Urnula

From Nuishe's journal:

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While the Three Witches are certainly vicious, one thing they aren't is very large. On any given raid, they can easily kill, gather, and harvest far more than they can actually carry.

This is where Urnula comes in.

Though he is a massive, coal-black, red-eyed, intimidating Imperial, Urnula has barely any combat experience, and only tags along on the Witches' raids to help them transport their loot back to the lair. As the sisters tear their opposition to meaty shreds, Urnula hangs back and waits patiently, laden with packs and saddlebags just waiting to hold the spoils of their latest brawl.

He also takes care of the more mundane "bookkeeping" aspect of their raids, since the sisters can't be bothered to. He is responsible for collecting and documenting that vitally important but relatively boring information: what, exactly, the sisters should be raiding. What are they aiming to gather during this particular outing, and for whom?

How much meat are they going to give to Soleella? Does Dyrithium or Allomyces need more scrap metal? Do they need to bring back anything alive? Does the clan need extra fish for that clutch of Ridgebacks that just hatched? Should they venture into that mysterious cave where Cerion thought he glimpsed a shiny gemstone the other day? What requests has Therrya put in today? What extra bits and bobs should be gathered for the various other artisans in the lair?

Urnula seems to do his job simply because someone has to, but the sisters thank him in their own, strange way.

---

In an interesting twist, I discovered that Urnula is closely related to Astrocystis, our "gardener."

Urnula's father is Eton. Eton's mother is Nakazanie. Her father is Sah, and Sah's parents are Vesper and Vessa, an Imperial and a Nocturne.

Vesper and Vessa also have a daughter named Lilith, who has a Ridgeback son named Hallows -- the father of our very own Astrocystis.

It's a small world.

---

I should have tried talking to him long ago. He's good company. I don't know why I avoided him until recently - I suppose some of my other clanmates might also be harboring hidden depths.

For a dragon who spends nearly all his time on or near a battlefield, he's certainly an intellectual type. Though, I suppose he doesn't do any actual fighting, and the time he spends watching the fighting, between cataloguing the loot, must give him ample opportunity for reflection.

His "job" as a porter and bookkeeper takes up much of his time, but he's talking about banding together with Inocybe and becoming a literal book keeper. A keeper of books, that is.

We don't have too many books in this lair. We have some that came from scavenging other places with books, though those are typically either illegible or in pieces. We also have the mad scrawlings of the Writer's Guild, though I'm not sure anyone would appreciate an entire library of fanfiction, tabloids, and personality quizzes. There is also, of course, this book, but it never leaves my side.

Urnula is excited anyway, and claims our relative lack of books is no matter. Inocybe has hollowed out a space to serve as a library or collection, and he and Urnula are already scheming ways to arrange and organize future books. I'm sure they'll make something delightful out of that project, and when they do I think I'd like to stop by. I'll always welcome another cozy place to read.

---

The library is open, and it has its first books!

Urnula clearly has a sense of humor, as every single book currently on the shelves is one of Magnaporthe's fanfictions about Urnula and his then-future husband. It seems I stand corrected when I wrote earlier that nobody would want a library of our Writer's Guild's work. I'm not sure how long those will be staying there, but until some more serious literature is either written or acquired, it looks like the Urnula x Crinipellis saga is now officially published in full.

Now I have only one question remaining.

Which series should I start with - Yin Yang, High Contrast, Imperialism, Recipe For Love, or Grey Areas?

---

Urnula had a brief regression today.

The Three Witches came back from their latest hunting expedition looking uncharacteristically subdued. The cause for their concern was immediately apparent – Urnula, usually the calm “adult” of the party, was on the verge of tears. They didn’t seem to know what to do about their upset bookkeeper and/or father figure, other than fetch Crinipellis and see if this was a situation he could handle.

I was a fly on the wall for that portion of the event, but I left out of courtesy when Crinipellis appeared and Urnula completely broke down. It wasn’t my business.

To my surprise, however, a very somber Crinipellis came to find me later in the day to talk about what had happened. He explained that Urnula had a traumatic story he wanted written down, but didn’t feel that he was strong enough to do it himself. He’d already relived the memory telling Crinipellis why he was so upset, and he didn’t want to do it again. He’d asked Crinipellis to relate the story to me, so I could write it down and preserve its memory.

I will do my best to do it justice, Urnula.

---

This morning, as he was supervising the Witches raiding a harpy’s roost, something caught his eye that stirred up a painful memory.

A tiny Spiral, barely older than a hatchling, struggling to evade a harpy warrior’s talons.

He couldn’t stop himself. The Witches had to stop and stare at their calm, unruffled bookkeeper as he charged the harpy with neck arched, teeth bared, and eyes glowing with a fierce red light. The harpy clearly wasn’t ready to handle a furious adult Imperial. She immediately fled, leaving behind a few downy feathers in her haste.

The Spiral was exhausted and terrified of this new, larger threat, and did her best to hide from Urnula among the meager cover the dusty plateau offered. Once Urnula had regained his composure, he told the tiny dragon that the charge had been a bluff, and offered her a safe place to stay. He couldn’t allow her to remain out in the open where another harpy could just as easily come along and threaten her.

Once she’d crept from her hiding spot and seen that the giant fearsome dragon was just a kindly soul, she darted into one of his bags and coiled around a bundle of feathers they’d found earlier. Now, I am told, she is recuperating on the top shelf in our new library.

The encounter left Urnula upset for the rest of the day. It had reminded him of the family he’d used to have.

Years ago, Urnula lived in a Wind clan, under a different name, with a mate he loved very much. His first clutch of hatchlings had just been born: a trio of precious little Spirals.

Like the infections from his Plague homeland, Urnula had caught the wanderlust of Wind. He loved to travel about the grassy plateau and explore the lands surrounding the clan’s lair with his mate. Though the Beastclans became bolder, and his mate felt that leaving the lair was too dangerous for the new hatchlings, Urnula himself could never refuse the call to wander. Traveling without his love was less entertaining, but he agreed that keeping the hatchlings safe was more important than having company on an outing. He continued his excursions while his beloved Spirals remained at the lair.

Urnula remembers the day he was cruising around the Twisting Crescendo and saw the great flock of harpies coming in from the north. Smaller groups of harpies weren’t out of place in the area, but a party this size was a curiosity. He watched them pass with mild interest and soon returned to his activities.

Urnula remembers returning to the lair that evening, and the sudden terror that seized his heart when he saw smoke on the horizon. Great clouds of soot billowed up from the earth, twisted into foreboding shapes by the wind.

Urnula remembers the sting of that smoke in his nostrils, and the sharp metallic scent underneath. Panic slithered up and down his body, lighting all his nerves on fire as he drew closer to the structures he used to know.

Urnula remembers the tall, wispy grass, matted down and stained crimson. His throat closed up when he caught sight of the first harpy corpse.

Urnula remembers stumbling through the wreckage in a dreamlike fog. His mind was simultaneously racing and dissociating, scrambling to process what he was looking at.

Urnula remembers the hollow despair in his heart as he approached the caved-in remains of his home. There was no part of him that wanted to look closer, but he needed to know. It was going to haunt him anyway. He had to at least have closure.

Like it was yesterday, Urnula remembers his little Spirals, crumpled on the ground like discarded streamers.

His memory goes foggy there. He has a vague recollection of screaming until his throat went raw, of swearing war on all harpies, of cursing himself for not saving his family. He recalls sobbing for what felt like days when it hit him that those little ones had been so small that two hadn’t even been given names.

And, finally, he remembers traveling. He couldn’t bear to stay in what was left of his old clan, among the ashes of buildings and the graves of those he’d loved.

He took to the sky and let the wind take him where it would.

---

I hope I’ve captured your horrible experience with the respect it deserves, Urnula. I never would have guessed you were harboring that kind of pain.

That’s a compliment, by the way – you’re extraordinarily well-adjusted. I think experiencing something like that would have broken a dragon like me. You, on the other hand, are again leading a fulfilling life. I believe I now have a better understanding of why you’re so attached to those three playful Mirrors.

I know today’s events have reignited your fear of returning home to find your family gone. I don’t blame you for wanting to remain in the relative safety of Sporefall Hollow. However, I must make my case for your continued expeditions with the Witches.

Traveling is in your soul, Urnula. If you confined yourself to these tunnels, you might be safer, but you would not be happy.

Besides, Sporefall Hollow is not defenseless. This lair is not a few buildings in a field, fully exposed to Beastclan raids – it’s a subterranean maze full of Ridgebacks, not to mention a parasitic fungus that surely wants to keep its hosts safe. Crinipellis is hardly a reasonable target for invaders to begin with – he is an even larger Imperial than you are (and as a chef, he’s never without a knife!). He is not in any danger, nor will he get any satisfaction from keeping you in the Hollow.

Finally, there is one more reason to continue your travels, which you must not forget.

If you hadn’t been out with the Witches this morning, another precious little Spiral might have been lost.

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