Roleplay

Legend paused at the edge of the dock. He had waded easily through the small group of dragons massing to watch the ship unload, but he wasn't sure where his friends wanted to go. "Where should I drop you?" he asked, looking around. He half hoped they would allow him on the ship - that would be neat. He also hoped that they'd get to spend time together again before the nocturnes sailed off, once more leaving him behind while they had all the adventures.


Ez saw the spiral's eyes glaze over slightly as he continued speaking and wilted a bit at the implied criticism. He'd have to be briefer, he supposed. He was used to scholars who discoursed for hours. Seafaring types seemed to be more terse. "Nathaniel? He's one of the few dragons in the clan who cares much about business - or has a mind for it, or the patience for it. A bit mercenary, perhaps, but he just wants to make a profit." He'd have to try the card once he was back on the island. It had been too long since he'd spoken with his friends, and surely it would be safe to use it now...


Tama made the tundra as comfortable as he was able, making sure he was positioned so that he could (hopefully) breathe easier before winging his way toward the library spire. He wasn't certain of the physician's schedule, but he thought it was his day to visit Blain, who was usually researching in the archives. The coatl was fortunate - he had just reached the edge of the terraces when he caught sight of four dragons - two skydancers and two pearlcatchers - in one of the gardens closest to the library. An earth-toned, petaled pearlcatcher sat near a blue piebald pearlcatcher, looking on anxiously as the skydancers examined the inflamed gemstones on his friend's hide. One of the skydancers seemed to be doing most of the examining, though he stopped occasionally to snap at one of the animals climbing all over him. The other stood back and quietly observed. The skydancers were similar enough that most assumed (correctly) that they were related, as both had pale hides, butterfly wings, and thylacine stripes. The younger skydancer had a false leg, however, made of metal that glinted in the sunlight.

The coatl's sudden arrival in their midst caught the attention of all four dragons. He bowed his head at them as apology for the interruption. "An ill tundra on the terraces needs aid."

The eldest skydancer, Cindermoon, whipped around to glare at Tama, a bird roosting in the feathers on his head startled into taking flight. "What's wrong with him? What are his symptoms?"

"Coughing up blood. Seeping wounds," said Tama.

"We have something for that," the skydancer said with a look at his son, who nodded. In addition to being born without a leg, Hazelmist had a chronic lung condition that occasionally resulted in coughing up blood, and he always carried medication with him.

"Go help him. You can examine me later," the gembonded pearlcatcher said gruffly, starting to wind bandages about himself once again.

The petaled pearlcatcher, Sift, began helping his companion with the wrappings. "Where'd he come from?" he asked with curious interest.

"The lighthouse signaled," Tama said, and Sift's eyes lit up. That meant a ship, and a ship generally meant new materials.

"C'mon, Blain, let's go to the port and see what they have!" he said cheerfully, then started off down the path. The other pearlcatcher sighed, then smiled after him, making his way down to the docks at a slower, more sedate pace, wincing every once in a while due to his inflammation.

Tama and the two skydancers flew down more rapidly, landing as softly as they could near Lodon, though the animals riding on or trailing after Cindermoon made quite a cacophony. He snapped at them before moving closer to examine his patient, eyeing the amount of blood with concern. "You. Medical history, if you can speak." He opened a bag and took out a few powders and tools, using one of them to listen more closely to Lodon's labored breathing.


The underworld lord stepped closer to the skydancer. One of his underlings stuck her head out of one of the smaller tents, but he shook his head at her, and the spirit withdrew. "Indeed, I am a spirit. Have you met my kind before?" His aura was cool, sharp, and stark - almost background noise, but it had a powerful presence when he allowed it to burst its bounds a bit. He kept it toned down for the sake of peace among the clan's dragons, but part of him itched to let loose. He refrained, however - this skydancer could be a friend of the island's dragons or even one of their number, though Ez hadn't mentioned any new members.

Legend was easily able to pass through the dragons gathered on the dock and made his way to the ship. Striker pointed towards the ships gangplank which was supervised by a bored looking mirror. She would have to essentially dragon her sister into the ship probably. Then she could return and socialize with Legend perhaps. He wouldn't fit though, so his being in the ship is not something that would happen. Most of the halls are only big enough for midsized breeds. Snappers don't really fit even. Most of the smaller breeds have little trouble though.

Ez spoke with a bit less enthusiasm for some reason, but Longfellow didn't really know why. "Nathaniel? He's one of the few dragons in the clan who cares much about business - or has a mind for it, or the patience for it. A bit mercenary, perhaps, but he just wants to make a profit." Longfellow scratched behind his ear and looked back to the market. The crew was organizing everything neatly and just about everything was ready for the final move.

Longfellow seeing this responded, "Well, okay then. Guess I'll go rent some stands." He uncoiled and flew a short distance towards the market then turned his head and said, “I can have this separated by category. If you wish to look around and ask for a price, I can set it aside for ya too." Longfellow suspected that somebody, specifically a dragon with an ice enchanted cloak would find interest in their refrigerant. The dragons around the Southern Ice Field sometimes find deposits of the Ice in the permafrost. The highest concentrations are around the Fortress of Ends Longfellow supposed. He had seen the imposing collection of spires and structures once. It chilled most of the crew to a unanimous decision to not return.

~~~~~~

The Coatl attempted to make Lodon as comfortable as possible, but the coal oil burn in his chest continued. Luckily, he hadn't eaten much or he wouldn't have kept it down. Sparks occasionally jumped from his gasping maw as well as specks of ash or charcoal. The sparks were an odd violet hue now. The Coatl rushed away towards the tower. The blood that had caked on Lodon's chin had turned a sickly black and had cracks running throughout the dried mass. The magic in the air seemed to be triggering this effect with racking intensity. The itch is usually there, which is why he doesn't travel much, but rarely does the scratch get ripped asunder like this.

Soon, the Coatl and two Skydancers came to Lodon. His coughing had settled to a rattle or a sputter ever few seconds which gave him some time to breathe. Lodon heard animals, but he wasn't entirely sure it was real. He often thought that he heard animals, but they tended to just be distant memories. "You. Medical history, if you can speak." One of the dragons, Lodon wasn't sure which one, said. He watched as one dragon opened a bag and took out several things. A few Lodon recognized from his visits to Bones. The dragon seemed to use them to listen to Lodon's lungs.

Lodon spoke the best he could, but his voice was raw. His vocal chords had been sheered. He was no stranger to that. His voice was husky and rough because of it, like sandpaper against your face. "Fire. Fire. Never heals." He whispered to the dragon. The wounds will sometimes proceed to heal on the surface and leave nasty scars, but eventually they reopen. The burns healed a long time ago for the most part, but the other wounds never did. He had to get better.

The coatl stepped closer to Mardikan. Another dragon stuck her head from a tent, but the coatl ushered her back in. "Indeed, I am a spirit. Have you met my kind before?" The coatl asked. Mardikan had met a few spirits before. Most of the ones he had met wandered aimlessly and were quite mad. Those were spectres though and not the race of spirits. He had met a few spirits that were not dragon and were their own beings. Most had been relatively peaceable. One had been malevolent and Mardikan had thrown it back to wherever it had come from head first.

Mardikan noticed the unusually even and solid the spirit's aura was. It was like the dragon was standing on the other side of tinted glass. Mardikan got the feeling that the coatl was probably holding back a temper currently. From the apparent element of the spirit, Mardikan had an offensive and defensive advantage just in case. When he spoke, Mardikan's voice was mechanical. He was speaking through his mask after all. "Yes. I have met spirits before. I'd like to ask you something if you care to listen." He waited for a few moments then continued, "Do you know how to seal a Veil breach?" Spirits were usually quite adept at manipulating and understanding the nature of the Veil. An insect flew to close to Mardikan and was vaporized with a small flash of yellow light and a pop. The sand still glowed under Mardikan's feet. He had been containing his magic for too long. Either he would have to release it as aura, or he would have to use the magic for something. The only magic he is comfortable using wreaks havoc though.

Striker motioned the guardian over to the gangplank, and he looked up, disappointed. Though the ship appeared huge, its byways were clearly not meant for a dragon of his stature. A pity. He craned his neck around to look at the nocturnes. "Any sort of pulley we could use to get your sis up there? Also, want to get together again before you leave? I won't take you out for coffee again, I promise!"

Ez nodded politely to the spiral. "Of course, that would be lovely!" While he was good at negotiating trade agreements, bartering over items wasn't his specialty. If the dragon who was hadn't seen the signal from the lighthouse, someone else would likely tell him, and he'd be on his way soon. He watched the spiral fly off toward the market and turned to Stargazer. "Unfortunately it seems we won't get to see Weir and Stein. Was there anything else you wanted to look at, or did you want to fly back?"

The star spirit shrugged and stretched her wings in preparation for flight. There was little on the dock that interested her - her only interest in the ship had been the possibility that her daughter was on it.

As the coatl and the spirit flew back, they passed over the ferry making its way back to the mainland, two pearlcatchers on board.


Cindermoon did not like the sounds he was hearing from the tundra's lungs. "Well, fire should heal," he snapped impatiently, wondering what the root cause of the problem was. "This doesn't look like a first time occurrence. What's your usual regimen of treatment?" It wouldn't do to give him anything that might negate or react poorly with anything the fellow was already taking. Meanwhile his son, the one-legged skydancer Hazelmist, had taken out a variety of vials, a mortar, and a pestle, and stood ready to mix medicines whenever his father decided what it was the tundra needed.

Tama went back to his gardening, deciding he would be of the most use there, though he remained within shouting distance in case he was needed.


Lazarus always found the apparel choices of dragons curious. Most spirits were adept at shifting shape and could appear as they wished - elaborately clad, feathered, furred, fanged, any color of the rainbow or none at all. Dragons on the other hand grew and changed throughout their life, though they usually stayed relatively the same - a bit bigger, perhaps. They mostly expressed themselves through clothing. Why a mask? he wondered. Hiding something? Wanting to appear secretive? A cosmetic choice? A method of containment? Perhaps he shouldn't ascribe spirit motives to a dragon, as they were different in many ways, though the more he remained on Prufrock, the more similarities he was finding, and he wasn't sure he was entirely pleased by this realization.

He watched an insect vaporize upon contact with the skydancer's aura. Either he was showing off or else was having trouble containing his magic. Hopefully he wouldn't explode around the tents. The wards would probably just rebound it all over the beach, and then the dragons would complain about the mess. Tedious all the way around. Kherty would love the chaos, though he wasn't sure he wanted his rival and this dragon to meet. Too similar, in some ways. "A breach? Sounds serious." The breach clearly wasn't here - Lazarus would have sensed it. How far away, though? He was used to being able to look at a dragon's eyes and tell whereabouts they were from, though granted, the denizens of the island were rather diverse in terms of region of origin, so theoretically this dragon could be from anywhere. He suspected the skydancer's eyes would be red if the mask ever came off, or at least his aura had a distinctly plague tint to it. There weren't many plague dragons on Prufrock, and those with strong auras stood out like a sore upon the landscape. "I know methods of sealing, yes, and I know other spirits that do as well, though I doubt your homeland would welcome another spirit in their midst - or advice from one - if you are having difficulties with a breach. Perhaps I might recommend a dragon or two among the clan's number with whom you might consult."

Striker saw the look of disappointment on Legend's face and felt bad for him. When she was little, she and her sister had always wanted to be bigger. The bigger dragons seemed to be so much more helpful. They were stronger, faster, tougher, and were more intimidating. The meek little twins were not helpful in the least. They were quite the opposite in most cases. When the two had gotten older, they learned that small doesn't mean less. A small dragon is more agile, harder to hit, can fit in small places, have generally finer motor skills, and are less intimidating which makes underestimating them easy. "I've got er." Striker said. She pulled her sister from Legends back and beat her wings vigorously to get to the ground softly.

After catching her breath, Striker hoisted her sister onto her back and pulled her up the gangplank. When she had reached the top, she turned back to Legend. "Fifteen minutes?" She offered. In that time, she could lay her sister down in their roost and make her way back. She turned at his response and pulled her sister through a door that led to a staircase. When she had gone down a few of those into the noticeably cooler belly of the ship, she went down a few halls, past a few dragons that were either just waking up or looking for stray merchandise. Striker made her way into a room that was nearly pitch black. The only light was a dimly flickering gas lamp.

She blinked her eyes quickly and a bright yellow light flickered to life behind her eyes. The beams moved across the room to rest on a pair of hammocks tied together that hung in the metal rafters. She wouldn't be able to get her sister up there, so she decided to put her in one of the lower hammocks. Her sister was like a brick the way she was unconscious. When finally placed into a bed, Striker turned back around, said "Rest up.", and flew the way she had come. The fluttering sound of her wings echoed through the halls that neared the one she was in.

~~~~~~

The coatl nodded curtly to Longfellow and said, "Of course, that would be lovely!" Longfellow was happy to hear enthusiasm. He was getting more and more hopeful that they could return home for leave. The crew had been travelling for months. The two creeps aboard had been travelling with them since Challenger's Point. (I have decided that Challenger's point would be more realistic on the southern coast, near the Windswept Plateau.) They had journeyed off the ship whenever they found a port with at least a few mages. None of them had the knowledge they sought so he thought. Maybe they would find what they needed here. He knew most of the dragons here had some knowledge with the Arcane.

He reached the structure from which he had seen Nathaniel travel to and fro from. The spiral turned and looked at the market. It would work. He knocked on the structure's entry port to gain Nathaniel's attention. "Ready to deal." Longfellow said. He was carrying enough gold to pay for a small army, but Nathaniel didn't need to know that. He squinted at a distant feature of the landscape. He pulled his glasses from his coat and put them on his nose while he waited. They were essentially just for magnification than anything else. When he had time, he decided, he would have to spend some time painting the scenery around here. The Starfall Isles have some of the most unique land forms he had ever seen. The other realms have special forms around their epicenters, but the Starfall Isle has weird landscapes throughout its land. He thought so at least.

~~~~~~

The skydancer physician didn't seem too happy about the sounds that came from Lodon. They consisted mostly of wheezing, the occasional cracking noise, and a sound like a campfire smoldering. "Well, fire should heal," He had snapped at Lodon. "This doesn't look like a first time occurrence. What's your usual regimen of treatment?" He asked.

Lodon didn't have a regimen for medication or otherwise. He didn't use anything besides when he was in a fit. The Quarry's doctor, Bones, was not too shy with using powerful narcotics when they were necessary. They helped Lodon greatly when he had suffered from a flare up. Lodon had seen the Coatl go back to his gardening, he thought. The fit had blinded him. He could see the shape of the physician and another dragon nearby. He coughed up a small burst of purple fire. The fire was beginning to burn out. Afterwards, he would need to be cautious so as to not drown on his own blood. "Nothing." He had replied to the Skydancer.

~~~~~~

Mardikan spent what felt like hours keeping his eyes on the Coatl and keeping his aura from explosively decompressing away from his body. Finally, the Coatl spoke, "A breach? Sounds serious." He didn't seem too concerned to Mardikan. "I know methods of sealing, yes, and I know other spirits that do as well, though I doubt your homeland would welcome another spirit in their midst - or advice from one - if you are having difficulties with a breach. Perhaps I might recommend a dragon or two among the clan's number with whom you might consult." He continued.

The Quarry's denizens didn't care too much where the help comes from as long as it helps. The breach was destabilizing the entire area. The Quarry has had tremors, simple spells have vaporized mages, weapons will suddenly melt, and spirits have been wreaking havoc, whether by malice or by accident. A few times, spirits had to be removed forcibly. One such incident blew a scorch mark into the forest that spanned for miles.

"We could use all the help we can get." Mardikan admitted. A note of relief crept into his mechanical sounding voice. He was happy that their search may be over. Now they just have to get back with any help they get intact.

The guardian watched Striker haul her sister up the gangplank and into the bowels of the ship. He felt bad for not helping, but he figured Striker must be stronger than she looked if she could easily drag her sibling around. He could easily pick up his brother, come to think on it, though his brother was a tundra. The nocturnes were more or less the same size, though.

He sat down to wait for Striker to come back, looking around at the bustle on the dock, trying to look important, like he was properly on guard duty. He wasn't sure who would try to steal or mess with the ship's wares, but one never knew. There could be a scoundrel around. He wondered what was in the boxes and crates. He hoped food...his stomach rumbled again. Those pastries just weren't enough.

Legend wandered over to a nearby crewmember. "'Scuse me," he said. "Don't suppose you've got any food on this dock that's for sale, do you? Something nocturnes would like," he added. He would eat nearly anything, but he felt bad that his friends hadn't enjoyed their coffee more.


***

The purple fire nearly set a cat aflame. It hissed at it and tried to bat it out with its paws. "Nothing?" The skydancer was incredulous. "You're coughing up fire, for the love of the deities. In case you weren't aware, that isn't normal. Not even for a fire dragon so far as I know. And coughing up blood is never a good thing. Right then, Haz," he said, turning to his son. "Your usual, please."

Hazelmist ground several clawfuls of herbs together, then mixed the resulting paste into a liquid. "It's better hot," he said ruefully as he handed it over to his father.

"We're not starting a fire here," Cindermoon said, eyeing the still smoldering patch where the purple flame had been. "Smoke's terrible on the lungs." He moved to try to prop Lodon up. "Here, drink this. It ought to soothe your throat and dull the pain, hopefully stop some of the spasms. You ought to see one of the mages, though. I can't do much for a magical ailment." He held the greenish, sludgy liquid up near the tundra's mouth. It had a minty aroma, mixed with something similar to chamomile.


***

"All the help?" Lazarus said. He hoped the skydancer didn't say that near Kherty. He didn't want him to get any ideas, though maybe it would be a good idea if his rival left the island...no, it was best to keep him in sight. If this fellow's clan had problems with the veil, Kherty would only exacerbate them. "There are some exorcists here who might...ah," he said, catching sight of three dragons flying across the channel and landing just up the beach from where they stood - a blue coatl carrying a satchel, a shiny imperial whose hide gleamed in the sun, and a purple nocturne who bore a lantern despite it still being light out. All three dragons wore glasses.

A slow smile slid across Lazarus' face, a sly smile. Those three claimed to be traveling librarians who came and went frequently from the clan, and perhaps they were, but they were more powerful than they appeared, and they were certainly disguising their true motives. Lazarus could read traces of past interactions with spirits in their auras, particularly in the imperial and the coatl, and he knew that they were investigating the island's spirits, though they pretended otherwise. Perhaps he could get these potential meddlers off his island. "Speaking of exorcists, I believe those three might be what just you're seeking...though I'm not the one who told you about them," he said. "Just say you've heard of them on your travels. I don't believe they're the sort who advertise their skills, but they're certainly powerful." Indeed, he could feel their auras even within his own protections. The coatl's was light with just a hint of darkness, arranged in runed concentric circles about him. The imperial's was oddly smokey for a lightning dragon - his aura swirled and eddied around his form. The nocturne's power was concentrated in the lantern he bore, though it didn't quite feel like his own magic - more like borrowed magic that he drew on when he needed it.

The crew members were busy marking crates as they looked inside. A few of them had to go around a guardian that had planted himself next to one of the ship's gangplanks. They were use to moving around large objects though and didn't fuss. One dragon, a rather bored looking mirror was scrawling "Leather" onto a crate. His mouth writing was basically illegible. The mirror was quite old and had age lines traced along his leathery hide. He watched with one set of eyes as the guardian walked up to him. "Scuse me, don't suppose you've got any food on this dock that's for sale do you? Something nocturnes would like?" The guardian said.

The old mirror scratched behind his left fan and looked around as he hummed a sea shanty. He couldn't remember most of it though. He had been told not to sell anything without pre approval, but that long fellow Stern apparently put in charge wasn't around. The mirror made his way over to a small stack of crates. He was spryer than he looked apparently. He asked himself, "Nockers eat bugs n meat?" He found a case full of things, but none of them were edible. Most of their food was plant or seafood. He personally found the amount of salt they had used for some of the fish offensive. He thought he knew where he could find some jerky. He rushed to a nearby pile as other dragons berated him for crashing through them. He came back with a bundle of dried meat sticks. It was probably made up of nearly a hundred of them and weighed a few pounds.

The mirror set them at Legend's feet and said, "My treat sonny. Good to see those two making friends." The mirror had seen everything. He turned around and went back to scrawling things on crates. He wrote what could have been nails on a crate after taking a look inside. A few dragons quickly moved it to a pile of things nearby.

Striker Hopped down the gangplank after a little while and seemed to be out of breath. Her sister, the flying, and the looming crash had tired her out a little. She skipped over to where Legend was. "Ready to go?" She asked excitedly. She didn't know where they would go or what they would do though.

~~~~~~

Lodon hadn't seen the cat ahead of him, but he heard its protest. "Nothing?" The physician had said in disbelief. "You're coughing up fire, for the love of the deities. In case you weren't aware, that isn't normal. Not even for a fire dragon so far as I know. And coughing up blood is never a good thing. Right then, Haz, Your usual, please." Lodon had never really used anything because very little worked. It only happened every few years anyway. He regretted not taking anything during and after a fit, but he never really thought of it between them.

Lodon could hear the dragon grinding things together and could hear other things. "It's better hot." The mixer had said. Lodon was unsure if that was a joke or not but at the moment, he couldn't care.

"We're not starting a fire here,” The physician did joke. He reminded Lodon a lot of Bones now. "Smoke's terrible on the lungs." He moved and propped Lodon up. "Here, drink this. It ought to soothe your throat and dull the pain, hopefully stop some of the spasms. You ought to see one of the mages, though. I can't do much for a magical ailment." The doctor said. All of a sudden, Lodon could smell the minty paste and what could have been daisies. Flickers of gardens crossed behind Lodon's unseeing eyes. They were not ordered like the ones he was currently in. There was something different about them. They were natural features and were real. The flowers of the Everbloom Gardens were of every color and size. The smell of the medicine made Lodon think of home. When was the last time he was there? Nearly a hundred and twenty years probably. Old age was catching up with Lodon. No matter how at peace he thought he was, he always found something new to live for.

He reached out and swallowed the liquid. The relief was nearly immediate. A cooling feeling flowed down his throat and throughout his body. He felt as if he had swallowed a draught of cold water. An icy feeling settled in his stomach and spread outwards. His coughing soon diminished to a dull rattle. He has tried similar things to this before. They work pretty well for a while at least. He had tried almost anything he could find. From what he had learned through the years, magic causes the flames and physical exertion or cold air causes the blood. A mixture of these causes a mixture of symptoms. The fire has burned out. His lungs would probably still be weak for a while though.

Through a small wheeze, Lodon smiled and thanked the dragons as best he could. He couldn't really speak at the moment. He felt better for the time being, but once the adrenaline and herbal whatever it was wore off, he'd probably hurt all over. He may need to get his wounds re-stitched as well. He had broken the thread in one of them he could feel. He had little hope left for ending this curse. He had lived with it since he was a mere child. His frailty often irritates Lodon. His vision started to recover a little and he could see the stripes on the skydancer doctor a little. Lodon took as deep a breath as he could manage to exhale without coughing.

~~~~~~

"All the help?" The coatl asked quizzically. "There are some exorcists here who might...ah;” He saw three dragons a ways down the beach. A coatl, an imperial, and a nocturne. All of them wore glasses. Mardikan saw the smile creep across the Coatl's face. That is usually not a good sign. "Speaking of exorcists, I believe those three might be what just you're seeking...though I'm not the one who told you about them," he said. "Just say you've heard of them on your travels. I don't believe they're the sort who advertises their skills, but they're certainly powerful."

Mardikan didn't quite want to take his eyes off of the coatl for fear of something unexpected, but he had to. He turned to see the three dragons. The three dragons were highly proficient in magic from what Mardikan could see. The coatl was mysterious. The imperial had an aura like dense fog. The Nocturne had what appeared to be a storage vessel for magic. A lantern of all things. Most items of that power were jewelry or weapons. The magic from the nocturne and his lantern were different. The magic was either collected willingly or it could be parasitically collected. He knew one other dragon that could do that. He did it as a passive effect however and rarely focused stolen magic like this. Mardikan gave the coatl a passing glance through his mask and walked towards the three.

Mardikan's aura was flowing far more smoothly now after he had calmed down. The magic was billowing in a dull yellow halo around him and would appear as if it were natural and not because of extended containment. The effect has helped him in several situations from which enemies or other negotiators believed him to be immensely powerful without effort. This situation was more out of necessity. He didn't want to explode this close to salvation. Sadly, he had promised not to act as a missionary, which also meant blessing his god in more than an offhand remark. Many don't see the Plaguebringer as more than a force of destruction and fear plague dragons such as him. He has been able to use his status as a powerful plague acolyte to his advantage often, but it goes wrong more than it goes well usually,

Legend half watched, half listened as the mirror poked through various crates. As he opened different cases, a few smells assaulted the guardian, primarily heavily salted fish. It made him thirsty just imagining the taste. He tilted his head to try to decipher what the mirror had written on the crate as he waited for him to come back. Lead? Leaflets? Leeches? His adoptive father would make him sit and read in the library if he realized how much Legend was struggling to make sense of the text. He hoped it was the mirror's handwriting or else some odd regional variation of script rather than his own reading comprehension.

His expression brightened when he saw the mirror heading back with some dried meat - probably a lot to a dragon his size, less so to a guardian. He blinked in astonishment when the mirror told him there was no charge. "You sure? Thanks so much!"

He was about to taste-test it when Striker joined him, excited but a bit out of breath. "Anywhere you want to go in particular? Preferably somewhere we could eat this," he said, gesturing at the bundle of dried meat. "Or we can munch on the way. The port's not big - there's a handful of shops, and the park's nice this time of year. Evrain would probably let us in the lighthouse if you want to see that."


In the distance, the ferry became visible as it entered the harbor and began navigating around the Slattern's bulk.


Nathaniel had taken his time answering the spiral's summons - no need to appear too eager. He wound his way out of "his" part of the market and strolled leisurely through the booths, gesturing at them as he approached Longfellow. "As you can see, we have plenty of space to rent, so I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. To rent a booth is a thousand gold coins - the coins being of standard weight and size - a day, but you get all the profits...minus the 1% tax owed to the dragons of Prufrock, of course. Or you could negotiate with me to buy some of your goods. I'd sell them at my leisure, you'd get immediate profit, you wouldn't have to staff the booths or wait for your items to sell, and you'd avoid the tax."


***

Cindermoon watched with relief as the tundra's breathing eased slightly after taking the medicinal draught. He definitely didn't look well, though. The skydancer critically eyed the external wounds - those might need restitching. And who knows what the poor fellow looked like internally. He needed a place to rest for a while, that was for certain, and the lairs were likely too awkward to get to for one in his condition. Asking his frail son to help was out of the question, and anyway, they needed a larger dragon. "You - guru or whatever you are," he called out to the nearby coatl. "Go fetch someone to help carry this tundra up to the laboratory." He was tempted to put his patient in one of the study rooms in the library, but there was a lot of weird magic there - enough to make his fur stand on end. If the tundra's ailment had to do with magic, he didn't know how he'd react to being within the spire. At any rate, the lab certainly had plenty of fire extinguishing chemicals in case the tundra flared up again.

The coatl looked up from his gardening and nodded, then set down his tools and flew off toward the spire. Hazelmist looked at his father reproachfully. "His name's Tama, father."

"Whatever," Cindermoon said. "Best make up some more of that medicine since it seems to be doing a little bit of good." Most of the animals were busy exploring the garden, but one of the cats appeared to have gotten over its annoyance concerning Lodon's flames and was now snuggled against the tundra, purring loudly. "Well, if you like him so much, stick with him then and quit bothering me," the skydancer said irritably. He rummaged around more in his bag, wondering what else he could do for the tundra that wouldn't harm him further. Probably ought to have one of the mages look at him for sure. No point in stitching him up only to find out that was the wrong thing to do.


***

Lazarus watched with satisfaction as the skydancer turned to go down the beach toward the trio. The dragon's aura seemed more contained, purposeful - he might have actually done someone some good in directing him to the exorcist-librarians, come to think on it. At the very least, Lazarus had arranged things to his own personal liking, which was, naturally, of great importance to him. It was hard playing chess with sentient objects, but he found it far more entertaining when the pieces possessed minds of their own. It might have been useful to send one of his own pieces off with the skydancer, even go himself, but he needed all of his pawns and knights arrayed against Kherty at the moment on the board that was the island of Prufrock.

Speaking of Kherty...the other underworld lord emerged from around Lazarus' tent. Like Lazarus, he had taken the form of a black and white coatl while on the island, but Kherty's muzzle and extremities were the bright red of fresh blood. "What was that?" asked Kherty, gesturing after the departing skydancer with his tail.

"A lost visitor. I gave him directions," replied Lazarus, unable to keep a touch a smugness out of his voice. Though both lords kept their powers well in check while in the physical realm, in part because fully letting loose would destroy their physical forms, the air between them was always charged, always subtly testing for weakness behind the scenes. Those who could peer through the veil could see a floor of cold marble beneath Lazarus. Hot blood flowed onto it from Kherty's direction, then withdrew, leaving the marble just as pristine as before.

"Interesting aura he has," mused Kherty. A breeze blew up from the ocean, but the cloak he wore didn't move.

Lazarus gave a half shrug, lifting one of his brightly colored wings, the jewels draped on it jingling faintly. "I find the auras of many of the clan's dragons far more entertaining." This was true in part - he did enjoy studying the auras of the dragons around him and comparing them to spirit auras. He'd let Kherty puzzle out which dragons he might find most interesting. That ought to distract him from the visitor.


The coatl Deepsea felt the skydancer coming before he saw him thanks to the aura he was exuding. Plague, he thought. And powerful. His glasses were speckled with sea spray from crossing the brief stretch of ocean between the island and the mainland, so he took them off and polished them on Darkshine's mantle, then emerged from the imperial's shadow to get a better look at the approaching dragon. Darkshine noticed the coatl's attention stray before realizing what had caught his eye, and he gently nudged the nocturne Echo, who had set aside his lantern and was busying himself imitating the movements of a crab as it scuttled frantically away from the dragons on the beach. Echo's curiosity was immediately captured by the strange skydancer, and the crab gratefully retreated into the water.

. The mirror was happy to give the behemoth, compared to him, some food. He had always thought that those two twins were better off if they had a few friends besides each other. They fed on each other and were uncontrollable. He really had little idea of what they were like apart because they never were. The mirror would probably catch some heat for giving that jerky to the guardian, but he would pay for it one way or another. He wondered how much his rum ration was worth. Maybe it would pay for the meat. He put the idea aside for the time being. He had to focus on the task at hand. He looked at his writing but his poor color vision made it tough to discern his writing too well. He didn't know that he was just bad at writing.

Striker felt unusually free when she had left her sister. It was like stepping out of a dense fog or out of water. She wasn't sure why though. She had always been with her sister and had never really desired to leave. They had done everything together since they were children. Freedom is strange. When she had reached Legend, he was about to eat some jerky. She wasn't sure where he had gotten it though. The twins had not been told about the meat for obvious reasons.

Legend saw her and replied to her, "Anywhere you want to go in particular? Preferably somewhere we could eat this,” He ushered to the bundle of jerky. "Or we can munch on the way. The port's not big - there are a handful of shops and the park's nice this time of year. Evrain would probably let us in the lighthouse if you want to see that." Striker had been to lots of different places, but she had never gone to any of them alone and felt like they would be different that way. Parks had bugs she guessed. Light houses have giant lights. Shops have stuff to look at.

Striker took a longer time to respond because of the lacking input from her other half. "Park?" She asked happily. It was mostly spring weather right about this time of the year, so there should be a great abundance of flowers and bugs Striker reasoned. There were lots of aromatic grasses and Flowers in the Sunbeam Ruins. Where there were cracks in the foundations or where there were grassy patches, there tended to be meadow like places. The grass grew only a few feet though. The smell of grass was quite calming to her. Striker picked a modest piece of jerky from the bundle and began to nibble on it. It was salty and chewy. There was also a bit of pepper of some sort in it.

She remembered one place that had intact gargoyle fountains that fed water from the crumbling roofs of nearby buildings they liked into a shattered basin. The water caused a tree as well as a whole assortment of different plants to grow around the clearing. They used to play on that tree. She wondered if it was still there after all these years. The Sunbeam ruins do have a large number of port clans, so the Slattern may make it to the other side of the continent one of these days. The last time they had been there was when Stern had met them. Striker hopped closer to Legend.

~~~~~~

Longfellow waited for a time, but he barely noticed the passage of said time. He saw Nathaniel winding his way through the market gesturing to the different stands as he went. "As you can see, we have plenty of space to rent, so I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. To rent a booth is a thousand gold coins - the coins being of standard weight and size - a day, but you get all the profits...minus the 1% tax owed to the dragons of Prufrock, of course. Or you could negotiate with me to buy some of your goods. I'd sell them at my leisure, you'd get immediate profit, you wouldn't have to staff the booths or wait for your items to sell, and you'd avoid the tax." The whole thing sounded relatively reasonable to Longfellow. He only had a little bit of business sense and it centered around bartering. One thing he did know is that you don't want to put all of your eggs in one basket. That makes for uncooked omelets for breakfast.

Longfellow removed his glasses and put them back in his coat. He did his best to think the decision through but his dark blue eyes gave away a bit of troubled thought. "How bout this?" Longfellow asked, "Can ya handle bulk shipments and building material?" That would be the palettes of metal, the nails, shingles, and any other structural things. There were also bulk crates of screws, glass, and straw. "We can handle the individual and specialty items” That would be like jewelry, collectible items, weapons, and tools, as well as many other things like food and alcohol.

He figured that he knew Nathaniel's type. He pulled a small leather bag from inside his coat and poured its contents into his other clawed hand. He had coiled on the ground at this point. The bag jingled and was full of money.

In Longfellow's hand were gold coins, assorted gemstones, and a few silver coins and a single bronze coin. The bag still contained many of these same contents. "That's probably enough. Maybe a little extra for your hospitality." He hoped that his bribe was clear enough for Nathaniel to catch. Longfellow wanted every opportunity he could get. He jingled the coin and gems in his hand.

~~~~~~

Lodon watched as best he could but remembered something, but he couldn't quite remember entirely. "The bitter and the broken shall tame the fire." Augur. That's who had told him that. That fool had spent nights meditating to give them as much insight as possible. Sadly, and expected was the use of riddles instead of simply telling Lodon what was going to happen. It was all up to interpretation though and the sight isn't always clear and it isn't always helpful. He hadn't heard most of what had passed between the dragons, but he had heard the name Tama and had learned that the two dragons in front of him were related. "Bitter and the broken." Lodon whispered.

Lodon could feel something rubbing up against his side. It purred rather loudly. He looked down to see a cat with patches of different colors. Lodon smiled meekly and pet the cat with his paw. "Well, if you like him so much, stick with him then and quit bothering me,” The physician said irritably. The skydancer than furthered his rummaging. Lodon continued watching the cat. He'd heard pets help healing, but he had never had a pet really. He wondered all of a sudden where his Centauri friend was. If he was remembering correctly, he had stayed in Challenger's Point. He had said that his people were not too fond of traveling on the water. They were a land based species. He closed his eyes after they began to burn a little.

~~~~~~

Mardikan had felt the other coatl show up but didn't deem it necessary to turn to see him. His senses were intense because of his magical training. He trained for years so that he could hear, smell, taste, feel, and see with clarity. The coatl ahead of Mardikan had seen him first. His glasses were covered in small drops of water and he cleaned them quickly. The imperial noticed second and nudged the nocturne to inform him. A crab quickly escaped the nocturne and into the water. As soon as Mardikan stopped, the sand beneath his feet began to heat up. The air took on a slight metallic smell when the wind blew towards the three dragons. Mardikan re-contained his magic after feeling that enough of it had been released. He felt like he had eaten a large meal, but at least he wasn't itchy.

Mardikan's aura had been a billowing wave around him, but it quickly disappeared. His aura was contained again. Unless he was hurt or if he called upon it, nobody would know that he was a mage probably. A powerful mage could probably see the mass of energy inside of Mardikan though. The eyes that had been seen before were gone and replaced by voids in the glass. He always preferred to keep his mask on when working. He never knew why. Perhaps it was the anonymity that comes with it. Maybe it just kept his face, the source of most tells, concealed. His hat moved in the wind but was secured to the mask. His cloak had also billowed. "Hello." Mardikan greeted in the mask caused mechanical voice. "How skilled are you magically?" He asked. He hoped that they would give him a blunt answer

"Park it is!" Legend said happily before tossing a clawful of jerky into his mouth. Chewy, but tasty, and highly satisfying to eat something savory after the sweet pastries and bitter coffee. He balanced both the rest of the jerky and the nocturne on his back and tip-toed through the piles of crates lining the dock, then turned past the market and took the path that ran along the edge of the harbor toward the park.

There were strands of trees, several gardens and fountains, and paths running through the park. Some sculptures, too. Legend reflected that he probably ought to be able to name the types of trees and whatnot, not to mention the birds calling indignantly from the trees and the butterflies flitting among the flowers, but he liked fighting better than learning about natural stuff. If Striker wanted to know what things were, the guardian would have to go in search of a scholar. He hoped she didn't care about such things, though. He didn't want to look dumb in front of his friend.

He made his way through the park toward the amphitheater. A large round stone pit sank into the grounds of the park, it had stair-like, tiered ledges running around its circumference, designed so that an orator or a performance taking place in the center could easily be viewed and heard. The guardian carefully arranged his sword so that he wouldn't be laying on it and then reclined on one of the upper ledges, blissfully enjoying the jerky, the smell of spring, the warmth of the sun on his scales, and the presence of a friend by his side.


***

Nathaniel's ears perked at the jingle of coins. "Building material, eh? I might be able to shift that." He edged closer and critically eyed the spiral's offering. "I suppose that would be enough, for now anyway." A sudden swipe of his forelimb and the money was gone from Longfellow's claws. "Feel free to start moving the items into the market. Anything I'm selling, put it there," he said, gesturing with his tail at the rear of the place where his shelves and tables were constructed. "Anything you're selling...pick some booths and have at it. Note that I am not responsible for anything that happens - no refunds in the case of anything broken or stolen, savvy?"


***

"The bitter and the broken? Are you describing yourself or someone else? I'd sure be bitter if I was coughing blood and fire," said Cindermoon, still bustling about his patient.

"You're bitter anyway," muttered Hazelmist as he pounded more medicine into a paste, his false limb stretched out at an awkward angle underneath him.

"What was that?" snapped Cindermoon, but his son was saved from replying by the arrival of an imperial on the terrace. He landed awkwardly and in a contorted fashion, attempting to avoid squashing either plants or dragons. His pink mane and beard showed the effects of static electricity, and the occasional spark jumped between the prongs of his antlers.

"Tama said there was a medical emergency. Is that him?" he asked, nodding at Lodon.

"Obviously," said Cindermoon, though with a quick glance at his son, as if to reassure himself that this time his offspring wasn't the medical emergency. "Get him to the laboratory, please."

"Thanks for coming, Genim," added Hazelmist, swiftly packing his supplies so that he could follow them.

Genim reached out with his forelimb to delicately scoop up the tundra, and he inevitably grabbed the cat as well, who hissed as a jolt of static electricity went through the two passengers. "Sorry," the imperial muttered, then awkwardly turned and headed up the hill toward the laboratory.

The squat building was low and rectangular, seeming especially short next to the towering height of the library spire. It was only a single story, though the imperial could enter it easily, lifting a blast-proof door with the shoulder of the limb not holding Lodon. The panels tilted up and back across the ceiling, then slid back down once everyone was through. Though round windows dotted the walls, many of them were shuttered, though it was possible to make out some of the lab's features in the gloom. Movable partitions sectioned off various dragons' work stations. A chemical odor clung to the air, as well as a faint whiff of something burning, though nothing appeared to be (currently) on fire. Cauldrons and various colorful oozes and slimes cluttered one area, while beakers of luminescent liquids lined shelves in another. Books about animal species were stacked haphazardly in another next to some aquariums, which appeared to be empty.

Genim shuffled three-legged over to a small corner cubicle. He swept some cushions into it with his tail, then gently set Lodon and the cat down on them. "Will this do?" he asked. Cindermoon and Hazelmist started setting up their supplies nearby.


***

A metallic scent precluded the sudden disappearance of the skydancer's aura. Deepsea squinted at him - no, it wasn't gone, just contained. The coatl stepped forward to greet the masked figure and answer his question. Wind blew the faint smell of incense toward Mardikan and ruffled the feathers tethered to the coatl's tail. "It depends on the type of magic you're inquiring after," he said, drawing in a breath to go into a dissertation.

"Very skilled," interrupted Darkshine. His piercing blue-green eyes narrowed behind his glasses, and he lowered his massive head so that it was level with the skydancer's mask, inches away from it. "Who's asking?"

The nocturne watched from the sidelines. Maybe he should get a mask? It looked neat. He would look rather handsome in a mask...or would a mask obscure his handsome visage? Better question yet, could he still wear his glasses with a mask? His glasses were important. Not for seeing, but because Emrys wore them. And Darkshine, and Deepsea.