Nymphwarrior

The coatl strode down the grey cobbled street with forceful measured steps. This is not how he had seen his day going. With visible effort he suppressed the hiss of exasperation trying to cross his lips. His whip-like tail flicked back and forth and his chest feathers ruffled up in agitation as the memory of early today played back in his mind again.

The shadows pooled heavily in the back of the room, untouched by the pale glow of the single lantern sitting unceremoniously at the corner of the hefty marble desk. A tanned golden dragon sat behind it scrawling on a large sheet of parchment, her quill flowing across the page at a quick and steady pace. Suddenly, the quill stopped, and with a sigh the she-dragon set it aside. She made no sound as her eyes scanned back over her work. The ensuing silence became a tangible entity hanging between them. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for the guardian to acknowledge his presence. Not sure how to proceed, he tried clearing his throat. The resulting cough rang out through the chambers much louder than he had anticipated. He fought back the rising heat of embarrassment threatening to swamp him.

The matriarch slowly raised her head, her brow quirked in a quizzical expression. He felt a strong desire to sink into the floor as the full weight of her dark gaze focused solely on him. “Feeling a little impatient are we, Nymphwarrior?” Her tone was not condescending, merely a statement of a fact.

“You summoned me, My Lady,” he tried to cover his chagrin with a confidence he wasn’t feeling. Darn it, he wasn’t a hatchling anymore, he needed to pull himself together.

“Indeed.” She let the pause linger before continuing again. “I see you’ve submitted a request to begin your elite training. You’ve put in quite an impressive amount of time at sparring lessons, receiving above par marks in claw to claw combat, and show a solid base knowledge in mage work. ” This was it, he could feel his excitement rising. He’d been waiting for this chance since his hatchling days. Born Shadowraptor’s son, Nymphwarrior had grown up hearing his father’s old battle stories and he was ready to step into his birthright. “However, you have failed to demonstrate all necessary qualities, so at this time you request has been denied.”

The response was so unexpected, Nymphwarrior was momentarily stunned. Mentally regrouping, he managed to croak, “What?”

“Your credentials have been reviewed and it has been decided that the clan will not begin your training at this time. Your request has been denied.”

“Why? Many younger than I have been selected and even completed their training. Where am I lacking? What is it I need to do?” Nymphwarrior’s tail cracked back and forth with his mounting confusion.

“That is not something I can tell you. That is something you must discover for yourself,” her voice broached no argument, but her gaze softened. “This isn’t the end, Nymphwarrior, it is merely the beginning of something new.”

“But this is all I’ve ever wanted, all I know,” Nymphwarrior could not keep the pleading out of his whisper as it hummed with his distress.

“Life does not always go the way we plan. The truly strong are able to keep moving forward, despite these setbacks. May you prove to be one of them and let the shadows guide your new path.”


Nymphwarrior shook off the lingering despair that always accompanied the memory. The worst part was the utter sense of loss and disappointment. What was he supposed to do now? Where did he go from here? He clenched his claws into the stone in frustration, but no answer came to him. Dusk was approaching, though in the heart of the Tangled Wood it wasn’t a visible change. It was more of a feeling, a thickening of the shadows that your whole body could sense. Being born of the shadows, if he closed his eyes he could almost feel the pull of their tendrils. He had been wandering aimlessly for hours, but the thought of making his failure known to those closest to him kept him walking.

Finally he found himself standing in front of a small workshop at the end of the street. It stood several meters apart from its nearest neighbors, its stone front a shade darker than the cobbled path leading up to it. The wood paned windows were tinted, as if soot or smoke had graced their surfaces before. Other than that they seemed fairly new compared to the rest of the building. Nymphwarrior’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he turned to go back the way he’d come. Guess there was nothing really left to do but head back to his chambers, he had put it off long enough.

A resounding crash from behind startled him and shattered through his inner musings. What the heck was that? Cautiously he approached the store front. As he opened the door a little bell gently rang, signaling his entrance.

“Get down!” Before he could even process what was happening, a streak of white fur slammed into him, pinning his head to the floor. He felt his assailant pull at the shadows until the unruly wisps assembled over them in a hastily rectified barrier. The power of an ensuing blast forced what must have been a tundra further on top of him as her protective spell audibly groaned under the strain. Then as fast as it had come, in a moment the whole ordeal was over.

“Sorry about that, wasn’t expecting company, “the she-dragon commented as she disentangled herself from his feathered mane. He could taste her fur in his mouth, but he couldn’t do anything about it before she had his face grasped between her front paws. “How is your eye sight? Seeing things clearly? What color are my eyes?”

“ . . . They’re purple . . .”his words were accompanied by a spray of fluff. He was going to have to pick the hair out of his teeth later.

“Wonderful! I got to you in time then!” She swiftly released her hold and turned on her heels.
“We’re all clear out here, Runesteel! I told you that bell was a good idea!” An indistinct reply could be heard drifting from the back. “Sorry to say there may have been a couple unsuspecting volunteers in the past,” she whispered conspiratorially back at Nymphwarrior. The mumbling from the back started up again. With that the tundra abruptly turned her snout into his feathered chest and inhaled deeply.

“He smells wild with a hint of an ocean breeze, must be one of Shadowraptor and Nymphprincess’ kin!”

“Is it Shadowprince?” the monotone voice was getting clearer as its owner approached.

“Nope, this is the one with the attractive blue undercarriage.”

“Ah, Nymphwarrior then,” a bright yellow fae with steel colored wings fluttered into the room. Runesteel’s gaze took in his companions at a glance and continued onward. “It would appear we are going to have to replace the windows again,” his head fins splayed back in what seemed to be a display of exasperation. The tundra nodded her head in solemn agreement. The windows must have shattered in the wake of the blast, as all that remained of them now were empty panes and various sized shards of glass on the stone outside.

Nymphwarrior gave himself a mental shake and tried to line up what he knew. If the fae was the famed Runesteel, then his pale faced savior must be Phantomrose. His gaze wandered over and he took a good look at the she-dragon. She stood relaxed, her lean build only covering about half the distance his own reached. Her platinum striped fur hung loosely about her frame in shaggy clumps as her winter coat shed for the spring. Looking closer, it appeared one of his black feathers had somehow embedded itself in the long red fur at the base of her neck. Not going to sweat the logistics of that one. It was difficult to imagine that this unassuming tundra was actually a well renowned and masterful mage. Recalling the speed and skill with which she summoned her barrier, though, and it became a little easier to believe.

Speaking of which, “What exactly just happened?” The two turned as one to face him.

“Science,” Runesteel replied flatly.

“The rudimentary tests of a brilliant new invention,” Phantomrose’s enthusiasm was palpable, rolling off of her in waves. She looked at Nymphwarrior expectantly, practically prancing up and down. Really, it was like reading an open book.

With an inward sigh, the coatl gave in, “Okay, I’ll bite. What was it?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Phantomrose practically crooned. She bounded towards the back, turning briefly to beckon him with her tail before continuing on. Nymphwarrior followed obligingly, and Runesteel brought up the rear. The building, surprisingly enough, appeared relatively unscathed in the aftermath. Apparently the walls were built and enchanted more strongly than they looked. She led them into a laboratory of some kind. Along the back wall was a table containing beakers and flasks of all sizes filled with various bubbling and fizzing concoctions in a rainbow of colors. Empty beakers, glasses and vials clearly labelled sat on shelves along the side wall. The opposite side of the room housed a bookcase with a multitude of tombs in it. There seemed to be everything from encyclopedias to handwritten journals residing there.

Phantomrose continued over to the wall of literature and pulled out a small leather-bound journal from the second shelf. She swiftly flipped through the pages until she got to one about halfway into the book. Turning it around so he could see, she pointed her claw to a picture roughly sketched on the left-hand side. It appeared to be a container housing two separate chambers. According to the tightly scrawled handwriting the glass vessel was supposed to safely isolate two chemicals that when combined turn quite volatile.

“This is a blinding bomb,” she explained, “Don’t mind the name; it’s still a work in progress. As you can see from the diagram, this is a specially designed flask with dual inner vials. Basically, when you smash the container, it allows the two chemicals to mix and the ensuing combustible reaction produces a brilliant light.” She shut the journal and set it back on the shelf. “What we’ve done is isolate the precise quantities needed of each compound to maximize the brilliance yielded. The flask is engineered to securely sequester the two volumes until the desired time and place, where the handler could then lob the flask away.” Turning back around, she met Nymphwarrior’s gaze and smiled. “Today was the trial run for the flask.”

The coatl held up his paw to interject, “Hold on a minute. Why weren’t you trying this outside? Isn’t it dangerous to set off potential explosives indoors?” It seemed rather obvious to him, but with these two he couldn’t be sure of anything. If anyone could make the impossible seem rational, it would be the ingenious Runesteel and the exceptional Phantomrose.

It was Runesteel who responded, “Outside provides too many variables, too many . . . potential casualties.” His distant gaze lent a foreboding weight to his words, as if something might have happened before. How often had an unsuspecting soul become the unwitting victim around here? Nymphwarrior shifted his wings uncomfortably at the thought and Runesteel’s sight returned to the present. “We have reinforced the workshop here with spells and enchantments potent enough to withstand anything short of a hundred enraged guardians on the stampede.” His headfins flattened back against his skull, “except for the windows apparently . . . always the windows.” He fluttered across the room, muttering something about needing to alter calculations under his breath.

Nymphwarrior returned his attention to Phantomrose, “So the test went as planned?”

“Well . . . not exactly,” a contemplative look passed over the she-dragon’s face, furrowing her brows as she continued, “It would seem the outer container shattered on impact, but the inner vials merely cracked. The slowed release of the chemicals must have allowed for the delayed reaction.”

“Just enough time for me to enter the fray,” Nymphwarrior shook his head in wonder.

“Luckily there was also enough time for me to reach you and protect those dark and brooding eyes of yours,” her own flickered with mischief.

Runesteel interjected, “Indeed, circumstantially fortunate would aptly describe your situation." He gestured to a metal sphere now dangling from his claw. When did he pick that up? “According to the readings from the bionic eye, the blast was bright enough to cause permanent damage to your sight.”

“Fascinating,” Phantomrose tapped the eye gently with her claw tip, “and the mock photoreceptors?”

“Completely fried.”

“The intensity is even stronger than we predicted. Perhaps the reduced rate of induction allowed for a greater output,” Phantomrose snagged the journal back from the shelf again and furiously began jotting down notes.

Training Started 3/5/2019
Training Completed 8/31/2019

Outfit
:::: Dusklight Alchemist Tools
:::: Dusk Rogue Tail Binding
:::: Mage's Walnut Gloves
:::: Mage's Walnut Socks
:::: Scout's Hat