Part 2: A Desert Race to Verhold

 

The following morning, The Tempest awakens with the sun as it crests over the rain-soaked dunes and city nestled within. The morning breeze whistling through the glass tree towering above and the desert birds singing morning songs is pleasant to his ears as he gently tries to pry his arm out from under the dark elf and a dark red haired human companion with whom Nathbryn is cuddled up to. He chuckles internally, never thinking he'd ever find himself in a situation where a relationship would be this 'adventurous' as The Scourge puts it.

 

Careful not to wake the sleeping woman and the trancing dark elf, he creeps out to the balcony, pants and boots in hand dressed in only a robe and his underwear as he lights a cigarette with a small jolt from between his fingers and glances around in his usual fashion of 'high alert but elusive about it being known.

 

You feel the sleepy heat of the desert begin to creep over each grain of sand, soaking up last night's downpour. Soon it will be dry again, an insatiable thirst that will never quench. Each puff of your cigarette is a wash of comfort and sweet smoke--a pleasant way to start the morning. The town is still groggy from last night's revelries--partygoers stayed up until almost dawn, drawn by the howling wind and rain through the  organ that is the glass tree. It was by far the best festival they've had in years, and a historical wonder on top of....why you are here in the first place.

 

The Witch Moons.

 

An occurrence only once a century, the Witch Moons are a beautifully surreal phenomenon. Many places prophecy for its arrival, with a great many positive or negative repercussions. Breehani remembers the last time as a child. The Corpse... well, all he does is chuckle darkly when it comes up in conversation.

 

Two blood red moons, full as a fattened calf to slaughter, will hang low on the horizon tonight. Two eyes peering down on the world of Alverathion, and casting a strange pall over the land--a thinning of the weaves between worlds, planes and powers.

 

Verhold, about 40 miles south of The City of Whistling Glass, sits in the shadow of a great slumbering volcano aptly named Devil's Peak. It is said a saintly statue in the center of their town keeps watch evermore over Devil's Peak and any evil that slumbers there.

 

Magus Jaundree did not want to take any chances. Given the civil war at hand, any thinning of the veil could cause trouble... and possibly turn the tide of war. The Court of the Magi needed to maintain its presence, help those in need, and most assuredly prevent any powerful enemies from joining the opposition.

 

"Good morning, Tempest," The Scourge croons beside your ear. She rests her arms atop your shoulders and nips the back of your neck. She breathes in deeply, enjoying the air on the balcony.

 

"I've always loved the smell of the desert after a good rain."

 

Even without looking, you're sure she's as bare as the day she was born. Typical Nathbryn. There was no elusiveness with her around.

 

The Tempest nods. "Helps keep the heat down, too. Maybe all the idiots got all the stupid out of their system last night and today will be relatively calm?" He says with hope in his voice. He pats her arm and kisses her bicep.

 

"Maybe. Does it help you get all the stupid out of your system?"

 

You feel her smirk against your ear. You know she's chided you time and time again for your recklessness.

 

He laughs and then bites her arm. "No, but I have a particularly special blend of stupid... it's called dragon blood." He smirks and reaches behind him with one hand and pulls her closer against him. "To be fair, I've toned down the reckless shit since we've been together... before then, all I had was painful memories of Makani and what happened. Maybe that pushed me to be reckless? Not looking for death but not caring if it happened?" He shrugs and lays his head on her arm.

 

"Yeah," Nathbryn hums, running the fingers of her free hand through Alrik's long hair. She tossles the bed-head locks gently. "Stuff like that makes most people do reckless shit."

 

The dark elf plants a kiss. "You still against taking up my offer of," she hesitates, "you know, erasing that? That's always on the table if you change your mind."

 

"The memories? Nah... they helped shape me into who I am today. Without them, who knows how much worse and fucked up I'd be?" He chuckles and turns around in her arms and kisses her. "Besides, you wouldn't be interested if I wasn't this pissy, grumpy old man admit it." He smirks.

 

Nathbryn laughs deeply. She bites your lip and playfully shoves your shoulder as she lets go.

 

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

 

The Scourge turns and sashays back into the room, flipping her dark-dyed hair over her shoulder. You notice the dark redheaded company from the previous night has slipped out already, leaving a desert rose on the bed.

 

Nathbryn picks it up, spinning on her heel as she elegantly weaves it into her hair. Lithe and deadly as always.

 

"So," she clicks her tongue, "Now that we've gotten a night of fun in, let's talk work. I got some research in at the Atheneum before I came. Verhold is a piece of work. Ever been?"

 

Alrik shakes his head, his long hair flowing back and forth as he does. "Can't say I have. I've only been to The City of Glass a few times in passing." He takes the robe off and tosses it onto the bed and sits down in one of the plush armchairs with a heavy sigh. "Any idea who all is here of the Elite other than us? Or is Jaundree expecting us to handle this shit if it goes sideways?"

 

Nathbryn approaches a travel bag in the corner of the room, plucking out item after item. She dresses, pulling on sleek leggings and a long-sleeved belted tunic. Despite it's looseness, on her it's more than sexual enough to compete with her traditional style. It's distinctly "Scourge" in every sense of the word. The desert here is merciless for most as is, let alone those with skin like a drow.

 

"Just us. Corpse is banned from tasks such as this, too much of a risk. Breehani is handling something out in Eredhune near Saltmarsh. Blizzard came down from Thambh'ait to help her... She was going to join us here otherwise." Nathbryn sniffs, looking a bit irritated as she pulls her boots on.

 

"Jandreee had to take care of some business in Baralona. Things there have been... rocky. I haven't even heard from Boulder in months. Grumpy ass dwarf." She throws a smirk your way. "Not the fun grumpy ass like you are, of course. So... yes. Just us. Let's hope shit doesn't go too sideways."

 

Alrik sighs and drops his head back onto the backrest. "Typical Jaundree... leaves us to handle this all alone. At least we don't have to worry quite so much about Breehani throwing a fit over the way we do things if it goes sideways." He chuckles a bit as he drags his pants on and his boots and begins walking around the room looking behind furniture and on top of closets. "The hell'd you throw my shirt?"

 

Nathbryn tsks, her green eyes glancing up. You see it draped over an arm of the chandelier,  along with a pair of panties. She tilts her head and smiles at it.

 

"Hey," she adds, "I only aimed where you did."

 

Alrik turns his head with an incredulous look. "You did NOT just make a dick joke..." he laughs and walks over to the bed and stands on it to try and get his shirt. "I cannot believe you threw my shirt up there." He reaches for it, but with the tall ceiling of the suites, he can't reach. "Oh to hell with this..." he throws his hand out and a small gust of wind throws everything lightweight in the room into a flurry of movement.

 

As he catches the shirt and panties, he looks at her smirking as he puts her panties in his pocket. "You'll find I threw your bra. It was Sami who threw your panties..."

 

"Or maybe that was her bra? I don't know... I was a bit distracted, and I can't see in the dark like you!" He laughs.

 

Nathbryn cackles and fixes her windswept hair, tying it back. "Admit it, that was a fun night."

 

You can tell from the sparks in her eyes she's got a target on your pocket. She harrumphs and straightens her top. "You keeping a collection or something of your escapades?"

 

He chuckles. "Maybe... or maybe I just know you have a clean pair and figured I'd drop them off for washing." He blushes slightly and pulls his shirt on before beginning to put his belt, satchel, and long jacket on.

 

Nathbryn lets out a very unladylike snort. "Well then, good thing I kept a comparable souvenir myself."

 

She winks as she opens the door and exits the room, leaving you with more questions than answers.

 

You spend a few more minutes gathering your things and then head down the well-worn stairs. Down below you're greeted with the luscious smells of breakfast cooking, mingled with the humid pools and sweet incense. Your companion leans up against the counter talking with a few other patrons in polite conversation. She grins at you as you approach.

 

"Oh definitely the Tempest," she continues, mid-story of something you're unsure about. "That was the day I knew he could wrestle a full grown war rhino and win."

 

The couple oos and ahs at the description, eyes turning into stars at the sight of you. Delilah sits at the far end of the counter, drowsy and nursing a cup of black coffee. Even she laughs a little under her breath at the whole thing.

 

"Go on, Alrik--tell the man about it. It was superb skill, that's for sure."

 

Alrik claps his hand over his face. "Gods, Nathbryn... really? It's too fucking early for the Whyrvoar story..." The Tempest walks over to the breakfast buffet and grabs a cup of coffee and a plate then begins loading it up with some food. "What has she told you so I can correct the story?" He says followed by a grumble with something along the lines of "quiet morning"

 

"Uh," one of the fellows glances at the other with a smile, "She told us of how you tracked the beast for a hundred leagues through the deserts, and tore apart basilisks with your bare hands. That you survived with...." He trails off, trying to remember.

 

His friend picks up the conversation. "You survived with only a belt and a rusty dagger? And some bottles you'd fill with your own urine to hydrate?" .

 

Alrik sets his plate down and turns around, his eyes sparking. "Really? And what makes you think me, a fucking Storm Caller, would ever need to drink my own piss? And what use is a dagger when I force the storms into doing my will?" He chugs some coffee. "The belt part could be true, but... it isn't."

 

Nathbryn acts out being shocked--hand over her mouth and eyes wide--Delilah snorts audibly into her coffee.

 

"Oh!" The Scourge gasps, "That's right, maybe I'm thinking of The Inferno. It's hard to keep so many dashing, life-threatening feats straight."

 

The gentlemen laugh, standing to head out. "Thanks for the stories. Hail Magi." One pats his chest with a gesture of reverence.

 

The Tempest rolls his eyes and grabs his plate again, walking over to a corner table and putting his back to the wall and raises his hood as he sits down. To the untrained eye, he's just a somewhat strangely dressed man but if you know what to look for, he's ready for anything. His eyes alert and scanning the room. His left hand always empty and resting on his leg, ready to spring like a trap should the need arise. The man who let loose last night and dropped his guard has raised it tenfold, it seems...

 

You can see Nathbryn giggling and talking softly to the bartender, then making small talk with Delilah at the other end of the bar. They laugh. It's surprising how well they get along. The general chatter and peace of the Fang is a reprieve, but for only so long. You know to trust nothing in Komodori, and that peace is fleeting.

 

"Ready to head out?"

 

 Nathbryn glances back at you, a small bag in hand. She grins and holds it up.

 

"Snacks. And a treat for Whyrvoar."

 

The Storm Caller finishes his final few bites of breakfast and downs the last bit of his coffee and grunts. "I guess. Whatever fuckery is prepared for us isn't going to wait for us to be ready." He shrugs and as he stands, pulls the hood down lower over his face. There's almost a static field radiating from the man. Your hair would tingle and maybe even stand on edge as he walked past if you were close enough... he is definitely on edge and not taking any chances. Those who are familiar with the scent of his magic catch a subtle hint of it on the breeze, almost as if he is barely keeping it contained. The Tempest is ready. A sleeping storm, just waiting for a catalyst to spark him into a typhoon of power...

 

"Gods, don't let today go completely to shit. The last thing I need is to explain why half this city of scorched by lightning arcs."

 

"You can like, direct it to a point, can't you?" Nathbryn snickers as you exit the Fang and step into the bright morning sun. "You have a tendency of making big explosions. It's not Iike you need to compensate."

 

"Lightning likes metal. What are houses held together with? Nails. Metal nails." He chuckles a bit as they step out, glancing up at the sun. "If it gets to much for ya, let me know... I'll bring some clouds in."

 

"Oh you are too kind."

 

She grins, her teeth shining in the light. "Where is this pampered rhino of yours?"

 

You hear a slight commotion down the street as a few half bridled horses rush past you.

 

Alrik looks towards the noise and upon seeing the half bridled horses, groans loudly in exasperation. "Probably tossing some idiot around a stall..." he points ahead and takes off running .

 

You pass by a few other people shouting and head straight for the stables. You can hear the noise of the war rhino before you see him; as soon as you make it to the entrance, you catch another horse in the stomach as it flees the stable, heading North of town. Whyrvoar has the old man atop him trying to rein him in, but with little success--he's frantic like the horses were. A stall of long-legged birds breaks open as they fly free. It's pure chaos.

 

The Tempest drags himself back upright after being shoved aside hy the fleeing horse, his voice booming with thunder and authority as he shouts a command into the stables. "Zemaraum poshat, staz!" (Calm down, beast!) As the rhino was given command words in Orcish, being trained by them. "Dez ve alnej." (Come to me.)

 

Rhyrvoar stomps the ground, causing it to shake beneath your feet. "Woah, fella!" The man atop stutters. It turns to look at you, eyes spinning and wild. You don't usually see him like this, even in the midst of bloody battle.

 

The dust on the ground stirs as he exhales roughly, breathing heavily, watching you closely. He doesn't move.

 

Alrik looks at the man, pure fury in his eyes. "Get off now, before I blast you off..." his fingers sparking violently. "Whyrvoar, Don't drepa ul fuckaumn idioav. Na least olk yet." (Don't kill the fucking idiot. At least not yet.)

 

The old man shakes, glancing around and looking for a way off. "Blasted animals all going crazy," he mutters and taking the chance, reaches up for a rope ladder hanging from the loft above.

 

As soon as his fingers grip the rung, Rhyrvoar steps forward one pace. Then another. He keeps his eyes trained on you, his horn razor sharp between his flaring nostrils.

 

Alrik flips his hood back and kneels down and picks up some sand and rubs it between his hands. "lat're trenot.  Jiak saib avell.  Don'av leav iav boavhas lat.  Kulknej'll deukavroausan avhe ukavableuk laavas" (you're mad. I can tell. Don't let it bother you. We'll destroy the stables later.) He blows the sand off his hands toward the rhino, mimicking a snort the war rhinos will do. "Nathbryn, whatever you do... do NOT move."

 

You could tell she was behind you without even turning. She stands by the entrance, gazing in to the hazy, dusty air that's been stirred up inside. You just hear her mutter under her breath.

 

"Damn."

 

Rhyrvoar snorts again, responsive to your show of comradery. He steps forward again with a shake of his head, his gaze returning less red and fire. He stands within arm's length now, a massive beast before you.

 

The Storm Caller stretches his hand forward, the static dropping as he rubs Whyrvoar's nose gently. "Easy, boy... easy. Eaukausan." (Easy)

 

He reaches out with his other hand and scratches the war rhino behind the ear as he looks up at the man in the loft. "You have zero idea how lucky you, and EVERYONE around here is to be alive. This isn't a pack rhino. The black color should have given him away. Whyrvoar is a Deaavhmounav... a Death Mount."

 

The man raises an eyebrow. "How's that different than the normal war rhinos that come through here? Ain't they all masters of death and destruction? Never had this happen before."

 

"Deaavhmounav are bigger. Stronger. They are gifted from The Desert Goddess Haku. They are imbued with the flames that scorched these lands into a desert and gave birth to Haku. That's why their flesh is the color of coal. You make them angry enough, they set their heart ablaze and erupt... they can basically coat themselves as fire and snort jets of flame... that is hot enough to melt stone." He hugs the rhino's head, scratching his neck, looking up at the man again. "That's why his eyes were red. That's why he was snorting and stomping..."

 

The man blinks slowly. "Well that's not what you said when you dropped him off... thought I was just dealing with a normal rhino. Not no flaming timebomb."

 

Grumbling, he gets surer footing and makes his way back down to the ground. As his boots hit the floor, Whyrvoar snorts and shakes his head again. The animal wiggles his ears at you.

 

"Well maybe you should ask better questions," Nathbryn chides as she steps into the shade of the stable.

 

The rhino seems at ease now, and she takes advantage of that. Striding forward, she pokes a manicured finger into the chest of the old man.

 

"I don't care what kind of adventurer you used to be in your hay day, grandpa, but show some respect for customers--especially those representing the Magi."

 

A crowd slowly gathers outside the door. Several people have helped herd the animals they could catch and have them by a lead, though they are still struggling at their reins and acting bizarre. All eyes peer in as they murmur amongst one another.

 

"Magi..." He grumbles, sugar-coating some crude platitudes. "Yes ma'am, right away ma'am. Of course we shall lick your boots, ma'am." He glares under furrowed brows. "Not everyone is happy with the war you started."

 

Nathbryn tsks, almost disgusted. "Started? We stepped in to help!"

 

The stable owner grumbles. "Help... Funny way to put it."

 

Nathbryn's eyes narrow. A perfumed aura seems to shimmer around her. She turns on her heel and stomps past, shoving past the crowds outside.

 

Alrik snaps his vision to the stable hand, his eyes flashing with a raging storm. "Wow... do you really think that? You have no idea what would have happened if we didn't step in to help..." he clenches his jaw, visibly fighting to contain himself. "Leav'uk geav ouav ro katu before jiak do ukomeavhaumn ukavupid like mabus avhiuk moavherfuckas" (Let's get out of here before I do something stupid like murder this motherfucker)

 

Alrik grabs Whyrvoar's reins and leads him out of the building, clearly fuming and wanting to do something rash, but containing the raging storm... but it's easily seen that it's just barely.

 

"Deaavhmounav? Now that's something that's news even to me. I'm a bit horrified at myself for not realizing sooner."

 

Nathbryn walks beside Whyrvoar, keeping pace with you the best she can--it helps that her legs are long and her gait is lithe. She respects your space, and that of your beast--not wanting to anger either of you on your way out of town. The crowds around you murmur and scramble out of your way. You can see people attempting to wrangle the horses that ran back to the stables with little avail. Several other places you pass seem to be having equal trouble with their animals. It doesn't seem to even register because of Whyrvoar, and he himself seems a bit uneasy the further you go.

 

You find your way to the sandstone outskirts of the city and continue out to the dunes beyond. You know your destination lies beyond them despite the lack of visible landmarks. The shifting sands make tracking difficult--but you know this desert. You know the sun, the stars, and everything in between.

 

Once outside and away from prying ears, The Tempest turns and faces Nathbryn, nodding. "Whyrvoar is what's known in these lands as a Deaavhmounav... a Death Mount. Legend goes that Haku, the Goddess of the Desert wept when her lover died. Each tear was a heart of pure flame and power, and when they landed on the sands, they took seed in the scorched earth. It's said that when conditions are perfect, the volcanic heart will begin beating and eventually one of these will be born..."

 

He pats the giant rhino's neck, trying to settle him down. "Nalkra's zut, boy? Lat seem par ana." (What's wrong, boy? You seem on edge.) The Storm Caller reaches into his satchel and pulls a bright green fruit, a vojilla, and holds it out to his animal companion. "You notice that the beasts around are antsy? Like they know something we don't?"

 

Your rhino snorts, sniffing at the fruit deeply. His great tongue licks his lips as they part, sucking the treat out of your hand and munching it noisily. He seems calmer after your intervention, but his ears remain alert.

 

Nathbryn remains quiet as she watches you both. The sound of Whyrvoar's footfalls are all you hear, plus the occasional munching and chewing sounds. He's most grateful for the fruit, that is for certain.

 

"That's quite the legend. Are there many other Deaavhmounav alive from her supposed tears?"

 

The Storm Caller shrugs. "Not sure.  Only others I've seen have been under the use of the chieftains of The Desert Lords, and they were purposefully enraged and set loose on the battlefields... hulking masses of fire and anger, driven by pain and confusion, just as much as the poor creatures were probably terrified... most succumbed to their wounds after they were extinguished, but the few who didn't would run off into the distance, disappearing over the dunes or into a dust storm."

 

He looks at The Scourge and rolls his neck, a look of question on his face. "I wouldn't have believed the black-skinned rhinos were magical beasts if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes... do you know if there's very many species of creatures that have been... altered, I guess? By the weave? Besides the obvious of basilisks and whatnot..."

 

"Oh yes, most definitely." 

 

Nathbryn looks between Alrik and his war rhino. She sucks on her bottom lip, pensive. You know she has much more study in these areas, more so considering what happened to her homeland.

 

"You find it around areas where the weave is thinned to the other planes. The spiritual realms of fey and shadow alter the life blood of creatures, both human or monstrous. I daresay like the young lady we met, and her unique abilities from beyond the sea. Or the elemental planes, with ice and fire, wind and ash, bubbling and frothing through incursions. You find azers, genies and elementals abundantly.... Not so often here on this plane. An incursion only happens with with the aid of immense magical power. One such encounter sucked me through to the Endless Sky, a realm of wind and storms and floating cities. It took Breehani a month to get me back, though there it only felt like a week."

 

Nathbryn pets Whyrvoar's tough hide. You can imagine his kind was definitely blessed by something. Perhaps fey, or perhaps fire.

 

"Then you have the wars beyond our worlds. The endless fights between angelic and demonic, Celestia and Hell, chaos and order. Astrological events leak their energy. And pacts made with mortals to draw on demon madness or a devil's contract through the weave are not uncommon... unfortunately. Hence, why we are needed here in Verhold. With the flood of fey and shadow in the south desert now arming the bloodbath of mortals against the mages, the last thing we need right now is a twin blood moon raising any more devilish resources for our enemies."

 

The Scourge seems pensive as you walk. A lot appears to be on her mind.

 

"I may also have a bit of a... surprise waiting ahead of us.  This is not the only wrench thrown into the chaos. More help is coming, or so I am hopeful."

 

Alrik nods, mulling through the words he's heard from The Scourge, his eyebrow raising slightly at the final remarks as he glances over at her. "More help, eh? It better not be more of your friends from the bar like last time we worked together... I nearly ended up 2 feet shorter and walking on my knees because of that dwarf you invited..." he chuckles dryly to himself

 

"That was fun, you grumpy old man," Nathbryn laughs, her eyes glittering.

 

"If I'm going to be completely honest with you, I've been avoiding this since I ran into you here. I would normally relish teasing and provoking you, but not this time. Not with so much on the line. And we're finally in a remote enough place I feel safe sharing."

 

You hear the intense candor to her voice now, and her gaze studies you with the training of a master, a rogue, a co-conspirator.

 

"You've been on the front lines of the war, even as far as Baleah. I know you've faced terrible things. Dark things. You've been a key instrument in the turning point of several decisive battles, and have helped win cities. But something doesn't sit right within the Court, Alrik of the Tempest. And the world is on edge with our tip in power. It is a dangerous game."

 

She pauses a moment, then continues.

 

"I haven't spoken of it, however your old ally and rival has been interesting company these last several years. And busy. He's planning to join the war. For what end you can ask him yourself--his fleet was seen off the coast yesterday. Inferno about blew his lid when he heard, and is trying to play a careful game of it. But one of his daughters is here in Komodori as well, ahead of her father. He--and she--offered assistance with this deal in Verhold, as a sign of good faith or some shit."

 

The Tempest shrugs slightly, his face a shadow under his deep cowl with the late morning sun behind him. "I've seen my fair amount of horrors. I also knew Jaundree had a kid around here, but I didn't know it was his daughter! They say she's going to be the next Inferno... but that's a story for a different time." He waves his hand as if dismissing that conversation.

 

"You know you can speak plainly to me, Nathbryn... who are you talking about? Who would I know that could possibly have an entire...... fleet........... oh. I think I know." He lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly. "Continue. Just in case I'm wrong. Gods, let me be wrong..." he mutters the last part

 

"The Gods have a funny sense of humor, you know that. Yes, it's Atriox. The one and only."  She smirks. "Well maybe not one and only, now that he has a brood of children.... Is that called a brood? I'm not being racist am I?"

 

You can't tell if she's being serious or not, nor if she means that sincerely.

 

Alrik brings his hand up and rubs his forehead. "The Gods hate me... they must. That's the only explanation... there's more of him?! Who's the mother? Are they bloodsucking, ambition-driven, power-hungry, old-world fanatics like their father or did they luck out and get their mother's insanity?"

 

The Tempest grits his teeth and mutters more to himself than anyone, "It's been years. Things change. You changed. Maybe he has too..." he grunts and looks over at Nathbryn T'sossz. "Sorry for that." He sniffs and smiles. "Old habits and all that."

 

"Well a few are bloodsucking brood... not sure what they're up to. That's his twins from the Orc who's from here." She snorts. "They're actually pretty good fun."

 

"But no, this daughter is a firecracker of a girl from...." She sighs and folds her arms. "My niece. Iymala Arkenghym. Queen of the drow city of Orthae Faer Che'el. So that, awkwardly, makes me family with the scaly bastard too."

 

She stares at Alrik with a deadpan expression. Daring him to say something.

 

Alrik stops dead in his tracks and drops his hood and looks at her with a look of pure conflict. He opens his mouth and closes it again, sucking his teeth hard. He takes a deep breath and lets it out heavily. "Look... he and I, we did some good for that little town. We work well together. But I don't trust him. His desire for power... for control... it's too close to that of my father." Alrik spits the last word out with obvious, seething rage. "I've changed since I saw him last. I've grown. Maybe he has as well. I pray to all The Gods that I'm right, but I'm not going to hold my hopes very high. He's too damn stubborn to see anything other than what he wants."

 

The Storm Caller takes a drink from his canteen before continuing, wiping the water from his beard with his sleeve. "He threatened us, 'Bryn... The Mage Guard. He said we'd never be permitted within his kingdom and we'd face worse than a Tribunal should we be caught there. That's one of the main reasons why I parted ways with him. He sees nothing but his way. Yes, I overreacted and yes, The Corpse is a vile, loathsome, sadistic son of a bitch... but to come outright and say that an entire group of people will be executed or worse, simply if they're found in his land?" He shakes his head and pulls his hood back up, sighing. ".....I can't stand with that."

 

Nathbryn tilts her head, nodding to that statement as she takes the canteen from your hand without asking. She takes a long drink from it.

 

"Yeah, he had a big ego and an even bigger mouth. And is just about as hot-headed as you. Whether that's changed or not... I'll let you decide if and when you'd like to meet with him."

 

But," she hands the canteen back to you, "He held a conference for the nations not long after he stabilized the city, and invited the Blizzard and I. It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. It was a start. We've been in touch since, though not every meeting has been reported to the council."

 

The Scourge gives a pointed look. "I know you can probably understand why. Despite us having the long arm of the law, and eyes and ears in every nation in the Dawn. I want to play my cards carefully is all."

 

Alrik leans on Whyrvoar's side and sighs again. "I understand, and I'm not dumb enough to tell you to stop talking with him simply because of me. You're doing what's important, not to mention, as you said, he's technically family." He shakes his head slightly, as if shaking a thought or memory away. "Just be careful. I was hot-headed when he knew me back then, but that's back when I had nothing to lose..." he chuckles to himself. "Now? Now I've got plenty to lose, and should anyone even threaten to take that from me, I'll make sure they regret it. I'm not hot-headed any longer... but you take what a man loves and push him past his breaking point... and he'll watch your world burn with a smile." He looks at her, making eye contact for the first time since they started talking. His eyes are alight with a storm, but his cheek is also wet, like a single tear rolled down it. "If he ever hurts you.... nowhere in this world, no... this universe... is safe. Not that you need me to protect you... but I finally have something worth living for, and I'll be damned if I let it get taken from me."

You sent

(wait are they officially a thing? Or? XD Does he mean like, she's like family to him? I just wanna make sure I respond correctly)

Chantry

 

(Haha, I get ya. They're a couple, but Alrik isn't dumb enough to try and change her.)

You sent

(Gotcha haha. So kind of... Open relationship ish? Just cause her and the Blizzard have a thing too)

Chantry

 

(Yup. She's free to live how she wants, but Alrik has made it known that he isn't going to be chasing anyone. He hasn't told her this, but he has hopes she'll eventually settle down with him. Lol)

You sent

(Awwww lol)

You sent

Nathbryn looks for a brief moment...taken aback. You know your words strike her. But it's hard to read her reaction before she puts her sexy, sassy mask back on. The drow guffaws and playfully pushes your shoulder as she walks by, trying to lighten the mood. "You're a sentimental old man now too, aren't you? Nothing's going to take me, that you can count on."

 

As they rounded the corner of a giant sandstone, they come upon a massive figure relaxing against it in the shadow of the rock, as if waiting for them to show up.

 

The female Dragonborn for she is clearly a she, and indeed a dragonborn but bigger than any other you’ve previously come across, is lazily examining her thin claws before looking over and saying with a smirk

 

“Nothing is going to take you? Really auntie? What are you boasting to…the sand?!”

 

She snorts and stands up, taking a step into the light.

 

"Oh Gods."  Nathbryn wipes her hand across her face, pausing in the middle to rub her eyes. You see this dragonborn, literally taller than Atriox was, dark-scaled ebony baking in the sun. Muscular arms end in clawed, mean fists spiked with scales. She is a massive, intimidating shadow of her father, with just enough drow in her to sport wild hair and wild eyes ready for anything.

 

"Hi!" a tinier voice quips.

 

Glancing up at the large rock, you see the silvery fur of Kiz, the tallented gnoll from Atriox's court. You also see a kobold figure struggling to climb up behind her: the one and only Tak Flamescar.

 

Looking out from under his hood, Alrik makes mental notes on the two unfamiliar folks before smirking when seeing Tak. "Always told you that you'd enjoy the desert, didn't I?" He says with a chuckle in his voice before tossing his head back to drop the hood. "How've you been, Flamescar?"

 

Tak grins, a smile broad across his little face. You see the recognition dance on his countenance.

 

"Alrik! I'm good. Long time no see. It is so nice seeing you, brother. It been too long."

 

The  kobold slides down the side of the rock, ready for action.  You see his infamous leathery skin stretched across his jaw and cheek, although now it supports quite nice regalia.

 

The Storm Caller gestures to the two traveling with the Kobold. "Who's your friends here? I don't recognize either of them, although the one does remind me of someone..."

 

Alrik swings his leg over Whyrvoar and drops down into the loose sand and smiles as he takes a step toward Tak. "Good to see you, too."

 

“This is Kiz Bloodfoot. A warrior from a local tribe of gnulls that saved me father once in this very dessert. As for myself….I suppose you can call me Nemmonis. I would assume someone of your stature and renown could guess who my father is yes?”

 

She smirks at the mage staring down at him and circles him a bit.

 

“So your the great storm caller eh? If it makes you feel any better I’m not my dads biggest fan either. I mean I love him….barely, but everything around him is so shiny and noble”

 

She gags and makes a gross face.

 

Alrik glances up at the unfamiliar dragonborn. "I had a good guess as to who your father was, but all shadow of doubt was removed the instant you opened your mouth. Quite a few similarities." He chuckles slightly, more to himself than anything.

 

"Yes, I am a Storm Caller, and just so happen to be The Tempest of The Mage Guard Elite, but that just means I did something foolhardy and got noticed. Doesn't make me special or a celebrity like folks try and make it out to be. Just means I've got an aptitude for storm magics." He rolls his neck with an audible pop before fishing his cigarette case from inside a jacket pocket, lighting one with his signature arc between two fingers and taking a long drag. "I'm Alrik." He says finally, exhaling a thundercloud with lightning flashing within.

 

She glared at the man and says, “If you think that than I wonder how much you truly know about him. I am nothing like my father. Did I greet you with a parade and troops? With honied words? No.”

 

She growls slightly and looks away, trying to regain some composure. It’s clear though she is large, she is only what amounts to a teenager in human terms with how she speaks, and composes her self. Finally she looks back at her aunt and let’s loose a devious smirk

 

“You know…you were so busy blustering in front of your lover that you failed to mention how Atriox saved your hide my old auntie at the conclave. You and the blizzard.”

You sent

The Scourge takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, trying to keep her composure. It's not the first time she's dealt with her niece, and by god it wouldn't be the last. She smiles, her eyes glittering. Trying not to twitch.

 

"Nemmonis, my cute little dark magpie," she wrinkles her nose,  trying to act (ironically or not) like a loving "old auntie", "I didn't expect you to beat us out here on the road. I had plenty more time to Verhold to tell the Tempest about all the regaling stories of your dear father."

 

She snorts and rolls her eyes.

 

“Fuck the king that’s all I got to say. But,” And she stares at the tempest now, “ if you care about my dear ANCIENT aunt you should probably know that is all. I’m well aware of you and my fathers history as he makes no secret of it. He remembers you as an angry, compulsive, and destructive man but he also makes sure everyone remembers that your a hero. That he probably wouldn’t be alive today without you. There’s even a statue in the palace of you. Now no more of him! I’m free from him for now and I will enjoy it!

 

She turns to grab her gear from the ground by the rock.

 

The Storm Mage smirks at The Scourge and motions to the dragonborn as she walks away. "Whether she likes it or not, Atriox just came out of her face..." he mutters quietly as he jumps back up onto the back of his rhino. He extends a hand down to help Nathbryn up behind him. "So, if I'm understanding your niece correctly, the scaled bast... uh... his royal highness... is going to be at Verhold when we get there?"

 

Nathbryn barely registers the hand, mostly hopping up on her own out of irritation at being called fucking ancient. She adjusts herself, fixing her hair.

 

"No, Mr. Royal Highness is still out with his fleet. Miss Independent here insisted on coming along for this scouting mission, and to report details back to the Arkosian empire. Maybe. If she feels like it."

 

"She'll feel like it, eventually," Tak interjects, snickering under his breath as he and Kiz exchange looks. They both smile, looking at their charge. Kiz adjusts the old, polished polearm against her shoulder as it gleams in the light. "Nah, I was just as much a handful when I was a pup--my da had to wangle me each morning from eatin' the town chickens."

 

"Is this a chicken for her?" Tak looks confused, trying to work out the details.

 

"In a way? As much as the chicken wasn't just food to me, it was the fun of the chase." Kiz grins.

 

Alrik sighs, smiling. "Kids... I remember Tucker being a Goddamned handful when I first got him." He rests his hand on The Scourge's leg behind him and turns slightly to look at her. "I'm sure you remember that little pain in the ass... now look at him. Not many in The Guard I'd trust more."

 

"That may be, but this is why I'm never fucking having kids," she laughs. "Both you, my niece, and Atriox proved that to me 20 times over just with your own charges, good god."

 

Whyrvoar gets trotting again with a deep snuffly grunt. It rattles the ground As Tak and Kiz grab their bags.

 

"You get enough time to rest, miss Nemmy?" Kiz calls over to Nemmonis with her tinkling voice. "You ready to head out?"

 

She grunts and nods her head. She’s smiling and happy to be out in the wilds away from court she quickly adjusts her custom plate armor around her arms and legs making sure they’re on properly and aligned right so that her large spikes aren’t constantly hitting the metal.

 

She grabs Tak and gently tosses him on her head so that he can hold onto her giant horns. It’s clear like everyone else around him, this little kobold means a great deal to her. Looking down at kiz she challenges

 

“You wanna race?”

 

Kiz grins wide. "Hell yes, princess."

 

Without warning, the gnoll takes off at top speed. She races like the wind, her ears and their shimmering earrings fluttering in the bright light of the desert sun. The light catches on her silver markings, the trait of her clan and her pride and joy. She knows she doesn't have to look back, having to focus to keep ahead of the dragonborn.

She hollers back to Tak to hold on tightly and then uses her divine connection to Io and summons mystical wings from her back and takes off into the air with a huge leap

 

Whooping and hollering she flys circles around them all

(Casted sacred wings of Io)

 

Watching the whole ordeal, Alrik just shakes his head and laughs. "Typical kids... wasting energy for the sake of a contest... Noav yeav, broavhas."(not yet, brother) He says, leaning down to Whyrvoar.

 

Whyrvoar grunts and trots a tiny bit faster, despite the urging from his rider. Nathbryn relaxes back in her seat, not at all perturbed watching the antics.

 

"Nemmy, ya little sneak! No fair!"

 

You can hear Kiz down below, trying to sound serious and not laugh. Tak holds on tightly to your horns as you fly, wordless but having the time of his life.

 

"Now see," Nathbryn tilts her head. "I don't believe I've seen scaly-butt get wings before. That's rather interesting, don't you think, Alrik?"

 

"Seems magic is playing a role there. What form, I'm not exactly sure... but there's definitely arcane energy coming from her."

 

Looking ahead and seeing the gnoll running, trying to keep up with the dragonborn soaring, The Tempest sighs and pats his rhino. "Okaausan broavher, now lat saib go. Noav full ukpeun, thovas." (Okay brother, now you can let go. Not full out, though)

 

He urges Whyrvoar into a run, smirking as his beastial friend bellows and begins to gain speed

 

(Noice hahaha. What's his base speed?

 

(That's a bit tricky. Lol. As an elementally-touched magic creature, it actually changes depending on his level of emotion. When he's perfectly calm and content, it's 60. If he's agitated or excited, 90. If he's angry or super happy/excited, 120... and if he's straight up pissed/terrified/happiest he's ever been? 150... and gains 10 per turn until he stops)

(He's based off the giant black rhinos from Conan Exiles, which stand about 10-12 ft tall from ground to the top of their backs)

 

R, K, M |------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++|------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------|

 

(each turn you can choose to run base speed, 2x, or 3x speed... gonna see how well this works haha. Aubrey goes first, then Kiz, then the Rhino)

 

(Guess I'll be rolling a percentile die to see if Whyrvoar listens and keeps himself from getting excited! Lol... unless DM intervenes and does something. Whyrvoar may be Alrik's mount and friend, but he's still got a mind of his own... and he is quite playful)

 

Nemmonis plummets into a dive and lands hard upon the sand. She takes off running, occasionally using her wings to push her forward with a boost

 

(Percentile will be to see if Whyrvoar listens and keeps his emotions controlled or if he lets them tap into his elemental heart. I've got a whole ton of lore and mechanics that Blake, my DM, and I came up with for one of his worlds. We made close to 50 elementally-touched creatures!)

You sent

(That's awesome! I'd love to see more of them, haha. And that sounds great @Atriox Arkhosia so you doing base, 2x or 3x? And roll a con save for me

Chantry

 

(Oh don't you worry... I'm trying to decide between a couple for Alrik to use at a later date... they're... shall we say... more in tune with his elemental affinity...)

Atriox

Atriox Arkhosia

(Fuck it 3x)

You sent

I had him roll numbers here lol you roll Chant! And same question, base, 2x or 3x? And con save please

Chantry

 

(....are you fucking serious, dice?! 1st percentile is a damn 3... lol. Alrik wants to keep his rhino at base speed, but looks like that might be going out the window! Con save is a 19)

You sent

Bwahahaha.... ok so he's gonna go full blown 3x or just 2x?

Chantry

(I'm not the DM... I only speak and act for Alrik. Lol)

Chantry

 

(And I guess Whyrvoar when he's listening... but I'm pretty sure 3/100 means he's not giving a fuck about what Alrik wants. Lol)

DM:

(um..............

DM:

(well... ok make a dex saving throw.... rofl.... Let me roll for Nath

Chantry

(Ruh roh raggy... lol)

Chantry

Nat friggin 20!

Chantry

 

Woooooooooooot! Lol

DM:

|------K+++M+++---R---++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++|------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------|

DM:

Whyrvoar bellows fire and steam out of his nostrils and takes off like a freight train. The ground thunders under his massive foot falls, his horn lowering to the sand as he barrels forward, excitement alight in his eyes.

 

Nathbryn hangs on for dear life, just barely keeping herself from tumbling off the rhino's ass. (15) "What the FUCK, Alrik!?"

 

Kiz dodges out of the way nimbly as the rhino moves past her, and she laughs--moving to running on all fours to catch up. She has a huge smile plastered on her face.

DM:

(Ima post for npcs but you guys respond for what you do/react like... now round 2 lol

 

Alrik reaches back with one hand and grabs Nathbryn by the waist, pulling her close to him and leaning down low on the saddle. "He's got a mind of his own and apparently wants to show off a bit! To be fair, he's still young for his race. Still a kid at heart, I guess! Hang on, I'm sure this is going to end in a dust storm and some intense heat!"

 

He stands up in the stirrups and leans as far forward as he can, shouting toward the rhino's head. "Gith jiak aukk iuk lat don'av drepa uuk! Have fun, Brother!" (All I ask is that you don't kill us)

Chantry replied to Atriox

 

Dirty 20, love to see em!

Atriox

 

Maintaining the 3x speed she gets as close as she can and then hopes, buffing her wings slightly for a lift.

 

She throws her animated shield under her feet and activates it with the phrase

 

“ Waesucks”

 

(Shield is now hovering….hovering skateboard!”

 

Before she can loose her balance or momentum she quickly pulls out a chain and attempts to lasso the rhinos horn to pull her

Atriox

 

(Don’t kill meeeeeee

Chantry

 

(Oh shit. Lol)

DM:

(Roll for me to see if you make it lol XD

Chantry

 

(Backstory for you, obviously your character wouldn't know this. Whyrvoar HATES anything tying him down/being strapped to him. Only Alrik can saddle him)

DM:

(Oh this is fun haha

Atriox

 

(19…..☠️ 🪦

Chantry

(Would that be against his.... ac? Dex? I have no clue. Lol)

Chantry

 

(If it's AC, hard miss... you're looking to beat a 27. Lol. If it's Dex save, I legitimately have to roll an 18 or higher. Haha)

DM:

|------++++++---K---M++++++R------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++|------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------|

 

 

(Definitely wouldn't be AC lol just a lasso, not a full grapple to tie down the rhino... just a ride, I had a base DC for that and 19 beats it XD But...

 

Whyrvoar's eyes go wide as he sees the chain loop around his horn and string tight. He snorts and buckles his head, shaking it up and down. (13 to maintain speed, it drops to 2x momentarily) He jumps back and forth on the sand as he runs, making Nathbryn hold tighter to Alrik. "He young too?! God, again I'm NEVER having kids!"

 

Kiz attempts to catch up, laughing and having fun through the whole race. She maintains her speed effortlessly, bringing up the rear. Tak holds on for dear life to Nemmonis' heavy locks of hair as they're now pulled along through the air like a kite.

 

(@  You can attempt a % roll again if you'd like to control him, or I can continue to roll for him haha. You can also do whatever else you like XD He's still definitely in the lead

Feb 12, 2023, 10:20 AM

Chantry

 

Seeing the chain land around his rhino's horn, Alrik throws his hand forward, the blue energy flowing from underneath his sleeve as if flaps in the breeze. "The amount of disrespect.... definitely that asshole's kid." He mutters to himself as he hurls the raw magic into a spark of blue-purple flame wreathed in lightning.

 

The Storm Caller tugs on the reins, attempting to get Whyrvoar to slow down. "Seavavle poshat, broavhas.  Leav avheuke kiduk do avheir pa-gog ukhiav.  Kulknej're beavavas avhan avo plaausan avheir ukilpak gameuk." (77 on percentile. 30 to hit on the chain, 24 damage should it do so.)

Chantry

Chantry

 

(Gods, I love my min-maxed sorcerer... haha)

DM:

(with the 77 you're in better control of him, are you having him slow down?

Chantry

 

(Yes. Full stop, actually)

DM:

(Oh shit. Lol ok Well... 77 controls the Rhino. 30 hits the chain, @  Dex save to let go of the chain or you feel the volts, lol @  roll for dex save to stay on with advantage cause you're used to him. Nathbryn is not.... with disadvantage.... rolls a 10 dex, definitely does not stay on XD

DM:

(Oh wait.. fire, not lightning.

DM:

(So he's making it hot...? haha

DM:

(and he's attacking the chain...? to like melt it?

Chantry

(Just the portion he's trying to melt. Firebolt, so it isn't a massively powerful spell. Chain isn't a great conductor of heat, as the links tend to not transfer it too far due to the gap and exposure to air)

Chantry

 

(17 dex save for Alrik)

Atriox

 

(Sameeeeee 17 dex for Nem

DM:

(Gotcha, I thought you were gonna fry some body XD

 

The chain lights up with the fire, turning into white hot metal and snapping. The momentum from the momentary flight (one round) followed by a full stop, sends Nemmonis flying. (She is slingshotted at his speed at the time of movement, 90 feet)

 

(Kiz got a 6 to maintain speed, fails--10 on her con after that, falls to base speed of 30)  Kiz wheezes, panting, her tongue lulling out of her mouth. Her eyes widen as she sees Nathryn fly off the back of the rhino, and jumps up to catch her in mid-air with a huge "OOF!"

 

The Scourge curses loudly in her underdark tongue, letting out a stream of words very uncouth to her station.

 

Nemmonis, you tumble through the air and struggle to catch yourself before you go tumbling down to the ground. Righting yourself at the last minute, your wings flicker with Io's magic and keep you safe, but you're now facing the opposite way--seeing the crazy scene before you.

 

 |------++++++------K++++++R---M---++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++|------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------++++++------|

Atriox

 

The anxsty teenage dragon just sits on her shield for a moment before grinning ear to ear and whooping

 

“Damn that was fun!!”

Chantry

 

As Whyrvoar slides to a halt, Alrik throws his leg over and hurries to his head. He hugs the rhino and inspects his horn, pulling the chain loop off and throwing it to the ground. "Easy, boy... she didn't know." He whispers to his mount. He reaches into his pouch and again pulls out another green fruit, offering it to him.

 

Leaning to the side, he calls to The Scourge. "I'm so sorry, Darlin... are you alright? I should have warned you. That's my fault." He wears a look of both anger and pain underneath his hood.

DM:

Whyrvoar shakes his head back and forth a bit, the fire in his eyes settling down from all the anger and excitement. The food is a good distraction and he hungerly devours it, his frothy drool from the run dribbling all over your hand. He paws at the ground with one of his great feet, chewing happily.

 

Nathbryn stands up, shrugging Kiz away. The gnoll stands up effortlessly, pulling out a waterbag from her satchel and taking a long noisy drink. The drow brushes herself off, her hair a complete mess. She stomps forward toward Alrik, yanking his hood back and staring him down with a venomous sassy gaze. "I'm sure you did warn me--I just don't speak rhino, thunderhead."

 

"And you!" She points up at Nemmonis. "You're grounded. Literally! Get down here, you rowdy little shit."

Chantry

 

Alrik nods slightly. "Yes ma'am. I was worried for everyone's safety so much so that I made the impulsive decision to only act for Whyrvoar's sake. I should have told you. It would have taken mere seconds. Apologies, Dear." He extends a canteen to her, his head still down. It's clear to her that he feels deep remorse at the events that just transpired and is angry with himself more than anything.

Atriox

 

Putting her shield on her back once more, she slowly glides down and around them to land by Kiz. Smirking at her aunt she fist bumps the gnull

 

Looking to the strange man she says

“Come now Tempest, she is fine and safe. She hasn’t stayed alive so long by being fragile. A simple fall is nothing, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Let it rest”

 

Nemmonis sweeps off all the dust and sand from her person and shakes out her hair, gently removing Tak with her hand

Chantry

 

Alrik chuckles softly, turning to face Nemmonis. "It isn't fear that drives me to speak to Nathbryn the way I am. It is respect."

 

Nathbryn opens her mouth, but closes it again. She gives a narrow stare at Nemmonis, debating if she should agree with the fact she's been alive so long with wisdom, or if it was a jab at her age again.

 

"Yes, well," She runs her lithe fingers through her dark hair, trying to straighten it, "I appreciate the respect. At least someone understands my station." She glances over at Alrik, a curious look on her face.

DM:

Kiz chirps, "Hey! That race took it out of us, but guess where we're at?"

 

She points ahead and you can see the town of Verhold now.  You've watched the mountain looming over it grow closer throughout the journey, but the red-tiled roofs and stone houses of the cozy desert community are finally in view. A moisture shimmers in the air over the area.

 

"Pa would tell stories about Devil's Peak all the time, passed down from his own Pa's Pa."

 

It is strange, out here in the dunes of the great sea of sand, the largest of an array of spiked hills past the horizon. Like teeth jutting from the earth, placed here not by earthquakes but by some other strange phenomenon eons old. The cymbals on her wrists tinkle as she hums.

 

"Great pyres rage beneath the lightless moon,

Swoon, swoon! Glory to the moon,

Dance beneath his shadow, the great beast's peak

Long are his canyons, dry are his feet

Camp beneath the stars, beneath his gorgeous shadow

The fire light burns bright until the dawn t'morrow"

 

She prances and hums as she walks ahead, leading the way toward Verhold. Tak follows along, scratching his horns in curiosity.

 

Alrik glances at the looming peaks and sighs. "Not too unfamiliar looking from the peaks of The Crags..." he pats the rhino and walks over to The Scourge, reaching a hand out for her. "Are you sure you're alright, 'Bryn? Gods know a tumble off a Deaavhmounav isn't exactly a short one..."

DM:

Nathbryn sighs through her teeth. "It wasn't, but it was a soft landing considering. I'm fine, stop blaming yourself." The powerful drow gives a long look at Alrik and tugs his beard playfully. "Like my niece was so kind to point out, I've not gotten this far in life being fragile. It's nothing a good soak back at the Fang wouldn't help. "

 

Nemmonis grunts in amusement behind them but other wise doesn’t say much. She is content to enjoy the outdoors and learn more about this strange man attached to her kin

Chantry

 

Alrik smirks and nods slightly. "True enough, nothing a soak won't fix... and I never said you're fragile, just that you shouldn't have been put in that situation. That aside, it happened. That's why I have apologized." He reaches out and gently takes her hands, squeezing them slightly. "So, what are we doing here?" He quickly changes the subject.

 

Nemmonis chips in from behind

 

“Indeed auntie Nath, what are we doing here? I’m technically here to scout ahead of the invasion, but I could help you. What business are you spell slingers about?”

 

There’s a tone to her voice that’s hard to decipher. Is it her father still weighing on her mind, her place here maybe

 

"Oh gods you both never read briefings, do you?"

 

Nathbryn pulls some dark glasses from her bag, slipping them on her face to block out the bright light. She points to Verhold.

 

"Tonight's a double witches' moon. It means trouble, and the thinning of multiple vales all around the world. A legend here said some goody two shoes paladin helped protect the town once from evil like, a hundred years ago."

 

Pulling out a vial of... you're not sure what, she takes a swig. It smokes and swirls in the glass, the bubbles decending instead of ascending.

 

"For our part in this, Ol' Jaundy wants us to keep an eye on things here. Both for the war--no one needs the orcs getting their hands on more dangerous powerful shit. Also because this is a neutral town just outside of the Glass City. We've kept it neutral for now, but if something bad happened here it could leave a vacuum for powers to take over. And as our forces are mostly in the south," she jabs a finger at Alrik, "we'd be shit out of luck."

 

"For your part, niece Nemmy," Nathbryn glances over her glasses at you. Her eyes grow a vividly acrid green for a moment. "Your dear daddy requested I keep him abreast of any changes in political tides, and having you here is supposed to give you a taste of the world and to help bring a dragonborn presence. Help the poor little humans and all that."

 

She tsks. "He wants to avoid casualties. I mean, so does the mage guard, obviously. But his goal is drastically multilayered and I tuned out the last half of it."

 

"Honestly," she tilts her head at the town, growing ever closer. You can see people milling about in the shade of the great mountain. "I don't know what happened so long ago. There's many different stories and the legends are muddled. We can ask around once we get there, but probably nothing will happen, we'll collect our pay, and we'll be on our merry way by tomorrow."

 

Chuckling she adds to what her aunt says with, “He does tend to rant doesn’t he? And of course he wants minimal casualties. The less that die the more his army grows, the more he’ll have to for a labor force. Less orc blood spilled would probably please Dorokor as well.”

 

She grips her great sword handle and adds, “I personally hope that this will draw out just for a bit more. I could use the therapy”

 

DM:

(Oh how careful you should be for what you wish for...… mwahahahaha

Atriox

(Blood for the blood god!!!! Skulls for the skull throne!!!!)

 

Nathbryn cocks an eyebrow. "Rather angsty today. Happy to be away from home?"

 

Her tail smacks the ground a bit with a “thwack” as she groans. “Skyhold grows in beauty by the year. It has something for everybody but…..I’m tired of being looked at like a tool. Just because I, out of all my siblings turned out to be a celestial Dragonborn blessed by Io like my father suddenly means I’m the heir? I don’t want it. I loath my titles. I’m not him”

 

Alrik audibly growls in distaste. "I don't give a shit about what he wants, honestly... those orcs have killed and taken from others just because it's what they want for decades... I couldn't care less about what will make his scaled highness's bloodsucking whore happy. Anyone who supports The Desert Lords deserves whatever happens to them. To hell with all of em."

 

The Storm Caller looks at the large dragonborn first, then to the dark elf, and then finally Tak. "Think what you will of him. And of me, for that matter. Atriox has ZERO reason to be expanding his force as far as he is. The Komadori is leagues away from his beloved Skyhold, and if he thinks for even a moment that I will tolerate him trying to forcefully spread his rule here, or any other continent than his own... then he's much more of an idiot than I thought. I would rather die than see Skyhold flags in this place... as much as I hate this blasted sand pit... it's my home."

Atriox

 

Nemmonis shrugs, not even phased

 

“You say he has no reason, but you speak that as a human that stands on lands that once belonged to our kind. Our empire expanded beyond the horizon, until the humans took it. We’re they wrong for taking something they could? Is he wrong for taking something he can? Who knows. I’m not entirely sure what his plans for here are, but it’s to late for that. Arkoshia is not just an island on its own anymore. Take comfort that he doesn’t want the world human. What we have might not even be enough to defeat the true enemy, or have your forgotten the shadowy snake already?”

Chantry

 

(Shadowy snake? Dunno if Alrik ever met that)

DM:

(Oh you saw some of it, lol back in Dragonshore when you guys were fighting stuff there, there was a lot of... snake stuff going on. Like mutated snakes, snakes pouring out of corpses... I think I toned it down a bit around Alrik because you weren't the biggest fan of snakes.. haha.. but it's been a very slow build toward an elder evil

DM:

(A piece of what the cult for it needs was the necklace that turned the blacksmith's son in Dragonshore, they stole it back

DM:

(The necromancer guy you hated that kidnapped you

Chantry

 

(Ah gotcha. That thing.)

DM:

(Atriox's whole family was slaughtered from their cult too, and Alrik isn't aware of a lot of what's occurred since, but he's probably run into several weird snakes or cursed things. Even weird basilisks that were corrupted. Like one with 2 heads, or one with no head XD

Chantry

 

Alrik turns, facing the dragonborn fully for the first time. His eyes low and voice quiet. "No, princess... I haven't forgotten. I'm just focused on the immediate threat to what I deem important, unless I'm directly told otherwise by my Commander. A tyrant is not something I will tolerate. I warned your father of that before we parted ways, that should he continue doing as he wants with zero regard to others wants and needs... that we may see each other under vastly different circumstances and it wouldn't be a good thing..."

Atriox

 

Again, not even phased she nods

 

“That be your business mage and I wish ye luck but it’s not my business and I’d rather not fouls the air any longer. Shall we?”

 

She thought, even for just a moment at snapping back after he used her title purposely, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her response. She was beyond that

Chantry

 

(He wasn't snide or rude using Princess in regards to her. It was with a very neutral expression, just fyi)

Atriox

 

( oh ok 👍🏻 she probably just assumed that because she literally just said she hates it but it’s all good. She’s not gonna hold it against him)

Atriox

 

Thinking about it for the first time, she turns to Tak and Kiz

 

“Return to my father and tell him I’m with my aunt and The Tempest. He’ll understand well enough. I’m going to help them, but we do not need you brave but little ones in danger.”

 

She anticipates Kizs next words and says, “I need you to look out for Tak. He’s to loved to die her” she winks at Tak “besides I need you to get back to my own personal guard which you are my right hand of, keep them in line till I return. They may be monsters but they’re my monsters. Now go and may calm winds guide you”

 

Tak and Kiz take a long look at each other. Both seem hesitant to disobey orders from Atriox, but they're equally (if not more so) hesitant to make his daughter mad. With a polite bow, they both agree to make their way back to the coast. They blend well here, and can pass as locals easily enough in case there is danger on the way. Tak comes up and takes her giant clawed hand in his small grip.

 

"You behave, though. I may be small but I'm not afraid of being frank with you. I've hated humans longer than you've been alive, but that aside I want you to imagine them as kobolds like me. Squishy.. scaleless... tailless little villains." He grins a toothy smile. A few teeth are missing, and it crinkles his scar, his scales on his head now growing paler with age.

 

Kiz gives you a fist bump to the shoulder, Alrik. "You and your missus stay safe too. I'm sure you can take care of yourselves quite well enough. But you seem like a fair bit of fun and I'd enjoy your company again." She winks a gypsy smile as her hooped jewelry tinkles around her.