Emere

The moon’s silvery luster shone through the storm, coaxing the heavens to stop scattering its worries down upon earth, wind to stop bellowing in Emere’s ears.
Suddenly, Emere felt hot, putrid breath against her neck, sensed jagged claws digging into her sensitive shoulders.
The boulder came out of nowhere, accompanied by a maniacal bellow that sliced through the thick atmosphere, ringing in the Skydancer’s ears and echoing within her pounding head…
The world swooped in circles around the dazed dragon. Coarse fur scraped against her raw skin, roughly shoving her forwards towards the foreboding, rough-hewn pikes of the Dripcave Dregs. The beasts thrusted Emere down a steep hill, sending her limp skeleton sliding into the maw of the cave.
Emere could barely make out the falling silhouette above her- and by the time she did, her world had already gone black.





Where am I? wondered Neve, seeing nothing but the darkness behind her eyes, heart pounding dreadfully in her ears.
You are everywhere and nowhere, hissed a voice.

Puzzled, Neve called out, Who are you?

Her answer came, sharp and hollow.

We are the Gaolers. The real question, however, is who are you?


Emere awoke, faint grey light pressing hard on her straining eyes. Dark shapes streaked across her vision, faint outlines against the polished obsidian floor. At the very center of the room, a crude skylight slashed in the stone ceiling illuminated a single prisoner, bound in icy chains.

Neve lay flat on her back, unconscious, across the frigid podium, talons and legs fastened to crude stakes.

It hurt the Skydancer to see her friend like this, and a sudden protective urge coursed through her veins.
“NO!” she shrieked, heaving at her own bindings. “NO! Look here! Leave that dragon alone! Take me instead!” Emere’s voice verged on hysteria.
Several burly forms stepped into the gloom. Pointed, twisted racks of antlers, gleaming as though they had just been polished. Equally pristine, triangular, canines, leering out of the shadows, daring her to make another move. Menacing claws of steel that clicked on the floor, a death chant that reverberated around the cavernous space.

“Who are you?” Emere squeaked, trying to maintain eye contact.

If Wemba is right, if the stories are true, the Skydancer thought, her mind racing. Then these monsters are-

Gaolers, they finished. How do you know Wemba?

It might have been Emere’s imagination, but she thought she saw several Gaoler’s talons go to sheathed weapons that hung loosely at their sides, nearly covered by their shaggy, overgrown coats.

How do you know Wemba? the Gaolers repeated, their words ringing inside her head.
“S-she’s my fr-friend,” Emere managed.

The temperature in the already-frigid cavern seemed to drop. A sense of foreboding came over the Skydancer as she watched the troop of Gaolers exchange looks. What looked like their leader stepped forwards, a deadened look contained in his deep eyes.
Wemba barely escaped us, he snarled, his wolf pelt rippling along with his muscular skeleton as he paced in front of Emere. I suppose she hasn’t told you? Or did you simply pretend not to hear the end of her story? You idolize Wemba, don’t you? The “great adventurer”, the “one who journeyed to the ends of Sornieth and back”? Pah. Friends of Wemba’s are no friends of ours.
He gestured to his troop, who made a tight knot around the panicking dragon, cutting off her escape.
Trust me, you don’t want to know what happens to those who try to flee… the Gaoler added, his voice now a faint hiss in Emere’s mind.
Suddenly, a flash of white fur, moonlight against oversized goggles. Realization overcame the Skydancer as she recalled Wemba’s stories- that was Tippa, the longneck guide that had helped her confidante through the peaks of the Southern Icefield.
Tippa scurried towards the podium, nimble hands quickly undoing the strong bonds that held Neve captive. She motioned faintly at Emere, a secret understanding passing in between the two.
Emere simply had to keep them distracted long enough for Tippa and Neve to escape…

“Tell me, then, if you want me to know so much,” Emere growled, trying to mirror the Gaoler’s cold demeanors.
Can you believe this one? guffawed a beast, unaware of the fact that he was indeed, speaking inside not only his fellow’s minds, but Emere’s as well.
I know, right? She’s unbelievable! answered another, completely oblivious.
Yeah, and I can hear you guys, she added, smirking.
Her mind went silent, two of the Gaolers now wearing guilty expressions.
“ENOUGH!” bellowed their leader, scraping his razor-like claws against the floor in annoyance. “You, yes, you, you little *******-”he snarled, addressing Emere. “-don’t play smart with me. You came here, you sealed your death wish. Especially if you’re friends with Wemba… Wem-”
He was cut short by a flying blur, intercepting his approach towards a terrified Emere. The two dragons tussled on the ground, both straining to hold each other down.
Emere’s heart jumped. Neve!
“You-do-not-dare- to-lay-a-finger-on-my-FRIEND!”the Pearlcatcher shrieked, slapping the Gaoler in the face for each word.
Finally, Neve managed to sit atop the massive beast, his own, jagged sword poised across his throat.
“Is that clear?”she snarled, pressed the edge of the impressive blade deeper into the Gaoler’s flesh. “I said, is that clear?”
The Gaoler coughed, blood flecking his lips. “No- I won’t and I never wi-”
With a sickening crunch, Neve sliced the monster’s head off, sending it rolling across the floor.
“Now, does anyone have any questions?”Neve spat, a maniacal light dancing in her deep eyes.
The Gaolers shuffled their feet, shaking their heads.
“Then we’ll be off,” she said, nodding to Emere.

Outside, the sun had began to rise above the frigid peaks adorning the Southern Icefield. It tickled the dripping icicles, softened the snow, and spread its glorious warmth into Emere’s bones. As Neve lifted into the air, the Gaoler’s sword slung across her back, the Skydancer saw the sun rising on a new warrior, a warrior that would be worthy of the Arcanist’s ranks one day…
Lore by Windstrike2O5