Deedri sorts through a pack of medical supplies, inspecting the contents thoroughly. Her furry ears flick along with her investigation, and she resettles her seat upon a blanket near the campfire. Trakenthin flips to the next page of his book and rubs his back against the trunk of a tree. The dimming dusk sky illuminates the area, and the glow of the fire light gains dominance over the seconds. The lightly armored form of Daedrican walks up calmly to the campsite and waves to Deedri. "Good evening, Mage Preeta. I hope your day went well."

A smile appears on Deedri's fair face, and she nods happily to Daedrican. "Oh. Yes! It did. Nothing too exciting today. Overall... Very quiet."

With a sigh of pleasant agreement, Daedrican tilts his helmeted head down briefly. "As it was for me, too. I get the feeling that whatever bandits we didn't capture, we have mostly certainly scared off this road for quite a while. We have yet to even find any signs of them trying to set up another camp nearby."

Glancing over from his book, Trakenthin bows his head slightly and acknowledges Daedrican, calmly adding. "I concur. Heavy team has not found anything new. They have made their presence known. Doubt observant bandits will stay in the area."

With a light chuckle, Daedrican shakes his head in good humor. "Well, that's what they do. And, that's why we have them. If you ever want to make the enemy reconsider their plans, you release some of the heavy armor team out for a... Walk."

Keeping modest attention upon the conversation, he gazes through his visor and scans the general vicinity. "Well. It seems like you all have found yet another good spot to make camp for the night. Hopefully, there are a few more good places left along the way for the next few days."

Lifting a curious eyebrow at Daedrican, Trakenthin quickly surveys the secluded alcove under a lush tree canopy. "Smaller layout. Better choice of sites. We should have options."

Daedrican nods slightly in agreement and turns his head slowly in a final visual sweep of the camp, stepping away with a wave. "Indeed. I shouldn't keep you all on your off time. I wanted to say it has been a pleasure having your group along with us during this patrol. I hope these last few days end the patrol nicely. A good night to you all."

Deedri bows slightly to Daedrican. Trakenthin nods respectfully and resumes reading his book. Daedrican pivots precisely and continues his patrol away from the camp, sneaking one last check of the area. Minutes of idle activity later, Deedri bites her lip in thought and aims her voice towards Trakenthin. "So... I'm not the only one who thinks he was looking for Tassilda, right?"

Resting his book down on his muscular chest, Trakenthin slowly turns his head and meets Deedri's gaze, nodding. "He was looking. Hid it well. Still was looking. Do you know what happened?"

Cocking her head to the side, Deedri's furry ears perk up contemplatively, and she shakes her head inconclusively. "No. She hasn't said anything to me..."

She furrows her brow and darts her auburn eyes with her thoughts. "Which is kind of weird, since she has been coming up with all kinds of reasons to talk about him."

Gritting her teeth briefly, she twists an uneasy grimace. "She's been acting odd, lately. I guess there's something on her mind."

Trakenthin nods in agreement and hums, pondering. "I have noticed. There is a grath word for it..."

He recites a single word of grath in his native dialect and searches his mind contemplatively. "It means... Thoughts which hinder progress of thoughts."

Blinking her auburn eyes, Deedri brushes back her multi-colored hair over her shoulders and idly picks at her claws, pondering out loud. "That... Actually describes it nicely. She's thinking about something, and she can't get past it for some reason."

Trakenthin shrugs his shoulders and lifts up his book, tugging the corner of his mouth. "Those thoughts are not easy to resolve. You can avoid them. Temporarily. Easy at first."

Rolling her eyes at her memories, Deedri releases a long sigh and shakes her head. "Gods. I know THAT feeling."

She closes up the medical pack, taps out a few notes on the aetherphone on her lap, and eyes Trakenthin thoughtfully. "So... Do you think we should ask her about it? I mean, we are a team. And, we should try to help each other out."

Trakenthin's hazel eyes widen, and he winces briefly. Recovering to an uncomfortable grimace, he gazes warily at Deedri and sighs uncertainly. "I do not know. Those are affairs we should not needlessly pry into."

Searching the more obscuring spots around the campsite's perimeter, Trakenthin spots empty patches of the forest and sates his paranoia. With a mildly frustrated grumble, he frowns at Deedri. "We are not in ideal... circumstances... to discuss those topics. Privacy is a luxury, currently."

Deedri darts her eyes around, irritably squirms, and groans in defeat. "Gods, I know. I'm SO tired of checking for a damn camera crew out here. At least at the house, I'm afforded some peace."

Shrugging his shoulders, Trakenthin smirks nonchalantly. "They have not followed me on patrol. I think the crew are afraid to get squashed by the heavy team."

A dry grin cracks from the corner of his mouth. "I can confirm... It is a valid fear."

A brief, dark giggle slips out from Deedri. She blinks back to awareness, musters up prior demeanor, and exhales longingly. "I'll just be glad to get back to the house for a bit. I really hope we get a few days to rest for a bit before the next mission."

Pausing in thought, she glances over to Trakenthin and perks up her furry ears. "By the way, have you heard anything about our next mission?"

Furrowing his brow, Trakenthin ponders quietly a moment, blinks blankly, and shakes his head. "No. Chad mentioned he did not know. Said the crew was going to choose?"

Deedri sneers her upper lip, droops her furry ears, and rolls her eyes with an irritated flick of her long, fluffy tail. "OH. GREAT. That fills me with confidence."

Appearing out from a shady region behind a tree, Modoran casually strolls up to the low campfire and sits down on a nearby log. "Good evening. Anything new or exciting?"

Deedri presents a happy smile to Modoran and rests her head on her hand. "Not really. Just talking about things we can't get the answers for, easily."

Shifting his gaze between Deedri and Trakenthin, Modoran grimaces awkwardly, wrestling down an uneasy smile. "Does this discussion involve politics or religion?"

Smirking dryly, Trakenthin snorts. "No."

With an exhale of relief, Modoran relaxes and signals Deedri to proceed. "OH. Good. Thank you. I avoid those debates. So, what are these things you can't get answers for?"

Crossing her arms, Deedri rolls her shoulders and twists her mouth thoughtfully with a slightly squirm. "WELL. We've been trying to figure out what's happened between Tassilda and Daedrican."

She pauses a moment and sighs. "And... What's our next mission going to be?"

Modoran tenses a bit, scratches the back of his light gray and white haired head, and grits his teeth. Telegraphing the obvious discomfort, he notices the eager gazes of Deedri and Trakenthin upon him. Following a few idle fidgets and false starts, he slumps slightly with sigh and shakes his head. "Oh, gods. I have theories for both of those based on what I have found while... doing my usual... um..."

Bouncing his dark blue eye around the area, he lifts up an eyebrow at Deedri and Trakenthin. "Information gathering...?"

Deedri and Trakenthin exchange glances and focus fully upon Modoran, leaning slightly back from the sudden attention. With an awkward grimace, Modoran bites his lip and shrugs his shoulders, mumbling loudly. "So... Uh... What theories do you want to hear about, first?"

----

A few large white clouds overhead cast massive shadows across the land near the ranch style house. A gentle wind blows both grass blades and tree leaves equally, and a faint drone fills the vicinity. Sebastian's ghostly form stands in front of Bach. Crossing his arms, he grins eagerly and nods towards his brother. "Okay, bro. I think it's about time to show you how to activate THE SWORD and some of the main features of it."

Aristespha walks up to Bach with the Sword of the Spirit realm in its scabbard. Placing the weapon in Bach's awaiting hands, she summons up a calm smile. "Originally, I would have said there is not too terribly much to the sword. As Sebastian found out along with the rest of us... It seems to have some... undocumented features."

Bach carefully examines the magical item, alternates his gaze between Aristespha and Sebastian. "Okay. Yeah. Um. Have you found out any more info about the now not-so-hidden functions?"

With a long sigh, Aristespha grimaces dissatisfied and grumbles, resting her hands upon her hips. "Not as much as I would like. Good or bad, it seems this sword was unique. Even for magical swords of its time."

She cocks her head to the side, tosses back her silvery blue hair, and dons a smirk upon her ivory face. "One interesting thing I managed to discover during my research was how many of the magical activation locks worked during the era this sword was made."

Lifting a curious brow, Bach follows Sebastian's instructive pantomimes and slowly slides the sword out from its sheath. He smirks in amusement, sarcastic coloring his voice. "Neat. So, what was it? Some special sequence of words? Secret magical arts unique to the device? A dark, morally questionable blood bonding ritual? Gods know what else people came up with back then."

Aristespha lightly chuckles, steps forward, and places her finger firmly upon the top of Bach's forehand. She curls her finger around the obscured white streak contrasting his brown hair and guides it down into Bach's vision. Rolls her violet eyes with her amusement, she releases the lock and smirks dismissively. "Nope. Simple detection of Pre-Cataclysm genetic modifications."

Incredulously frowning, Bach eyes his white streak of hair and combs it back with his fingers. "Really? Huh. Wow... I'm not going to lie, I was kind of hoping for something a bit more significant than that. Feels a little cheap."

Sebastian snorts ethereally and shrugs his shoulders, hands out to his sides. "Same here, bro. At first, the sword was really vocal about the whole chosen one thing, and we thought there was something more going on with its decision process."

Scratching the back of his head, he averts his eyes away in a fit of shame. "We really didn't dig too deep. Since we were busy chasing Noxian around, just didn't think to dedicate too much time to that."

He tugs at the corner of his mouth and sighs. "It was only AFTER Noxian blasted me, we really tried to figure things out. And, well..."

Aristespha frowns slightly, shifts her weight to the other foot, and groans out her frustration. "The sword has always been awkward and brief with its messages. When it..."

Pausing a moment, she glances to the top of her mind and rocks her side to side in deliberation. "Captured... Sebastian, it got even more brief."

She narrows a brief glare at the sword in Bach's hand. "And, significantly less helpful in some regards."

Bach examines the blade, squints against the sun glinting off a sharp edge, and puzzles at Sebastian. "Huh. I mean, maybe it's redirected its power to holding or supporting you?"

Sebastian nods slowly in agreement, furrowing his brow. "That's my best guess, too, bro. I think its elder energy detection range is a lot less than it was... Or, at least it's not as sensitive? Also, it seems to be trying to inform me of things by... feel?"

Meeting his brother's curious glance, Sebastian shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. I'm still sorting through all of it myself, and it's REALLY ABSTRACT about it. But, the sword definitely keeps informing me about you."

Narrowing a suspicious stare at Sebastian, Bach sneers and briefly grits his teeth uneasily. "Uh..."

Blinking in confusion, Sebastian shakes his head and laughs with ghostly reverb. "Oh! NO. Not at that, well exactly. When we got close to your house in Tullachester, it was pinging you as a new wielder. Hence, why we were a bit overzealous... Heh..."

Returning his attention to the partially unsheathed sword, Bach lifts an expectant eyebrow, warily studying the blade. "Okay. So. Supposedly because I've got this white streak in my hair, it'll just work for me?"

Aristespha nods slowly and smiles with a snort. "Well. Yes. I believe. The sword is often cryptic in how it explains itself."

She hoists up a mildly annoyed eyebrow at the sword, side eyeing Bach. "That MUST have been some style choice by the creator. But, given what Sebastian has felt and the obtuse explanation from the sword, we think that is probably the case."

With a sigh, she relaxes her posture and rolls her hand in thought. "It is not so much the white streak itself, as much as the genetic traces the biological modification left behind. The white hair streak is just a visual indicator. Using cosmetic genetic mods was a popular thing for First Period mage royalty to perform to prevent their powerful magical artifacts from getting used against them."

Searching her mind briefly, she draws in a long breath and recites clinically. "Biological and genetic modifications post-Cataclysm were extremely rare as the resources and systems to manufacture new stocks ceased to either function or exist, in many cases. The mage royalty had the ruling power during that era, and extensively used it to acquire the remaining mods that were viable. They soon developed methods to augment their magic to detect these mods."

Blinking away from the explanation, Bach furrows his brow to an emerging realization and returns to the conversation with a smug grin towards Aristespha. "Wait. Hold up. So... What you are saying is... Sebastian and I are descendants of ancient royalty?"

Sebastian smiles proudly, postures pridefully, chuckles with his brother. "I know, right?!"

He gazes at Aristespha eagerly curious. "Oh, yeah! Dear? Did you ever find a possible royal line that may have created the sword?"

A dark, playful grin graces Aristespha ivory blue and gray hinted face, and she flashes an evil gaze between Back and Sebastian. "Well. It has proven quite a bit difficult to track down any records. Especially since that after the Second Cataclysm, most mage royalty lineages were systematically hunted down and slaughtered by the new commoner mages."

Her expression morphs to an ill-humored smile, and she presents a facetious tone towards the brothers, tapping her finger tips together. "Interestingly, they proved even more thorough and zealous than most school history books would have you believe. A few rebel organizations went so far as second and third cousins in their exterminations. They were EXCEPTIONALLY motivated."

Shrugging her shoulders with dramatic motions of her hands, she winks to the two uneasy brothers. "In conclusion... Either you are descendants of unknown, illegitimate royal bastards. OR, your family line just happens to have the same genetic modification present in it."

Staring wide-eyed, Bach and Sebastian remain in the awkward quiet. Exchanges of disappointed, uncertain glances later, the two arrive to some acceptance. Bach shrugs his shoulders with a weak smirk. "Hey, I'm perfectly cool with just somehow having that same mod."

With a tight smile, Sebastian nods and cracks a halfhearted grin. "Yeah, bro. Let's just say we just got really lucky by circumstance."

Rolling her violet eyes with an amused snicker, Aristespha rests her hands on her back and focuses her attention upon the sword. "Anyway... The sword activation is simple enough. Draw the blade, grip the handle firmly, and flow some magical energy into it."

Bach perks his eyebrow, grips the handle of the sword, and draws it out. With the scabbard in one hand and the blade in the other, Bach calmly exhales and readies himself. Quickly sliding into Bach's view, Sebastian waves his hands for his attention. "Bro! Just a fair warning. It'll feel a little weird when it activates. Nothing bad. Just strange."

Confirming with Sebastian, Bach bites his lower lip, rolls his shoulders against building tension, and concentrates. A faint trace of magical flow glides along the surface of Bach's arm and sinks into the handle of the sword. Moments later, Bach's face contorts uncomfortably, and his hand tenses up. The Sword of the Spirit Realm pulsates to a steady, faint blue glow. Sebastian's visage warps slightly, stabilizing quickly. Squirming in a wave of discomfort, Bach shakes off a shiver down his back. He grits his teeth briefly, grimacing. "Gods. That feels fucking WEIRD."

Sebastian turns his head to Aristespha with an accusing stare and points to the sword in Bach's hand. "SEE! It feels weird for him, too. It's not just MY wild imagination or some psychosomatic thing!"

Narrowing a glare back at Sebastian, Aristespha crosses her arms and briefly snarls her upper lip, groaning. "YES, Sebastian. I SEE that now."

Seconds later, Sebastian softens his gaze and summons up an apologetic tone. "Sorry, dear. It's just nice to have someone confirm it. A little vindication, you know?"

A smile graces Aristespha, and she nods understandingly. "I know, Sebastian. I only find it strange that would be an aspect of its function."

Swinging his attention to Bach, Sebastian inquisitively gazes over. "So, how did it feel when it activated?"

Bach blinks in thought, idly flexes his arms with the sword, and furrows his brow, mulling it over. "Well... Huh. Like-I mean.. Like something reached into my arm and... grabbed hold of it?"

A satisfied smile widens on Sebastian's translucent face, and he nods eagerly in complete agreement. "Exactly what I fuckin' felt, too. But, apart from that?"

Methodically moving the sword through a number of practice maneuvers, Bach gauges the weight and balance of the weapon in his hand, and finishes the motions with a final fanciful flair. "Not bad at all. Balanced. Really light, too. And, I'm sure that blade could easily slice through some things. It looks sharp."

His eyes flicker to a blue glow, and he studies the edges of the blade closely in growing astonishment. "Oh yeah. There is some SERIOUS enchantment magic on that edge. Gods, that can do some REAL damage."

Sebastian grins eagerly, chuckling. "That sword is pretty capable. Sharpest edge I've ever swung on a blade. And, if you lose grip of it, you can will it back into your hand."

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

A mischievous, sly smile emerges upon Bach's face. "So... Does that mean that if I throw it-"

The ethereal glare of Sebastian zips up to Bach, and Sebastian burrows his stare through. "You throw this sword with me in it, and I'll make sure it returns the WORST WAY to you."

Blinking blankly, Bach darts his eyes to either side and nods slowly. "Just... Checking... Yeah."

An amused smirk forms on Sebastian, and he drifts away with a playful sigh. "Ah. Just fucking with you, bro. But, seriously... Don't throw around the ancient artifact we need. We ALMOST lost it once."

Bach snaps a perplexed glance over at Sebastian. "Wait- What?!"

Awkwardly grinning, Sebastian shrugs his shoulders. "Uh. Long story. I'll tell you later."

He gazes lovingly at Aristespha, smiling. "Just know that despite how things went, really good things came of it."

With a happy smile, Aristespha meets Sebastian's attention and blushes slightly. She gazes at Bach with an instructive tone. "Back on topic. The sword ultimately, from research I have done and what has been witnessed, is an Elder energy sink. The primary function of it seems to be to absorb Elder energy and send it somewhere."

Bach narrows a questioning stare at Aristespha and cocks his head to the side. "Somewhere?"

Mild embarrassment mixes with frustration upon Aristespha's ivory face. She rolls her shoulders and pantomimes out her thoughts. "That last part has been difficult to determine. There is NOT a lot of documentation about that aspect of the sword. Any information I have found is prone to terrible translation errors. Or, it is just simply too cryptic to make any sense of."

An unamused expression bubbles up upon Bach with a sarcastic color. "And, I'm certain the sword has been the most helpful in filling these gaps of information?"

Aristespha's cadence matches Bach's with a wry smile. "OH. Yes. Most certainly. It has been an absolute fount of knowledge."

Crossing his arms, Sebastian groans with a slight reverb, rolling his translucent blue eyes dismissively. "It certainly showers its wisdom the same on the inside as it does on the outside."

With a shake of her head, Aristespha tosses back her long hair, stretches her arms, and sighs. "Regardless, it does have its purpose. And, hopefully, absorbing the Elder energy stored within Noxian will not only defeat him but return Sebastian back."

Bach's attention drifts away briefly, and he narrows his stare upon the sword. "Thinking along those same lines..."

He gazes at Sebastian's ethereal form. "Has it absorbed any ambient Elder energy recently?"

Sebastian nods calmly and frowns slightly. "Yeah. From what I've felt, it's... Kind of a... Drop in the bucket?"

Slumping his shoulders, Bach tugs at the corner of his mouth, mumbling disheartened. "Well, there goes THAT idea for now."

Shrugging, Sebastian floats next to Bach with an appreciative smirk. "Hey, bro. It's not gone to waste or anything. But, I feel like there's A LOT more energy needed for me to get back in one physical piece."

Aristespha rests her hand upon Back's shoulder and presents a hopeful smile. "There is definite merit to your idea in trying for sites of power and ancient ruins for leftover traces of Elder energy. A strong enough residual source should get us closer to our goal, so we should certainly keep an eye out. Also..."

Perking her intrigued brow, she focuses her violet gaze upon Bach. "When we examine the nature of your access to elder energy further in the future, I believe the sword would serve as a convenient safety measure. Any excess energy will probably help out Sebastian."

Bach nods thoughtfully, quietly contemplating. Examining the sword, he hoists the scabbard up in his other hand. With a smooth motion, he slides the sword securely back into the sheath and shudders, letting his hand release the handle. He eyes Sebastian with an awkward grimace. Sebastian shakes his head and grumbles. "I know, bro. It just feels weird no matter what you do."

Twisting his mouth, Bach tilts his head to either side. "Did you get used to it after a certain point?"

Sebastian grits his teeth briefly and uncertainly ponders out loud. "Not really? You just start to, uh, expect it, and take comfort in anticipating it?"

Aristespha rolls her eyes at the exchange between the brothers, taking the scabbard and sword from Bach. "You two..."

----

Thomas Blaureiter stands near the back steps of a long brick house, idly surveying the worn dirt track in the middle of a field. Glancing up to the expanding orange glow of the morning sky, he winces briefly, the beams of sunlight flickering over the tree lined horizon. He lifts one of his cybernetic arms up and shields his eyes, adjusting to the brightness. With a propping push from Kaleb's hand, the back storm door opens. Shadeesa slips past Kaleb and walks down the few stair steps with a mug of coffee in each hand. Kaleb follows a step behind her, guarding her descent. Shadeesa glances behind her with green on black eyes, tosses her dark green hair, and reveals a loving smile on her light gray, white freckled face. "I do appreciate you being so watchful, but I can still manage these stairs... Even with balancing coffee cups in each hand."

Kaleb awkwardly grins and momentarily averts his eyes in embarrassment. "I- Uh... I know."

Gazing down Shadeesa's pronounced belly beneath her apron, he smiles at her and rests a hand on her back, moving to her side. "Just trying to be protective and all that fatherly stuff. Yeah... Think it's all starting to hit me as of late. I really hope I'm not going overboard or anything."

The couple walks to Thomas, and Shadeesa giggles, smiling happily. "You're doing just fine."

She presents a cup of coffee to Thomas and nods to him. "Good morning. I didn't know how you liked your coffee, so I kept it as it was brewed."

Thomas grabs hold of the mug and graciously bows to Shadeesa, smirking contentedly. "That's perfect for me. I learned to drink it plain and fresh a long time ago."

Sipping from the mug in his other hand, Kaleb's face sours slightly. "Yeah... I'm trying to do the same. Keeps it simple when I'm out somewhere remote."

A lighthearted chuckle escapes Thomas, and he shakes his head of short, gray hair. "It only takes a few desperate times to break your taste buds to it. Don't worry."

Drifting in a moment of reflection, he peacefully enjoys the scenic morning landscape. The sun casts its light upon the dew sparkling grasses and leaves. The trio soak up the quiet moments with coffee for minutes. Thomas sighs appreciatively and smiles. "By the way, thank you for having me for a few days. Gods. Times like this I miss being out on the family farm."

A sly smirk creeps out from the corner of Shadeesa's mouth, and she lifts an intrigued eyebrow at Thomas. "Hmm. So, any farm related retirement plans when you get your years at the university?"

Thomas shrugs his cybernetic shoulders and slowly sways his head side to side, mulling the idea over. "It's come up between Albert and I. BUT, that's still a number of years off. I'm going to need quite a few more years of service before I get most of my retirement benefits from the university."

Laughing, Kaleb grins towards Thomas. "Man, I could totally see you and Albert growing food to feed a few dragon lines."

Thomas blinks blankly, twists a grimace, and mumbles barely coherent. "Don't know about that..."

Shadeesa furrows her brow and stares with incredulous hints at Thomas. "OH? Why not? You cannot tell me you wouldn't want to raise your own swarm of dragons. I'd imagine there would be people fighting for one raised under your care."

Visibly struggling with the weight on his mind between flits of a frown, Thomas indulges in a long swig from his coffee cup. He grits his teeth momentarily with an indecisive sigh. "I just... Don't know. Nachta was UNIQUE, in just every aspect. If I'm going to have another dragon in my life, it'll have to be something SPECIAL..."

A loud, rumbling snore reverberates through the open doors of the huge hangar at the corner of the field. Lagi twists and rotates his large blue and black scaled form around the confines of the massive metal building. His gaping maw opens up into a dramatic, exaggerated yawn, abruptly ending with an echoing belch. Following the gaseous flow, an oily mass of plant matter flies out and plops down meters away into the field. Kaleb snorts, lifts his hand off of Shadeesa's back, and holds a finger up. "Wait for it..."

Lagi's face contorts, a wave tension radiates down his spine, and his tail momentarily stiffens. A long, rumbling expulsion of gas sounds out against the acoustically reflective walls of the hangar. With blatant satisfaction, Lagi lethargically rests his head upon a large, canvas pillow, a snore droning and his long tongue hanging out. With a hand, Shadeesa covers her snicker, trying against the odds to maintain her composure. "So... Yes. Something SPECIAL?"

Shadeesa shakes her head and guides her stray locks of hair over her horns. Thomas smiles warmly and laughs, his blue eyes distantly watching fond memories. "Oh, Nachta had similar habits. Gods, I hope Lagi doesn't inherit her more infamous ones."

Lifting a curious brow, Shadeesa settles her inquiring gaze upon Thomas. "Like what? I'm actually genuinely curious for my own research."

Thomas glances over and snorts out with an ill-humored smirk. "Well... She was more... Um. Well, attuned?"

Searching his mind for a second, he nods slowly. "Yes. Attuned... to her biological functions."

He grits his teeth and hisses out a sigh. "ESPECIALLY, when ANGRY. Which she was OFTEN."

Kaleb swallows down more of his coffee with a grimace and chuckles. "Oh, Lagi's perfectly capable of feats like that. But, he's just usually so goofy and laid back, that I don't think it even crosses his mind to be mean or vindictive."

Relief grows upon Thomas, and he nods in agreement, curious tilting his head. "I'm glad he's kept that attitude. It HAS to be something from his father, because it DID NOT come from his mother."

Pausing in thought a moment, Shadeesa furrows her brow, inquisitive hints bubbling into her gaze upon Thomas. "That actually reminds me. Any new information about Lagi's lineage?"

Kaleb lifts his eyebrow intrigued and glances over to the new topic. "YEAH. Did that one dragon fan club that Tellerran guy is part of have anything useful?"

Thomas scratches his chin contemplatively, and contorts his face in thought. "Well... Nothing too new. But, I was really surprised how thorough they were, and how much information they had on a number of dragons. They MUST have some inside sources, because I distinctly remember A LOT that information being restricted in some shape or form by most government organizations. Even working with the university and my history, I can't even touch that data now, even if I asked really nicely."

He pours back the last remainder of the coffee in his mug, pauses in thought, and nods. "They did have Nachta's family tree theorized, decently. They still haven't fit Lagi anywhere yet. Last I checked, they were still bickering page after page about that. So, I don't think anyone has made that connection yet."

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiles nonchalantly and rolls his eyes. "If anything useful comes from all of it, I'll be sure to let you two know. Honestly... Still trying to keep my official distance and all."

Kaleb furrows his brow at Thomas, cocks his head to the side. "Gods, man. Are THEY still keeping tabs on you?"

With a dismissive smirk, Thomas snorts and shakes his head. "Nah. I don't think so. I think they gave up trying to find out any secrets from me a few years after I gave them-"

A sly smile graces his face, he chuckles smugly. "ALL the eggs Nachta's nest... That I wanted them to know about. Plus, not having a dragon for this long and working at the school, they probably think I've distanced myself from my past so much, that I'm not worth the effort."

Wrestling a frown, Shadeesa grumbles unamused. "I still find that clause of that treaty so ridiculous."

Thomas nonchalantly rests a cybernetic hand on his side. "Yeah. BUT, it saved a bunch of lives and kept me from spending time in some nation's military prison. So, I'm not one to complain about it."

He pauses a moment and narrows a distant, internal stare. "Still kind of wonder which nation it would have been. Nachta and I melted down a lot of expensive military hardware."

In the quiet surrounding nature, the three casually watch the sleeping Lagi. Thomas narrows an analytical stare at the slumbering dragon and tilts his head to the side. "One interesting thing I found while browsing that club's aethersite is that many of Lagi's traits we've assumed were his father's... They've seen, individually, in other dragon lines. BUT, not all together in one dragon."

From the distance, Kaleb, Shadeesa, and Thomas study Lagi with developing serious interest. Lagi stirs groggily towards partial consciousness, lazily winks one eye after another at the group, and slowly wags his tail. Kaleb shrugs his shoulders, Shadeesa smiles happily, and Thomas grins at the goofy display.

----

Steam rises out from a large pot on the glass stove top and swirls into the overhead vent fan. Red rings of light pulse steadily around the large pot and two other pans. The digital display on the appliance's console indicates the temperature of the different items of cookware. Dretphi presses a knife down repeatedly upon a cutting board, slicing up a variety of vegetables. Glancing over at one of the pans, she cuts off a modest slab of butter from an unwrapped stick, and flicks it onto the heated surface. Swiftly, she clicks a button on the oven door and leans to study the tray with cooking slices of meat inside under the internal lamp. Standing back up, she surveys the progress of the meal and wipes her brow with her arm. She pauses a moment and flexes hands, revealing muscular definition under the faint, grayish stripes upon her forearms. Sniffing the air, she glances over at a plate of precisely cut, caramel topped, brownies covered in draping sheets of wax paper, smiling with pride. Her attention swings back over to the buttered pan, and she sweeps the vegetables from the cutting board onto the hot, sizzling surface.

The steam carries the odors of frying vegetables, cooking meat, and sweet treats, flooding the air in the kitchen. The scents wafts out and infiltrate the rest of the ranch style house. Bach plods casually through the archway leading to the hallway and gradually halts in the middle of the combined living room and dining area. He sniffs the air, guides his searching stare, following the hisses and pops. Stepping inquiringly towards the kitchen entry, he stops at the entrance point and admires the meal in progress, nods approvingly. "Wow. It smells amazing in here. And, it's looking really good."

Dretphi glances over with a warm smile and idly stirs the vegetables in the pan with a wooden spatula. "Thank you. It will be ready soon."

Remaining clear of the main kitchen walkway, Bach watches Dretphi switch between tasks at different fashioned stations. In a lull of activity, he wanders in thought and directs an inquiry towards Dretphi. "Hey, um. Just thought about this. It always seems like you're the one cooking for the group. I mean, any particular reason why?"

Dretphi's steely gray eyes search the top of her mind. She ponders to herself a moment more and nonchalantly states. "I like cooking. I am proficient at preparing meals for groups. Why do you ask?"

Nodding with the answer, Bach approaches the subject carefully. "Oh, well, I just wondered if there was any special reason. It's obvious you seem to know what you are doing. Didn't know if there was any other history behind it."

Perking an intrigued eyebrow, Dretphi reaches over, dials down a temperature on the stove top controls, and gazes thoughtfully at Bach. "My mother taught me. She took the responsibility to feed the house. When I was old enough, she shared the responsibility with me. Helped cook for the house until I went to college."

Bach nods and leans against the entryway, puzzling out loud. "Your mother took the responsibility?"

Lifting the lid of the pot carefully, Dretphi releases a wave of steam up into the air, inspects the fluffy rice inside a holder, and tilts her head to the side. "Yes. Prefers to eat good food. Makes sure of THAT."

Replacing the lid, she rolls her shoulders into a stretch and sighs. "Many house duties she defers to my fathers. Brothers for some. Cooking has been hers since house formation."

Her stare into memory widens. "By her unchallenged claim to it. My fathers were astounded when she let me help in the kitchen. She takes pride in HER contribution. Her teaching me was significant."

Gradually acknowledging the weight in Dretphi's tone, Bach observes her efforts in preparing the meal. "Wow. Huh. Sounds like house duties are pretty serious business."

Dretphi twists the corner of her mouth and crosses her arms, grumbling. "Depends on the house. My mother is... VERY... exacting with her standards."

A smile graces her, and she sighs into a relaxed demeanor. "She means well. Sought to prepare me. Taught me cooking for my benefit. Instructed me it was the right skill to keep a house together."

Bach nods understandingly with a contented smile. "Oh, well, that makes sense. It does sound like she has good intentions there. Good survival skill, too."

Glancing over with an uncertain grimace, Dretphi lifts a thoughtful eyebrow. "She said similar about sword fighting, grappling. I would consider her sentiments carefully."

Cideeda peeks quietly through the entryway into the kitchen next to Bach, surveying the feast in the making. Her emerald eyes lock onto the caramel topped brownies, and she unconsciously licks her lips. The growing toothy grin halts, and she spots the wax paper covering the dessert treats. Her furry ears drooping slightly, she furrows her brow and softly raps her clawtips upon the archway frame, contemplating. With a hint of resignation in her tone, she chimes out quizzically to Dretphi. "So, how much longer? Should I set the plates out?"

Dretphi stands back and analyzes the progress of each part of the meal, processing the internal calculus. "No longer than ten minutes. Set the table. Thank you."

With a swift nod, Cideeda slips away quickly and steps along the floor with light pats of her feet and soft clicks of her claws. Gawking at Cideeda's prior location, Bach cocks his head to the side and shakes in disbelief. "Good gods... I didn't hear her walk up..."

A sly grin parts Dretphi's mouth, and she tosses her thick, long braids of platinum blonde hair over her shoulders. With a quiet voice, she points towards the covered treats. "She smelled the dessert. Always tries to sneak one away when I do not notice."

Furrowing his gaze at the plate of brownies, Bach glances over to Dretphi, puzzling. "Well... I mean... She probably could have gotten one. Gods, I certainly didn't know she was there."

Dretphi presents a proud smile and chuckles to herself. "I use countermeasures designed for my brothers. They discourage the wise."

Squinting at the plate of brownies, Bach ponders a moment and crosses his arms with a humored smile. "So, you were the one that helped keep your brothers in line?"

Grasping hold of a tray of cooked meat from the open oven with mitten covered hands, Dretphi hoists the cookware upon a clear section of kitchen counter and groans out old frustrations. "Yes. Crettaken is five years younger. Arvenerrin is six years younger. I helped my mother raise both. Kept them out of trouble."

A proud smile appears on her tan face, and she chuckles to herself. "It took effort. They are better now. Both are searching for adventuring schools, currently."

She grumbles and slowly shakes her head. "THAT has been an ongoing debate between my mother. House fathers. Brothers."

Blinking blankly, Bach contorts his face with memories of the past. "Yeah. My mother and father went to rival adventuring schools. But, they eventually settled on High Alton college since it was conveniently closer. And, mom agreed that it was a lot cheaper."

Dretphi quickly nods in agreement, balancing out the contents between frying pans. "Good reasons."

Heavier footsteps sound out from beyond the kitchen, and Sotalia slides into view around the entry next to Bach. She smiles slyly and visually searches the forming feast. "It's looking really good."

She brushes past Bach through the gap between him and the entryway frame and lightly steps into the kitchen, maintaining a watch of the busy, distracted Dretphi. "So, how much longer? Cideeda almost has the table together..."

Approaching her target, she ponders out loud. "Oh, I could get the drinks going... and-"

The crisp crinkle of wax paper sharply contrasts the low, soft background din of the kitchen. Another fit of sheets crackling fills the air with the sounds of the clumsy struggle. Posture stiffening, Dretphi pivots in place and focuses a stoic glare down upon Sotalia. Bach follows the line of ire. Sotalia remains frozen, slowly turns her head and greets Dretphi's stare with innocent, pleading golden eyes. Attempting to nonchalantly release her grip on a caramel covered brownie, she awkwardly wipes the gooey topping upon a nearby wash rag and slinks closer towards Bach in the doorway. "So... Yeah... I'm going to get those drinks... Ready... Yes..."

Narrowing her hard stare, Dretphi crosses her strong arms, definition forming, and firmly nods towards the weak statement. Sotalia grins uneasily and maintains eye contact with Dretphi. Slipping behind Bach, she shifts him over slightly by his shoulders into the middle of the entry. Sotalia disappears, and Bach blinks blankly, shuddering. "Whoa. That's a death glare if I ever saw one."

Working the expression off her face, Dretphi bites her lip with a hint of embarrassment. "I learned that from my mother. It has proven useful."

----

Chad examines the edge of his Stalwart sword, squinting at a few spots, and slides the weapon back into its scabbard. Placing it to the side, he resettles himself upon the floor mat in the large tent and slides over his Flames of the Phoenix branded breastplate. The tent flap unzips quickly, shaking the overhead electric lamp, and reveals the dark night sky contrasting the campsite glow. Veevi ducks inside, zips the front opening back up, and lowers herself into a seductive crawl. She suggestively slinks upon the large bedroll and lays herself out with a smug grin. Fluffs her long, bright pink hair to drape upon her chest, she arcs her tightly clothed body into a stretch and flicks her short-haired tail. "Gods! What a night!"

With a mildly interested perk of his eyebrow, Chad smirks and narrows his brown eyes at Veevi. "How so?"

Veevi twists her mouth, flicks her fuzzy, upright ears, and reaches her tan, brown striped arms out to her sides. "Ungh. Tassilda."

Chad grumbles with a sigh and tilts his head, shaking his short brown, coiffed hair. "Okay. So, what happened THIS time?"

Pausing in thought, Veevi dons an uncertain grimace and squints her pink pupil eyes. "So... THAT is the weird thing. Nothing. It was so... Weird."

She dismissively sighs, faintly frowning. "She's been riding my ass to teach me all the proper ways to do anything and everything, then complains about how I'm taking too long to do everything-"

Sneering her upper lip, she scrunches up her nose in disgust. "And, now, she's just spacing out between every exercise she runs me through. I had to get her attention like, totally, six different times."

Chad glances up from his inspection of his armor, quizzically staring at Veevi. "Huh. That doesn't sound like her, at all. Especially when dealing with YOU."

Veevi groans, her frustration coloring her tone. "GODS. Every time I asked what the hell was wrong with her, she'd fucking snap back to her usually bitchy self for a few minutes, then just lose interest in teaching me anything."

Searching his mind, Chad frowns gradually and concern infiltrates his demeanor. "THAT is really not normal for her. Huh. I wonder what's happened."

He pauses in thought a moment and sighs. "Yeah... I probably should talk to her and see what's going on."

Sticking her tongue out petulantly, Veevi rolls her eyes and snorts. "Oh. I bet it's something to do with her and that Chrome Crusader paladin she's been chasing around."

She gazes at Chad with a smug, sharp grin and slides open the bedroll beneath her. "Holy shit. She was going after him so HARD. Now, she's not chasing him around anymore."

Crossing his arms, Chad draws a long breath in and hums in thought. "That is still weird. Well. Huh. We'll see if they sort it out themselves, I guess? Any ideas what it might be?"

Veevi covers herself with the blankets of the bedroll, pauses her motions under the sheets, and shrugs her shoulders. "Fuck, I don't know. Must be some serious hang up with one of them to stop her so quickly. But, I don't fucking know."

Setting the branded breastplate to the side, Chad closes his eyes and frowns, grumbling. "Well. I don't think I should intrude, just yet. Especially, if it's of a... personal... nature. Yeah..."

Drifting off into a long thought, Chad searches for an answer inwards. A minute later, a small shirt flops upon his lap. With returning to awareness, he studies the garment briefly and notices a pair of shorts landing on his shoulder. Lifting his gaze up, he watches the devilish, seducing grin of Veevi, and she tosses a sports bra his direction. He smirks smugly and catches it, waiting patiently. Veevi lifts a dark pink eyebrow at him and giggles suggestively. "Well... If you are waiting for THAT to come off, you'll be waiting all night."

Chad cocks his head to the side and chuckles. "Why's that?"

Veevi smiles impishly with a bite of her lip. "I wasn't wearing anything after the bra."

Sliding out a bare arm from under the covers, she grips the bedroll blanket tightly and flaps up the sheets. Fully revealing her tan, brown-stripped, lean, and shapely form, she guides the covers back down over herself, winking with a sharp, eager grin. Chad blinks blankly, his mind recovering from the brief scenery. He smiles confidently and approaches.

Outside the Flames of the Phoenix branded tent, other tents around the campsite reflect the faint glow of the campfire. The sounds of the forest settle into the area. With lights inside darkening, other members of the group ready themselves for slumber. Soon, only the soft crackles of the low fire fill the quiet air. Over the many minutes, a long peace looms over the area. Interrupting the campsite ambience, the racket of carnal gymnastics from the Flames of the Phoenix branded tent pollute the soundscape. Faint grumbles of annoyance, frustration, and disgust punctuate the area, other members recognizing the familiar noise. Deedri's voice rises out from the background, directing a louder whisper. "Anyone else want cotton balls for their ears?"