We’re approaching where I’d like to set down through the Worldstorm, to make it to Alta Vista the rest of the way below the clouds, but there’s no sign of there being an opening anywhere nearby. Scrunching my face and furrowing my brow, I glance towards Luni, having thought she’d have been requesting Kinzul’s aid with this. My asking Luni about it gets me a response that twists like a dagger to my guts.
Luni smiles and brightly asks, “Do you trust me?” Before I can respond, she orders, “Now Lil, dive right there!”
There is no hole, there is no safe passage through the Worldstorm where Lu is pointing. Trixxie, who happens to be hugging Luni’s waist in order to maintain her perch on Lil, shrieks, “No, no I don’t trust you at all!”
I can’t help laughing as Luni laughs and turns partially to wrap one arm around Trixxie. She passes Lucky off to perch between the two of them. Luni then pulls out her harp, the scepter we’d just acquired, and a few other magical trinkets. Lucky barks in response to Luni’s harp as it begins to play, and uses his scarf to fish out some magic items I barely recognize as well. He helps Lil equip something that I can’t catch through my vision that’s being obscured by too many up-close flashes of bright lightning.
Struggling with my new EM Field organ, to use electrokinesis to keep the lightning away from Lil, and the rest of us, I double over in pain. Luni harumphs, and begins unleashing a constant string of magic that blasts a very short hole in the Worldstorm below Lil’s diving form. Between the three of them, the Triple L Squad seems to currently be able to shunt aside a minuscule tiny window of the Worldstorm. It’s a window just barely capable of carrying a dive-bombing Lil, with wings furled, through it. It definitely wouldn’t work on the way back up, since Lil would have to be flapping to gain altitude, having his wingspan extended much wider, and he’d take much longer per amount of distance covered to gain height.
Apparently, Luni also somehow chose a path that had none of the hidden twisters, or pockets of incredibly dense acid, through the Worldstorm. I’ll chalk that one up to her being the Muse of the Onyx Dawn, and maybe a bit to her wheedling around in the hivemind sporebrain of my myconid form, with Kinzul present, yesterday. Still, getting home is going to be a pain in the arse. I probably shouldn’t focus on that right now. Focus on the present Reggie.
Well, the present becomes the future, or rather, the past, while the future becomes the present. At least, as long as I keep living it. Well, probably after too. That’s not what I meant. Anyway, speaking of continuing living, how much dragonforce do I have left? If each ancient provides about a thousand days, I—. Sighing, I’m glad Luni’s not in my head right now. I have six hundred ninety days of dragonforce left currently. Sixty-nine percent of a usual ancient’s dragonforce. Probably all because of burning through dragonforce before even collecting it, because of having my Honoris Causa activated, maybe. Over thirty percent burned away in the few moments, or minutes, between my reincarnation, and my collecting the dragonforce. Well, some of it might have been used up to prevent me from catastrophic organ failure, or total death, at the hands of Vorzogil. Gonna call the ass that from now on, so I don’t tie him to Lil at all. Some might also have been tied up in other things by Deviltail himself, need to not forget that. Highly talented dragons can imbue their dragonforces into things that it’ll take months for the new owners to reclaim all of the energy from.
Being able to vacuum up dragonforce spread in an ambient region would be too-convenient a weapon. I probably can’t actually do much of that, since I was only able to nearly drain it, and seemingly only from Deviltail. That might not even have been what happened at all. I keep forgetting that dragonforces have a lot more uses than simply existing as power batteries for the dragons who own them. I wonder if he had a Latent that suffused the air around him with dragonforce. Oh, probably.
His tail seemed to be able to strike impossible locations, bend, flex, or stretch far too far, while retaining full strength. I think it might have even bent space slightly, or ripped tiny portals to make some of the swings that it made. Or maybe his tail cursed the air to repeat his strikes with it later, or something. If he had to set up a region of space in which his tail was more capable of striking, or even portals in the nearby air, then yeah, he’d have to have had his dragonforce extended even further than Mydraig had had his. I didn’t pay enough attention to Lil’s battle with Deviltail, since I had my own foes to worry about. Foes that killed me, even without me being too distracted.
Erm, anyway, it’s weird being able to follow a thought train while diving headlong into an ultra-deadly storm, with a Draconiac woman, Trixxie, screaming in my ear. Even with that weirdness being possible, I’d still prefer it if my brain focused on more useful things. Like, despite her being afraid, can we really trust Trixxie? Lucky enjoys having her around, and I trust Lucky, but is he a good judge of character? He seemed to mistrust Leezahna, until she started sweet-talking him after he dug her home. Frowning, I glance towards my son, whose tongue is flapping wildly out the side of his mouth as we continue our dive. Whatever the case, I want him to be happy.
My mind is racing now that we’re carefully gliding below the worldstorm towards Jeegoobotstan. What if no one’s here? What if, even if a few are, we can’t find Tiktik or Tiago? What if they see a dragon, and freak out? Hell, what if they see me with horns, and freak out? Maybe I should have gotten rid of them with shapeshifting when I was doing that.
Let’s see. I—. Uh. I can’t. What the? They won’t go away. There’s Fel, cursed magic at play here. Apparently the byproduct of my reincarnation. I wonder if all my forms have horns and a tail now. I didn’t really check during the raid. I was pretty sure my chimaeric lycanthrope form’s RS2 base body didn’t, but I didn’t pay attention to the land shark form of that sidegrade evolution. Actually, for all I know, my lycanthropic base RS2 form may have been in the process of growing the horns and tail while I was using it to become the land shark. Wait, am I blue again? I thought I—. Alright, maybe I didn’t. Let’s fix that.
Anyway, let’s think for a minute. The maps I’ve seen of Rayileklia are pretty distorted, like a bad projection of a globe that stretches out certain sections. The little lake up north of us looks like a vast sea, nearly an ocean on the maps. I mean, it’s not really just a little lake, it’s a fairly large lake, but the scale is incredibly off on the maps. Similarly, the Spine of the World mountain range extends a lot further north and south in locations than it looks like on a flattened map. We might not have been closer to Jeegoobotstan from where we were, but we weren’t much farther from there than from Solace when we were at Vorzog’s Keep.
Still, I worry that I’ve been inefficient with our time, in my desire to see Tiktik again, or some other subconscious yearning. Do I gaslight myself, and convince myself of things? Well, I mean, I guess we all convince ourselves of things. We all have to believe the things we think are facts about the natural world and so on. Sometimes we take our own opinions as facts too. It doesn’t mean I gaslight myself. Though, to be fair, I think I in particular might actually do so, but in a more unrelated way. I can’t get into that right now. It’ll come back naturally. Supposedly.
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Huff, focus Reggie, make use of the time you’ve got. Clear your head. Picture where things would likely result in natural patterns. Focus. Breathe air, breathe. There’s so many logistical problems right now, it’s a friggin’ nightmare, and it’s all my doing. I abandoned the Aasimovian refugees to the care of the swamp hares. I left poor, weakened, dying Keeley, and cursed, injured Tiktik. I left them all with almost no useful resources to survive on, no provisions, and here I am coming to beg them for more favors, for more help.
Worse, I’m bringing prisoners to them that are powerful, violent spellcasters, and hoping for them to solve the problem I created by letting them get injured. I can’t even get the ones out of my inventory without breaking more rules of magic and systems that are in place. Maybe. If only we had somewhere safe to put them, somewhere that they couldn’t even interact with anyone else on Rayileklia, like a pocket dimension, or something, that wasn’t just floating in the void of my inventory.
People weren’t kidding when they say this country, this city-state was razed. It’s like some apocalyptic wasteland of ruins. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that the Fel hordes have been through here recently. Wait. I gulp. They haven’t, have they? There’s no way. No. No. It can’t have happened. There is just no way. The Fel dislike the water, they, they would have had to contend with hydras that get stronger in the presence of flames. Yeah, no, it wasn’t the Fel. Still, these scorch marks look like more than just burning buildings spreading flame from one to another.
Rather, these scorch marks look like, well, blasts of flame, cones, roars, breaths of flame. Could dragons have been responsible for this? Would it have been in response to something Jeegoobotstan citizenry or nobility did? Or, more sickeningly, possibly more likely, was Jeegoobotstan a test run for Terrorzin’s plan to simply destroy the rest of sapient life on Rayileklia? If that’s the case, then the Aasimovian refugees are in just as much danger here from dragons as they were from the Fel hordes back home.
Huff. Come on, think, think. Okay, there’s a small patch of mountains near the heart of the city-state. That would be where the capitol, the metropolitan center, was. Hm. That’s both the logical place for the Aasimovians to dig-in, for themselves and the kobolds, as well as the logical place for there to have been a dragon’s lair. If a lair is there, it’s one that perhaps wasn’t marked as a Terrorzin faction on the maps I’d seen. What was it I was told? Any neutral factions are at best, enemies-in-waiting, and more likely, straight up enemies?
Is that a—? There’s a standing building, a watchtower, on the horizon-line. That seems like an odd thing to have survived the razing. It’s much more likely it was raised, erected by those that’ve come to settle the ruins. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing? I mean, if they’re already capable of erecting watchtowers, then maybe they have shelter, and sustainable living arrangements, and all of that? I mean, that’s what we were hoping for, right? We wanted them isolated from the foes that could pursue them, while simultaneously setting them up for a stable life.
Beginning to calm my breathing, I try to picture the types of people likely to be placed in such a tower, and if they’d sound alarms at the prospect of a dragon in-flight arriving. If it were Tiktik, she might be able to recognize our party as the Triple L Squad arriving, and maybe even me if her vision is good enough. She at least knows *of* Lu, Lil, and Lucky, based on her knowledge of people from when the Triple L Squad was at the Hidden Heart. I think. Or did she leave the Hidden Heart before they arrived? Crap, I forget. I know Te and I shared stories of them at least.
Gnawing on my lip, and the insides of my cheeks, I start to get nervous again. If we set off a panic that gets the Aasimovians to unleash whatever defenses they have stored up, will it leave them vulnerable for later? We can’t afford to approach in-flight any longer. It’s too risky. There are too many unknowns. I beg Lu to get Lil to land, so that we can approach on foot. It’ll be quite a bit slower, but I’ll manifest some horses for us. It’s been a while since I used this power anyway.
When we land, I realize we have a problem. I can conjure three horses. We’ve got Lil, me, Lu, and Trixxie, and a spheriform Lucky. Lil could shrink down, and Lu could carry either Lil or Lucky, while I carry the other, but then I’m giving Trixxie a horse, and free reign to just ride off into the sunset. If Lil doesn’t shrink down, but instead takes his human form, Trixxie has to either stay put, walk after us, or we have to risk one of our horses being slower with a double load. I suppose that’s safest. I don’t want to lose sight of Trixxie while we haven’t really cleared her trustworthiness yet. Lucky likes the way she tastes or something, but I’m still not willing to let her go freely roaming around the countryside.
Plus, I’d feel bad if Lucky’s new chew toy escaped. Heh. That’s a bit of an evil thought Reggie. I know, I know. I just want Lucky to be happy though. Anyway, let’s go. Three horses, five people. Although—. Creation, and fabrication. I run my thumb along the Cosmic Roundsheath. Sure, why not. It’ll be temporary, based on the limits of the spells, but it should last long enough. Let’s see, so, vegetable, or plant matter lasts the longest. Next would be processed materials softer than ores, then would be ores, then processed metals, then rare metals or gemstones, then rare gemstones. Huff. Each stage reduces the potential volume, and duration of the created matter.
Well, what if we bend the rules a little? Genre senses tell me that in some fantasy settings, there are things like ironwood trees that are literally as hard as iron, or steel. Manipulating a spell with so many moving parts like this is all about intent anyway. What if we take it a step further? Lighter, and more resilient wood? That should still last the full twenty four hour duration of the spell, as long as I don’t botch it. Then I can fabricate it into a familiar shape. We’ll make that shape be the wagon we used to travel in with—. I gulp back tears as I recall Dawn.
I just have to remind myself that she’s alive in my memories. I succeeded in that much, and only that much, but at least I succeeded in that. Alright creation, I want you to conjure into existence a massive block of what I’ll call Featherlight Titanwood. Light as a feather, strong as titanium, but, it’s organic, it’s wood, so vegetable, or plant matter. Can you do that for me? A seventh of the SP in the CRS disappearing says yes, yes it can. Further, a block of impressive wood coalescing into beings cements it as fact. Grinning, I picture our old carriage in my mind as I focus on the fabrication spell. Another seventh of the SP from the CRS gets used up as the block of wood turns into a finely crafted carriage, with yolk, wheels, and so on. It doesn’t have cushions for the seats, but oh well, we can make do.
Chuckling, I motion towards the carriage, mumbling silly things like, “After you good sir,” to Lil, and, “Ladies first,” to Lu and Trixxie. I’ll let the four of them take the interior, while I hook up the horses, and sit in the jockey’s seat, or driver’s seat. I’ve made a few mental adjustments to make it work slightly better on Rayileklia’s always-muddy ground, so we might even be faster with the horses pulling the cart than if we’d been riding. It’s certainly far lighter than the one we used to have. Well, the one Teuila, Dawn, and I used to have. Sighing, I rattle my skull, trying not to go down memory lane in a way that saddens me. I still haven’t really grieved her properly. Sometimes I worry that I never will. Anyway, hyah horsies.
We are almost sailing along at a rapid clip. It’s too bad that this uses up a combination of spells, abilities, and resources, and only lasts for a day. Carriages like this would be a fantastic boon to the refugees. Finally in more conventional sight-range of the watchtower, I begin to notice other things dotting the distance to the southeast. They’re camps. Refugees are still filtering in from Jaggedfen Bog. They’re moving from camp to camp in order—. A gjallahorn sounding off in response to our approach startles me from my observation. The watchtower has definitely noticed us.
The flapping of enormous leathery wings is not the sound I’d expected to hear in response to a warning horn being blown. Shaking my head, why am I even surprised any more? Groaning, I pull the carriage to a halt, and stand at the ready for what approaches.