities made him question again where they were. Was this a Xanthian realm? Legend -- and the Voice -- claimed they were all her creations and obviously the portal network connected multiple realms, but this one was completely alien. If it had been connected to Elysia all along, why had they not seen the Malaki before? Or these masked dragon riders, for that matter. Were these the same as the cloud-covered scouts the Empire had claimed to see?

Rubbing a thumb across his eyebrow, Jericho narrowed his eyes and peered into the small woman's mind. She reminded him a great deal of a Nymph-Anyeli hybrid without the wings: petite, finely boned, light enough for the vibrant creature at her back to carry. “I'm getting images of forest -- no, jungle. Green mountains. Xanth, I see water.” He sighed and his knees almost buckled right there at the thought of quenching his thirst properly, of languishing in a rocky pool with clear water, of numbing his mind to everything else as words and thoughts were drowned out by crashing falls.

And then what she was saying translated. It was tougher to read her mind than the Malaki's, to interpret her speech because she used words even in her mind like Elysians did, but Jericho would have smiled if his facial muscles weren't seized into a permanent scowl. “She's greeting us.”

[Faris]

Faris winced at Mister Jericho's tirade. He could understand, maybe even share some of the telepath's frustration. Possible grief from the loss of a trusted aide aside (Faris had trouble believing that the stone-faced man had any emotion, grief or otherwise), the burden of being the only mind-reader had to be heavy. Perhaps they should have insisted that the Red Warden to have come along with them. Jericho was currently a tracker and translator in one; Faris did not envy his job.

The newcomers were dressed in bright-coloured cloths, resembling Nymphs in stature. Faris mimicked the dragon-rider's smile, and had to remind himself that this was a treacherous world, who was to say if its occupants were not similarly so? They appeared to be friendly now, but from the bows they carried it was clear that they were not as tightly bound to the Sylvan Creed as the Nymphs were, if such a Creed even existed here.

No, they were not Nymphs. Or at the very least, they were so changed that such a comparison was only valid on a superficial level. Nymphs did not, could not, command dragons. But to continue standing here at a stalemate was inefficient at best, so Faris stepped closer.

Bringing his wings closer to his body, Faris gave a slight bow, barely more than a nod. Continuing to smile without showing his canines, he started a rudimentary self-introduction. He pointed to himself , and then to the others in turn.

"Faris, Zanaryan. Raphael, Zanaryan. Jericho, Dracovari. Kiel, Dracovari. Aiden, Therian. Maaike, Therian..."

Hopefully the dragon-riders were clever enough to understand that it was a name-race introduction. It was as simple as it was going to get, verbally. Faris was trying his best to alleviate a certain irate telepath's workload. If they still could not get it... Jericho was in for a long day's work.

[Official NPC]

Lysaedra's smile dimmed a little, blue eyes darting from one humanoid to another as one of them spoke. He seemed to be ignoring her, but then another male with what looked like a black membranous cloak folded around him stepped forward. Another one with red eyes waved and grinned in response, so apparently they were not all so rude as the man speaking without actually acknowledging her.

“Hallo, Faris Zanaryan. Hallo.” She acknowledged the first by name because he was apparently their Wing Master. Or their equivalent of it. The one her own Wing Master was dealing with right now back down the valley had wings, but most of them didn't appear to. She also assumed that "Zanaryan" was a name, so the first two must be related, no? They did look a little similar in stature and colouring, but the second, Raphael Zanaryan, untucked his "cloak" while she was watching and her eyes widened. They were wings! She clucked her tongue at Yarai, gleeful. She had never seen a person with wings before.

The way Faris Zanaryan had pointed at himself and the others while he reeled off words like a list suggested he was trying to communicate, and Lysaedra returned the gesture. She patted her own chest twice — “Rider Iosen Lysaedra.” — then thrust her hand toward the sky. “Rider Ainetto Sylvea.” At her back, Yarai rumbled and shook himself bodily, so she gave an impish smile and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Yarai.” Pointed up at the pair still circling overhead. “Eicyel.”

Head tilted to one side so long blonde hair tumbled across her slender shoulders, Lys circled a fingertip to include all of Faris Zanaryan's group in her next query. “Malaki?”

[Ionia]

Luckily for Nia, her armguards had taken the brunt of the boiling spray of geyser water, although parts of her hands had been left unprotected and now stung because of it. As she continued flying toward that vague figure in the distance, the skotadi checked the ground almost constantly for more signs of exploding water. Having seen a couple of the geysers go off as she flew, Nia quickly learned to avoid places with heavy mist and the sound of bubbling water. Actually, it was difficult to avoid the misty areas, since she felt perpetually surrounded by a cloud of light fog.

Pausing to look behind as she soared over the dormant ponds, Nia wondered how long it would take for the group to catch up with her. On foot, they would need to take the same S-shape path as the Malaki in order to stay clear of the geysers. And the more Nia flew toward the forest in the distance, the more she saw the ground roll up and down and swerve with the inclines of the adjacent mountains.

At least the dark-looking figure was getting larger. She was getting close. Too quickly. Too close too quickly! Her breath caught in her throat. Helfire and Neme's gift—“Dragon!” she shouted with her mind, although she could be too far for the peteulanus to detect—if he was even trying anymore. Everything she'd bumped into in Acantha had been something bad, so she reacted before even noticing the figure astride the reptiian creature.

She'd practiced enough air maneuvers to recognize one when she saw it. She was far to rusty to do anything from her younger days, but nevertheless, she clamped her wings shut and allowed herself to plummet toward one of the dormant pools as one of the dragons dove at her from above.

Sure enough a dragon swooped in from below, and this time, she noticed the rider. She'd spare no time to determine whether this kelpie wolf was as bad as malaki. Wings unfurling violently, Nia grunted at the tug of the wind on her shoulders and banked to the left. The dragon was bigger than her, but she was faster and more flexible. Even so, she felt another rush of wind at her back. The skotadi had only mere seconds to wrap her wings and torso with a layer of thick shadows before another dragon's talons crushed against her waist. She clawed and pulled at the joints, and her shadow-armor solidified and sprouted sharp thorns that dug into both the underside and the back of the talons.