The Clockwork Mansion

Bleeding Edge

by Chairtastic

Summary: Surviving in a deathworld is not easy. Trying to uncover secrets kept by a deathworld is not easy. Leaving a deathworld better than when you found it isn't easy. To do so, you have to be on the forefront of progress, beyond even the cutting edge.

Author's Note: This is an unlicensed derivative work of Dan and Mab's Furry Adventures (DMFA). As such this work and all its contents, concepts, characters, etc. are the legal property of DMFA's copyright holder, Amber Williams. At her leisure, she can ask this work to be discontinued, removed, etc. I post this legal disclaimer to very kindly ask that I not be sued, and to give Amber the legal right to lift or adjust the ideas posted here to her still ongoing work.

Glory to the house of tacos.

Reader Advisory: This story will contain death of characters both minor and major, frequent violence, the implication of violence, and other unfunny topics. This story is rated as unsuitable for audiences below the age of sixteen (16). Also it's hella gay, hella furry. Furrae is a straight-up deathworld with bright colors and comedy tropes. It's been described as poison dart frog to Westeros' rabid wolf.

You have been warned.

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Index:
Chapter One:  You are here.
Gemenes Journal 1: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393781)
Chapter Two: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393786)
Gemenes Journal 2: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393795)
Chapter Three: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393802)
Gemenes Journal 3: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393807)
Chapter Four: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393814)
Gemenes Journal 4: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393819)
Chapter Five: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393828)
Gemenes Journal 5: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393832)
Chapter Six: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393858)
Gemenes Journal 6: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393861)
Chapter Seven: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393871)
Gemenes Journal 7: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393872)
Chapter Eight: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393880)
Gemenes Journal 8: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393882)
Chapter Nine: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393897)
Gemenes Journal 9: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393903)
Chapter Ten: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393908)
Gemenes Journal 10: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393912)
Chapter Eleven: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393923)
Gemenes Journal 11: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393925)
Chapter Twelve: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=393934)
Gemenes Journal 12: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395248)
Chapter Thirteen: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395250)
Gemenes Journal 13: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395252)
Chapter Fourteen: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395279)
Gemenes Journal 14: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395284)
Chapter Fifteen: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395306)
Gemenes Journal 15: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395319)
Chapter Sixteen: Pt. One (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395328)
Gemenes Journal NULL: Link. (https://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?msg=395335)
----

Chapter One: Bonds of Blood

---

Lostkeep Island, 8556 years before DMFA

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

On an island covered in dense rain forest, there were holes in the ground. Over two thousand holes in the ground, called cenotes. A little under four cenotes per square kilometer, completely excessive. They were filled with water, and some connected to each other through short underground rivers.

In the walls of these cenotes in the grounds, people had dug homes. They had windows, porches, walkways that connected subterranean homes. A little neighborhood, erroneously referred to as a 'homestead' by locals. They hadn't much liked it when their word use was corrected, either.

Nihi'lir knew what words actually meant, having come from a city where they had wonderful things like hieroglyphs and roads. He found out that complainers and educated folk got the worst jobs around the homestead.

"Man! You're teaching the young'ins how to swim with Giller today," he heard his wife shout from outside the house. "And no bellyachin' neither!" Her voice was haggard with age, like she had to put her whole chest into her words just to be audible.

He hadn't had the heart to teach his wife about double-negatives yet.

Nihi'lir, who had been previously cutting up breadfruit for lunch, stifled an exasperated grunt as he put the knife in the basin and pushed the breadfruit and the cutting board it rested on to the back of the counter-top. "Alright fine, but get me a coconut to use for cooking!"

"Get it ya'self, cookin's man's work!"

He rolled his eyes as he got his cooking stool put away.

His wife's family had odd little notions on the division of labor in a household. Euberta, his wife, would handle any of the craft work the house needed – repairs, tool-making, and resource allocation. Euberta jealously guarded those tasks, deemed 'women's work' in her culture.

To the point where she actively refused to teach Nihi'lir or their son how to do things like repair a hinge or carve utensils out of wood. Despite the fact that when whaling season rolled around she would be gone for five months.

But she seemed intent to have a backlog of repairs to gripe about when she came back from whaling. Perhaps it was the local religion, all the whaling women seemed to have that attitude, from what he'd heard talking with other husbands.

Or perhaps it was a raccoon thing.

Men were to be left at home to do domestic work, and to guard the home while the women went whaling. Repayment for the burden of pregnancy, childbirth, and nursing.

Nihi'lir fetched his son's sponge-noodle for floating and went to the boy's room to fetch him too. Their home was carved from the limestone around the cenote, with candles as their main source of light. Nihi'lir didn't need them, but his wife did. Raccoons were not blessed with low-light vision as mice were.

Even less so mice who had glowing eyes.

"Gemenes, it's time to learn how to swim!" He knocked on his son's door and shouted. "Put your toys away and get out here!"

Seconds, literal seconds, later the wooden door swung open and Nihi'lir had to look up at his son's excited face and feign excitement of his own.

Gemenes, like his mother and her family, was a raccoon. He didn't have unnatural colors in his fur as Nihi'lir did, but they had the same red eyes with that shone in the dark. They had the same leathery wings, and the same dense curly hair. All three the color of dried blood.

Nihi'lir was more obviously a creature – an innately magical being with unnatural coloration (in his case, shades of red), and wings. His wife's family were closer to the non-magical beings, enough to pretend to be beings if they cared to.

However, Nihi'lir was a mouse. Fully grown, he topped out at a hundred and six centimeters. His boy, six years old, was already taller than him at a hundred and twenty-four centimeters.

It made getting the boy to do things he didn't wanna hard unless Nihi'lir used magic. A temporary solution to an ongoing problem.

Nihi'lir held out an arm to stop the boy running off down the hall. "I know it's hot, but you have to wear pants. Lava-lava and shirts are optional, but pants aren't."

Gemenes' excitement melted like the spring thaw in that moment and he stomped off to get dressed.

"Meet me outside when you're ready!" Nihi'lir called as he started off toward the front door.

Their hole-in-a-wall house had a semi-enclosed porch attached to their neighbor's. Carved out of limestone, supported by breadfruit timbers, with a winding path outside that went from the surface to the water's edge. For the first time in three literal weeks, there was no rainfall – likely the reason for the swimming lesson.

Euberta, his wife, sat in a rocking chair at the divider wall between their porch and the neighbor's, while their neighbor sat on a rocking chair on her side. The two muscular elderly raccoons was totally involved in their conversation – they hardly noticed Nihi'lir leave the house until Euberta didn't see Gemenes with him.

"Man, where that boy at?" His wife asked, confused, and looked at the door.

"Give him a minute, he's getting dressed," Nihi'lir said and shrugged. "It's a hot day."

"He has to get that from your side of the family," she rocked back in her chair. "None of my kin have trouble with the heat." Unlike Nihi'lir who wore only small-clothes and a wraparound skirt, she was dressed like the heat didn't bother her.

Baggy pants, full-on shoes, a monochromatic striped shirt and oiled leather overcoat from the city. Like she was ready to go whaling that day.

Nihi'lir fought so incredibly hard not to roll his eyes, he just stood with his son's sponge noodle over his shoulders as he waited. When the acceptably-dressed winged raccoon came to the door, they set off for the water together.

Giller, his youngest step-son, was still older than Nihi'lir, so he handled the group of ten kids when they didn't want to listen. Nihi'lir mostly focused on the task of keeping them near the shore and far away from the river down to the next homestead.

The girls' swimming lessons focused on distance swimming and how to dive – skills they'd need for whaling when they got older. The boys' lessons were all focused on how to swim as exercise or how to fish underwater.

He was also on Gemenes-duty, as his father.

"Gemenes, stop! We don't try to drown people on purpose!" "Stop hitting your niece with your wing!" "Let go of her hand, Gemenes, let go!" "How did you make them cry?! Why did you make them cry?!"

Gemenes had inherited an unfortunate trait of his mother's – the immediate and vicious clap-back. Not always verbal, but always deserved according to the relatively little raccoon. When his nieces made fun of him for his wings, his eyes, or were just jerks as little kids tended to be – Gemenes responded like a demon.

It was no surprise when the lesson was over, the kids all left in their friend groups while Gemenes was left with his father and elder brother.

Giller gave his little brother a slight smack on the back of the head when they got out of the water. For a full-grown one hundred seventy-two centimeter raccoon, it was surprisingly gentle. "You gotta lay off that temper," he told Gemenes. "Ma don't like it when boys act like girls."

Again came the youngster's clap-back: "She's old, wait five minutes and she'll forget she ever saw it."

Nihi'lir was in the midst of wrapping his lava-lava back on or he'd have corrected the boy himself. But his mousy ears picked up another smack. He arrived on the scene just in time to keep his son from an attempt to bite his brother's hand off.

Not an exaggeration, mind. Raccoon teeth were surprisingly dangerous.

He shoulder-nudged his boy to get Gemenes' attention. "He of the tall-legs," the father said to his son. "Could you be persuaded to help acquire coconuts, on the promise of keeping one for yourself?"

Giller rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

Gemenes assumed a thinking posture, and thought for about half a minute. "These terms seem acceptable." He offered his hand to shake, cemented the deal, and bolted up the road toward the surface, still sopping wet.

"H-hey! Boy if you don't slow down you're gonna sli – There you go, right off the edge!"

--

Euberta Tuler

"Odette," Euberta said as she rocked in her chair on her porch. "I think... next whaling season. I'll go."

Her sister-in-law snorted and covered her eyes with her hand. "Well... I sort of expected it. You only ever missed whaling season on account of your adventurin'." Odette was more delicate-looking than Euberta. Longer hair, less muscle, less mean in the face. Traits that made her a good match for Euberta's baby brother for a wife.

Damn she'd made a good call getting them hitched.

"Nah, see." Euberta waved her hand. "I'll go."

The levity bled out of Odette quick. Her face hardened as she turned to look Euberta in the eye. "You have a new husband still unused to our ways, and a boy not ten years old. Don't be stupid."

Euberta kept rocking, unconcerned with Odette's piercing gaze. She looked out onto the path where her man and her boy went up to fetch coconuts.

Damn she'd lucked out when she nabbed him. Little feller, thin but not scrawny. Fur in shades of red with black marks like one of them mean cats – Sia-something. Nihi'lir called his pattern 'pointed', but Euberta pretended not to remember.

He was cute when he was annoyed.

And her boy... spittin' image of her, with his pa's hair, eyes, and wings. That side of the family said their kids would look like her mostly, but she hoped for more cute lil' mice like her man.

"I shouldn't have had that boy," Euberta sighed the words more than she spoke. "I'm too old. Make that little feller cry cause everything he do is too loud, or too silly, or too hard on my knees."

"Ya know when that kinda thinkin' woulda been good to do?" Odette layered some sweetness on her voice so it became extra nasty when she curled her lip and snarled. "Six years ago. Affore you brought a city-boy down here, affore you had a boy he's gonna look after without you."

Euberta nodded, sad with the situation and wishing she could whoop her own ass just a lil'. "Yeah."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Odette pull her hand back to swat at Euberta, then force it down as she muttered a countdown from ten.

"What's gonna happen to them when you's gone?" Odette asked her, calm in her tone. "I got grand-babies to mind, I can't go managin' a house you left behind. You told any of your girls they need to come look after their step-pa and brother?"

"Was thinkin' I'd talk to 'em when we go out whalin', present it as a sort of contingency plan."

Odette pinched her face as she glanced at her sister-in-law. "What?"

"It's a fancy word Nihi'lir taught me. Means plannin' for stuff what might happen, but might not." Euberta interlocked her fingers as she rocked back and held herself in position to look at the roof. "...M' thinking Leda or Kur might be okay lookin' after 'em. And if they ain't... they can go live with Nihi'lir's family."

"That man's what... twenty-five, right?" Odette pointed at the distant winged mouse, on the far side of the cenote path, only visible by dint of his extra limbs. "What're the odds you dying on purpose to a skeljúngur makes that man's headwings go 'pop'? Or that little boy's misery from losin' his ma does it?"

Euberta thinned her mouth to a line. She'd married a sub-adult incubus. They had one set of wings for flight and shapeshifting when they were adults – and a second that sprouted from their head to allow mind-reading, emotion-reading, and emotion-eating. The second set popped out fully formed after the cubi (weird term for the race in general), got smacked with a strong emotion stick.

"His clan ain't misery or grief," she defended herself. "They said they were rage. So as long as he doesn't get mad beyond all reason -- "

"Like findin' out his wife killed herself, on purpose, to leave him to raise a son alone, on purpose, cause living with them is annoying and difficult?" Odette slathered her voice in sweetness, with no snarl followup.

The truth, sweetened so sickeningly, hurt worse than a bear trap.

Too defeated to lie, Euberta sighed. "Yeah. That. As long as he doesn't find that out, it'd be fine for a bit."

"...Assumin' that happens? Already a high bar because I ain't no liar, and neither are any of your girls." Odette raised her eyebrows high. "When our folk and cubi folk make youngin's they get both sets of powers. Who gonn' teach your boy how to manage your side of that hot mess?"

Euberta, in the midst of realizing she'd made a bad mess for herself and her family, feebly smiled and turned to look at her sister-in-law slash best friend.

"If you are thinking what I think you's thinking?" Odette leaned over the divider between their porches with her eyes narrowed. "I will come 'round there and beat you with my rocking chair."

Later on, when her man and her boy had come back from coconut hunting to finish cooking lunch, Nihi'lir pulled her close when Euberta came to get a bowl of breadfruit and coconut milk sauce.

"Do I want to know why you were being beaten with a rocking chair earlier?" He asked with eyebrows raised.

Lips swollen, one eye blackened, and covered in healing salve from splinters, Euberta shook her head in the negative. "Just women things, don' worry 'bout it."

"Tell mom she looks prettier like that!" Their son commented. "She has a reason to look like she lost a fight now!"


--

Lostkeep Island, 8552 Years Before DMFA

Euberta Tuler

For the first time in decades, Euberta was going to miss a whaling season. For two solid reasons. One, she'd busted her shoulder in a spar with Nihi'lir and couldn't very well throw a harpoon into a skeljúngur in that state. Two, the rage her kinfolk had felt before it became obvious it was a spar, and not a real fight had made her husband's headwings pop.

They'd known it would happen soon-ish, Nihi'lir's clan mark had already been present for years, and his twenties were soon to pass. The two of them had taken to spar so that Nihi'lir would be in practice when it happened.

Creature powers, once clear of a threshold, would go out of control for a time. That was how it'd been for all Euberta's family as far back as they could remember – and it was true of other creatures.

Nihi'lir had been summoned by his clan's elders to learn control of his new abilities – the bare basics of which would take months.

Of course, that meant she was on her own for looking after her boy. That hadn't really set in until she felt hungry the day after Nihi'lir left and she went to the kitchen. She looked at cupboards, stone chests, and the pantry door, then realized – she had no idea where the food actually was.

It'd always been – she'd bring in the food to the kitchen, and leave the man to sort it out. She was in her comfortable chair by the time processing started.

Her arm in a sling, she started to open cupboards to look inside. She found cups, plates, bowls, a spider, and a bin she'd seen Nihi'lir use for washing.

It wasn't until after she was done that she realized the spider had been the size of her head – and thus why that cupboard had a latch on it. She re-latched it swiftly.

How did she used to get food when she was an adventurer? Almost fifty years ago that was, the memories were foggy. She remembered being on the big island – hunting snakes in the trees.

It helped that she was part of a team back then.

"Hungry? I can make some --"

Gemenes, who had come up behind her without her knowing, spoke up suddenly enough to cause Euberta to jump.

Unfortunately, Euberta had age-old adventuring instincts on top of her eldest sister instincts. When surprised, her first response was violence.

That's how she accidentally punched her ten year old son in the face as hard as she could.

She was a seventy-three year old woman – her punches weren't enough to break bones anymore. But the end result was she had a sore wrist, a crying kid on the floor with a busted nose, and no idea how to correct the situation without a loss of face.

"D... don't you go sneaking up on me, boy!" She shouted at him as he used his wings to cover his head. "Get out of here! To your room, get! No supper, boy!" Anger was a convenient mask for confusion and shame. She hollered at Gemenes until he scampered off, still crying, to his room.

She stood in the kitchen in silence until the mask of rage began to crumble.

"Why did you do that?" She asked herself as she dragged her feet to the kitchen table. Euberta slumped into a chair and held her head in her one good hand. "Why did yo do that? He didn't do anything wrong...."

Nihi'lir would shout himself hoarse if he'd seen that. Any of Euberta's kids would know – that weren't how they was raised. Euberta never punched them like that. If Euberta's mama had seen her treat one of her kids like that, Euberta would get exactly what she gave Gemenes.

"Why did you...? Dammit, you stupid old woman, why did you do that?" Because she'd been startled, afraid. Because she realized how old she really had become – that she had started to forget how to take care of herself. Because she'd been reminiscing about her adventuring days, when reflexes like that were necessary.

Her tail hung listless as she bemoaned her own idiocy.

"How do I fix this... already said no supper – gotta work around it. Snacks, maybe? Teach the boy how to dodge a punch and call that punishment?"

Nihi'lir would have suggested she apologize, admit she was wrong, but those thoughts barely lasted a moment in Euberta's mind. Of course she should apologize, because she was wrong. But she'd never tell Gemenes that.

She'd go to her grave first. Apologizing was a man's business.

Euberta decided, she couldn't admit a mistake to her son. But it wouldn't be as unacceptable to ask help from her brother.

She went next door, explained to Odette and Rothbart that she'd made a mistake and needed help with the house, and came to an arrangement.

It involved owing her little brother a favor. One request, granted at a later date, no questions asked.

Rothbart, grinning ear to ear, looked over her kitchen and explained Nihi'lir's madness to her in a way she could understand. The terms of her request didn't extend to decoding his cookbook, however.

Her little brother prepared a simple meal for her and Gemenes, and departed to attend his own house's needs.

Neither Odette or Rothbart knew how to make up for the mistake Euberta had made with Gemenes, though.

She stared at the two plates of food laid out on the table, a perfectly prepared supper, and realized she'd have to at least cave on that. The boy needed to eat. Glum that she had to back down, Euberta made her way to the boy's bedroom door.

Knock, knock. "Boy, your uncle begged me to let you eat – get your ass out here and eat."

There was no verbal response. Just an indistinct sound of motion – shifting fabric? Had the boy curled up on his bed?

Again, knock. "Boy, don't make me come in there. You get out here and be grateful you got an uncle so good at talkin'."

No response again. But the noise was closer to the door. Obviously, the boy was a bit too much like her – proud and pouty.

She took a deep breath and twisted the knob. Her intent was to open the door and intimidate the boy into obedience.

What she got the second she opened the door was a cloth-wrapped wheeled wooden duck swung right at her face. Wham!

The cloth that wrapped the ducky had softened the blow to where it surprised her more than actually hurt. Euberta stumbled back into the wall, dazed, and fell to the floor once she had her back supported.

Her vision was in doubles for a minute, as she processed what had just happened. In her stunned state, she barely noticed Gemenes leave his room and go down the hall.

Euberta gradually recovered, stunned out of any emotional reaction. When she stumbled her way to the kitchen, she saw her boy pouring a drink for her, with a full cup already present at his plate.

Gemenes thrust his jaw forward as he tilted his head back at her. "I give as good as I get. Remember that." Defiant, lightly threatening. Unashamed.

Euberta felt moisture around her nose, and saw blood on her fingers when she checked it. Her boy had drawn her blood with a wooden ducky wrapped in a blanket.

She met her boy's eyes and smiled. "Alright," she said and left her nose bleeding. Suddenly, she didn't feel so old anymore. For just a minute, it was like she was in her twenties -- dealing with a rookie adventurer. "Sounds good to me."

An arrangement in place, the next few months passed amicably.

--

Lostkeep Island, 8549 Years Before DMFA

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

Shapeshifting, as it turned out, was great. Finally, he could change the ratio of black and red in his fur so that the vivid green marking of his clan didn't clash so much. It also meant he could withdraw his backwings into his body to make himself taller – on eye-level with his boy.

Important, given he had to teach Gemenes how to fight.

"You're sure that healing spell will let ma get through the whaling season?" The winged raccoon asked his shapeshifted father as they walked through the jungle between cenotes.

Waves of unease and doubt rolled off him, which Nihi'lir had the ability to detect now. The headwings on an incubus or succubus allowed them to detect thoughts and emotions – even when hidden via shapeshifting.

Useful for parenting, or the unpleasant tasks he'd have to do professionally.

"I study with our clan's allies when I go away," Nihi'lir responded over his shoulder. "I'm not a healer to their standard – but I can make her feel young again for a while." Nihi'lir didn't have the heart to tell his boy yet that, most likely, Euberta would die early on in the season. Maybe after the first skeljúngur.

She wanted to die surrounded by her family, and one last whaling season would do that. Euberta had asked him to study magic that could make it possible when last he departed to his clan's instructors.

They hadn't been displeased to hear he wanted instruction from their allies in Jin's clan. But for a clan of ambushers, assassins, and warriors the desire to heal was an oddity. Unexpected, not unwelcome.

As they stopped in between two rows of breadfruit trees – they seemed to naturally grow in rows, freaky – Nihi'lir stopped to turn and smile at his boy. A wide, coy smile, that belied his violent intent.

Gemenes narrowed his eyes and shrugged off the basket he carried on his back. Breadfruit collection was off the table for the moment.

"Begin with the stretches – remember to hide their movement so your target doesn't realize what's going to happen." Nihi'lir applied the lessons of his assassination instructors, still fresh in his mind from his last visit.

Nihi'lir's parents were skirmishers, not assassins, so they'd taught more open combat stretches and stances. He would have passed those along to Gemenes, if the order hadn't come down that they would serve the clan differently.

Clan politics, ugh. He'd spare Gemenes from learning that until necessary.

Stretching done, Nihi'lir wanted the early spar to cover their previous lesson. To see how much the thirteen year old had remembered, yeah? He moved closer in the appearance of stretching his legs, then went oddly low to the ground to sweep kick.

Gemenes, still in his stretches, hopped over Nihi'lir's leg without much fuss. He didn't retaliate, though, and continued his stretches. Annoyance with a faint mix of pain were the emotions Gemenes gave off.

Nihi'lir narrowed his eyes up at his son. "Why are you still stretching?" Was he being led on for a surprise attack? Did Gemenes even know how to do surprise attacks?

"Got some pain, trying to work it out," Gemenes put his hands on his hips and bent his torso every which way to stretch it. "Feels weird." Small sharp spikes of pain filled his emotional profile.

Paternal instinct mixed with his healing knowledge immediately. Nihi'lir perked his ears up and gathered mana in his hands. "Hold still, I'll fix you up."

"Feels kinda like...." Gemenes bent at the waist and swung his leg on the way back up. The raccoon's shin connected with the side of Nihi'lir's head. "...Being kicked in the head." All at once, the pain he gave off stopped, replaced with amusement and a sense of accomplishment.

Nihi'lir, dazed from the kick, blinked at his son until he noticed small bloody holes in his palms. The winged raccoon had used his own claws to trick Nihi'lir with pain detection. Clever little jerk.

Gemenes wore the same wide, coy smile Nihi'lir had used minutes prior. Perhaps it was genetic.

When Nihi'lir recovered, and picked himself off the jungle floor, he realized the absolute hell the clan's instructors would need to give Gemenes to make the boy feign respect. His boy thought he was hilarious, which ill-suited assassins in clan's worldview.

Perhaps not Owona's, though. She and Nihi'lir hadn't talked at length. She was busy, he was unimportant.

"Hmm, nah felt like a gentle nudge to me," Nihi'lir wiped some blood from his nose and cracked his knuckles with a wide smile. "Let me show you how being kicked in the head really feels." And so battle was joined.

Nihi'lir's training in healing magic meant the two of them could go just a bit more vicious in a spar than would otherwise be appropriate. Assuming his son didn't play a jokester and render himself immune to magic – always a risk – purely to make Nihi'lir look bad, all injuries could be treated quickly.

Once they finished their spar, they actually got to work collecting breadfruit. Breadfruit trees were tall, so lots of climbing was involved to get enough fruits to feed the homestead. Nihi'lir, with more magical training, could store more fruit than his son's basket could carry.

After the harvest, they went to each family in the homestead to deliver some breadfruit then returned home.

"How come everyone else got so many and we didn't?" Gemenes asked as they walked the path down to their home.

Nihi'lir let his headwings pop out for a moment. "Because you're the only one in the house who needs to eat them."

The adult and older teenage women had all already left for the whaling season that morning. Including Euberta, so the only folks in the homestead were men and children. There were no pregnant ladies that year, perhaps that was why Euberta decided this season was the season for her.

Perhaps it was that Odette, their neighbor and Euberta's best friend, had passed the year before. Nihi'lir would never know his wife's motivations – she had kept them to herself.

It didn't hit Nihi'lir until after he closed the front door that Euberta wouldn't come home. He'd given her enough healing to die in glory, surrounded by her daughters and sisters. But nothing short of a master healer could give her the vitality to return alive.

All the cheer bled from him as he settled in at home.

His wife had gone to her death, he'd known she would go to her death and so had she. Neither of them had said it out loud, or had proper goodbyes.

She hadn't given a proper goodbye to her son, or any of her older sons.

The last time he'd seen his wife would be the last time he saw his wife. Her last words to him would be the last words they shared.

With the disparity in their age and lifespans, it seemed obvious in hindsight. That she'd held out for thirteen years was a big accomplishment for her. When was the last time anyone in her family lived into their late seventies? It likely wouldn't happen again for hundreds of years.

Nihi'lir was snapped out of his reflection by a sudden shift in light, and a swell of emotional relief. He'd kept his body busy by carving up an ube for cooking, and turned away to look.

Gemenes was in the midst of dousing candles. He'd point, let loose a bit of cold air and frost, then out went the flickering flame. Each time, it felt like an old pain dimmed. The light wasn't the source of his son's pain, from what he gathered. It was the smell of smoke from the candles.

Neither of them needed candles to see – Owona's clan all had eyes that cast light of their own. During whaling season, they usually went without. The candles were for Euberta's benefit, and she was gone.

Never to return.

The realization didn't make Nihi'lir break down in tears. It made him feel heavy, but there was no cascade of grief.

Gemenes needed to be told, he was old enough to have an opinion on his mother's suicide-by-whale choice and Nihi'lir's enablement of it. If that meant the boy would hate him, so be it.

Nihi'lir put the knife down on the cutting board and hopped off his cooking stool. "Gemenes? Can you come over here...? We need to talk."

--

Gaia De'Tialdo

At the behest of higher powers, a winged cat left the peak of civilization to arrive at a backwater. She didn't bother to change her bearing, her dress, or her coloration – nevermind that no one had seen silk like hers, mistook her professionalism for arrogance, or ever saw a sky-blue feline before.

Gaia would, better or worse, be herself. Those that thought less of her for it likely would have thought less of her regardless.

Part of that was that, unfortunately, she had too much hope for people far from the heights of civilization. A backwater was a downgrade from the palaces of Hishaan, she had assumed it would be enough of an upgrade from the wilderness that people would live there.

The town of Crowfalls was the greatest population center on Lostkeep Island, a spot where jungle paths converged from centuries of cultivation. And it had, at most, ten percent of the island's total population. Three thousand seven hundred people, not even in the same magnitude of order as Hishaan.

The people she'd been assigned to find weren't there, and what information she could find pointed her west-north-west. In that direction there was a satellite town, the older settlement of Lostkeep.

Gaia had thought: 'Oh! They live in the namesake town for pride's sake, even if it's less developed' like a sensible person. But no. A gryphon-cart ride later had her find that while her assignment's relatives lived there, they did not.

It was then that she learned they lived in a hole in the ground, out in the jungle. Like animals.

"Next opportunity I get," she muttered to herself as she trudged through the jungle in heels, cleansing herself of mud every ten paces with magic, "I'm going to send the council a strongly worded letter signed with the name 'exploding runes'."

Regrettably, the 'living in a hole' thing was based on sound logic. The island was dotted with cenotes from frequent rainfall eroding limestone, to the point where all the rivers were underground. Lostkeep and Crowfalls had resident creatures and enough population to make them unlikely targets for demon rampages or gryphon depredation.

But being underground, people could live in smaller communities without being visible on flyover.

It was offensive on a spiritual level, but it worked.

Gaia followed the instructions she'd been given and came to a cenote with a hidden path that traveled along its edge. It was gratifying to hear her heels hit stone, not mud, for the first time in hours.

Everything she saw about the settlement as she walked the path was pure pragmatism. The stone had been sculpted with magic to support a roof that artificially shrank the cenote's surface hole and covered the path. Channels to the side of the path were obviously designed to collect rainwater, then funnel it down to the pool of water to keep the path dry.

The homes were all simple affairs, made of breadfruit wood and stone worked by magic. Next to no ornamentation. No art visible outside the homes. A place the residents wouldn't grow attached to – that they could flee without regrets.

Disgusting. It assumed failure, by design. Shameful.

She sensed fear and confusion long before she saw the residents. They likely heard the clack of her heeled shoes, and saw her shadow pass in front of their windows, and thought she was a demon come to rampage.

They'd only change their mind when they saw her feathered wings, and believe her to be an angel.

Their assumptions were not Gaia's obligation, though.

She stopped at a home that carried some graffiti carved on the exterior wall. An arrow inside the incomplete shapes of a rectangle and circle overlaid – Owona's clan symbol. Gaia stepped to the door and knocked three times, hard and heavy so there would be no failure to hear her.

As the door opened, Gaia's eyes narrowed. There was a young man, a raccoon of natural color with the telltale trait of Owona's clan – black sclera, glowing eyes. Red, in his case. Unfortunate, it would clash terribly with his clan's mark wherever it was.

Blinding bright green and anything on the red side of the spectrum just did not go well together. At least he was mostly grey.

Bare chested and barefooted, clothed only in an odd skirt held on by friction. The pattern was colorful, at least, a design of tiger lilies. The young man kept his bat-like wings flared so something smaller behind him couldn't get through. She was told her assignment had a child, perhaps that was it.

Yet, he hid his headwings. Curious. Gaia let hers slide from shapeshifting and pulled aside a shoulder strap of her dress so her clan mark was visible.

Against the blue of her fur, a white circle that linked to a downward facing trident stood out in a complimentary fashion.

The raccoon blinked and recoiled. "Cyra?" He asked, like he recognized her.

Gaia arched her eyebrow. How many blue feline succubi had been out this way for that to be the case. "No. I'm Gaia De'Tialdo. I've been sent by your clan leader the De'Tialdo clan council to carry out a contract."

The small figure behind the raccoon finally got under his wings enough to be visible. They were much redder than the raccoon, half his height, a mouse, and... had headwings. "Ah, I'm Nihi'lir – this is my son Gemenes."

Gaia looked at them, the mouse less than half her height, and the raccoon at most a couple centimeters shorter. Her knowledge of being culture said they did not lightly cross species divides – and she knew this to be a raccoon settlement.

The reason for their remoteness made sense, in hindsight. A more populous settlement might have lynched them.

"Come inside," the mouse said. "Before the neighbors convince themselves you're a threat and pounce."

Gaia glanced to the side and saw several raccoon men, all more akin to beings than Gemenes. They were afraid, no more or less than when she'd arrived. But they all had mana collected in their hands, ready to fly.

"I think I shall, as soon as your boy moves?"

--

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

The news had come, Euberta had died to a skeljúngur after they'd beached it. The whalers would drive the armored whales onto shore, where their speed and protection meant nothing, then kill and butcher them where they lay.

Euberta died stabbing the whale's tongue, so that it would bleed to death rapidly. Per tradition, she was given a sea burial to repay the ocean for its bounty.

As a widower with a child, he would be allowed to keep his home until Gemenes was fully grown – then he'd have to leave whenever a newlywed woman of the family decided she wanted to live there rather than build her own home.

Amazon tribes, ugh.

For a while, Nihi'lir had forgotten to absorb the emotions of his neighbors so he didn't need to sleep, which resulted in him passing out in the living room. It had been nice to dream of how things could have been different.

But he was woken up by a knock at the door that Gemenes got to before him. They had a guest of the Hishaan De'Tialdos. Very wealthy, prestigious, and not ones from the frontier.

She looked like she'd just come from a boutique in Hishaan proper -- dressed in green silks that complimented both her blue fur and white-blue feathered wings with a satchel bag as her only accessory.

Gemenes had mistook her for someone, 'Cyra', he'd called her. Odd since Gemenes hadn't left the rain forest a day in his life.

Still – Nihi'lir let her in and showed her to the kitchen. It was appropriate to offer tea to travelers.

From her satchel bag, Gaia produced a letter sealed with their clan's symbols in colored wax.

"Gemenes, could you make the tea for us?" Nihi'lir asked as he sat down to read the letter. Unlike the tall-legs he had to sit on his knees to rise above the table.

"Must fight the urge to make 'one lump or two' jokes," the teenager muttered as he took the kettle to collect water. His emotions read as uneasy, confused, doubting.

Nihi'lir left that alone, and opened the letter. His headwings and ears flared up as he read on, then folded close to his head as he looked over the parchment to meet his guest's eyes. "You can't be serious."

"I would not be sitting in a hole in the ground if it wasn't serious." Gaia rolled her eyes. Vivid green, like her dress, like the leaves of a palm tree – the opposite of Nihi'lir's. "Your wife is elderly, she will pass soon. Your son is a decade from being an adult." Her eyes narrowed. "And it would appear that this culture is not as supportive as your clan had hoped."

"So you want me to send him off to an adventuring school that's not even built yet?"

"As the architect building said school, I'll have it completed in a week or less." Gaia's headwings and ears betrayed none of the annoyance that radiated off her. "Most of the prep-work is already done. The land is bought, the official notifications are being sent out, and we have Taun's and our clans promoting it to the mainland guilds."

"Sending a thirteen year old off to adventurer school in a city he's never been to, surrounded by strangers is not going to end we -- "

"Oh, you're sending me to school?" Gemenes returned to the kitchen with a full kettle and set it on the fire pit. A bit of magic, and the coals flared up. "Score, finally get to leave this place and you can finish up your schoolin' too."

Gaia glanced at the boy then smirked at Nihi'lir's stunned expression. "Not going to end well, I believe you meant to say?" Cats and smug expressions went together too well. Much too well.

"Pa, no one in the family likes me," Gemenes explained while he shaved tea off the brick and put it aside for when the water boiled. "I spend most of my time trying to figure out magic on my own, or helping you with chores. Ain't got friends or anyone I'd miss here – other than you."

That was something that would've devastated Euberta to hear – that her entire side of the family were akin to strangers for their boy.

"I mean... I knew the girls didn't like you being so aggressive, but...." Nihi'lir set the letter down and folded his hands in front of him.

"But the moms of all the boys didn't want them hanging out with someone who makes it less likely they'll get a good wife." Gemenes cracked his knuckles. "Which I definitely do, since I kept trying to teach them how to throat-punch people."

"...You know, that actually works as a flirting maneuver against demons." Gaia couldn't help adding to the conversation. "Also, is it normal to keep your home this dark? I'm having trouble seeing just a bit."

Nihi'lir sighed and got up to get the candles from the closet. "Sorry, sorry, Owona clan things...."

"While he's doing that, since he and Ma were never willing to talk about their adventuring days – how socially acceptable is it to defeat rampaging demons by subjugating them and adding them to an ever-growing harem?" Gemenes asked the question as soon as Nihi'lir left the room.

"It... depends on what stage of their rampage you do it, I guess?" Gaia seemed bewildered by the question from her tone of voice and confused aura. "You'd want to do it when they're in the property damage phase, not the substantial body-count phase – why?"

"I have it on good authority that the majority of demons that adventurers encounter are actually half-breeds and thus more likely to be colorful twinks."

Nihi'lir froze in the middle of candle-grabbing to whirl around and glare into the kitchen. Gaia had her eyebrows raised and her headwings half-folded from the word choice.

Gemenes saw them and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh wait, Twink Territories might be around – does that make calling people twinks culturally insensitive?"

"Yes, extremely," responded both adults in wildly different tones of voice. Surprised yet professional for Gaia, outraged for Nihi'lir.

"Aw man, that means I gotta call 'em bishounen or femboys. I gotta shelve all my 'I want that twink obliterated' jokes too." Gemenes glumly added tea to the kettle and set it aside to steep. "That sucks."

Gaia slowly turned to look at Nihi'lir with extreme concern. "You've... taught your thirteen year old son what bishounen, femboys, and harems are?"

"No! No, I didn't! And right now I'm wondering if my wife committed suicide-by-whale partly to escape having that question asked of her!" Nihi'lir grit his teeth and brandished the candle in his hand toward the ground. "When I get down there, old woman, you and I will have words!"

"...I feel I should be concerned that you're convinced both you and your wife are bound for the pits of torment. But considering what our clans do for a living, I'm struggling to see any alternative. Really, I'm just curious what she did to deserve it."

"Well, she unleashed me on all of you," Gemenes commented as he got the tea cups from the cupboards and dragged out the palm sugar dish. "That's pretty heinous in my book. But, while Pa's lighting the place up... one lump or two?"

---

Glossary!

Furrae: A rocky planet with three moons, whose globe is still unmapped at the time of the story. Lots of maps whose edges have 'here there be dragons' unironically. Furrae is a colorful deathworld where multiple powerful species compete for each other, and might makes right is the foundation of all governments. Magic abounds, both wild and tamed, and civilization takes forever to reach certain milestones.
Being: A category of non-magical anthropomorphic animal people. Remarkable for their natural coloration matching non-anthropomorphic versions of their animal, high reproduction rate, and inventive nature. Their birth rate can be as high as one per year, where creatures usually average one per century.
Creature: A category of magical anthropomorphic animal people. They tend to have colorations that are not naturally occurring, and unique abilities according to their race. Tend to call the shots on Furrae, and live very long lives.
Cubi: A race of creatures known for their natural ability to pick up thoughts, emotions, and shapeshift. Cubi children are born with their backwings formed, but manifest a second set of miniature wings from their heads above the parietal lobes. Males are incubi, females are succubi. All cubi have a clan, identified by a mark on their bodies that they cannot shapeshift away no matter their form. Can have bat, feathered, dactyl, and dual wings.
Demon: A race of creatures known for their violent tendencies, natural strength, and carnivorous diet. Typically dark-colored, with horns regardless of species, and bat-like wings.
Angel: A race of creatures known for their excellent use of propaganda. Genetically similar to demons, they're only different culturally in their perceived benevolence by other species and solitary lifestyle. Typically, they are brightly colored with feathered wings.
Lostkeep Island: Third largest island in the Comia Atoll. Present population is estimated to be thirty thousand. Part of the United Republic of Mostalsia.
Skeljúngur: A species of toothed whale that grows between twenty to forty-five meters long. Covered in protective armor, and capable of extreme speeds in open ocean. Hunted by whalers on Lostkeep Island and from the Swiftkeep Union for meat, oil, shell armor, and bone.
Owona Clan: A cubi clan noted for being nondescript, stealthy, and for unarmed combat. Frequently seen as skirmishers, assassins, spies, and adventurers. Known for their black sclera and glowing irises.
De'Tialdo: A cubi clan known for their support of the dragon-city of Hishaan, largest city in the Comia Atoll. Typically all members are feline with bright blue fur and hair.
Comia Atoll: A massive archipelago comprised of three islands arranged in a ring around a shallow sea, with a fourth island within the ring. The south island comprises most of the landmass in the atoll, with the north island and Lostkeep island making up roughly a quarter put together.

--

Cast!

Euberta Tuler: Race, REDACTED. Age at time of death, 76. Species, raccoon. Occupation, retired adventurer, whaler, matriarch. A fist-mage, before the term 'gish' came to describe the fighting style – mixing melee fighting with spell-casting. Favored element: Blood.
Nihi'lir Tuler Owona: Race, murine incubus. Age, 32. Species, mouse. Occupation, retired adventurer, house husband, assassin trainee. Primarily a martial artist, gradually working magic into his combat style to become a gish. Favored element: Darkness.
Gaia De'Tialdo: Race, feline succubus. Age, 981. Species, domestic cat. Occupation, mystic architect, troubleshooter. No combat data available.
Gemenes Tuler Owona: Race, REDACTED incubus (adolescent). Age, 13. Species, raccoon. Occupation, being a Chair and an asshole. Likely to develop into a gish, like his parents. Favored element: Ice and blood.

--

DMFA is something near and dear to my heart. It got me started on being a furry, on being queer. It introduced me to my first chatroom based game which let me be a stupid kid and figure myself out while being stuck out in the country with no car and dial-up internet.  I'm writing this because I love DMFA and wanna play in that sandbox a lil.  Hope you enjoy reading me being silly in a colorful deathworld.

Here's the link so you guys can read it yourself, http://www.missmab.com/

(For Tower of Art folks, the link is there because I post to multiple locations.  :mowtongue )

And here is a map of Comia Atoll, for your viewing pleasure.  A little over 2500km from side to side, thing's big.

(https://i.imgur.com/nTDWUXZ.png)[/u]

Whee, commenting!

Ooh, cubi and were cross? The "making oneself immune to magic" tipped me off.

For those who don't recognize the name De'tialdo (http://www.missmab.com/Comics/Vol_1583.php).  :3

Also, for those who don't know -- a "Chair," as the author Chairtastic phrased it, is a kind of self-insert of his that manifests in multiple worlds. All Chairs are connected by the "Chair" oversoul, and can occasionally get knowledge from other lives. Like recognizing Cyra (something the author would do) and knowing the word "twink" (which is something a Chair from a more modern setting would know). Kind of like reincarnation, but with some past-life (and future-life) knowledge.

Nice to see more DMFA-based stories!

Quote from: Liatai on June 07, 2024, 10:03:00 PMWhee, commenting!

Ooh, cubi and were cross? The "making oneself immune to magic" tipped me off.

For those who don't recognize the name De'tialdo (http://www.missmab.com/Comics/Vol_1583.php).  :3

Also, for those who don't know -- a "Chair," as the author Chairtastic phrased it, is a kind of self-insert of his that manifests in multiple worlds. All Chairs are connected by the "Chair" oversoul, and can occasionally get knowledge from other lives. Like recognizing Cyra (something the author would do) and knowing the word "twink" (which is something a Chair from a more modern setting would know). Kind of like reincarnation, but with some past-life (and future-life) knowledge.

Quite correct!  Usually the Chair gets bleedthrough from past/present lives even before being activated, then becomes activated on a near-death experience or temporarily dying.  Like when Aliph impaled Dan and it helped establish his link to Cyra.

You're being waterboarded just a bit too hard, and suddenly remember how to cast Power Word: Scrunch.

Quote from: Tapewolf on June 08, 2024, 06:29:45 AMNice to see more DMFA-based stories!

What I'm noticing is that my fic made some folks remember DMFA on the other forums I posted the story!  I hope they enjoy catching up on the comic from where they left off!

Gemenes Journal #1


---


Translated from braille.


--


So this is my journal, I should put massive airquotes around the word 'journal' because it's a scroll of papyrus I'm punching holes into.  I have no idea when braille was invented in Furrae's history, never saw the bumps on the signs, but I know for a fact no one around here knows what I'm doing.


They think I'm touched in the head, even Pa.  Being seen as insane might be useful, I should try and cultivate that image more.


I don't know exactly when I am, here's what I've been able to piece together:  M'Chek isn't dead yet, though he recently had an assassination attempt on him.  Someone put two gryphon Cs (the giant ones) in his bedchambers via teleportation magic.  Fa'Lina hasn't become a clan leader yet, there are hundreds of leaders at the moment, and the cubi population is still in the millions.


Teleportation magic is a big deal at this point in history, because near as I can tell -- Warp-Aci aren't a thing yet.  I asked Gaia and Pa about flying glowrats that cut through space with their tails -- and they thought I was high as a kite.


Related note, kites haven't been invented yet.  Not going to change that in case certain horse Fae get explodey like he did over the yo-yo.


Related related note, bat wings are awesome cause they have built-in hands.  Mine even have them gripper thumb things!  I really should become a veterinarian at some point so I know what they're called.  Anyway, flying around here is generally kept to the canopy or just above.  Giant gryphons, you see.


Anyway -- Owona's clan!  That's gonna be interesting.  I'm told that Owona has allies in Taun, Jin, Hrienth, and De'Tialdo clans at the moment.  But outside of those clans we're rather unpopular.  Owona doesn't want us to be flashy, so Pa says other clans see us as a buzzkill.


They still pay us for assassination work, though.  Probably for the best that I don't ask if that attempt on M'Chek was one of ours.  Don't think Pa's high enough in the ranks to know either way, but it's best not to risk it.


Our tentacle-heads are really similar to Blue Volcano mythos heads, from the quick look Pa gave me at his.  If I had any expectation that Owona would actually answer me, I'd ask about it.  Pa didn't seem to know what Blue Volcano mythos even were, so can't ask him.


Pa says we're part of a branch of Owona's clan originating from the fourth generation -- so one of Owona's great-great-grandkids started our branch.  We're far from clan administration, and will have to complete a couple hundred years of direct service before we're allowed to freely roam.  He's going off to finish his assassin training, and I'm supposed to train as an assassin adventurer.


Owona's clan always struck me as the warrior to Taun's soldier.  Less regimented, less celebratory of the group's accomplishments and more of the individual's.  But Pa says it's just as accurate to use the thinking that Owona is the mercenary to Taun's soldier.  Assassination is a major part of the clan's income.


Running out of papyrus, so until next time journal!  You better not tell anyone what I wrote on you!


---


These journal entries will be, ideally, the only time you see from Gemenes' perspective.  They're side-content between mainline chapters, totally optional reading.

Chapter Two: Bloody Knuckles

---

Pudrock, 8547 Years Before DMFA

Themis Riken

Society had certain expectations of people based on race and species, or economic status and background. Foxes were expected to be seductive, felines were expected to be mean, canines were expected to be friendly. Avians, such as Themis, were expected to be delicate, fashionable, regal.

Themis was none of those things.

She was strong, so she took a poleaxe as her weapon. Her default outfit for all occasions was a simple tunic or armor. Themis was unafraid to have blood on her bone-white feathers, or to get it on her beak.

Something her opponent found out when he tried to exploit the range requirements for her weapon.

Themis was a student of the Pudrock Adventuring School – and presently fought another student to prove her strength. She was a warrior, he was an assassin; she was a wingless avian, he was a winged mammal. Themis was dispassionate in battle, and he got his face pecked for being rash.

"First blood, Themis," announced the referee, a llama woman with a cardigan over wizardly robes and a clay tablet in her hand.

Themis didn't gloat, despite the pride in her chest. The teachers had been clear, gloating should be done after a fight, not during. She clacked her beak ominously, then shook the blood off.

Her opponent, Gemenes, was ill-suited to fight her. A student of unarmed and unarmored combat, Themis was his natural opposite. Whatever advantage his demon ancestry afforded him was useless against her. He didn't have iron skin, Themis had punched through it with her beak easily, he wasn't unnaturally strong or his blows would have damaged her armor.

Neither was he incredibly fast, as Themis had no trouble winding her axe up to intercept him as he charged again.

Out of pity, Themis decided to end the fight quickly. When Gemenes stopped short of the trajectory of her axe, she halted her swing to use the edge of the blade as a makeshift spear.

Gemenes ducked below the jab, he leaned backward with his knees bent to get low enough since Themis had aimed for his waist.

Themis promptly took a step forward and used her booted foot to drive him into the arena floor. She'd intended to try and make him surrender then and there.

But she erred, she hadn't been fast enough to pin Gemenes' legs underneath him.

Gemenes used that mistake to drive both feet into the fork of Themis' legs. Forcefully.

Stars danced in front of her eyes. Women sang in her ears. White-hot pain burned through her so fast it hurt only in hindsight, at the time it was a numb tingle – like a limb gone to sleep.

Gemenes, not content to kick her in such a rude spot, opted to use the spot to lift her off him and have her fall backward.

Themis, on her back in deep pain, didn't know until later – but she had let go of her axe midair. The blunt counterweight side then followed as gravity dictated, and landed on Gemenes in between his legs.

The two of them were incapacitated by the same injury.

"Match over, no victory." The llama referee announced, though to Themis' ears she was far away. "Healer, step forward."

Themis' vision eventually returned, and the first thing she saw was the angel-blooded healer trainee knelt over her. There was an unpleasant smell in the air.

A floppy-eared canine, white-furred with pink hair in loose curls, eyes covered in a blindfold. White wings with pink flight feathers spread around her protectively.

As required, Themis held still and remained on the ground until told otherwise.

They had mana around their hands, green in one hand and white in the other. The white was held out toward her while the green held back. After a couple seconds, the canine swapped hands. Healing magic washed her lingering aches and symptoms away like water cleared grime.

"This patient only has soft tissue damage to groin, their stamina is not significantly reduced." They moved their wings away and moved over to Gemenes. Their wings covered the raccoon, with only his bushy tail and wingtips visible.

Themis rolled onto her side and strained to stand. She looked around for her axe and found it partly under the healer's wings. It had to stay there until Gemenes was healed up, alas.

"Your performance was lackluster," the llama referee informed her. "An unarmed, unarmored opponent should be an easy kill for a warrior adventurer." She shook her head as she marked down information on the tablet. "Fail."

The healer trainee finished up with Gemenes quickly. "This patient has soft tissue damage to the face, torso, and groin. Their stamina is not significantly reduced."

As soon as Gemenes was up, the llama referee laid into him like she'd done Themis. "You didn't even use assassin techniques during the fight, no flanking or misdirection. Fail." Even the healer didn't get off lightly. "And you, you didn't observe triage before you started healing. Fail."

She marked their grades on the tablet, and snapped her fingers to point at the door.

"Bugger off, all of you."

The three of them left the arena, dejected in their own way.

Between the arena and the hall was the armory, where students would return weapons and armor that belonged to the school. Themis shrugged off the coat of lamellar armor she'd taken, put it on a rack, and hung the poleaxe on the wall where it belonged.

The other two didn't have equipment to return, so they were quicker to leave.

Themis came out to see the poodle healer remove their blindfold and put it in a satchel bag – she hadn't interacted with many of the spellcaster students, so didn't know their name. In her mind she used 'they' simply because she couldn't immediately identify their gender due to the fluffy wizard robes they wore.

Compared to them, Themis and Gemenes were more immodest but simply dressed. Themis had a blue tunic, rope belt, high boots and vambraces. Gemenes had loose trousers, a cloth belt, and a vest with the back cut out for his wings.

"I really hope that lady gets kidney stones," Gemenes muttered. He and the healer had stayed outside the door for Themis.

The poodle sighed, and wrung their hands. "It's... really not her fault. She gave us legitimate reasons for failure."

Themis had no intention to grouse to Gemenes or a canine stranger, regardless of her feelings. "We'll do better next time, or we won't." She moved to walk around them, when an acrid smell hit her. A quick glance around had her spot Gemenes' red trousers with a dark patch near the upper thigh. "...Did you piss yourself?"

The demon-blooded raccoon's eye twitched. "I had a poleaxe hit me in the crotch when I'd been holding it in for an hour already. Leave me alone."

She considered doing as requested. But then considered a totally legitimate way to frame her tied match with Gemenes in a way that made him look worse. "Hmm. Alright. I'm going to go tell everyone in the warrior bunks about how you kicked me in the groin so hard you pissed your pants."

Themis fully expected Gemenes to tackle her for that comment, but the poodle -- whose name she still didn't care to learn – held the winged raccoon back while Themis turned and walked away.

--

Illyria Scorcros

Adventuring School involved a lot of stuff Illyria hadn't considered when they begged their parents to let them go.

They hadn't expected the coursework to be so intense, or for the grading systems to be so harsh. General school in Pudrock wasn't in the same league. But the school was only two years old, perhaps they would dial back their standards when their first graduating class was only nine people.

Illyria's parents would likely make a stink about them not being one of those nine, too.

They pondered this as they waited outside the showers for Gemenes to clean up and launder his clothes. Both they and he were in similar positions – forced by their families into roles at the school that they didn't care for overmuch, perhaps failure would allow them a measure of freedom?

When Gemenes emerged, fur and hair still damp, Illyria brought it up as they walked.

"...Do you think, if I play up how hard being a guild-standard healer is, that my folks will let me take a warrior class or two?" Illyria walked beside Gemenes, the clack of their shoes contrasted the slap of his bare feet on the wooden floor.

Gemenes responded with a drawn out 'n' sound that transitioned into his actual reply: "No." He put on the air of being closed off – arms crossed, ears flicked back, wings interlocked in front of him like a cape. Yet he continued to walk with Illyria well past the assassination bunks. "When I failed last year, the teachers went over a list of the reasons I failed and had me try again."

"Your folks didn't have any input?" Unconsciously, Illyria folded their wings in front of them too. They lacked the thumbs to hold them in place, but the net effect was similar.

"Pa considers it practice for when I have to get advanced learnin' from our clan once I'm grown." He shrugged. "But I'm failing because I don't give respect to people who are allergic to earning it."

"Is that why you don't like Themis?"

Gemenes looked at them like they'd grown a second head, he stopped in the hall to address them with his complete attention. "I like Themis fine, what are you talking about?"

Illyria waved their hand in the air. "You just tried to maul her twenty minutes ago."

"Well yeah, she figured out a way to tell the story and make it funny before I could. You think I wouldn't do that to you, if you beat me to a good punchline?" Gemenes rolled his eyes and resumed walking. "That whole thing has me pissed – let's skip class, I'll teach you a move called 'repulse the money' and you teach me how to regenerate teeth."

"Oh, I think... you mean repulse the monkey?" The poodle tilted their head as they followed the raccoon without reservation. They had heard that move used in folk stories about the Amazon tribes of Lostkeep Island.

"No no, this is a move for punching rich people in such a way that it leave their coinpurse floating in the air for you to grab. You're starting to outgrow your robes, and they cost money to make. Figured two birds, one punch."

--

Gaia De'Tialdo

Gaia wasn't a teacher, she didn't build the school with the intention of being a member of the staff. She was an architect, and was supposed to design a building that could act as a school and defensive structure in the event of an attack on Pudrock.

Only, she'd been called in multiple times to expand the school, or repair damaged sections. All the strength of the building had been arranged outward, with the idea that damage could come from inside was discounted. She also had to shapeshift her back and headwings away for the sake of working undisturbed.

In the end, she did so much work that she was brought on to teach certain aspects of spellcraft and architectural design. With elements like earth, wood, and ice her courses could help junior adventurers survive.

Gaia was convinced she wasn't a fit teacher, being able to work as an architect didn't qualify her to teach design after all.

But then she listened to her coworkers in staff meetings and realized the bar for success was so dangerously low that she could clear it with ease.

"...So let me get this straight," Gaia spoke up as one of her least-liked coworkers – Herriet, a llama being with strong anti-wing bias – finished a report on recent failures. "You barred the assassin from using any magic in the match, had the healer try to treat injuries blindfolded, and expected the warrior to actively try to kill their opponent?"

Officially, student grades were supposed to be confidential. Only the teachers in their specific programs would receive their grades with the name attached, to inform who would graduate and who wouldn't. So they had to do a whole song-and-dance routine to dance around certain topics.

The meeting table was designed so that each adventuring program's teachers and general sat on one side in the teacher's lounge. Spellcasters, assassins, warriors, marksmen, and general education.

Herriet adjusted her glasses and had the presence of mind to look away. "Well... it sounds bad when you phrase it like that."

"Probably because it is bad."

On the warrior's side of the table a hulking black-furred mare marked with white jaguar spots and dressed in lorica-style armor cleared her thoat to be heard. Su'ume, the teacher of tactics.

"Herriet is the referee this year," Su'ume rumbled with a voice deep enough to rattle bones. "She is within her rights to set the conditions for her exams, spars, and contests."

Gaia didn't look over at Herriet, but she could sense Herriet's smug emotions through her mind filter. Ugh, the taste would linger in her mouth for hours.

"...But Gaia is not wrong to say her execution leaves much to be desired." Su'ume folded her keratin-sheathed hands together. "It is my recommendation that placing restrictions on only two of the three participants creates an unfair advantage. Asymmetrical combat scenarios are best done in lessons, not examinations."

Barely contained anger rolled off the mare in waves, not evident by body language but clear enough to an emotion-eater. Her voice's natural deepness failed to convey the quiet anger, so Herriet felt no fear and would seem to take it as purely professional feedback.

"What would you have done for the warrior, as a handicap?" Herriet had taken out her clay tablet, keen on Su'ume's opinion.

"...Perhaps place one of their arms in a sling, so the handicap is equivalent to the assassin denied the use of magic." Su'ume replied after a deep breath.

Gaia listened to the rest of the staff meeting without much interest. So far, her students had been receptive of lessons like 'how to demolish a wall without collapsing the ceiling' and 'how to create a wall to block spells'. And she didn't care about the other departments too much.

Outside of her lessons, she was simply the eyes and ears of the De'Tialdo clan. Anything she saw or heard was something to report on later, nothing more.

"...And I'd like to formally complain, again, about one of the assassin students trying to take spellcaster course books," muttered the shrew next to Gaia on the spellcaster side of the table. "It was my understanding that the assassin course covered spells required for their combat role – and thus expensive theoretical textbooks were unnecessary?"

Gaia's eyebrow arched. She hadn't been teaching long, so that was the first she'd heard of assassins trying to steal textbooks. Those were kept chained to the instructor's desks, and in locked drawers – each book cost the equivalent of a classroom's construction. A student had tried to steal them?

A long-suffering sigh came from the assassin's side of the table. Her upper-body covered under a robe and hood, with only her naga-like lower body and rattlesnake tail visible, the head of the assassination course held her head in her hands. "I'll... see to it that it doesn't happen again."

"Thank you, Tina."

"What kind of textbook did they try to take?" Gaia feigned concern when her real intent was to collect information. Was there perhaps a spy in their students? "Was it damaged? Do we need to replace it?"

"Oh no no no no," the shrew hastened to clarify, she shook her head and hands to emphasize her 'stop' sentiment. "The book is fine, the chain the book is attached to... not so much." She shrugged. "We'll have a blacksmith fix the chain, it'll be done tomorrow. We don't have any classes which require dimensional studies at present, so it'll be fine."

Dimensional studies? Teleportation, perhaps?

"...I know something about dimensional studies," Gaia offered, her gaze flitted between Tina and the shrew. She didn't know her coworkers names yet, she only knew Su'ume from clan politics and Herriet from being a massive pin in her cushion. "It's used in the creation of storage spaces, and magical homes. If the student wants to learn, I could tutor them?"

The offer wasn't serious, it was unlikely that any assassin student would know enough spellcraft to even attempt dimensional studies. But both Tina and the shrew had mindshields – so she could only feel their emotions of frustration and annoyance about who the student was.

She was a cat, curiosity was their cardinal sin.

Tina looked at her like she was drowning and Gaia had thrown her a rope, her eyes gleamed with relief under her hood. "Would you? Oh, that would help so much."

Per the adage, curiosity sometimes killed the cat. As she chanted 'shit' ad nauseum in her head at the unexpected acceptance, she could only hope the satisfaction would bring her back.

--

Illyria Scorcros

In the forest outside Pudrock's western wall, the Forestgate neighborhood, two winged people used fighting to occupy their bodies while they processed their thoughts.

People thought they were weak. For being a healer, for being a poodle, for being pink.

Gemenes swept his leg, just slow enough for Illyria to see it and dodge. A ploy to create space so he could generate momentum on an attack run.

He didn't think they were weak. Gemenes offered instruction in exchange for instruction. If they couldn't physically keep up, he'd train them until they could.

Illyria jumped up and over Gemenes with the aid of their wings. They planted both feet on Gemenes' scalp, sprung off his head and jumped behind him. Gaining height was always their strongsuit with their wings.

In a similar vein, Gemenes expected Illyria not to treat him like he was stupid. If he didn't understand something they taught him from spellcasting courses, he expected them to work with him until he could understand it.

Gemenes fell forward from the force of Illyria's jump off his head. But he flared his wings and glided a meter or two before he gained height, turned so sharply his wingtip dragged in the mud, and came back around where Illyria. Cornering and flyby attacks were his strongsuit with his wings.

Their clans weren't allies, their leaders didn't even like each other. When they both became adults, they likely wouldn't be allowed to interact. Any time they did, it would likely be enemies. Illyria had known that when they asked for his help.

"Repulse... the money!" Illyria moved their body to be in profile relative to Gemenes' attack, shifted their weight onto their back foot, and tensed the arm furthest from Gemenes. When they called out the attack, they snapped forward, shifted their weight into Gemenes' attack and lashed out with their fist.

'Sure, I'll help.' Gemenes had said, with no hesitation. 'Hope you don't mind bloody knuckles, though.'

Gemenes forward momentum stopped dead. His lower body and wings swung forward from how quickly he was stopped – then launched back by the martial art Illyria employed. The raccoon soared into the distant bushes in a blur of color, and shook a barely-visible tree from his impact.

A coinpurse, barely filled, hung in the air for a moment until gravity asserted itself. Illyria had time to turn their hand up and caught it as it fell.

"I... did it!" Wings flared, Illyria did a happy little dance with Gemenes' coinpurse in hand. "First try! First try!"

"Awesome... so happy for you...." Gemenes returned to the scene, ruffled, covered in mud, and one wing limp behind him. "Give me my money back and pop this thing back into socket, would you?"

After Illyria fixed up Gemenes wing, they sat down on a mossy stump to share their side: How to regenerate teeth. The whole time, the fist they had punched Gemenes with bled just a bit from broken skin under their fur. They decided they'd allow it to bleed and fix it up when Gemenes understood the skill.

"So... got a question for you, power puff," Gemenes started as Illyria healed their knuckles. "I'm not gonna lie, I like the way Themis fights. All on the offense, doesn't showboat like most of the warriors, still has a sense of humor. Would you... want to invite her into our group, become an adventuring trio when we graduate?"

Illyria cocked their head to the side. "I thought your clan was gonna have you take contracts after your graduate?"

The raccoon narrowed his eyes at them. "Not sure if you meant it that way, but Imma take that as a compliment. But nah, they want me to have some combat experience and develop my own style before they assign me anything." He pressed the backs of his wrists to the sides of his head and flapped his hands. "Also I'm missing some of the requisite limbs."

"Oh, right." Illyria flexed their hand, then pulled both into their sleeves when it was clear the healing was done. "I'm... okay with her? If she's okay with me, that is. I don't think she knows my name."

"You could do the egotistical thing and have a floating magic nameplate around with you at all times." Gemenes demonstrated by sculpting light into a nameplate of his own. 'Gemenes Tuler' in a wacky, eccentric text style.

"...If she can't remember my name when I'm the pinkest thing in forty kilometers, why do you think a nameplate would help?"

"I like to think I'm an optimist. And that she could make funny anagrams out of your name when she's annoyed by you."

Their response was to promptly grab Gemenes' magic nameplate and rename them as 'Legem Neuters'.

--

Glossary:

Assassin: An adventurer category, indicates a stealth-based skillset. In combat, they are meant to eliminate enemy leadership, particularly dangerous targets, or stragglers.
Warrior: An adventurer category, indicates a melee weapon-based skillset. In combat they are meant to serve as the front line and main melee combatant.
Spellcaster: An adventurer category, indicates a magic-based skillset. A catch-all term for mage, regardless of specialization. Can range from battle-magic to healing to utility magic.
Marksman: An adventurer category, indicates ranged weapon-based skillset. In combat, they are meant to deal precision damage from the back lines.
Forestgate: The westernmost neighborhood of Pudrock, existing on both sides of the city's wall. Densely overgrown by plant life.
Scorcros Clan: A cubi clan, known to have dominion of the peninsula on the far side of Lostkeep Island, in the Swiftkeep Union. A peer of Jin's clan, very pink, very canine.

--

Cast:

Themis Riken: Race: Being. Age: 16. A bali mynah bird in the warrior program at adventurer school. Does not think highly of magic, or people who use it frequently. The buffest bird you ever saw, all the better to swing an axe with enough force to punch through creature hides.
Illyria Scorcros: Race, Cubi. Age, 16. An agender poodle cubi, presently debating the use of 'concubus' to describe themselves given their lack of gender. A student of the spellcaster program at adventurer school, focused on being a healer. A power puff, learning to throw hands.

---

Adjusted for inflation, each and every book at the adventurer school costs roughly fourteen thousand Ha'Khun gold dollars. The printing press hasn't been invented yet in a lot of places, so each copy is a unique masterpiece from multiple artisans.

Also, in the Chairly House we greatly encourage you to teach your dogs how to throw a punch. If you have a dog, you should be teaching them how to throw a haymaker at this very moment.

Gemenes Journal #2

---

Translated from braille.

--

Got another scroll of papyrus, woo!  After Ms. Gaia gifted me the last one, I dared hope that I could get them reasonably often.  But then I forgot I'd need money to buy them.  Ugh.

People assume I'm part demon, because of my bat wings and eyes.  I'm working on building up my strength and speed to play into that, a project years from completion.

In the past two years I've devoured every scrap of lore on magic that I could from the assassin course.  They teach us finished spells, not the mechanics behind them so I had to fail on purpose to get more time with them.  Making friends with Illyria helped a lot, I lucked out there.

The school uses Zingauru and Baneel's spellcraft books to teach -- Zingauru, a biclops mythos who helped introduce the scientific method to magic; and Baneel a duck phoenix who wrote many fully complete spells -- some of which even totally non-magical beings can use.

The latter is what is taught to assassins, while the former is taught to spellcasters.  The warrior and marksman courses may have some of Baneel's spells taught to them too, dunno.

Both sets of teaching result in people using magic, but Zingauru's stuff gives you the tools to make your own spells -- at the cost of being more labor-intensive.  Baneel's stuff is more user-friendly.

So, Pudrock has certain decency laws that require dudes to wear trousers even if lava-lava would be better given the heat.  It's the capital city of a baby republic -- and not likely one to last the century -- they want to be taken seriously.  So of course, everyone has to wear certain clothes depending on your parts.

Will never get over how stupid that is.  Ugh. 

Right now they're facing a crisis of religious leaders running for public office on the basis of running Mostalsia like a theocracy.

Since I came here, I learned some stuff about the local geography and culture.  Holy shit it's an atoll two and a half thousand kilometers across?  Could a volcano big enough to make that even exist?

Ancestor worship is the flavor of religion in this part of the atoll.  Sidenote: Not worshiping Euberta, she didn't want me in her life I don't expect her to want me in her death.  Swiftkeep and Mostalsia both subscribe to 'praise the ancestors' vibes, but mainland Mostalsia seems to be undergoing a shift.  Those religious-political leaders I mentioned have invented a common ancestor for everyone to worship -- Smotli.

Specifically he's a common ancestor for natural beings and the ones with bright colors to indicate angel ancestry, wings or no.  They say Smotli stopped the Fae that were fighting which created the atoll.  How, you might ask?

According to Smotli's 'priests', the Fae physically ripped pieces of other landmasses and shoved them into the sea to make the atoll in a game of some kind.  Which might be totally true, the Fae are weird like that.  Smotli convinced them to stop by teaching them how to skip rope instead.

I wish I was kidding.

I'm so tempted to introduce double dutch and make them think I'm Smotli reborn, but no.  Cults can come later.  I have a goal I need to work toward:  Harem of creatures I have defeated in battle and subjugated righteously.

Someday.

But I'm out of papyrus again.  See you next time, journal!

---

Mostalsia is not a very well constructed representative democracy, but it's one of the oldest attempts.  They've just recently made it so The Poors can vote as well.

That thing about Smotli and the Fae is absolutely the sort of thing that could happen.

Quote from: Tapewolf on June 11, 2024, 09:59:58 AMThat thing about Smotli and the Fae is absolutely the sort of thing that could happen.

We have to keep the hula-hoop in reserve for if they get really out of control.

Chapter Three: Bloody Mistakes

---

Pudrock, 8547 Years Before DMFA

Themis Riken

Adventuring groups were not regulated. There was no law that said they must go in pairs, in threes, or as a larger group. The idea behind the group was to cover as many possible fields to maximize the odds of survival.

Themis had fully expected to go alone, as she knew few spellcasters and she had made an enemy of the marksman course.

An offer to establish a trio with Gemenes and his healer friend was unexpected. But not unwelcome – Gemenes knew how to fight without a reliance on magic, and a dedicated healer would make their odds of survival skyrocket.

It made Themis almost regret not learning the poodle's name.

'Spellcasters are targeted first by creatures,' Themis told herself on the matter. 'It's likely they will die quickly, unable to defend themselves.'

She pondered that while she and the other students did their community service. A general education course, community service helped them to understand what a settlement needed done to function. In the event an adventurer opted to settle down in a rural village, mostly.

Pudrock's southern slum neighborhood and the neighborhood of Moonwell's Edge near the shore were the chosen location for their community service courses. The conditions there mirrored what was likely to be present in rural settlements.

And it allowed Pudrock to save on actual social programs to help the poor.

Themis joined Gemenes and his poodle friend as a work group for a day of service, they worked to make an elderly couple's home more comfortable. A hard task to accomplish, given how often it rained. The rain that day was mild, but peels of thunder indicated it would grow heavier.

The man of the house, a cape buffalo with a hunched back and a cane, walked Themis through all the repairs their little shack needed. New thatching, furniture in need of repair, the collection of fuel for the cooking fire.

Their healer was put to work befitting a spellcaster. They would use spells to clear the jungle back, away from the couple's home. At the southernmost edge of the slums, the jungle was always only a few day's growth from civilization. Their spellcaster used magic to cut down trees and uproot plants, then pile them for burning or harvesting.

In Pudrock, bamboo was the most common tree. It grew so fast one could lay a pot over a sprout – the pot would be equal to their height in a week's time. Bamboo could be used for furniture, building material, or even used in fashion.  A wonderful plant.

Gemenes was strangely talented at the domestic tasks given by the lady of the house. He took orders from the less hunched cape buffalo easily, and did the tasks asked of him as if it were his home he looked after. The lady of the house seemed suspicious, and squinted her eyes at him.

"Are you one of them athletic women, the kind that chop off your breasts?"

Her vision was not very good. Her awareness of culture, much worse.

"Ma'am, I can assure you I still have my breasts. Here, let me show you them -- " The mad raccoon was, as always, a lunatic, and began to unbutton his vest.

Themis had to stop in the midst of mending a bamboo stool to deliver a chop to Gemenes' head. His poodle friend had the same idea, and joined her – as they arrived just in time.

While Gemenes rolled on the shack floor with his head in his hands, his poodle friend put their amber-tipped wand away in their sleeve. "Ma'am, I've cleared the jungle back at least a week's growth. The bamboo and plants have been sorted into piles just like you wanted."

"Oh thank you, dear. Such helpful young ladies." The cape buffalo woman was pleased.

After their work was done, the trio walked through the southern slums to the Pudrock wall – there was a narrow path of cleared jungle along the perimeter. It made for faster travel to Forestgate than going inside the city proper.

Themis wondered how long it had taken the worked stone road from the south gate to the highway to become covered in mud from the slums. Before the school they must have had trouble clearing the jungle, too.

"Perhaps we should go north, for our first adventure when we graduate." Themis proposed the idea as they walked. "I'm told the jungle there is not so rapid in its growth."

"Because it's colder," the poodle told her. They walked with their hands in their voluminous sleeves, their wings crossed over their head to keep the rain at bay. "Even though it rains just as much, there's not as much warm air to allow it to grow quickly. And bamboo is rarer there."

"My only hard no is Hishaan," Gemenes commented. He, like Themis, didn't mind the rain. Though his fur would end up stinking worse than her wet feathers. "I know what happens there, and I'm not going to risk it happening to me."

Forestgate was upon them soon – it wasn't a terribly long walk. The phoenix neighborhood used the race's nature magic to work with the jungle rather than against it. Homes were grown in larger species of trees, cultivated until they were the equivalent of multi-story buildings. The school was more of more traditional city construction, with a layer of soil added on so that plants and trees would grow over its surface.

It'd been so odd to see trees grow on the side of a building like mushrooms the first forty times she saw it.

"Hishaan's on the complete other side of the atoll. We probably would never need to go there." Themis narrowed her eyes at the demon-blooded raccoon. "What rumors do the Amazons spread about Hishaan that make you so jumpy?"

"Everyone who dies in Hishaan gets their soul eaten." Gemenes said it like it was matter-of-fact, uninteresting. "And really, that's so annoying to deal with. I'd rather avoid it."

Their poodle associate arched an eyebrow as they rounded the corner to the school. "Why would Amazons say people get their souls eaten in Hishaan? Anti-dragon bias?"

Themis glanced green and blue in the shadowy entryway of the school, and briefly considered if she should warn Gemenes to shut up. She decided that it would be hilarious to watch what happened next.

"The Lostkeep Island Amazons don't say anything about Hishaan, most of them don't even know it exists. I know about Hishaan and that's how I know everyone gets their soul eaten in that place."

After a moment, their poodle friend caught sight of who lingered in the entryway and puffed up just a bit. "Um, Gemenes...?" Both they and Themis stopped in their tracks, unwilling to get closer.

"Illyria, it's one city. There's other cities we could go to. Hishaan's fine, but I'm not risking something dumb happening and my soul getting eaten. It's my one caveat – we don't go to the city that eats dead people's souls." Ignorant of the danger or perhaps heedless of it, Gemenes walked into the entryway. Right past the local Hishaani instructor. "Howdy Gaia. What's good?"

Seconds after Gemenes vanished into the building, Themis saw a glint of an ominous green glow followed by a swish of fabric and a fluffy blue cat's tail follow him.

"Well he's dead." Themis turned to the poodle. "So you're Illyria? Your name is beautiful."

"Thank you." The poodle grinned, happy, and unfolded their arms to shake hands. "Illyria Scorcros, from the Swiftkeep Union."

"Themis Riken, from Ghostglen." Her eyes noted some light pink discoloration on Illyria's left hand as they shook. "Did you hurt yourself?"

The mark was in two parts, a circular spot with a wing-like attachment – and a curved point that rose up into another wing-like attachment. The two parts resembled a stylized representation of a bird, to Themis' eyes. One with long-legs, perhaps a crane?

Illyria looked at it once they'd released hands. "I... guess I must of. Maybe when I chopped Gemenes' head?" They seemed a bit awkward about the situation, and hid the mark away. "I'll need to work on being more restrained when I hit people. Can't break my arm punching out a demon, right?"

"I'd strongly recommend against it. See you later." Themis parted from the poodle after they entered the school. It wasn't until later that she wondered why the healer didn't heal themselves. It wasn't until even later afterward that she wondered: 'Wait, didn't they hit Gemenes with their right hand?'

--

Gaia De'Tialdo

"Do you intend to make me regret every act of kindness I make for your sake?" Gaia asked the disrespectful teenager as she led him down the halls by his ear. She was his equal in height, thanks to her heels, but significantly stronger than him.

In between grunts of pain, the raccoon managed to speak: "H-hey, it's your god's fault I'm still alive to make you regret that I'm alive! Blame the person actually responsible!"

Gaia's eyelid twitched. She didn't quite know if she ought to have been angrier at Gemenes' assumption that she was religious, that all of his actions were the result of a divine force not stopping him, or the insults he paid to her home town. It was a tough call to make, which was more upsetting.

She tugged him along to a vacant classroom. As soon as she opened the door, she physically tossed him inside without hesitation. As soon as she stepped inside, she saw that she should have hesitated.

Two instructors from the marksman course had opted to use the vacant classroom for a pleasurable encounter. And she Gaia had thrown Gemenes far enough in to have him land on top of them.

Screaming and apologies flew through the air as the instructors hastened to get out, Gaia hastened to get out of their way, and Gemenes hastened to remove himself from the tangle of limbs. There was a mad dash on the part of the adults to get dressed and get out.

Gemenes and Gaia were alone in minutes, the latter more mortified about the situation than the former.

"Probably didn't help that I'm still damp from the rain out there," Gemenes muttered and sat cross-legged on the floor. "Gonna have to wash my clothes again to get the straight germs off me. Ew."

Gaia leaned against the back of the closed door with her head in her hands. "That's... going to be an extremely awkward staff meeting tomorrow." She raised her head and took a deep breath. "But anyway. I've been asked to tutor you in dimensional magic since you tried to steal a textbook."

It was like a candle lit itself in the deepest darkness. Gemenes shifted so that he leaned forward in his sitting, his eyes and ears both pointed her way. She had his complete and undivided attention.

"...So that's the way to get you to show respect? Give you what you want?"

"Quid pro quo." Gemenes shrugged. "You want something from me, respect as an authority figure. I want something from you, knowledge on specific topics. We conduct an exchange, and leave mutually satisfied."

Gaia was silent for a moment, then hid a smile behind her hand. That amount of honesty was unexpected. "How... mercenary of you. Typical for your clan, I suppose." She steeled herself and cast mana into the air for educational illusions. "Alright, the first lesson in dimensional magics is that distance is an illusion. All particles are entangled together in subtle ways, and if you can figure it out...."

The first lessons was to understand the concept that space was just another element. It could be manipulated as easily as air, water, fire, and so on. One day, if he studied and practiced the theory well, Gemenes would be able to fold space into magical homes, storage objects, and manipulate gravity itself.

Gaia could tell – Gemenes took the lesson well. He watched her examples, he listened to her talk, and he worked mana like dough in his hands all the while – like he wanted to practice her instructions while she gave them.

Had he been on the spellcaster course, Gemenes would have done spectacularly. But, his tuition was provided by his clan – who desired an assassin.

It was a shame. But the world was full of such wasteful decisions – her clan council had made plenty of their own. All she could do was offer one of the skills the young man desperately wanted.

Gemenes was good at dimensional magic. By the time her lesson had ended and he was free to leave – he'd already figured how to distort space enough to bend light. A small accomplishment, but more than most students would achieve in a week.

More than she had done when she started, certainly.

--

Mudwall Necropolis, 8546 Years Before DMFA

Illyria Scorcros

Illyria invested in a pair of gloves to cover their new clan mark.

Scorcros herself had come to them in their dreams and had the customary greetings. The old pink wolf seemed pleased with them, even though she saw through his memories what Gemenes had taught them.

"Every dog needs fangs, O Child Mine," the ancient tri-winged succubus had said. "That is the way of the world. Continue as you wish."

It was hard to remember her, Illyria noticed. They had met avatars of Scorcros before – false bodies that the clan leader could puppet to see their will done afar – and saw her in their dream. But they found they could barely remember what she looked like, or the sound of her voice.

What they remembered most was Scorcros' eyes. Like kaleidoscopes, colorful shards that shifted and moved to form patterns continuously.

By tradition, their next one-on-one meeting would happen in Illyria's twenties, when their headwings popped out to signify full adulthood.

Gemenes noticed the gloves and accepted Illyria's explanation without issue. He didn't even ask to see it.

"If you wanted me to see it, you'd show it without me asking. I trust you to be honest, and not secretly be my cousin or something. Now punch me like you mean it." His words on the subject were heartening.

What wasn't heartening was a class project announced by the examiner. Apparently there were too few people on track to graduate, so they had arranged something to give extra credit. It had taken them to perhaps a week before graduation to notice the problem of failing everyone for ridiculous reasons would cause.

Their entire class would take on an adventuring job for the municipal government of Pudrock. 'Clear out the necropolis from any trespassers. Pay respect to those who came before you. Collect relics of the dead and carry on their legacy.'

In the Swiftkeep Union's southern regions, where Illyria came from, they practiced sea burial. It was the same on Lostkeep Island as far as they could tell. But on the Mostalsia mainland, they interred their dead in a great city.

The Mudwall Necropolis.

It was a city bigger than anywhere else in Mostalsia. High-rise mudstone buildings filled out a true skyline that spread out for kilometers in all directions. It was a city of and for the dead – no living people dwelled there. Those high-rise buildings were full of tombs, occupied by corpses that had been rotting for possibly thousands of years.

No one Illyria talked to knew when the necropolis had been founded. Perhaps it had been there since before the Fae created the atoll.

They arrived on gryphon-carts, and circled the city once to find a landing zone and to make sure a giant gryphon hadn't made its home in the city.

To Illyria's eyes, the city was alive with magic that threaded through the very stones. That explained how the mudstone had not eroded away, and how the carvings on it remained like new. It explained how the jungle was kept away from the necropolis.

Seventy-eight adventuring students set out into the dead city once they landed. Their orders were simple: If it moved, hit it until it stopped. Pray at any ancestor shrine you recognized or felt a connection to – then take one of the relics.

The rain was hard when they landed, difficult to see in. Illyria didn't envy the marksman adventurers, their jobs would be hard.

So would Themis', Illyria realized as she sank in the mud from the weight of her armor. Gemenes had the bright idea to try freezing the ground to avoid the same fate.

Illyria counted down from three as they saw that. The rain hit the ice, made it extra slippery. And the second Gemenes moved, he slipped – then sped off into the mud. They decided to just cast an enchantment on their own shoes, so they floated just above the mud.

Flanked by a muddy bird and muddy raccoon, they entered the necropolis. To hit things that were moving until they stopped.

"...So how do these undead animate, exactly?" Themis swung her pole axe and bisected a shambling corpse in half vertically. Its movements ceased. The group had entered the ground floor of a high-rise tomb to start clearing it out.

"There's magic everywhere in the city," Illyria said and waved their wand. The corpse Themis had re-killed floated back into its crypt. With another wave, the lid floated back into place. "It seeps into everything here – that this doesn't happen more often is the most worrying part."

Gemenes simply pointed and created ice spikes to pierce shamblers in the head. It damaged the corpses less, at least. "There's a lot worse things than undead that can be in here, you know."

"Yeah, like vampires?" Themis chuckled and bisected another undead. Both methods destroyed the brain, thus ended the undead's limited threat, not that shamblers posed much of a threat. Except to the paralyzed.

"Like any scavenger that realizes this place is free food. Once these guys open their own crypts, anyway. Wards only keep out insects and plants – animals can still get in here."

"Besides which!" Someone's voice called from deeper in the building. "Vampires only eat living people! Dummy!" A stone-on-stone grinding sound indicated a lid being closed by muscle-power, not magic.

Themis whirled around, her plumage fluffed. "Gretchen – this is our spot! We were here first!"

"Don't hog all the spots, besides which I know one of my relatives is buried here on the eighth floor!"

"Then go up there and leave the rest to us! This is blatant poaching...."

Illyria glanced at Gemenes while Themis shouted at an unknown person that she likely knew from the warrior course. Both of them awkward about being proxy to an argument. They were only on the first large tomb of the first floor, it made sense that someone else would come in from another entrance.

Suddenly Gemenes' eyes lit up in realization, he signaled Illyria to draw closer, then trotted to Themis. When all three of them were together, he spoke. "I thought Gretchen was from Klurid? That she only moved here four years ago?"

Ice ran through Illyria's veins. They heard Themis grip their poleaxe slightly tighter.

Themis turned and signaled for them to follow her. They walked quietly, toe-to-heel, deeper into the tomb. Through open doors, they could see inactive shamblers – they passed by without a backward glance. Something worse than a shambling undead was in the building.

"You know what? Maybe I will! Right after I come by and spit in your... eye...."

Gretchen's voice drifted off as they turned around the corner and came into another large crypt. There were no shamblers in the tomb, but there were pools of blood on the ground. Fresh blood.

Illyria felt like the floor was gone from beneath them as they saw blood on the coffins, around the lids. Marks indicated something had been dragged from the pools to the coffins.

Then they looked up.

A mythos of a species Illyria didn't recognize clung to the roof. A ten-meter long serpentine body, covered in sable feathers with scaled bird-like feet in pairs every fifty centimeters. A squashed, flat head with enormous eyes each the size of a breadfruit, slit-like nostrils, and a wide mouth that had no lips.

"Well, this is awkward," the mythos said in Gretchen's voice. When it opened its mouth, dozens of skulls were contained therein. Including three freshly severed heads – a duck, a canine, and a bovine's. "Didn't expect ya to just... walk on in."

Which one had belonged to Gretchen, Illyria didn't know. They would later find out the mythos was called a 'corpse-collector' – a species that killed to mimic voices, draw in more prey, then kept a larder of decomposing bodies to feast upon.

That would be significantly later. After it was dead.

Their reaction, in the immediate aftermath of discovering their classmates had died to a creature was the same as Gemenes'. The two of them both fired finger-sized shards of ice right into the creature's oversized eyeballs.

Corpse-collector mythos were ambush predators. In a straight-up fight, they crumpled despite their massive size.

At the time, Illyria was so mad that it had the gall to scream in pain, plead for mercy, beg forgiveness, in Gretchen's voice that they went out of their way to make the killing hurt worse. They didn't know until later, corpse-collector mythos had no voice of their own.

Themis got the killing blow. After the three of them had incapacitated its legs and worn it down, she took off its head.

As it turned out – corpse-collector mythos couldn't digest bones. All of the bones of the creature's past victims spilled out of its gullet once its head was off.

They found the bodies that went with their classmate's heads, put into coffins on top of other corpses, like bread in a box.

Of the three of them, only Illyria had a significant anger reaction to the deaths of their classmates. After the heads were paired with their corpses, and a flare-spell used to signal the examiner, they confronted Gemenes and Themis about it.

Themis and Gemenes looked at them, without anger or pity. For a time, it seemed they had no emotion in them at all.

"My anger won't bring them back," Themis explained. "They're dead, and they're avenged. That's all Gretchen would want." While there was sorrow in her voice, there was no grief. She seemed more occupied with cleaning the mythos' blood off her axe.

Gemenes' reply was more angering. "They had two warriors and a marksman in their group – could've handled that thing easy peasy lemon-squeezey. Everyone gets training in how to avoid being ambushed, not just assassins." He shrugged, his face in a 'what can you do' expression. "It sucks, but they didn't do what was necessary to avoid dying, so they died. They got themselves killed, I'm not mad at the mythos for picking the low-hanging fruit."

It seemed callous. It seemed cruel.

But that was the way of the world.

--

Glossary:

Mythos: An umbrella category of non-standard races that lack a unified cultural identity. Mythos physiology is wide, varied, and often unique to the species. Numerically, they are the second-largest creature type.
Corpse-collector mythos: A species of mythos that is not capable of speech naturally. They have to kill speech-capable species and use natural magic to speak in their voice. Ambush predators, they lack true bones – instead having cartilage and keratin pseudo-skelatal structures.
Undead: Corpses animated by magic. Once animated, their bodies cease decaying, and pose a minimal risk to most beings. Identified by solid black eyes with no iris, regardless of the state of decay. Incapable of complex thought, they typically follow the (simple) orders of any mage.
Vampire: A weak type of creature that feeds on blood exclusively. Often the butt of jokes for their weakness relative to most other creature types. Despite their gothic culture, they're not actually undead. Weak to light-based magic and will die if exposed to direct sunlight with some caveats.

---

Adventuring isn't a safe line of work at the best of times. If you don't follow basic safety procedures, it gets even more unsafe.

Remember to look directly up when you enter a new room while adventuring. Might save your neck someday.

Gemenes Journal #3

---

Translated from braille.

--

Distance is an illusion.  I vaguely remembered that, but hearing it from Gaia made things start to click.  It's the foundational principle for teleportation magic, dimensional magic, and most ranged combat magics.

Taken to its absolute height, it is used in the creation of avatars.  The ability to be in more than one place at once.  Since I got started on the tutoring late in the year, I'm presently at a level where I can increase storage space in an item.  But I'll need to experiment more before I can make a magical home.

Wanna try and find a glass egg or something to put it in when I can make a magical home.  I know something unobtrusive would be better -- but I wanna have a good-looking home.

I suppose I should mention that I got an actual journal book from Pa as a graduation present.  He couldn't come to the ceremony, he took off for it last time and I didn't end up graduating.

Themis got her own weapons and armor for her graduation gift -- a walking-axe from her folks, a battle-axe from her grandparents, and the school got her skeljúngur shell lamellar armor for graduating at the top of the warrior course.

Illyria got a staff for their graduation present, an upgrade from their dinky wand.  To me, it looks like an ornate shepherd's crook but they seem to like it.

The Owona clan rep that passed Pa's gift along to me told me that he's requested forbearance on another arranged marriage until I'm an adult by Cubi standards -- they wanted to ask if I knew why.  My guess?  So he could spend another decade or so enjoying the single life while he developed his own Cubi powers.

The rep seemed interested that I didn't even consider the possibility that Pa wanted to mourn Ma's passing a bit longer.  They were more interested when I told them that we'd both done as much mourning as we'd do for her.

I think some emotions I was giving off made them confused.  Hard to be the one in the conversation without supernatural awareness, I realize.  Euberta didn't even care enough to say goodbye, or be direct when she wanted to commit suicide-by-whale.

Which of course made me bring up any possible arrangements on my side.  Yeah, I don't fancy women, but I can hold my nose and get it done to make kids.  And Pa was nineteen when he had me -- I'm not too far off from that.

Apparently there's tentative talks of an additional alliance for the clan -- and I'm on the short-list of candidates to seal the deal.  Apparently, my winning personality is considered attractive to the other side in this.

Now, I'm an asshole, so that narrows down the list rather severely.  Siar being the top of the list.  My intent to subjugate rampaging creatures for a harem likely would appeal to her misery affinity.

Sadly I'm prohibited from even starting my harem until I'm married off, regardless of who it is.  I just want to collect pretty men, is that so wrong?

In more pleasant news, our group has its first assignment.  We're not going super far afield yet, but it's decently out there.  A fort out in the jungle southwest of Pudrock needs more adventurers to guard it -- so that's where we're headed.  It won't be totally boring, lots of foot traffic between Ghostglen and Pudrock to watch.

Despite using a lot of magic, I'm making sure not to pull on Owona's supply.  The longer I go without manifesting her clan mark, the safer I'll be.  There's also the fact that Owona can see everything through my eyes, hear everything through my ears, flip through my memories like they were hers.  Provided she puts in the active effort to do so, and provided I have an established connection to her.

Part of being in a clan with a tri-wing leader is that you're never really alone.  Your leader, and by extension your clan, are mere thoughts away.

Pa told me all about it when Owona explained it to him.  Before he went off to learn how to be an incubus.  Wonder what we'll talk about, me and her.  Wonder how she'll react to... me.  Best case scenario?  She's repulsed by me the way Ma's side of the family was.

Worst case?  She decides I'm too dangerous to keep alive and makes it look like an accident.

It'll probably be somewhere in between those two extremes.

---

Chapter Four: Sanguine Outlook

---

Fort Ginates, 8546 Years Before DMFA

Previc Maidness

It was a bit stereotypical, but Previc loved to munch on bamboo. It grew so fast, there was always some he could reach out and grab. The chewing kept him occupied in the long periods of boredom while on guard duty.

As senior adventurer of the fort, he could have easily holed up in the admin building and grown fat that way. But there was a new cult coming in from the capital, and people seemed to like his odd coloring more. It got them to spend money at the fort, which meant they could get more done.

Previc, his mother, his grandfather, and his great aunt Schmerta had all been adventurers. After two generations, no one was surprised Previc was born with vividly bright colors. He was a panda, and all the white his elders had was replaced with lime green, his hair was the same color.

People on the road from Ghostglen to the capital gave him askance looks every day, but the folks going the reverse had a favorable attitude toward him. At least, on the days he wore trousers.

For some weird reason they disliked lava-lavas on guys. Must've been part of the cult thing.

Still, with the extra money they could afford to request some rookies to help shore up the fort's defenses. They could patrol the entire area again, something they needed to do in case the rumors were true, and old Gyo'Oh was in the final stages of her life.

Because the rookies would come from the capital, Previc wore trousers more often as he guarded the north-east road and munched on bamboo. To balance out the heat retention, he went topless with just the harness for his knives showing under his feather-cloak.

The feather cloak was a magic item, modeled after a red-green parrot's feathers. It let him fly, though it was unwise to do so for long. A panda looked nothing like a gryphon, so Gyo'Oh would surely try to eat him if he lingered.

After days, the intense heat and humidity convinced him to shorten his trousers from ankle-length like the capital-travelers liked to just below the knee. Showing ankles and shins might have garnered some narrowed eyes, but he stopped overheating as often.

Pandas just weren't meant for the tropics, Previc decided. He'd need to go adventuring to somewhere colder someday.

The rookies eventually showed up, when Previc's tolerance for the heat was at its breaking point. They were busy with how many things they had going on for them. An angel-blooded poodle spellcaster in way too heavy robes for their environment, a shepherd's hook staff with gold rings every few centimeters – all centered on a white/pink color scheme. A white mynah bird being dressed in skeljúngur shell lamellar armor, with a weapon the looked like a walking stick and axe had a baby – with a proper axe on her back. And a demon-blooded raccoon who looked almost normal – if not for his glowing red eyes. All the gear the demon-blood had on him was a satchel bag, his clothes would pass for a civilian's.

A spellcaster, a warrior, and presumably an assassin. Unless they made crossbows small enough to fit in a bag, anyway.

Previc bit into his bamboo shoot and waved them over as they walked down the road. As they drew closer, he realized – they had to be kids. On the older side of teenagers, but still. Damn, he was hoping they'd be grown enough to drink wine with, at least.

He greeted them as they stood before him. "Previc, senior spellcaster adventurer. You the rookies we asked for, or wanderers?"

"We were requested to come here," the warrior bird replied. "Themis, warrior adventurer." She didn't look away when he met her gaze. Not challenging, but unafraid.

That would get her killed, it was what got most warriors killed. A lack of fear.

"Illyria," the poodle identified themselves and bowed, "healer adventurer."

Previc's eyebrows went up. A healer! That would be welcome – lots of folks from Ghostglen had scrapes or injured animals. Healing them would net the fort some good publicity and donations.

He slowly looked at the demon-blood. Everything he knew about demons told him the kid was either the child of rape, or far removed from his 'glorious' bloodline. Either would give him a chip on his shoulder bigger than most dragons.

"Sup," the raccoon said. Upbeat in tone, apathetic in his face. "Gemenes, assassin adventurer." The raccoon looked him up and down. "Smash. So, what's happening out here that requires rookies?"

Previc hadn't expected that. It stopped his brain from processing anything for a solid five seconds as reality beat up his expectations and kicked them out through his ears.

"Um. Let... me just give you a tour to start off." He led the way in through the gate and whistled for Dacil to take over the watch. "Fort's not terribly big – we're in the admin office right now."

The road to and from the capital went through the fort – thick bamboo and hardwood jungles on all sides made bypassing the fort all but impossible for anyone who couldn't fly.

"The gate leads directly into a vital structure?" Themis asked as they looked around at the mudstone interior a two-story building.

"It's a new style of building they're calling a 'gatehouse'. The gate opens up to this room with locked doors on either end." Previc pointed at the heavy double-doors on the far end of the room, and the bolted doors on either side. "This way if anyone has contraband or a bounty, we can catch them before they leave."

Gemenes looked above them, with narrowed eyes, then at the walls. "You might want to add arrow-slits and a murder-hole, then."

Everyone around them, including Dacil on his way to take Previc's place, paused to look at him.

"...Slits cut into the walls for marksmen to shoot arrows or spells through without opening the doors, and holes in the roof where you can drop potions or burning oil down." Gemenes rolled his eyes. "Yokels."

That had to be demon tactics, no one else would call something a 'murder hole'. But it was a good idea, Previc made note of it for discussion later.

"Also? A gatehouse is supposed to be outside your wall to be effective."

He also made note that the raccoon, Gemenes, was a bit of a prick.

--

Themis Riken

She understood the concept of a 'gatehouse' once introduced to it. And though his delivery was acerbic, as usual, Gemenes was right that having the gatehouse outside the wall would have been optimal.

Demons could fly – walls meant nothing to them. But many of the mythos and being bandits in the area would not be able to bypass the walls so easily.

Themis took note of the defensive structures in the fort, as she would be expected to know vulnerabilities and possibly make repairs. Clay bricks were used to keep mudstone cores safe from water, as was typical of Mostalsian defensive structures.

Inside the walls there was a wide open space near the admin office and a road down to the gate on the southern wall. That gate was more traditional – no gatehouse there. Altogether there were five buildings inside the walls – the admin office around the north-eastern gate, a tavern adjacent to the southern gate, two multi-building homes and a small one-building home to be used by the adventurers who maintained the fort.

It wasn't difficult to guess where they would be lodged.

Clay, mudstone, and bamboo were the main construction materials. All of which were nearby, for quick repairs. Only the gates themselves, heavy wood reinforced with metal, would be hard to fix.

Previc showed them where they would stay – in a house at the corner of the southern and north-eastern walls. It had a courtyard, and an outside kitchen, but the small house was one room crammed against the north-eastern wall, since the southern wall was steeply curved.

She hoped Gemenes would eventually figure out his idea of using magic to create homes inside objects. Apparently it was how the Fae lived. That would be pleasant to see.

"We got about five thousand people living in the jungle around these parts," Previc explained as he led them up onto the wall around the fort. "Mostly it's herding. Goats, chickens, guinea pigs, that sort of stuff. All the produce comes up from Ghostglen."

The reason for the curved wall soon became clear – along the road to the south were stone pillars marked with a gouge marks at the same elevation. Tidal wave stones. Somewhere out east of Comia Atoll there was an angry god, or petulant Fae that liked to cause earthquakes and tidal waves.

Ginates Fort's south wall was curved to break any lingering strength a tidal wave would have when it reached inland to strike.

"What we're going to have you three doing, at least to start," Previc said and folded his arms under his cloak, "is stay at the fort, guard the gates in shifts. You being here is going to free up more manpower for us to patrol the jungle, and keep an eye on Gyo'Oh."

Themis rested her arm on her walking axe and looked at the panda with narrowed eyes. "Gyo'Oh?"

"That name means 'King of Fish' if my translation's right," Gemenes commented as he sat on the edge of the wall with his feet over the side. He kicked them like he was a child.

Previc narrowed his eyes at Gemenes, then relaxed as he addressed Themis. "Gyo'Oh is a giant gryphon. She's the oldest and meanest giant gryphon in the country, so not a lot of young energetic punks disturb her territory." The panda shrugged. "We stay out of her sky, give her a plate of meat or fish every so often, she leaves us alone. If she's dying...."

"Then her old territory will be available for a possibly more aggressive gryphon to take," Illyria concluded. They looked at the jungle around them. "Or gryphons stay away from her memory, and this place becomes easy pickings for a demon or mythos group."

"Hey, gryphons live to be two hundred years, right?" Gemenes leaned his head back to look at them. "If she's that badass, think she's got any dragons who'll want to gloat when she's dead?"

Themis and Illyria were quick on their response. Synchronized hits to the raccoon's head with the blunt parts of their weapons. Whack!

While he rolled on the ground, they observed jinx-averting rituals. Themis tapped her boot's heels together three times, while Illyria knocked on their wooden staff in a variety of places.

"Thank you," Previc said to Gemenes with a forced cheerful tone. "I was really looking for one more thing to keep me from getting good sleep at night – that'll do the trick just fine."

"Hey, it could be worse." Gemenes rubbed his head as he sat up. "Once she's dead, a necromancer could animate her corpse and have a really strong minion – ow!"

Whack! Themis and Illyria had hit him again. Because he didn't get the message the first time around.

"Wow." Previc put his hands on his hips and forced an overwide smile on his face. "You're just so full of those horrifying possibilities that will give people literal nightmares."

"If we stay here, he's just going to keep doing that," Themis sighed and kept her walking axe ready to whack a third time. "Is there anything else we should know?"

"Work schedules are posted in the admin office, chore rotations are there too. I'll have you guys added by tomorrow morning. For the rest of the day, hang out in the tavern and keep folks from getting rowdy." Previc's forced smile slackened a bit, to seem more genuine, before he walked away from them along the wall.

Once they were alone, Themis glared at Gemenes. "Did you have to make him dislike you already?"

"Having him dislike me is the easiest way to be unmotivated to try and tap that before I'm eighteen," Gemenes retorted. He laid back on the wall and watched Previc leave. "Mmm, lime mooncake."

Illyria's face of displeasure reminded Themis of her mother. A lack of surprise, yet still filled with disappointment. "Are... you sure you're not at all related to Nact'Larn?"

"Iunno, never met my grandparents. Maybe!"

"I don't know who Nact'Larn is, but if they behave like this?" Themis reached down and hauled Gemenes off the ground by his vest. "They need to be compelled to live with monks for the rest of their life."

--

Illyria Scorcros

The life of an adventurer was not constant action, like some storytellers said. Illyria had known that, going in. They knew that most adventurers had brief periods of action that followed long stretches of dull drudgery.

Life in the fort was wildly different from what they had in Pudrock, which had been wildly different from their life in the Scorcros clan fortresses.

In the fort, the only actual doors were the gates, everywhere else had bamboo curtains. The only place with a true floor were the big buildings, because they had second stories – everywhere else had fired clay bricks along their thresholds to keep the mud out.

The south gate was just outside the courtyard wall for their home, so it was the easier of the two guard duties. Illyria noticed that Gemenes often got stationed there while they and Themis were stationed at the north.

Reasons soon became clear. Folks from the capital going to Ghostglen would react well to Themis or Illyria, but poorly to Gemenes. They'd seen folks spit in his direction, or mutter about demon-blood when they passed him.

They asked a traveler about it once, when they were stationed at the tavern as the guard.

A twenty-something guinea-pig merchant from Pudrock seemed overeager to explain. They had an odd symbol on a chain around their neck: a murine figure in profile with a halo over their head.

"See, all folks around her honor their ancestors right?" The guinea-pig merchant said while he nibbled on some leafy greens. "Well, folks compared notes and found out a lot of 'em had a common ancestor, Smotli. They was an angel-blooded being like you – they helped stop the Fae rampagin' what created the atoll. All natural beings, and angel-blooded folks is descended from them."

Illyria folded their wings a bit closer to their shoulders. "Alright... but my friend is a naturally colored raccoon...?"

"All that means is some Smotli-descended dumbarse laid with a demon-blood. I'm sorry, but that drop of demon in him taints his whole soul." The guinea-pig merchant drank some water and continued to nibble on his greens. "Shame. But that's the lot he drew."

That night, when Illyria and their teammates were at home for dinner, Illyria relayed the information.

"Oh yeah, I've known about that since I moved to the mainland," Gemenes said as he ladled guinea-pork stew into bowls for everyone. He was the designated cook of the trio.

"There was a Smotli priest on the gryphon-cart ride from Ghostglen to Pudrock," Themis added. "They like to sermonize every conversation."

Illyria's expression went flat. "Oh. So I'm the one who went this whole time without knowing."

"The school did not allow them to preach on the premises, so many sheltered students weren't aware of them." She accepted her bowl from Gemenes, and sat on her cot to eat.

The house was small, one room. Originally, there were bunks in the walls where two people could sleep – the obvious design principle being 'one awake, two asleep.' But their schedule didn't match that setup. So Themis had used bamboo to make cots for them to sleep on. The original bunks then became shelves.
Gemenes handed Illyria their bowl of guinea-pork stew and filled a clay mug with his serving. He rested the mug on the lid to the pot and hefted both up as he left. "Gonna put this back near the stove, then get dressed for my shift."

In the home, they were a lot more casual. Gemenes and Themis were more comfortable going around in smallclothes from the heat – while Illyria stayed fully dressed as much as possible.

What Illyria found odd was that Gemenes' clan symbol hadn't appeared, unless it was in a very personal spot. They'd made sure they wore their left glove as much as possible – and knew Gemenes would want to cover up the spot where it was too.

Owona's vividly green symbol, against his grey fur, would stand out like a beacon.

Still, there was more important things to do for Illyria. Such as enjoy their guinea-pork stew.

"Man, this stuff is great." They enjoyed the way the meat fell apart in their mouth. The only veggies they could easily identify in the stew were the peppers, but it was on its way to be one of their favorites. "I've never heard of guinea-pork, but I'm going to tell my clan about it when I visit home."

"Do they not have guinea-pigs in the Swiftkeep Union?" Themis asked, then ate some soup.

Gemenes returned to the house to put on his blood lily patterned lava-lava and vest, then left without a word.

Illyria raised their eyebrow. "What? Of course we do, they're pets." They chewed some of the meat, and enjoyed the burst of complex flavors. "How's that relevant?"

Themis lowered their spoon from her beak to her bowl, and looked at them with sad eyes. "Guinea-pig. Guinea-pork."

"I don't... don't...." The pieces snapped together all at once. Illyria held the bowl of soup away from them at arm's length, their pleasure had become horror quicker than a cut could bleed. Their mouth still filled with delicious, horrifying meat, they turned to look at Themis. "No."

"Yes." She nodded.

Images of squeaking, adorable little potato-shaped animals filled the same space in Illyria's head as delicious, flavorful meat. "No..." They pleaded with Themis.

She put her spoon down, and laid her hand on Illyria's shoulder. "Yes." For all her overpowering strength, Themis was gentle about the truth with Illyria. She didn't seem to enjoy Illyria's dismay, but neither did she hide from it.

Illyria was going to cry, they could tell. They could feel the tears well up as the memory of precious family pets was intermingled with how utterly delicious they tasted. The smells of the stew called to them, and their hungry stomach all but forced them to pull it back, then plant another spoonful in their mouth.

"That's right. You can feel sad about it, but you still have to eat." Themis returned to her meal. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

"I can never look at Twinkle or Goose the same way aga-a-ain," Illyria talk-chew-sobbed around their revelation.

"Don't weep with your mouth full, you'll choke."

The worst part was the guinea-pig merchant at the tavern. Illyria had assumed, a guinea-pig being that sold guinea-pig pets – how cute! But it all became sinister after the revelation of guinea-pork.

It had been the most horrifying, yet simultaneously the most delicious stew Illyria had tasted in their life. So it gave them a fair bit of shame when they woke up in the middle of the night a bit peckish, and went out to the stove to get a mug-full of stew.

Gemenes had purposefully set the pot up so that his teammates could grab more, and so could he when his break rolled around.

Illyria saw a bat-winged shadow on the wall, and waved to it over their shoulder. They figured Gemenes was on the wall to enjoy the triple-full moons of the night. It was almost as bright as daytime, so vision was spectacular.

They thought that until they saw the shadow had stopped. And a few peculiarities with the shadow. For one, the bat-wings lacked thumbs. For two, the figure had two rather horn-like protrusions from their head.

When Illyria turned to look at them, they didn't see a raccoon with bat wings, but a tall alpaca. Female from how they folded their arms under their bust to emphasize them. Their fur and leathery wings were dark red – maroon? – with spirals of an almost-white pink throughout.

They had ibex-like horns that grew from their head, and wore black leather clothes, like it was a night of shopping for them.

Viciously sharp teeth glinted in the night as they smiled. No words were exchanged between poodle and alpaca. After a momentary stare-down, the alpaca fanned their wings once.

Without noise, without visible effort, the demon alpaca took off into the sky. High, high into the sky, then flipped to soar beneath the clouds. There was no sudden shadow as a gryphon swooped upon them, no cry as the beast challenged them.

Illyria watched them go, and realized what it meant. If no giant gryphon attacked them, then that meant the 'Gyo'Oh' that ruled the skies in the area had to have died.

Which meant every creature with expansionist ideas would come out of the woodwork to take her old territory.

Even so, Illyria had to act. Their grandmother was a firm believer in priorities. The power of focus, to put things in their order of importance.

Emotionally confusing stew first, then a report to Previc about the situation second.

--

Glossary:

Gryphon: A creature-type encompassing three races. All gryphons combine mammalian and avian traits, typically feline limbs and tails, with avian beaks and wings. They tend to have a mixture of fur and feathers around their bodies. Some have feline ears, but not all. All races of the creature-type are called 'gryphon' in-setting, by themselves and others.
Gryphon (A): Bipedal, anti-social, with tool-using hands and powerful magical abilities. They tend to create insular societies that focus on documenting the events of the world without bias. Lifespan unknown, presumed long.
Gryphon (B): Quadrupedal, social, with tool-using hands/forelegs and some magical abilities. They live about as long as beings, and frequently cohabitate. Frequently used as couriers, mail-delivery, and operating gryphon-carts. Described as behaving like teenagers even into adulthood. Can range from one-meter tall at the shoulder to four-meters tall at the shoulder.
Gryphon (C): Quadrupedal, solitary, and non-sentient. They range in size from eleven meters tall at the shoulder to sixteen meters tall at the shoulder. Their tremendous size makes them a threat to even powerful creatures like demons and dragons. They're territorial, and will attack non-gryphon airborne targets in their airspace without fail. Gryphons of this type live for around two hundred years, are known to have innate magic-resistance, and respond to the commands of smaller gryphons.
Gryphon-cart: A carriage or cart pulled by a gryphon as a form of safe air travel/cargo movement.

--

Cast:

Previc Maidness: Race, being. Species, panda (off-color). Age, 41. A spellcaster adventurer, veteran of multiple decades in service. Can retire peacefully at any time, but wants to beat his mother's record for years in the Guild. Gemenes would call him a twunk, has a butt that won't quit. Preferred element, plants, water, earth.

---

An alpaca... a demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you... run!

Oh Illyria. City kids getting introduced to the realities of farming is always such a schadenfreude-rich treat. X3 You can raise something with love and still find it delicious!

... Honestly, a good life lesson for 'cubi, come to think of it.

Quote from: Liatai on June 18, 2024, 04:24:06 PMOh Illyria. City kids getting introduced to the realities of farming is always such a schadenfreude-rich treat. X3 You can raise something with love and still find it delicious!

... Honestly, a good life lesson for 'cubi, come to think of it.

Fa'Lina would probably agree.  Illyria's not-quite a city kid, but they're still hella sheltered.

It's a good life lesson for creatures in general, what with their omnivore status.  At least one group has to have tried farming beings for tasty treats somewhere on Furrae.

Gemenes Journal #4

---

Translated from braile.

--

Previc, middle-aged, panda being (lime green instead of white fur).  Easy smash, 8/10.

Dacil, prolly going towards his upper twenties, natural color black cat being.  Apparently married, pass.

Ject, lower twenties, very faint angel-blooded otter being.  Hot, but doesn't like me looking like a demon-blood.  Smash, though 6/10.

Everyone else at this fort is out of contention, not being dudes.  Or Illyria.

When we set off from Pudrock I made sure to clarify to Illyria and Themis that no, barring an explicit arrangement from our folks -- I'm not intending to be romantical with them.  Themis was never in contention but I figured she'd be outright insulted if I only addressed the point to Illyria.

They found my use of the word 'romantical' enough to assume I was joking.

Fort life is expected to be boring, so I've been occupying myself while doing stuff I know forward, backward, sideways, diagonal, and spiraled.  Cooking, cleaning, throwing snowballs at folks about to fight.

They're usually so startled by snow being in the jungle that they forget what they were about to fight over.  It's hilarious.

Anyway.  I've been basically dismantling the Baneel spells the assassin course taught us.  Tweaking things, examining the spell's architecture relative to the spellcraft Illyria's been passing on.

Assassin spells are very pragmatic, some of the first are ones to let us see in the dark, or track stuff.  If you know what your target's footprints look like, you can highlight them to your vision.  Some spells let you see soundwaves, other stuff out of video game UI.

But there's also spells about killing.  Damaging spells, paralyzing spells, spells to neutralize creature abilities.  I'm reasonably certain that that kangaroo rat that tried to kill... will try to kill DP thousands of years from now, and that snake mythos undead that goes after Kria were both trained in this style of combat.

Killing is not especially difficult.  Demon hide can become diamond hard, but magic that bypasses those kind of defenses still hurt.  Acid magic, lightning magic, extremes of temperature.  All of those take time to set up, however, and demons can kill people fast.

Still working on dimensional magic.  I think what's keeping me from crossing that last hump is the amount of power needed to create a extra-dimensional space of livable size that can persist.  They need magic to work, and have to store magic for when you're away from home.  Making a magic battery takes a decent amount of oomph.

Little old me can't muster that much oomph.  If I tapped into Owona's power, I could probably do it.  But then I'd have my clan mark manifest, and be at risk of someone taking my head off.

I don't know if that 'all Cubi are inherently evil' thing came about before or after the war, but I'm not keen to gamble with my life like that.

However, there's a tradeoff.  These Smotli folks?  They're giving me the 'we're building up to eventually do a holy war' sort of vibes.  Smotli's priests are giving people a reason to make bat-winged folks or just dark off-colors the other.  When people are told that they're part of a special club and other people aren't, bad things happen.

Having that magical home would go a long way toward making sure I'm not jumped in the middle of the night.

Getting into contact with Owona is a massive unknown, though.  All the other clan leaders that survive the war have been characterized.  Their goals, their wants, their bearings are all stuff I remember.

But not Owona.

As I'm standing here, at the gate, getting some of the most hateful looks I've seen on people I haven't crop-dusted on purpose, I've come to a conclusion.

Me being afraid of the transfinite amount of unknowns around Owona isn't worth dying.  I need to have a place I can go to hide from these people when they get the torches and pitchforks.  I need to have a place I can take others whom these holier-than-me jerks will try to mob.

Time to dip into the clan's juice reserve.

---

Owona is terrifying in hindsight.  She's an unknown variable to the creator of the DMFA setting.  Amber herself doesn't know much about Owona.  The multi-dimensional faerie creatures are more of a known quantity.  Terrifying.

Chapter Five: It's Raining Blood -- Hallelujah!

---

Fort Ginates, 8546 Years Before DMFA

Themis Riken

A demon was spotted scoping out the fort in the night. Illyria had seen them, and watched them fly away.

Fly. Away. In a known gryphon's territory.

The obvious reason that the demon wasn't attacked was the gryphon was dead. She was old, by Previc's description, it would be possible – perhaps likely – that she had finally passed.

With travelers at the tavern for the night, they couldn't swarm like an upset ant hill, Previc waited until the morning when the travelers went on their way to call a meeting at the admin office.

The need to scout out Gyo'Oh's nesting site for signs of her corpse was proposed as a priority. Themis, as a rookie adventurer, refrained from suggestions and only asked questions. She kept her hands free to physically stop her teammates from deviating from that. They both had muzzles she could fit her hands around.

It is the purpose of the young to learn from their elders, as the warrior course taught. And she couldn't risk Gemenes' madness infecting the fort's leadership.

The adventurers of the fort stood around a table with a map of the surrounding area with the fort at the center.

"...We haven't seen Gyo'Oh soar past the fort in a couple weeks – makes me think she's somewhere up here." Previc dragged his finger to the north and west of the fort.

Most of the adventurers in the room were warriors and marksmen, Previc and Illyria were the only spellcasters, and Gemenes was the only assassin. They offered insight on where an attack would likely come from the demon.

All perfectly sensible.

But Illyria happened to step out of Tethis' reach for a moment and spoke up: "If Gyo'Oh is dead, we need to tell everyone around here to stock up on medicine and bug repellents."

Themis tried to stretch to grab Illyria, but Gemenes happened to step away from her in the opposite direction. Of the two, he was the most dangerous to leave unchecked. She had to leave the poodle to make fools of them.

Every more senior pair of eyes in the room turned to Illyria half-lidded. "And why's that?" Previc asked, his tone flat.

Illyria floundered for a moment under the assembled gazes, and cleared their throat. "Because... corpses attract flies, disease-carrying scavengers, and may carry sicknesses of their own. A corpse of a giant gryphon's size would take decades to decompose, even with animals eating it."

Previc was silent for a moment, before he nodded. "That makes sense. I'll send word to Pudrock that Ghostglen's going to need a lot more healers too." He looked at the map and stroked his chin. "You say decades... how long are we looking at?"

Gemenes slipped from Themis' grip by way of freezing her hand to her side. The tricksy devil. "A giant gryphon is bigger, but lighter than a blue whale. Those tend to take between fifty to a hundred years to decompose, so probably around forty years or less."

Themis' plans had fallen to ruin. Both the talking fools had spoken up. She'd have to work harder next time, she decided as she scowled.

"And how do you know that?"

"I'm from Lostkeep Island, my mother, elder sisters, and aunts talked about whales all the time."

"Oh right, the whaling Amazons." Previc stood up. "Forty years for the corpse to decompose, ancestors." He rubbed his forehead, dismayed. "That thing's going to be attracting wild animals and hungry creatures for the rest of our lives, and most of our kids'."

Themis considered the options before them as she waited for instruction from the senior adventurer. Butchering a creature of Gyo'Oh's size wasn't impossible – but it wasn't feasible either.

Most likely new creatures would move in to fill the void she left. And the rural farmers in the area would fall victim. Travel between Ghostglen and Pudrock would be dangerous.

"This is all assuming that she's dead," Illyria said. "She might just be sick, or injured."

Previc nodded. "We need to get a visual on her." He put his hands on his hips. "I'll take the winged rookies with me – we can all fly, and for the first time in literal decades, the air's safe to do so. One hour just to see what condition Gyo'Oh's in, and where she's resting."

There were grumbles from the more senior members – Themis was not among them. She agreed – having flyers who could traverse the distance safely would be good for their intel.

The meeting was adjourned, and the three of them left soon after.

Themis was on her way to the north-east gate per her shift order, when she found her way blocked by two other warrior women. They were both of shorter stocks – a weasel and a hedgehog.

"Chosi," Themis nodded to the weasel, "Thena." And the hedgehog received her greeting similarly.

"Eeey, legs-for-days," Chosi pointed both her index fingers up at Themis with her thumbs raised. She was a queer being – red-headed, with brown fur save for white under her chin and down her chest. Chosi opted for a more civilian-like outfit as she was skirmisher-style fighter. The dagger – big enough for Chosi to call it a sword – across her back gave her a barbarian-style look. "Haven't had a chance to talk, you know."

Themis raised her eyebrow high. "Incorrect, all three of us have had chances to talk. But you lose your senses and Thena has to try and coax your brain into working again."

Chosi stiffened and developed a leftward lean. Like she was part opossum, and had instinctively played dead.

Thena patted her on the shoulder. The hedgehog was a shield fighter, a round shield was her only weapon. Thena was similar to Chosi in general build – the differences in their species gave her a longer nose, shorter tail, and a dense mass of quills that replaced her hair and covered her entire back. She was dressed without armor, in halterneck clothes like if she had wings.

"Forgive her, she considers opportunities wasted by her as not counting," Thena explained, her voice softer and more humble.

Themis rested her hands on the head of her walking axe as Chosi collected herself. She was younger than either of the women in front of her, and yet she had herself put together more. Odd.

"You got this," Thena offered encouragement to the weasel.

Chosi took a deep breath and steeled herself. "We're going to be finishing up our tour here around the same time you and your group are. We wanted to know if your group could use a couple more warriors?"

"Yes," Themis nodded. "Your inclusion would be most welcome. I'm learning that I can't keep my friends from embarrassing us on my own."

"Awesome! ...Now for a bigger question." Chosi put her hands together and held them in front of her face. "That poodle. Are they a guy, or a girl?"

"No," Themis answered honestly, and walked around the ladies. "I hope that helps."

She knew what she had done. Her imagination of what the weasel's face looked after that kept her smiling and cheerful for the hour until the flyers returned.

--

Gyo'Oh's Aerie

Illyria Scorcros

Illyria had never seen a giant gryphon up close. They had seen the smaller quadrupedal ones, so they figured the giants were just like them but bigger.

And, to an extent that was true. But seeing a real giant gryphon was different.

From the air, the three of them could find Gyo'Oh's aerie easy – a semi-flattened section of jungle with piles of trees arranged around a nest. But that wasn't where Gyo'Oh lay.

She was a kilometer away, at the end of a trough dug into the ground by a crash landing. Her bright blue and orange plumage was muddy. Slashes on her limbs, small and minor for her, produced creeks of vital liquid that could fill houses. The blood from her most severe wound could fill the entire interior of Fort Ginates, for example.

As they got closer, Illyria could feel the creature's heartbeat. They could feel the wind direction change according to Gyo'Oh's breaths.

She wasn't dead yet.

The three of them circled around Gyo'Oh. She had been injured in the side, where there was a severe penetrative injury. Even if they wanted to, even if it was wise to attempt, Illyria couldn't have healed such a wound. It was bigger than they were with wings outstretched, and gryphon magic resistance applied to healing magic too.

Gyo'Oh's beak, long and ideal for stabbing, helped Illyria realize what kind of bird she was influenced by – a kingfisher! That explained her name, at least. If there was any consolation for the great beast, it was that the rain had not yet begun to fall.

...And there it was. Droplets that became rain that became a downpour, all in the span of thirteen seconds.

Previc didn't have much trouble with the rain, his flight was magical. Illyria's feathers weren't waterproof, so they had to use magic to stay aloft – a simple umbrella spell.

Gemenes seemed perfectly at home in the rain, his leathery wings untroubled by the water.

Illyria followed close behind Previc to look for any sign that they would land or leave. Over the rain, it was impossible to hear words.

Gyo'Oh caught sight of them from the ground, and tried to rise. She fanned her wings, and created a cloud of mist from disturbed raindrops. But she couldn't lift off the ground. In minutes, she stopped – exhausted.

Previc glanced back at them, his hand up to give a signal, when he suddenly did a double-take with his eyes wide. He turned and flew past Illyria with mana on in his hands.

Sudden turns weren't Illyria's strong-suit with flying, vertical climbs were their thing! It took them a long time to swing around and see what had caused Previc's reaction.

The demon from the night before had come back – she and Gemenes were locked in combat. Their fight had gone unheard because of the powerful rainfall – perhaps the demon had meant to pick them off one by one.

Gemenes had multiple gashes across his wings and limbs from the demon alpaca's claws – but his blood magic kept him in the fight. He collected a stream of his blood and gathered it in his hand to use as a whip – when it hit the demon, her wool began to burn away, as if struck by acid.

That kept her from closing in on him, even though she was a faster flyer. The whip could crack faster than she could fly.

Previc made use of the rain with water magic. He flew up higher than Gemenes or the demon and collected all of the rain he could to create needle-like projectiles of water.

Illyria didn't quite know the spell he used, but they changed the shape of their umbrella spell to have it collect water. Previc could pull from the collected rainwater for bigger projectiles, while Illyria worked on a wind spell.

Their goal was to create gusts of wind to catch the demon in her wings – use their greater surface area to disrupt her mobility. To a degree, it worked!

The demon alpaca lacked the maneuverability to dodge a couple lashes of Gemenes' blood whip, then took a large water projectile to her head – one of her impressive ibex horns was chipped from the impact.

Illyria didn't know if demons could feel damage to their horns – like, with pain – but they guessed she was at least aware of it. They guessed that because the demon whirled up at Previc and them and began to climb.

Previc abandoned water for wind. He cast a twisting wind spell that caught rain which made it visible.

Illyria joined in – as that spell they knew. The two spells twisted around each other until they merged – and created a downward cyclonic effect. Rain and dust gave the cyclone color enough to block the demon from view by the funnel.

For a second, nothing changed – there was no sign the demon had been blown away. Then the funnel began to swell near the base – before a blast of red-black magic punched through the wind.

It was spread out in rays, obviously a multi-target spell of some kind. One of the red rays glanced Illyria's staff and charred the wood. Another hit their left arm and burned away their sleeve below the elbow – even trashed their glove. A black ray struck Previc in the face, afterward he fell out of the air.

Down into the jungle next to Gyo'Oh – the still living but badly hurt colossal creature.. Healer instinct told Illyria to dive after them – so, their wings folded up and they plunged.

With the wind gone, the demon came for them again. With her keratin-sheathed hands transformed into claws, and fangs bared in rage, she aimed to shred Illyria.

Gemenes made his return. He slammed into the demon in between her wings with both feet, wrapped his blood whip around her neck, and stretched it taut.

The pair of them veered off out of Illyria's vision, smoke rose from the alpaca's neck.

Illyria managed to catch up to Previc before he hit the ground – his feather cloak kept activating for a second or so to slow his descent. As soon as they reached him the cloak deactivated so Illyria had to glide down to the jungle floor.

Previc's face was in a bad way – his fur was pretty much gone, his skin and muscles had been burned away in places to expose his skull. He was losing blood fast. But the panda wasn't dead yet – so Illyria went to work.

Item the first, a spell of augury to see what Previc's body told itself about the injuries. That spell they kept on their staff so they had their hands free.

"Alright, cleansing spell first, then seal up blood vessels. Cleansing spell again, begin reconstructing soft tissue...."

Trees nearby shook, the ground rumbled with an impact.

Illyria looked away just in time to see Gemenes and the demon locked in combat – the raccoon still behind her with his blood rope around her neck. The demon alpaca was crashing him into any objects she could to try and dislodge him.

One of those happened to be Gyo'Oh's shoulder.

They watched in shocked horror as the dying gryphon moved again. Quick in the way only predatory birds could be, the kingfisher gryphon had the two of them pinned in her beak. A quick flick of her head struck them against the ground, then she swallowed them.

The only upside to the whole situation was that Gyo'Oh slumped back onto the ground afterward, to continue her drawn-out death.

--

The Chairport

Owona

Nihi'lir's son finally tapped into the clan's power in desperation. As their connection had formed, she learned so many interesting things in such a short period of time. Even if it were not customary for a clan leader to meet with their descendants on establishing their mark, Owona would have.

Gemenes' dream wasn't stable as she projected herself into it. He wasn't asleep, he was unconscious, his memories played behind her eyes like she had lived them. The boy had been eaten by a gryphon – he was asleep in her throat, just before the epiglottis, so he still got air.

There was such cacophonous noise in his memories, it didn't shock her that his dream was the same. His dream was of an odd building of steel and glass, an overcast sky outdoors, and a seemingly endless throng of people who passed in and out.

Owona appeared in the dream dressed humbly. Earth tones and no beautifying accessories. She was the only mole in the strange building – the vast, vast majority of the people around her were humans.

Given his lineage, it made sense for Gemenes to know what humans looked like. What didn't make sense was the lack of reaction to her massive size. She was fifteen meters tall, able to stand up in the glass room without ducking, and the crowd moved around her like she was a normal sight for them.

A soft voice called overhead: "Now departing for Buggering Nowhere at gate sixty-nine. Now departing for Buggering Nowhere at gate sixty-nine."

The dream was so amazingly detailed. Multiple distinct cultures indicated by clothing, body language, scents – so few dreams even involved scent – and emotions.

Owona, a succubus of almost ten thousand years of age, could pick up emotions from each of the people, like they were real.

"Because they are real. And yet, none of them are."

Owona stopped, and turned her head to look at the source of the voice. There was Gemenes, her descendant, seated in a black-leather seat across from an empty matching chair, with two couches between them to create a conversation square.

The couches were occupied by an arctic fox, a tall and obese human with glasses, a human teenager with odd splotches of discolored skin, and a black cat that seemed to have nails driven into his neck.

Names came to her, as did memories of lives that most definitely were not Gemenes'. As she looked at each of the people around her descendant, she could see through their eyes to look at her.

The emotions from them were all so different.

"Please, sit. Let's talk." Gemenes steepled his fingers and nodded at the empty chair. "Clear the room, we have a guest."

Owona blinked – and everyone was gone. Everyone. Suddenly she and Gemenes were alone in a room large enough to fit multiple tri-wing cubi within. The chair Gemenes had indicated changed size to accommodate Owona's dimensions.

The ancient clan leader looked around, then down at the juvenile incubus. No. There was no way that was what he truly was.

"Are you a fae?" She asked, standing, and rested her hand on the chair intended for her. "No incubus could have control of a dream like this without years of training."

"No. I'm not a faerie." There was a moment of tension when his memories were tinged with blood and pain. "Not a real faerie, anyway. I'm something different, it's not really important now."

"I disagree." More information became known to her – so much information, it was like when she had first ascended. A rush of memories from all her descendants. She remembered the lives of bakers, bankers, candlestick makers, and more.

Out of necessity, she sat and started to shift through the memories.

"If I could keep that from flooding you, I would." Gemenes didn't lie, but he didn't tell the whole truth. Memories of journal entries, tinged with a fear of rejection so dire it made Owona's heart physically ache, and fear of the unknown.

"And if you could, I would thank you." Owona examined her descendant. They could not be more opposite. Her wings, feathered and colored seafoam green. His leathery, the color of blood – just like his father. "Nihi'lir has always thought you were truly unique. I see why."

Warm feelings for his father leaked from Gemenes like a faucet, tinged with pain and a shadowy presence in Euberta's shape. The boy had issues.

"Normally this meeting would be me discussing our clan, and your place in it. I would give you advice on where you are now, and how to comport yourself." Owona steepled her claw-like fingers in a similar manner to Gemenes. "Yet, in memories of our world through the eyes of another, I see something worrying."

Gemenes tilted his head. "Is it the war?"

"Somewhat. But... that is far away." Owona waved her hand, as if to shoo the concept from their presence. "I must ruminate on if it would be wise to attempt to change the events of that war. No, what's worrying for me is this."

Owona extended herself into the dream some more, and created her symbol in the air. Before their eyes, the green of the symbol red-shifted and took on a new shape. An oval with two spiked wings at the top, and a hollow space in the center.

Gemenes arched his eyebrow. "Siar dying to Hizell bugs you?"

"It does. As it should you." Owona crushed the symbol in her hand, and when she opened up – there stood the image of a succubus. A feline, cream with brown point pattern, white hair, black feathered wings with red flight feathers.

And Owona's clan symbol on her kneecap, visible from her revealing dress.

Gemenes radiated shock, surprise, confusion.

"Siar is not a tri-winged cubi clan leader at present. She is one of my descendants." Owona narrowed her glowing eyes at the raccoon. "She is your grandmother. Leader of your branch of my clan."

He didn't know that. His memories flashed over everything about their world, and he didn't find so much as a hint. There were gaps in his knowledge.

Good. That lent credence to his assertion to not be a fae. The fae were omniscient, they simply pretended not to be.

"Now I must ponder, if it is best to let you go with her when she ascends, if I should invest my power in you so that you remain while your bloodline departs my clan... or I should take more drastic measures." Owona's massive eyes cast a green light on the scene as she manually sifted through Gemenes' memories. "The clan Siar would create is indicative of her personality as I know it – she chafes under the rules, the structure I lay out for my descendants. As you do."

There was silence for a moment as they both pondered.

"...I cannot imagine Siar would leave your vast knowledge unexploited. Similarly, I would have no intention not to use it myself, regardless of what happens." Behind her eyes she saw effects like magic created by the power of the natural world – metals, silicas, electricity. "But I can feel this dream ending – you will wake soon, in a gryphon's throat."

Gemenes seemed to have shrunk in his chair as they talked. He shrunk more as Owona watched, like he would grow so small he would vanish altogether. "When... will I know your decision?"

"When Siar ascends, if you keep my mark or gain hers." Owona interlocked her fingers. "There is no need for you to know sooner."

In Gemenes' memories, Owona saw another feline figure. Blue, white, with vivid green eyes. Cyra. Cyra wasn't even born yet, but Gemenes' memories told her Cyra considered her a friend. Owona, in the future, would save her life multiple times. Owona saw her race's population slashed down to less than twenty thousand. She saw her peers vanish under draconic claws.

And then Owona saw her own death, planned by Cyra's daughter. Owona would outlive Siar by a mere four centuries, if that.

The future he saw was thousands of years from them, she had to put it aside to focus on the immediate.

"Goodbye Gemenes Tuler. We will either speak when you grow your headwings, or never again."

Gemenes' dreamscape collapsed, and Owona drifted through the dreams of her clan members. Perhaps she should speak to Siar, when next the impetuous feline laid down to sleep.

They had so much to talk about, suddenly.

--

Glossary:

Tri-wing: An ascended state of being for cubi, signified by the growth of a third set of wings on the hips. Tri-wing cubi are massive, being fifteen meters tall regardless of their original height. They are beings of magic, being mostly made of energy. To be a tri-wing is to be a clan leader, empowering their descendants and affording unique abilities known as quirks, a clan-wide emotional affinity, and a unique clan symbol. Tri-wing clan leaders also allow cubi wing-tentacles to naturally develop monstrous heads at their ends.

--

Cast:

Owona: A mole tri-winged succubus. Very stealthy, lots of unknowns. She is so skilled at hiding and keeping secrets that the author of DMFA doesn't know much about her. Is keen on minimalism and earth-tones.
Chosi: Weasel warrior adventurer. Skirmisher combat style, goes a bit gaga over powerful warrior women.
Thena: Hedgehog warrior adventurer. Defender combat style, wants to be a wingman but doesn't quite pull it off.
Gyo'Oh: Dying kingfisher gryphon. Lorge. Hungry.

---

Alright, Gemmy. Which sinking ship do you wanna sail on? The SS Baited-into-Familacide or SS No-Onscreen-Appearances?

Ticket prices are going up, gotta choose quickly.

I think I recognize three of those other Chairs!  :mowhappy

Ooooh, a canon where Siar and Owona are related. I look forward to seeing where this 'cubi tragic intrigue shall lead. When Gemenes isn't being digested. Ouch! Those new warriors have such little idea of what chaos they want to become party to.

I really, REALLY love how you show Gyo'Oh as not just this immense creature, but also a force of nature, as all kaiju critters should be. And how you threw in the logistics of dealing with the death of a creature that big!

Quote from: Liatai on June 24, 2024, 06:15:44 AMThose new warriors have such little idea of what chaos they want to become party to.

The pursuit of friendship and muscular women often leads to chaos, that's the tradeoff.

Quote from: Liatai on June 24, 2024, 06:15:44 AMI really, REALLY love how you show Gyo'Oh as not just this immense creature, but also a force of nature, as all kaiju critters should be. And how you threw in the logistics of dealing with the death of a creature that big!

You're a big help with that!

I figured gryphons of that size have to have a pretty active heart, so people could feel the vibrations of it even far off.  And that's why they're prone to dive attacks; it's a lot easier to get far enough away for the vibrations not to alert prey.

Gemenes Journal #5

---

Translated from braille.

--

Not needing external light to see in the dark is so good for writing in a creature's throat.  Demon alpaca went past the epiglottis and down the esophagus, hope she can breathe noxious fumes.

The Owona and Siar thing is going to be something I ruminate over when I'm not in danger of being digested.  My clan mark is also in a really annoying place -- it's gonna basically force me to wear trousers for the rest of my life.  Full ankle-length trousers.  Ugh, the homophobia of it all.

Right now I'm going to use this time to plan out what I want to do.  I'm going to go feral and use that oomph to get myself out of this mess.  Theoretically I could try teleporting, but I really don't wanna risk being in two places at once the old fashioned way.

My best bet seems to be to use ice magic and freeze all this water vapor in Gyo'Oh's breath.  Seal her esophagus and windpipe closed, escape while she's choking to death.

But how long would I have?  I don't know the strength of her coughs versus the strength of ice.

The best course would be to make the blockage spiked, so that even if she coughs me up she'll bleed internally and choke on that.  The diagnostic spell I know from Illyria fizzles on Gyo'Oh's magic resistance.  Seems that defense even extends to the inner tissues.

Ancestors damn this teenage body.  I need to focus, I need to get out and it's having emotions.  Fine.  Fine!  I'll get them out on the paper, then put them aside.

Some part of me hoped Owona would be different from Ma and her side of the family.  Ma never shied away from telling me how much of a burden I was.  How much me being a boy made her life unnecessarily harder.  Specifically, that I was a boy and acted like her, like my older sisters.

None of them liked that.  And they couldn't claim I was a girl at heart because I had no interest in going whaling with them.  I liked doing men's work, but I acted like a woman to them.

They didn't hide how much my being me made their lives harder, how much it'd been easier if I had died as a baby.

Pa was great, he was always happy to see me.  I shouldn't use past-tense with him, he's still around.

But Ma.  I only got her respect when I broke her nose.  And even then, all that got me was more room to reject chores if I was feeling bad.  I didn't get an explanation about why she had me so late and begrudged me for living.  Didn't get no goodbye neither when she left.

Pa didn't either, I shouldn't be so upset by that.

I really hoped Owona's side would be more like Pa.  I really hoped they'd want me.

Siar probably won't be any different, Pa didn't even share stories about her.  She never visited.

It'd be nice to have a family that was willing to do more than just tolerate me.  Closest I can manage will be those idiot friends I have, and Pa, I guess.

There.  Emotions out.  Stop crying, stop being a screwup, and get out of the dying gryphon ya damn idjit.

---

Remember to smile at children.  They need to know people are happy to see them.  They need to believe they're loved, or they'll grow up knowing they're just tolerated.

Quote from: Chairtastic on June 24, 2024, 10:00:48 PMAncestors damn this teenage body.  I need to focus, I need to get out and it's having emotions.

Oh buddy. You're an incubus this time around. You haven't felt the half of it yet when it comes to emotions. X3

Chapter Six: Visceral Reactions

---

Fort Ginates, 8546 Years Before DMFA

Illyria Scorcros

Previc had been unconscious even after they'd healed his head up. His hair would have to grow back naturally. Gemenes had been eaten by Gyo'Oh.

Illyria was alone. They had to make a decision.

It bothered them how much it didn't bother them that they chose to pick up Previc and fly back to the fort. On the flight back, their mind played out what Gemenes last moments in Gyo'Oh's stomach would have been like.

Likely, Gemenes would have immediately started to choke from the lack of air. At the best possible outcome, he'd have been unconscious when the stomach produced acids to digest him – if Gyo'Oh could still manage that.

He most definitely was dead by the time they landed at the fort and were surrounded by older adventurers. Previc was taken to the admin office to rest, while Dacil the black cat marksman asked Illyria to describe what happened.

"The demon I saw last night attacked us in the rain. It attacked Gemenes first, but then Previc went to help him." They sat in the meeting room on the second floor of the admin office, and made sure to cover their clan mark with their gloved hand. To make it seem like it hurt, still. "The demon decided to attack us because we kept annoying her. Shot a spell at us, almost took Previc's head off, hurt my hand."

No one said anything. Dacil stood with his hands on his hips, Themis lingered near the stairs with a couple of shorter warriors.

"Gemenes got the demon's attention, and they fought too close to Gyo'Oh. She... ate them." Illyria knew they left out some details, but it seemed unimportant. "Smashed them against the ground and swallowed them."

"...We're gonna have to wait for Previc to wake up to verify this. No one here but you saw the demon." Dacil shrugged. He was a defiance of the slender archer archetype, perhaps because he used a longbow and a greatbow as the situation required. He was the single most muscular feline Illyria had ever seen. "We have to have secondary verification before we can tell the Guild to hold a funeral service."

Gemenes was dead. Eaten by a gryphon. That had been something Illyria knew from the moment it happened. Only a few spellcasters ever had to the skill to survive in environments as hostile as a creature's stomach, and only for minutes at a time. Gemenes was not a spellcaster.

Gemenes was dead. No more guinea-pork stew. No more lessons on hand-to-hand combat. No more commentary about the smashing or passing of every moderately attractive man they met. No more antics.

"Yeah," Illyria said, their voice shaky. "Okay." They wanted to throw up. They wanted to beg Scorcros for the power to revive the dead, even though they knew she didn't have it either.

Dacil left them alone, which left Themis able to approach.

"...He died well?" She asked them, without preamble.

Illyria remembered how Gemenes had landed on the demon, and started to choke her with a whip of his own blood. "Yeah. Gave the demon hell, kept her off me so I could save Previc."

"That is all we can ask." She sat beside Illyria and indicated their shorter guildmates to sit as well. "You knew him better than I. Do you wish to be alone, or should we stay?"

Illyria took a deep breath and felt the numbness start to leave. They replayed how Gemenes had quickly agreed to help them, how he had not once treated them like they were weak. How he had respected them more than their own parents.

And he was dead.

Illyria could feel wetness on their face, they could feel their kohl smudge.

"I don't wanna be alone right now," they answered Themis and pulled their knees up to their chest.

Themis scooted closer, and put an arm around their shoulders.

--

Gyo'Oh's Aerie

Milda Woebetide

Being in that gryphon's stomach had been unpleasant – the smell! She would have the stench of gangrene and acid in her wool for weeks.

However, the incision from where aunt Ea had cut her way out of the gryphon's stomach the first time was still there. An infection had caused the stomach of inflame around it, but once out Milda had no trouble navigating to the hole her aunt had made in Gyo'Oh's side.

Milda emerged from the gryphon's flank covered in viscera and acid burn marks. Her black leather clothes, as it turned out, offered no protection from acid blood whips.

She let the hard rain wash the blood and stomach juices away as she found a puddle to check her reflection in. It was only upon finding such a puddle that she realized the rain impeded the reflection.

So she had the idea to use her wings to block the rain. After a solid minute of looking at the darkened puddle, she figured that one needed light to see reflections.

A flame burst to life in her hand to let her inspect the damage. That half-breed's acid blood had burned through her wool and left acid burns on her skin – likely, they had been deeper, but her regeneration had kicked in.

"Friggen, ow!" She touched her neck and recoiled. The rows of exposed skin were still tender. "Thought the half-breed would be the easy kill. Ugh." She'd foolishly thought the angel amongst them was the biggest threat – the half-demon raccoon corrected her with vigor.

She mused about how strong the half-breed's parent must have been for a half-breed to be that strong.

Milda's musings were stopped by Gyo'Oh – the gryphon had begun to cough and thrash about. She used her wings to jump and glide to the treeline in case the massive creature moved in her direction.

Gyo'Oh had been bleeding, dying, for hours. She barely had the strength to gasp and paw at her throat before she rolled onto her back and went limp.

The powerful heartbeat that Milda had felt at all times in Gyo'Oh's proximity went quiet. The air stilled, moved only by the rain.

Gyo'Oh was dead, at last.

As easily as breathing, Milda took to the air and flew 'round to the gryphon's head. "What did you choke on that killed you?"

The universe answered her in short order. Out from in between the old legend's beak came a winged raccoon. Wet from saliva and covered in frost of all things. It was that annoying half-breed who had refused to die.

He crawled on hands and knees, exhausted from the looks of things. An annoyingly formidable foe, laid low by the weakness of his being heritage. A full-blooded demon, such as Milda, would have been back to their full stamina already.

She drifted down, the rain covered any noises she made. Her keen ears picked up the half-breed's words to himself, however.

"Demon bitch... dead. Gryphon monster... dead." He flopped onto his side, content to languish in the mud and blood emulsion. "Time for drowsy go sleep-sleep."

Milda landed without noise. She fanned her wings so they blocked the rain from her and the half-breed. "Sorry to interrupt, but... which 'bitch' is dead again?"

The half-breed turned his head and looked at her with one dark eye. Black with a red iris. A good trait to have in a demon family – it was ominous. Dangerous.

Wasted on him. Beings would never appreciate the beauty in such eyes.

"I'm in need of practice, it seems." The raccoon muttered, and flopped his head back down to the mud. "Watch out, I'm so incompetent at killing people Gyo'Oh might just suddenly revive."

"You think highly of yourself. You killed Gyo'Oh did you?" Milda smirked, extended her claws and picked the half-bred up by his hair. "How did you do it? If it's funny, I'll let you live a day longer."

"Hard... to talk...." The half-breed hadn't cried out when Milda pulled on his scalp. He spoke in barely-audible mumbles. Even for Milda's hearing, he was on the cusp of being unheard. "Closer."

Milda's smirk deepened. "Do I look stupid enough to fall for that trick?"

"Yes."

Her smirk vanished. She spent the next five minutes kicking the stuffing out of the half-breed. He was durable, at least.

The more she beat him, the more things didn't add up. Even a half-breed like him should have recovered midway through her attack, and at least thrown another attack at her. His wings were right, his eyes were right, but his abilities were all wrong.

Something didn't add up.

Then she saw it – a mark on his lower leg. Unnatural green, in an unnatural arrangement. A cubi clan mark. He wasn't a half-breed at all, he was an incubus juvenile!

She stopped mid-kick and looked at the bloody raccoon. Rain cleared off mud and blood rapidly, which was how Milda had noticed the mark. Her mind raced as she tried to remember the boring lectures her aunt had made about cubi clans and ones they had good relationships with.

Was he one of them?

Which was the better option: Continue to kick him to death, or bring him back to her aunt for possible ransom?

After a minute to think on it, she reached a conclusion. "I'm gonna take you back to my family, we're gonna hold you hostage, and if you don't get ransomed we're gonna eat you. If this isn't something you want, say so now."

The raccoon simply gurgled at her.

"I knew you'd agree it's the most sensible plan. And we're off!" She reached down, grabbed him by his hair again, and took off into the sky like he weighed nothing.

--

Telmun Village

Ea Gnashir

Ea had been in a bit of a cold war with the Adventuring Guild for decades, soon to be a century. The Guild and Ea were mortal enemies, each eager to destroy the other. She was the matriarch of an alliance of three demon families bound by marriage, protectors of a phoenix and being settlement in the jungle.

An incredible feat, for an angel.

Ea's mother had laughed at her when she adopted her three younger siblings rather than leave them to fend for themselves – as they had. Ea's mother would have grown so bitter if she'd seen what clever cultivation of relationships and arranged marriages had bought her.

Their unique combination of traits, being a horned horse – the name 'unicorn' had started to become popular for them – and an angel with mostly white, some pink, coloration made them seem naturally benevolent. It made beings and phoenixes fail to see her as a threat right away.

The demon families she had carefully acquired with her siblings' marriages acted as foot soldiers, and Ea handled the administration of the village. So far they had acquired the residence of over four and a half thousand people – without a great wall to protect them like a true city did.

But because Telmun was a 'creature' village, Mostalsia afforded them no representation, granted them no legitimacy, and permitted the Adventuring Guild to build a fort on her land. They thought she was weak enough to be intimidated by adventurers.

That would change..

Ea smirked as she pulled scrolls out of alcoves in the walls of her office. Magical lights sat in sconces near the windows and in an elaborate ceiling ornament called a 'chandelier'. Even if she needed light to see, they would provide amble visibility. The scrolls she picked were about the anatomy of gryphons.

She had pulled several similar scrolls from her impromptu library earlier in the week, when she had resolved to kill the aging Gyo'Oh and win glory in so doing.

Ea envisioned how people would flock to her village after it became known they could kill gryphons. The dirt streets would be paved with fired clay, the bones of the gryphon would be used as scaffolding to build towers – perhaps even a ziggurat.

She imagined her office – expanded to include one, nay, two balconies. Polished stone floors, stucco paintings of her victory on the walls. A simple administrator for perhaps a century more, then she would start to move when the republic began to crumble.

Democracies seldom lasted a year, after all.

Ea daydreamed of this, while her eyes flitted across scrolls of how gryphon carcasses were butchered. Then her mood was fouled by a knock at her door.

"Aunt Ea?" One of her nephews called from outside. "Milda's back. She has a prisoner."

Ea's mood had brightened, then dimmed rapidly. She rolled up the scrolls, adjusted her fringed white shawl and blue tunic, and departed.

She left her nephew to guard her office – a practical purpose but also an exercise in patience for young demons – and went down through their home to the dungeons. On her way, she smiled and waved at beings carving elaborate patterns into stone columns, she greeted children with big hugs, all things expected of a benevolent matron.

Their home was an artificial cenote. Ea had stumbled upon an ancient insectis hive, abandoned by the underground creatures during the calamity of Comia Atoll's formation, and made it the site of her village after she it up. The deepest regions, where once the larva had been deposited to grow, was refurbished into a dungeon.

With more than enough unused space to become a prison once the village grew larger.

Ea fanned her wings to clear her path of dust as she approached the dungeon level in use. Desiccated husks occupied cells as she passed. A few more years of aging, they'd be perfect jerky. A niece of Ea's leaned against the wall between two hexagonal cells – one in use, one empty.

Red and pink Milda, her sister's daughter, an alpaca like her father with spirals of pink from Ea's side, looked a mess. Her wool was missing in places, in particular her neck, her clothes were torn up, one of her horns was chipped.

In the cell beside her was a winged raccoon being, perhaps demon blooded. He was in significantly worse shape, and would likely require a healer soon. His clothes indicated he came from up north, Lostkeep Island most likely given the lava-lava and lack of shoes.

Ea swept up one of her feathered wings to screen Milda from the unconscious raccoon, a gesture of privacy, to talk. "Are you alright? Were you attacked?"

Milda shook her head and brushed her wooly hair out of her eyes. "Adventurers from the fort came to look at Gyo'Oh, one of them was that pink angel I told you about."

The matron's attention snapped to focus, while her face remained relaxed. Young people needed to see confidence in their elders, to feel confident themselves.

"This one kept getting in my way," she flicked her head toward the prisoner. "Got on my back, was using acid spells to get through my skin." She touched her bare neck and winced. "We got too close to Gyo'Oh and she swallowed us. I got out the same way as last time, but that one," she pointed through Ea's wing at the prisoner. "Somehow got Gyo'Oh to choke to death."

Ea's smile faded. Just a bit. "Hmm. And the angel?"

"Gone by the time I got out of Gyo'Oh. Probably back at the fort."

"I see." Ea flexed her wing so she could glance at the raccoon through her flight feathers. How had a child cause Gyo'Oh to choke? Would it seem plausible? Who would people believe had killed a legendary gryphon – her, an angel of considerable power, or a teenager? "Why is he still alive, then?"

"He's an incubus, I figured we could get a ransom from his clan."

Ea's ears flicked up. An incubus? As an adventurer? That meant one of perhaps nine clans, all of whom would indeed pay well for a ransom. She lowered her wing to glance at the prisoner again, then narrowed her eyes at Milda.

"Sweetie... I don't see headwings."

Milda crossed her arms and looked away.

"Did you almost lose a fight to a baby cubi?"

Milda tried to scrunch her neck into her shoulders.

Ea covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone." She turned to look toward the prisoner. The insectis had used clear wax to keep their larva confined, while stone bars did the same job under Ea's rule. "Where is his mark?"

"Left calf muscle."

A bit of telekinetic magic had the relevant leg yanked up into the air for Ea to inspect. "Owona's clan from the looks of it. Assassins, mercenaries, adventurers." Ea raised an eyebrow. "Why would the adventurers at that wretched fort work with an incubus and an angel?"

"...Maybe they didn't know?" Milda scratched the side of her face. "I don't remember seeing something that vividly green on him when I was lining up my dive attack."

Ea turned to look at Milda with a pained smile. It was so hard not to laugh. "Dear, he survived one of your dives?"

Milda's face turned redder than her wool. "Um. Yeah. I think he felt the gap in the rain as I approached." The girl's gaze dropped to her feet. "Please don't tell anyone."

"I already promised that, dear. Just... practice a bit more? If your father knew about this, he'd put you through combat training again."

"Y-yeah. So." Milda cleared her throat. "Maybe they didn't know he's an incubus."

"If you didn't see the mark before you fought, you fought hard enough for him to call on his clan leader's power." Ea stepped away from the cell. "I'll get to work on a ransom notice. You did great." A quick hug for the younger girl, encouragement to bring more ransoms to the village. "Did he have anything with him?"

"A satchel bag with magic on it, I gave it to Enkida to check for traps and tracking spells."

Ea was about to say anything when there was a rumble followed by a rush of ice-cold air. In the distance, she heard someone shout 'My neck!'

"That was so smart, I'm proud of you." She hugged Milda again.

--

Fort Ginates, 8546 Years Before DMFA

Themis Riken

Gemenes' funeral service was small, as she had been told field adventurer funerals would be. An effigy of reeds and bamboo, small enough to fit in her hand, was constructed to be thrown into a fire after she and Illyria said their final goodbyes.

It was a pleasant, if cloudy day for a funeral. The rain would come later, and would be light when it came.

Previc, fully healed by Illyria's magic, officiated the funeral as senior adventurer. He, Themis, and Illyria stood in the courtyard of their small house while final respects were paid.

His part as the officiant was to tell them how Gemenes would join with his ancestors, and be spiritually appended to their own. For they were alive because of him, he was a blood brother of theirs.

Gemenes would have been a horrible honorary uncle for any children Themis had, she decided. Not because he would be hurtful or mean, but because he would have taught them wild mischief. She would never have known rest.

"...I knew him for only a few days. Didn't have a very high opinion of him." Previc spoke his last words to the effigy. "But he squared up to that demon, made her regret every second she didn't kill him faster. Find peace among the ancestors, kid." He held the effigy out to them, for the next speaker.

Themis and Illyria reached out for the effigy. When Illyria flinched at the unintended contest, Themis followed through. She held the effigy and glanced at Illyria. "You knew him the best. I will give you the honor of the very last goodbye."

Illyria retracted their hand, and nodded without a word.

She looked down at the effigy, and imagined it was Gemenes' face she looked upon. "He was wild. Unwilling to tame himself for anyone or anything. He studied deep magic, even though assassins aren't taught that. He fought without weapons, even though assassins are best known for their blades." Themis ruffled the tuft of rough reeds atop the effigy's head. "There are so few assassins who can say they died with honor. He is among them. A mold breaker, to the very end."

She had spent all day imagining how she would say her final goodbye. When the time came, all the words she had rehearsed seemed equally worthless. Instead, she clutched the effigy tight in both hands and brought it to her chest. A goodbye hug.

Illyria took the effigy when Themis passed it along. They were trying so hard not to cry again, it wrenched Themis' heart to watch.

"...He became an adventurer because his clan wanted him to know how to fight." Illyria's voice shook with the words. "They wanted him to get experience so he could be an assassin for them after a couple years. I became an adventurer because my clan wanted a healer, and I wanted to see the world." Illyria took a deep, shuddering breath. "I asked him for help, asked him if he could teach me to fight. Our clans were almost enemies, I thought he'd laugh at me."

Themis didn't take her eyes off Illyria as she realized; she had lost a friend. They seemed to have lost their best friend.

"But he didn't. He took me seriously." The shakiness in their voice went away. Tears flooded from their eyes, but they smiled. "He was the first person in my life to take me seriously." Like Themis, they opted for a goodbye hug of the effigy.

All goodbyes given to the effigy, Illyria threw it into the fire. As it burned, it was hoped that the feelings they had imprinted upon it would cross over to the other side. So the departed would know they were missed, that they weren't forgotten.

Themis watched the effigy go. Devoured by the flames Gemenes had cooked with. When she glanced at Illyria, she saw they watched the smoke drift away on the wind.

"He's going to be so smug he died young, while we're all wrinkled and stooped when we get there," they said with a smile.

"Probably." Themis welcomed the small bit of levity in an otherwise somber mood. "Though if they let us keep our canes, we can wack him."

--

Glossary:

Telmun Village: A village constructed in an abandoned insectis hive. Protected by three demon families all bound together by marriage to an angel coven. Not officially recognized as a settlement by Mostalsia.
Insectis: An insect-like creature species known to live underground. Proficient with earth and fire magic, extremely difficult to kill, and protective of their underground dominions. Quite possibly the single most anti-social race outside their own ethnic groups.
--

Cast

Milda Woebetide: Race, demon. Species, alpaca. Age, 16. A young demon, not yet ready to go on her first rampage. Serves her aunt as an enforcer to get job experience and further her family's prestige.
Ea Gnashir: Race, angel. Species, unicorn. Age, 599. A matriarch of a rare angel coven, who used her siblings' marriages to band together three demon families to support her goals of a settlement. Has political ambitions, and isn't afraid to use her family as tools in ways they would have wanted.

---

This takes place before the faeta gem was invented, by the way. At this point in time, the only way to know if someone's dead or alive is to talk to them. Which, when shapeshifters are about, is pretty hard to guarantee.

Gemenes Journal #6

---

Translated from braille.  Written by Ea Gnashir.

--

What a delightfully simple cipher you used for this journal.  I hope you'll forgive me for reading what's basically a diary, but I had to determine if you were a threat to my family.

I don't allow people to play games with my family.

Yes, I have read your past entries.  You reference a war multiple times, and make slight reference to events in the future tense.  Are you time-displaced, little incubus?  That is known to happen, though not usually in this direction.

Whatever the cause, you have my empathy for the situation with your mother.  Mine was similar to yours, though that is the norm for angels.  We're geared to see each other as threats with no deeper connection.

I bucked that trend successfully and have done my best to replicate it with my siblings.

When your ransom is paid, I would like it if our two families could at least not be enemies.  Maybe, if you could forgive Milda for her actions, we could be friends.

It would be nice to have allies in Owona and her clan.  It would be nicer to have such a curious mind, eager to learn, such as yours as an eventual peer.

-

I believe I've made an error, young incubus.  There was no reply from Owona about your situation, so I sent one of my nieces to question why.  It seems the last settlement I knew of for your clan was abandoned decades ago.

Owona's reputation for stealth and hiding thus represent a problem -- I have little to no idea where to send the ransom for you.

Lostkeep Island is obvious, but where on the island exactly?  It would likely be best to simply wait for Owona to send a representative to us, since she can see through your eyes.

-

So.  It's been a year.  I don't know what the hold up is, by your previous entries and our limited talks your father should have been here at least. Could it be that you are blocking Owona from looking through your eyes?  No, on re-read, you clearly say she has to put in active effort to do so.

So she has simply not deigned to look.  That will be a problem.

I don't know if your friends in the fort believe you to be dead, and that's why they haven't attempted a rescue.  It does not matter, the fort has been abandoned due to a tidal wave which hit higher than the marker stones accounted for.

I had my niblings build a new marker stone, where the old southern gate used to be.

So you can date this entry to your memories, we've just fully secured Gyo'Oh's corpse yesterday and have started to bring our loot back to the village.  I hope you enjoyed the gryphon-down pillow we gave you.

You've spent a year in a cell, chatting up guards when I assign them, and they tell me how bored you are.  Which is why I arranged to have scrolls and puzzles brought to you.

All our cells are warded to disrupt creature abilities and magic on the inside, so that might affect your ability to contact Owona in hindsight.

-

So you know, when this entry is written it is the morning of the second anniversary of your stay with us.

I'm hopeful you will agree to my proposal when I come down to talk to you today, so in anticipation of that let me tell you something about us.

Our village, hopefully soon to be city, has around four thousand seven hundred people living here.  You know the village is reusing an insectis hive, but the topmost layer is open to the surface.  I had holes punched through the roofs there to create pseudo-sinkholes.  Just big enough for sunlight and rain to come in.

More of my citizens are starting to use the term 'geofront' for our larger pseudo-sinkholes, since you told your guards about it.

My clan is made up of four families.  Mine, the Gnashir (I still don't know why you find that funny), includes myself and my younger siblings.  It's unusual for angels to have families with other angels, so I don't expect our other relatives to ever approach us.

You've met many of the Woebetide family, they're the red-fleeced alpacas.  You might've heard from my nibling's boasts that they like to rampage in glorious hunts.  Find a worthy prey, and hunt them down.  Their durability is absurd by demon standards -- my brother-in-law Aras once found himself stuck under a landslide, and punched his way out.  I suspect some dragon got mixed into their genes at some point.

The Decapitante family are the delightfully confusing ones I've sent your way a couple times.  Demon phoenixes, or as the beings call them 'night-angels'.  They use their natural shapeshifting to confuse people, and then their wings to fool them again.  They use this confusion to create moments of weakness in their enemies -- and then strike.  Rather like cubi in that way, hmm?  When they rampage, they seek to cause some mischief, leave a calling card, and depart without detection.

And lastly, the Crossbones family.  Demon ferrets, the very idea is enough to make some adventurers quit the field.  Ferret and demon aggression go together like oil and fire.  My little sister has quite a lot of practice keeping them under control.  There rampages seek to create pandemonium in a population -- they love to cause a panic.  Don't let their aggression fool you, they like to trick their enemy into thinking they're mindlessly violent to surprise them with their cunning. 

My extended family is large.  We look after each other.  We've looked after you for two years now -- doing so in a more official capacity would be ideal.  You make my niblings laugh, and your keen mind makes it easy to justify to my siblings that I take you on as a student.

We do want you among us.  But only if you'd want to be among us too.

---

Ea's such a nice lady.  Don't you want to do what she wants you to do?  Isn't it so nice how she puts you in a situation where your natural tendencies are what is considered proper?  Doesn't it not feel like manipulation at all?

Chapter Seven: Blood of the Bond

---

Telmun Village, 8544 Years before DMFA

Ea Gnashir

The best laid plans always hit unexpected obstacles. Ea had learned not to leave her plans too inflexible, lest someone or something muck it up. The minute, nay, the second your plan included a single point of failure it ceased to be a plan worth pursuing.

Redundancies, backup plans, plausible deniability – all the tools she had learned to work with as she built her influence.

After two years, she'd finally cracked the code on Gemenes' journal. A twenty-six letter cipher for spoken common, with certain letters – such as thorn, eszett, or modified vowels. It was maddening, context ruled everything from verbs, tense, to the entire nature of certain words.

It fit what she knew of Gemenes' character to have words spelled the same but possess different meanings. Only a madman could think having read and read spelled the same was called for.

From there, it was easy to read his previous entries and deduce some things – Gemenes knew of future events, but too far in the future to be useful. Owona and someone called 'Siar' were relevant to him, and he was unhappy with his family life.

She inserted an entry into some of the unused pages to tip her hand that she could read his cipher, and to give the appearance that she was on his side. Having an incubus in her household would be better than not, but it was unlikely her siblings would agree to give her exclusive access.

So, she called a meeting of the heads of the clan's families.

Their meeting room was deep in the old hive, where natural light didn't touch. What the insectis used the room for was unimportant, Ea and the other family heads saw that it was sturdy, deep in the ground so spying would be difficult, and had enough room for them to fight their way out if necessary.

A few banners, a table of sculpted stone, comfortable chairs and plenty of wine made the room bearable for long periods.

Ea sat at one side of the square table, as the head of the Gnashirs. Her peers were her brother-in-law Aras Woebetide, a red-fleeced alpaca with ram horns curled around his ears; Meliora of the Crossbones, Ea's sister-in-law, an indigo-furred ferret had adopted the tube curl hairstyle of Ea's family; and Harald Decapitante, a night-angel.

Such a delightful term for 'demon phoenix'. Demons with feathered wings, owing to their phoenix descent. The calm demeanor of phoenixes reduced the bloodlust of demons to afford more self-control on average.

Harald was a hoatzin phoenix, a crested bird of multiple dark colors on the red side of the spectrum.

Once everyone was seated, and wine was poured, Ea created spheres of magical light to fit into crevices in the ceiling. Originally, amber crystals had provided light, but they did so with a high-frequency hum.

Nobody liked the noise enough to keep them.

"I'm pleased to say that we've found a source of clay rich enough to pave a road connecting our territory to the Pudrock highway and Ghostglen," Ea started out, her fingers interlocked to support her chin. "I'm making arrangements to have making the bricks serve as a punishment detail for the kids, something mind-numbing so they can reflect on any major screwups they have."

Meliora grinned at her from across the table, her rows of teeth glinted in the light. "A few days of that will have them beg for the belt." Her outfit was a floor-length halterneck tunic parted at the legs and secured to her body with multiple leather belts. She had quickly adopted the youth's fad of using metal buckles to hold them on rather than knots.

"I know – but it'll work best if you all hold strong and make them follow through. The belt hasn't been working as the kids get older, so we need to change tactics."

Aras scratched his ear with a frown on his long face. He still wore the black leathers his family were seemingly religious about, but had added feathers from Gyo'Oh's corpse to the shoulders and neckline. "Wouldn't a week in the cells be better?"

Harald sat with his back straight, his hands clasped, and only moved his eyes to look around. He wanted them to notice his new outfit – a spiderweb patterned long tunic as the women wore, made of arachspearian silk.

He was the only one at the table of the second generation, Ea's nephew, and wanted to show off his family's wealth. Harald was patient, and his elders were amused by his eagerness.

"Putting them in the cells is too much boredom we've found." Ea shook her head, the white-and-pink tube curls of her head hit her nose from the effort. She'd need to see a stylist about that. "They get so bored that they get up to mischief almost immediately after being released. And the lesson is never properly learned."

"Hmm. I support this." Aras looked across the table at his nephew-in-law. "Harald, how did you get spider-silk to glitter like that?"

"Oh, uncle, I'm so glad you noticed!" Harald fanned his wings to make his tunic flutter. "We found that if we mixed in powdered silver into the arachspearian's meals -- "

"You've been feeding silver to spiders?!" Aras visibly puffed up in alarm and anger.

"Well, we tried gold but it's too heavy – slips right out of the silk. Platinum's too similar to silver, and not enough people know what it is, so silver's the most common-sense option."

Ea calmly reached over to her brother-in-law's shoulder and kept him from launching himself at his nephew-in-law. "I'll talk to Ya about that later on, alright?" She promised him. Ya, Ea's little sister, would explain to Harald the issue in words he could understand.

In between sandal slaps.

The glittering silver lines in the tunic did look gorgeous though, but perhaps copper would be a more appropriate metal.

"Anyway, I wanted to bring up this last bit of new business before we get back to old business." Ea steepled her fingers and sat straight. "There's been no reply from Owona's clan about ransoming the juvenile incubus. However, my assessment of him is that we might be able to convince him to join us."

Meliora thinned her mouth and raised her eyes. "An incubus? Those over-emotional weaklings?"

"Weaklings is relative, dear. Owona's clan are one of their martial groups – specializing in assassination, mercenary work, and adventuring." Ea kept an eye on her peer's body language.

Harald seemed keen to her having an angle on this. Aras stoically waited for her to get to the point. Meliora seemed doubtful.

"I'll be blunt, I mostly want him for the utility he'd bring along. This incubus has an interest in learning advanced magic that I can use to control him, he gets along well with the youth so there's not likely to be spats. And he feels unwanted by his family outside his father, so there's little loyalty to his clan to worry about."

Demons struggled so much with having no family loyalty, so if she'd said he had none they'd have reacted badly. But by including the boy's father, they accepted the situation without issue.

"Wait a minute," Aras held up a finger. "That raccoon has been trying to seduce all of our sons, grandsons, and nephews when they go to guard his cell."

"Yes, uncle," Harald rolled his eyes. "Because they tend to have the keys." The tone of 'duh' was present throughout.

"But why only the guys? What, our daughters aren't worth seducing?"

Ea pinched the space between her eyes. Ugh. "Your daughters wouldn't tell you if he tried because you would fly into a rage and kill him. Whereas your boys thought you wouldn't even pretend to care."

Aras pointed at her and opened his mouth to rebuke her, then froze that way. With his poofy woolen hair over his eyes, it was impossible to tell why he held up speaking until he sat down, dejected. "You're right. I should've been willing to kill for my boys too. I'll try to be better."

Meliora patted his hand.

Harald moved only his eyes to look at Ea. "Cost-benefit analysis time. Do the benefits of investing in this incubus outweigh the costs? And what's our risk look like?"

"My math puts the risk as being low, as he doesn't have the education or inclination to be terribly destructive if freed." Ea counted off her reasons on her fingers. "He hasn't been abused here, we made no effort to attack the fort after Gyo'Oh died and before the tidal wave hit. He's so starved for affection he'll likely latch onto the first person to show active interest in his opinion and welfare."

Meliora smiled and glanced at Aras. "Sounds like he'll have some big buttons to push."

Aras' reply was a toothy smile.

Ea rolled her eyes and smiled. The raccoon would be welcome among demons, assuming he could take and give punches.

--

Milda Woebetide

"And if I say no?"

Milda stood beside her aunt Ea as she made a proposal to their prisoner.

Gemenes Tuler, as his name had eventually been pieced together, had not been idle in captivity. He had filled the boredom of his cell with training – pushups, sit ups, kata of some foreign martial art that emphasized flexibility. Two years of that, day in and out, had helped him build a physique.

He almost looked like a demon, with those beautiful eyes – eerie in the dark.

Ea and Gemenes, Milda observed were almost like inversions of each other. Aunt Ea was white with pink spirals – all the unicorns in her family were like that, whirlpool zebras – dressed regally in whites and blues. Gemenes was more ragged – his clothes worn down after two years, and his coloration was more red-black-grey.

In the two years since Milda had brought him, the raccoon's hair had grown long and his beard started to come in. When one of Milda's cousins showed him his appearance with a mirror he said he 'looked kinda like that guy from Guns N' Roses', and refused to explain what he meant. He'd taken to letting his curly hair obscure his eyes, like the Woebetides did, but usually only one at a time.

Milda hadn't changed her look overmuch. Aside from the addition of a black leather coat on top of her leather clothes for extra protection and pockets.

Ea pulled her head back to feign bewilderment. "You would stay here until I got sick of you, then let Milda eat you alive."

"Oh that's a terrible idea since the last time she and I scrapped I gave her a lovely basic necktie." Gemenes grinned, wide enough to show his teeth. Not bad for an incubus, but not demon-grade intimidating.

Milda frowned and glanced at her aunt. "Basic?"

Ea smiled at her and patted her shoulder. "Corrosive. Acids and bases are both corrosive, but bases work better against organic compounds like wool and skin." She turned to Gemenes. "Interesting that you know chemistry enough to alter acidic magic to accomplish that."

Gemenes sat cross-legged on the floor of his cell. "I had good teachers."

"If you accept this offer, I could make an honest attempt to be counted among them."

"...I'm guessing you'd want me to stay here, wherever this is, until I'm trained enough to be allowed a longer leash?"

Milda felt her mouth twitch. He was pretty, and educated, but still an idiot.

"Of course not. You're free to bolt as soon as you see daylight." Ea swept her arm to gesture upward. "But... where would you go?"

Gemenes had kept his gaze locked to Ea's face, but dropped it down to her shins at the question.

Milda could practically see the wheels turn in his pretty head. His clan hadn't come for him, his friends hadn't come for him, and he'd definitely have been declared dead after two years.

"Owona's clan has plans for me. Work I'm expected to do, up to an including making babies for the clan. Are you okay with that?" Gemenes' tone was soft. Perhaps the years of confinement had finally worn his wild nature down a bit.

"...Are you?" Ea tilted her ears to convey confusion, another feint most likely. "Being a family isn't all take, no give. What would they give you in exchange for this work?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or did they not tell you?"

He said nothing.

For the first time, Milda felt a pang of pity for the incubus who had brought shame on her. He had accomplished much without his family's support, it seemed.

"They... paid for my tuition at the adventuring school." Gemenes spoke after a moment of thought.

"That's not a reward insomuch as it's an investment, given you've said they had plans for you." Ea crouched down to be closer to Gemenes' eye level. "If they offered no reward... what punishment did they threaten you with to make you obey?"

Again, Gemenes said nothing for a while.

"I... guess they wouldn't let me see my Pa again. He was off learning cubi things, I don't know where."

Behind her wool, Milda arched a brow. A flimsy excuse, hastily cobbled together.

Ea picked up on it too. She tapped the side of her muzzle, with a contemplative hum. "This whole time... you haven't thought about your future at all, have you?"

"No." Gemenes answered quickly. "Even if Owona paid my ransom, she's still deciding what she wants to do with me. I've... only met two members of my clan. They... just told me what the clan expects. What I wanted barely factored in."

Milda couldn't imagine that. Having only ever met two members of her family, yet expected to keep her present duties? The spite would have gotten at her in no time. "...That isn't how it is here," she said. It was risky, to speak without prompting from Aunt Ea – she could blow the entire plan. "Expectations are clearly defined, and built around our wants, not the other way 'round. I serve my aunt because I like her, and want to help her."

Ea turned to her with a beaming smile, then went back to Gemenes. "Is that enough to convince you?"

The raccoon closed his eyes and reflected for a moment. "I... would like to propose an amendment to the deal." He opened his eyes with a stony expression. "You let me out of this cell, I attempt to commune with Owona and ask her some of these questions. Such as if she does intend to pay the ransom or not."

Ea shrugged. "And, what? You'll give us your final answer pending her reply?"

"Yes." He scooted forward and extended his hand through the cage. "Do we have a deal?"

"You will need to be bound, if you haven't agreed to our terms yet. But... yes. We have a deal." Unicorn and raccoon shook hands. Afterward, Aunt Ea shook her hand. "If you do agree, though? You're getting a deep scrub first thing. This amount of oil in your fur is sickening."

"Hey, if you guys had allowed me to use proper shampoo we wouldn't be in this mess."

--

The Chairport

Owona

She had been deep in meditations. Her children were many, but she often didn't speak to them – they went about their lives, and she went on about hers.

If they needed her, she was but a thought away.

"Owona."

Case in point.

The titanic mole left her physical body in its meditative pose to traverse the astral plane and arrive in that bizarre building again. Review of her troublesome child's memories called it an 'airport' or 'the chairport'. A transit hub.

When she entered, it was empty again. Gemenes sat across from a titanic chair fit for Owona's proportions. He had changed much since Owona had last seen him. He'd become more ragged, his hair had grown out, facial hair had started to grow in.

At least he'd bulked up just a bit.

While she approached, her steps echoed in the vast empty space, Owona could feel new memories float to her along their connection. Her child was upset with her.

She sat in the massive leather chair and looked down at him impassively. "You have questions."

"Have you the answers for my questions?" Gemenes asked her, his tone flat. His emotions read as frustrated, hurt, hopeful, and confused. A volatile combination, if left alone.

"...Yes. Ask, and I will answer."

"Did you know I was imprisoned for the past two years?"

"No. Taun's children in the Adventuring Guild reported your alleged death to me, I confirmed you weren't dead. But all I could see from you was a room deep underground." Owona flipped her clawed hand. "I had no idea where you were, and furthermore you did not seem to think yourself in danger."

Gemenes felt a flare of outrage that was stamped down by his will. "I've been held hostage, pending ransom. Which they couldn't find anyone to inform of, since our clan has no known haunts."

"I see."

That her response was so short seemed to upset him. To speak to the young was so troublesome for her, because she couldn't emotion jammer them with calm until they grew their headwings.

"The angel's words trouble you," she said before he could launch into a rant. "You feel like my clan has not made an effort to include you, that I don't want you in my clan." She blinked, in the real world she was so massive even such small actions would displace great volumes of air, so it was done slowly.

"...I've only met you, Pa, and that rep you sent when I graduated. I don't know anything about our clan except expectations. Traditions, family lineages, our history – none of that. I only know my grandmother's name or likeness because of this!" He gestured wildly to the building, the Chairport.

"All aboard the train to Whinging Town, all aboard the train to Whinging Town," spoke the soft voice from on high.

"You stay out of this!" Gemenes took a deep breath and steeled himself. "If everyone in the clan, except Pa and I guess the clan rep died... I wouldn't care. If I died, I feel like Pa is the only one who care. And I know you don't want me in your clan because you think I'm dangerous."

"You are dangerous," Owona replied, her eyes half-lidded and her tone flat. "I have spent the past two years reviewing the memories of your... other selves. And I will continue to review them." She steepled her fingers. The tap of her claws echoed in the chairport's emptiness. "My assessment is that you're not harmless, but you're not a noxious influence on the world... yet."

"But you still don't want me in your clan."

Owona was rage, not in the same way as Taun. Taun was rage that burned like fire. Owona was rage that built up like snow on a mountainside – quiet, subdued – until a disruption provoked an avalanche.

Gemenes had unfortunately provided such.

Her wings shifted into their mythos-headed tentacles, she rose from her seat with such force that she shoved its legs into the floor. Her whiskers flared as her teeth sharpened. "You're right! I don't want you in my clan, I didn't want your father, your grandmother, your great-grandmother either! None of them! I never wanted anyone in my clan, because I never wanted to have a clan of my own!"

Her words echoed, and came back to her as the explosion of rage slipped away. The force of her shouting had rattled the astral building.

She had been so loud that Gemenes had to cover his ears. If he had been physically there, he might have been rendered deaf from her fit of pique.

Owona's rage had left her chest and began to bleed away. It still lingered enough to put a note of her own frustrations into her tone as she spoke. "What I want stopped mattering a long time ago. I want to be as you are, just a person. But I grew these," she flared her hip-wings, "and now I'm stuck. The only way out of this is to die, and I don't want that either."

Owona fell back into her chair, and drove the legs deeper into the ground. Her claws rubbed her temples as she tried not to glare at Gemenes.

"I'm your clan leader, at least for now. I have to provide for you, and those that come after you; regardless of how I feel." She took a deep breath and sighed. "Clearly, I'm not doing a stellar job of it."

"...Family isn't all give and no take, you know." Gemenes seemed to have recovered from Owona's shouts, and was more attentive. "Why not take advantage of Ea's offer, then?"

Owona paused and narrowed her eyes at Gemenes. Mischievous thoughts rolled along their link. A plan to exploit Ea's plans. Something that would give the scheming angel what she wanted, great influence, but would help foment some unity in her clan.

"...There is merit to this," Owona admitted at length. "Accept her offer, then. And get a clear view of the stars at night when you can. Then I will be able to find where you are, when it is time to begin."

Despite her explosion of rage, Owona left Gemenes' dreamscape more at ease than she had the first time. Post-avalanche clarity, she would call it.

--

Glossary:

Night-Angel: The result of a demon having a child with a non-oracular phoenix. Phoenix's avian traits are the more dominant gene, which results in a demon that possesses an avian form and feathered wings, but retains the demonic dark colors. They retain the phoenix ability to shift into a mammal form (usually a cat) and tendency toward nature/animal magic, while incorporating demonic diamond-hard skin, regeneration, and endless stamina.
Arachspearian: A species of spider known for their massive body and long, thin legs. The cephalothorax and abdomen combined tend to average the size of a person's skull. While venomous, their venom isn't a threat to megafaunal species even as weak as beings. They weave webs, and are capable of speech – though they speak entirely in poetry.
Emotion jammer: A skill by which one person projects so much of a particular emotion that it overwhelms a cubi until they feel it themselves.  The strength of the emotion being jammered must be stronger than the victim can process.

---

Reaching adulthood and realizing you have no ambitions in life, you have no friends near you anymore, and that all you learned from your family or school was to follow orders sucks, dunnit?

Getting into the weeds around Owona's clan. She's such a ghost that I believed her clan didn't have any emotional connections to each other – just expectations. Something Siar completely reversed with her clan.

And yeah. Not ever clan leader set out with the intent to become a clan leader, because it used to be easy to do.

Gemenes Journal #7

---

Translated from Esperanto braille.

--

A simple cipher, eh?  Let's see if this is just as simple, hmph.

Ea's a tricksy lady to see the motivations of.  I mean, she's not as tricky as Sosuke or Snadhya were, but still.  Angels spend hundreds of years learning to lie -- I'd be a fool not to respect that.

Respecting a good lie and respecting her are completely different, though.  But, she's willing to do business.  She's willing to buy respect as an authority with arcane knowledge and a favorable work environment.

She's done the best kind of scheme, the scheme where me being in her employ gets her what she wants automatically.

The deal we've worked out is I work for her until I can pay off my own ransom, basically indentured servitude with less cockbaggery at play.  She's willing to teach me more magic, let me have the run of the village, even get a house of my own.

For a while, until my headwings come in, I'll just be her secretary. My job is to keep her schedule, look pretty, and filter her appointments.  That does require some oomph because I'll have to punch demons on the regular.

Great ancestors they got some good looking demons here.  Most of them seem convinced that they're stronger than me and get put off their game when I respond outside of how they expect.  Demons respect power, if you have it then you have their interest.

It turns out, if you tweak some spells meant to disable creature powers, you can create spells that will remove their senses for a bit -- such as equilibrium.  Or sight.  Or hearing.  Or touch.  Or the ability to feel emotion.  It was all theory before, but I've recently confirmed -- the spells work.

Have a few demons tried to pick a fight with me today and ended up blind or deaf?  Possibly.  Did I amass a collection of trousers taken as trophies in exchange for giving them their eyes and/or ears back?  He he he.  Power comes in many forms.

Either they get the message not to pick fights without being serious, or they run out of trousers.  Bright side, I have plenty to cover my clan mark now -- just need to make some adjustments.  Most of the trousers around here are leather, hopefully not genuine being.  The ferret trousers I'll have to repurpose -- I'm thinking curtains, or saving them as a present for Pa.

Little tip, in case you break this code Ea: The assassin course at Adventurer School has a whole class about spotting the tells in your targets, and how to hide them in yourself.  Stuff like how the target's muscle memory works, what weapons they favor, how they react when surprised, and so on.  In case your niblings want to know how they kept missing their first hits.  He he he.

Anyway.  Ea mentioned a rewards system, by which people can be compensated for bringing in people looking to settle in the village -- help them get a high enough population that Pudrock can't ignore them anymore.  Ea got a massive windfall for herself because so many people credited her 'killing Gyo'Oh' for why they wanted to move to Telmun.

This insectis hive has the space to house a million people, so they've got a long way to go before it's even a little cramped here.  And since the creature population is so high -- and the beings here don't have problems living with them -- Owona and I had an idea.

Why not advertise the village as somewhere people can be safe from the Smotli crazies?  Seems in the two years since I got got, they're ramping up for that holy war.  Back alley justice is all the rage in Pudrock right now.

If Owona goes with my plan, right now she's singing the song of sanctuary to all our allies even close to Mostalsia.  Ea's killing of Gyo'Oh is being used as evidence of her village's security.

Ea should enjoy the population boom.  And there's not even dietary needs to consider -- since we're talking about cubi.  However, if it happens to slip out to dark off-colors, or other demon-blooded people that Telmun is safe...?  Well, Ea wants more people to live here one way or another.  He he he.

She wants Pudrock to stop ignoring her village, one way or another.  He he he.

Really curious to see if we get some vampires up ins.  They're still around at this time period, and the sun doesn't shine in most of the village.  While they can't compete with most creatures, there's plenty of beings and phoenixes for them to feed off of.

I'm writing this while waiting for an appointment Ea set up at me with a beautician.  I'm getting a deep cleaning, it seems, because two years in jail is not good for most people's noses.

Let's see if I clean up nicely, hmm?  You can't see it, but I'm waggling my eyebrows aggressively, and making all the people around me assume I'm insane.

Which, technically, isn't inaccurate.

Hugs and kisses, see ya next time.

---

Gemenes starts his version of the classic DMFA depantsu gag.  Good times, good times.

Oh right, I forgot to peek in here and say I love this.
Also, you've ~~probably~~ actually as we talked on Discord guessed Gaia to be my favourite character :P

Chapter Eight: Platelet Pals

---

Telmun Village, 8544 Years Before DMFA

Milda Woebetide

Gemenes had a lot of questions about the village as they gave him the tour. He'd communed with Owona and got her to admit she didn't have the money to pay the ransom they'd asked for. Apparently the clan had fallen on hard times.

Which Milda understood – with steel becoming more common, it was hard to justify the expense of creature mercenaries versus arming mobs of beings. Killing wasn't exactly difficult.

But still, Gemenes had questions for her and Aunt Ea.

"What are these walls made of?" Sandstone with a layer of mudstone on the outer layer. "How deep do the caves go?" About three kilometers at the deepest. "How do you produce your food?" Quick spawning fish pools, hunting from the surface, and phoenix agriculture in the geofronts.

The insectis hive was made up of enormous rooms in the vague shape of puddles connected by one or two cave passages to each other. These were most dense near the surface, and became sparse near the deepest caves. It was unknown how the insectis had managed their hive, or how they transported goods through the caves – the only pipe structures they could find were for water – connected to caves that had been destroyed when Comia Atoll was formed.

"So where does your water come from?"

His answer was when they showed him the village 'proper'. A cavernous chamber, tall enough from the floor to the ceiling for even the tallest building in the Mudwall Necropolis to have breathing room. Ten holes had been punched into the ceiling, through which dim sunlight and gentle rain fell that morning.

Nine small holes were arranged around one massive central hole. The center hole could have allowed Gyo'Oh to enter their cavern, while the smaller ones could have only allowed her to stick a paw through.

Stone houses and other buildings lined the base of the cavern, around the central hole and from there to the cavern walls.

"Most of our water collects in our artificial lake," Ea explained as they left the caves to wander among buildings. "The central hole feeds the lake the most, and allows for plantlife to grow around the shores – we grow food mostly in the style of the three-sisters garden here."

"Gourd-bean-maize?" Gemenes asked he looked at the beings in the village. When they waved to him, he waved back. If they frowned at him, he made rude gestures at them.

"Exactly. I didn't think Lostkeep Island practiced that style of agriculture?"

Milda didn't know what they were talking about, so she focused on maintaining the spells that kept people from smelling Gemenes. They couldn't get to the beautician fast enough.

When they arrived at Aunt Ea's beautician, they found there was a line for her services that day. So Gemenes would have to wait. It was a big shop, a square building like most in the village – lots of vertical space to allow more room for warm air to rise. To keep buildings cooler, and keep moisture away from customers.

"Milda, dear," Aunt Ea asked her as Gemenes sat down in a designated chair with his journal. "I'll take over the smell-spell, could you go and find an unused house for him to occupy?"

"Sure, let me just -- " she had wrongly assumed Ea cast her own smell-spell and dispelled it as Ea reached out to take the glowing orb facilitating the spell.

For one second, the smell of a raccoon who had spent two years in prison wafted through the air. Just one second, before Ea could re-cast the spell. Flowers in a nearby vase withered on the spot, the canary next to Gemenes in the seating had to clap her beak shut to keep from vomiting. A fish in a small bowl promptly died.

Gemenes kept journalling, like nothing changed. "Maybe y'all will think to give your prisoners enough water to bathe with next time," he snarked.

Milda couldn't refute his point as she left for the residential area. Homes and shops were being constructed all the time in the geofront, so there was plenty of options for her to pick one.

In the next geofront over, where she and her cousins lived, there was a house that none of them had opted to live in. A one-bedroom home with a second floor and basement. It was passed over because the front door opened to the kitchen which meant it would be easy for folks to steal food.

The architects had been ever-so-slightly drunk when they designed it, said the rumor mill.

She memorized the house number and doubled back toward the beauty salon. As she passed, she saw one of her cousins from the Crossbones family run down the street. The ferret demon's face was bright red, and he'd seemingly forgotten his trousers – he had his hands and tail down to cover his kaupinam loincloth as he dashed away.

When she rounded the corner to get back, she saw one of her own sisters dash away in a similar state to her cousin earlier.

Outside the salon was Gemenes, with a pair of leather trousers over his shoulder and a smug look on his face.

"I hate to say it, but I think you might be the best fighter in your family," he snarked and walked back into the salon.

Milda never forgot exactly where on her neck that raccoon's acidic blood had burned. Even after regeneration – the skin was discolored under her fleece. She was the only demon in their family with scars of any kind. Something her siblings, uncles, and even her father envied.

'Here lies proof I fought a deadly foe and lived', scars said in demon society. Because of their regeneration, such things were rare. A shame Milda's were covered by her fleece most of the time.

So, naturally, she read Gemenes' words as a genuine compliment. It was one of the kindest, most complimentary things anyone had ever said about her. She almost regretted picking the thief house for him.

Almost.

Less so when she saw a small pile of trousers in various sizes beside Gemenes' seat. Aunt Ea seemed less than amused, as the pile went from the floor to her elbow sitting down.

"I was gone for like, ten minutes," Milda said as she looked at the pile.

"He he he," chortled the raccoon with a vicious smile.

--

Lostkeep Village, 8538 Years Before DMFA

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

Assassin training, as it turned out, was not overly fun.

Nihi'lir spent years in the secret safehouses of clan experts learning how to kill silently, how to slip through patrols and exploit limitations of various ranges of vision. Just recently, he had been taught how to hide his body temperature from creatures that could see heat.

They were originally going to begin to train him in the way of darkness – a period of nine years where Nihi'lir would be magically rendered blind, and would have to train himself to his present skill level. Which would then be followed by the way of silence – the same, but for deafness.

But all of that changed when Owona manifested in their dreams and made a decree.

"The situation in Mostalsia has worsened," spoke Owona. Her voice carried an echo that was significantly deeper than her own voice. "All clan members within Mostalsia and Klurid who have not yet relocated to Telmun village must do so. Siar is granted command, and authority to represent my clan to our allies and neighbors there. That is all."

Which put a hold on the way of darkness. Thankfully.

There was some debate within the clan about the efficacy of Owona's decision. Much of the clan was well-hidden on Lostkeep Island which had no dedicated port. But then, the island also had no representation in the national government. And no ability to resist, or anticipate, oppressive action from the capital.

Nihi'lir couldn't remember the party makeup of parliament, as an example of how removed from the nation they were. Nor could he recall the title of the head of state.

He couldn't find Telmun on any map the clan had, but it didn't matter. Owona had given them an order, they were expected to heed her.

The inclusion of Klurid was an odd development though. Klurid was a phoenix kingdom to the south of Mostalsia, the latter having broken off in a war of independence. The war had happened before Nihi'lir was born, but from his understanding it was Klurid's king at the time had wanted to mandate alms for the poor.

Basically, the nobles and government officials would be legally required to pay alms to the poor in their territory either by way of housing, food, or coin.

There was something of a family reunion as clan members across Lostkeep Island gathered at the namesake town to prepare for the move.

Nihi'lir got to see his older siblings, still in their two hundred years of clan service, for the first time since he'd gotten married. Being the shortest of the lot, they still saw him as the baby brother they left behind.

And he got to see his mother again, when they arrived at the meeting point – outside Lostkeep Village proper, where the beings and half-creatures wouldn't bother them.

Siar, the head of their branch of the clan, was a feline succubus – cream colored with brown point-style fur markings. In contrast to Nihi'lir, she had the recessive trait of normal eyes – white sclera – with a blue glow from the iris.

She barked orders for their kin to pack faster and bring necessary supplies – food for the children, materials for making what they might need that Telmun didn't have, etc. But when Nihi'lir and his siblings arrived, she was all smiles.

"Daaahlings!" She cooed and morphed her wings into two massive tentacles to wrap them in a big hug.

Outsiders and kinsman outside the branch always seemed so shocked when Siar was affectionate. She had a reputation for sadism and cruelty, they said.

Nihi'lir had yet to see it.

"Our greatest of grandmothers will tell me and other teleporters where to go as soon as we're ready," Siar told her children once she released them. "Are you all ready, or do you need more time?"

The family's response was: Ready when you are.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Help your foolish cousins if you wish – your work is completed, so there is no rush." Siar beamed when she talked to them. "If you have news about grandbabies, I will be glad to hear it."

Nihi'lir let his older siblings tell Siar and their group about their children's antics – most of them were old enough to be on the tail end of their training, and due to enter their period of service to the clan.

Then came his turn.

"Um...." Nihi'lir rubbed one of his arms, as he knew he would appear to be the foolish sibling soon. "I... was hoping you had heard something about my son? The clan teachers have had me sequestered. Last I heard, he'd graduated from Adventurer School?"

Siar blinked at him. His siblings blinked at him. Birds in a nearby tree blinked at him.

"Knee-high," his oldest sister spoke with that nickname he hated, "that was eight years ago."

Nihi'lir nodded.

"You've been sequestered for eight years?"

"It was the condition of being granted forbearance on another marriage...."

Siar's rage was unique among their clan, Nihi'lir had noticed since he developed cubi empathic abilities. Most rages burned hot or felt electric in their quickness. Siar's rage felt like tension. A readiness to pounce, building up energy.

"I will speak to your instructors," she said, seemingly calm. "They've forgotten what information needs to pass through sequestration." She cleared her throat, in readiness for an explanation.

"Gemenes was declared dead by the Adventuring Guild, as he was last seen fighting a demon when a giant gryphon got involved. Owona passed word to our allies in the Guild that he wasn't dead, but kept him listed as such so he could do undercover work." Siar rested a hand on her hip and tossed her head back, proud of a grandson she'd never met. "He has been making arrangements for our allies and us to settle in an urban environment without needing to hide ourselves."

"A creature city?" Nihi'lir's immediately older brother asked.

"Exactly." Siar smirked. "We will see how our family comports itself when we must see each other every day, hmm?"

"Six gold say she kills Aunt Chita by this time tomorrow," one of the middle-sisters commented to much amusement.

"I'll take that bet," the oldest sister chimed in.

The packing for travel was completed later on, and the teleporters made ready to move to the city of Telmun.

Nihi'lir wondered, as he was displaced by magic, how his son had changed in six years – was he still a hellion? Had he mellowed?

Had he broken the 'late bloomer' curse and sprouted headwings yet?

--

Telmun City

Ea Gnashir

Over the course of six years, nine thousand nine hundred and ten people had come to Telmun with more on the way. After the first thousand, it became necessary to conduct a census – get names, relations, addresses.

After the second, it became necessary to set up a rudimentary civil government – the workload exceeded what Ea could accomplish on her own. It gave her more official power, but there were trade-offs.

Ea seldom got a day off anymore, as the population had grown so much that there was always something breaking somewhere. Food production was a major problem – to the point where chambers near the surface would have to be refitted for agriculture. Related to that – where the hive had been before the Fae moved it had evidently not seen as much rain as Comia – a major project in the works was the creation of storm drains and a sewer system to feed water back to the lake.

At least they'd found copper, a direct source of wealth. Pudrock had yet to acknowledge Telmun, and the only people who used the road to Telmun from Ghostglen or Pudrock were those who fled the Smotlis.

There was one group whose presence among those who sought shelter among them was a disturbing mixed bag. The cubi.

Cubi lived in clans, bound together by natural magic and genetics alike. So far multiple clans had sought shelter in Telmun, and credited their arrival to a mutual source: Owona.

Ea sat in her office, well on its way to being as she had wished it years ago. Construction workers worked hard to finish the first balcony – which would allow her to overlook the lake. In front of her were the scrolls that contained information on the cubi clans in Telmun.

Taun – represented by two magenta circles of different sizes with shallow divots facing away from each other. Perhaps it was meant to evoke images of the double-crescent moon, but the divots were too shallow. Fifty cubi of that clan had come, and made fast friends of Ea's demon relations. Unlike many cubi clans, they were skilled at combat – not just proficient.

"Soldiers, not warriors," Ea mused as she examined the scroll. "The seeds from which armies are grown. Mighty on their own, unstoppable in numbers. Long, long memories."

Jin – represented by a deep violet triangle with a point of empty space at its center, and flanked by dots. A clan without a martial tradition, but extremely good healers. They had been among the first to arrive, and they almost single-handedly made the integration of later arrivals possible. The thirty-five cubi of that clan they had amongst them curbed the tide of disease, injury, and infection thoroughly.

"Those who give life, can take it away." She tapped the side of her muzzle. "Those who can heal, can refrain at their leisure. We've already become too dependent on them – damn. Damn."

Hrienth – represented by a lavender crescent moon. They comprised the majority of the cubi population in Telmun, with nine hundred and sixty-one members. When they arrived, they'd settled an entire geofront for themselves. The clan members were content to live amongst themselves, and mostly interacted with other cubi. But already relationships had started to form between the cubi and Ea's relations.

"A city within my city, ruled by seducers. Their pride keeps them from using their powers to live in secret." Ea narrowed her eyes and flexed her claws out from her fingertips. "They didn't flee, they came to wait and build strength until they could strike." But she couldn't prove it.

De'Tialdo – represented by a white hoop from which three prongs emerged, pointed down. They were clear that their settlement was temporary, as they were skilled crafstpeople from Hishaan, and Telmun was millennia from being more enticing than Hishaan. Four members lived in Ea's city, an architect, a city planner, a diplomat, and an artificer. Mostly, they worked in the geofront settled by the Hrienths – and would depart when that clan had no further need of them.

"...It will be centuries before Telmun is even important enough to trade with Hishaan, even if we have something they want. Draconic pride seeps into them. I have to use my envy of them productively."

Seme – represented by a yellow crook with a similarly colored dot adjacent to the tip. They'd settled with the Hrienth, and seemed to be genuine refugees from Smotli persecution, as they had previously resided in Steepmaw – Mostalsia's largest city. Near as Ea could tell, the entire cubi clan resided in her city for the simple fact that Seme herself was among them. A total of three hundred sixty-two.

"A succubus large enough to mount a giant gryphon like a steed. With magic only a dragon or a Fae could match." Ea shook her head and tapped her claw on the scroll. "With this one, I feel like I have invited my death in by the front door."

As soon as she mentioned the door, there was a knock at hers. Why, she had no idea, as the construction workers were hard at work. Only her creature hearing let her hear it over their racket.

Ea opened the door with magic, then frowned.

One of her nephews had arrived with her food on a wheeled cart.

Gil, a grape-and-white night-angel in his feline form, had his wings folded down around him to try and hide how he had no trousers on. The results left much to be desired – at least he hadn't worn a loincloth in an eye-catching color.

Through the door she could see part of a villainous raccoon at his desk outside. Mostly a shoulder and one arm – red and white spidersilk bunched up at the elbow from gravity, steel bracelets caught the light. Gemenes, evil incarnate and just barely visible, waved his hand through the door and closed it behind Ea's nephew once he'd rolled the cart in.

Ea took note of some of the construction workers, specifically the ones who paused in their work to oggle her depantsed nephew, for a stern talking to later.

"Gil," she said once he'd approached her with the cart. She tried so hard to keep the dismay out of her voice. "Why do you and your cousins keep picking fights with my secretary?" They hadn't won once over the past six years. Not once!

"W-well, y-you. Um. Y-you see it's like...." The demon-phoenix coiled his feline form's tail around his waist to try and hide how puffed up it was. The white parts of his fur showed how hard he was blushing. "Ar-... um, Uncle Aras kind... of put... the idea out that w-we... needed to go through basic training again. Since w-we...."

It took all of her patience to let her nephew put words together to eventually get to his point, but with a table full of problems already and annoyance from the construction, she quickly ran out. "Keep losing to an incubus?"

Gil nodded quickly.

"So... you hope one of you wins a fight with him and proves to Aras you don't need to go through basic again?" She made a mental note to talk to Aras – he overstepped by trying to discipline youngsters outside his family. Ea sighed when she saw Gil nod again. "Well... why are you bringing me my meal and not Gemenes?"

"Because he's writing up a report, and if I do this for him I can have my trousers back...."

Young demons were such a cavalcade of bad decisions Ea decided asking why he was in his feline form was just too much for her sanity. She massaged her temples as Gil laid out her meal in front of her. Gooseberry wine with braised goose, and a bowl of golden rice. "Did he tell you what report he's writing up?"

"Y-yeah, it's about some more cubi on their way to settle. He says y-you'll like them."

Ea reminded herself that her desk was too expensive to be thrown through a wall, and she was too hungry to waste an entire meal. She clenched her fists where Gil couldn't see and ground her teeth together. "Oh?" There was a waver in her voice from how strained her patience was. "Why would he say that?"

Gil shrugged. "Um. The scroll he was writing on had a green symbol? Brighter green than any I've ever seen before? An arrow with a weird circle and rectangle around it?"

Owona's symbol. Which meant more Owona cubi. And with Gemenes as a frame of reference, she could only imagine the chaos that would result.

Her desk was too expensive to throw, she was too hungry to waste food, and she was terrified of the chaos more people like Gemenes could bring – so there was only one option.

Fall face first into her rice and start eating her troubles away.

"Um. Aunt Ea? I... I'm going to go get my trousers back, alright? Um. Enjoy the food, hope those tears are from how good it is? ...Bye!"

--

Glossary:

Seme Clan: A clan formed in the same millennia as Owona's, as a result of the former clan leader passing on their power and position to Seme. The clan affinity is for despair, and members are free to engage with that affinity in whatever way they wish. Known for adopting members from other clans who marry a Seme clan member.
Hrienth Clan: A leaderless clan, having lost their founder Hrienth about thirteen thousand years prior to the start of the story. While Hrienth lived, they were one of the most powerful clans to exist. Even after his death, they remain stable and secure with plenty of material resources. Clan members have an affinity for pain and lust, with members able to select the ratio of each for which they have a personal affinity.

--

Cast:

Siar Owona: Race: feline succubus. Species: Colorpoint shorthair cat. Age: 2260. Gemenes' paternal grandmother. Known to greatly favor her descendants over other clan members, a good thing she runs her own branch of Owona's clan. A powerful spellcaster, known to keep herself looking young through complex rituals and spells. Presently has forty descendants, including Gemenes.

---

Now, did I not show Gemenes past the first third of the chapter so I had more time to work out his design? Possibly. You'll never prove it to a jury, though.

Poor Ea. She really didn't know what kind of monkey's paw she was dealing with, huh?

Gil did end up getting his trousers back, but Gemenes altered them into booty shorts.

Gemenes Journal #8

---

Translated from Swahili braille.

--

I'm going to be switching this up just in case Ea knows the scry spell Abel used, and it somehow translates languages.  Furrae only has thirty-eight languages, so odds are if I keep this rather out there, it'll be secure.

ANYWAY.

I'm chaos laddering all up in this city.  Right now, I'm the most skilled healer because of all the mundane medical knowledge I have -- and I have really no interest in setting up hospitals.  But then I remembered -- I know some people who do.  Indirectly.  Owona's sending messages out to Taun and Jin -- hopefully I'll see 'em soon.

--

Translated from Finnish braille.

--

Score!  Jin apparently ate whatever explanation Owona gave her like it was ice cream -- we got thirty-five of her pastel cuckoos up here.  That's going to make life around here so much more bearable.

Do you know how hard it was to fight the urge to simply heal myself when Illyria was around?  They learned anatomy the hard way -- I cheated.  That would've been so rude.

I wonder what they and Themis are up to -- I don't buy Ea's theory that they died in the tidal wave.  Illyria's flight specialty was gaining altitude, and I know they're strong enough to carry Themis at least.

If Scorcros answers Owona's message, maybe I'll find out.  For the time being, we have Jin.

Neat tidbit -- Jin's clan invented opium on Furrae.  They had opium poppies in their gardens and I commented on them -- they had wing-tentacles around my neck in literal seconds asking how I knew what 'opium' was.  Apparently, it's a clan secret -- not even Jin's sister clans know about it.  Not all Jins are as happy and passive as Mink, it seems.

I told them the Lostkeep Amazons had developed it independently but opium poppies went extinct on the island when I was eight.  Now they're chasing down any potential rogue Jins on Lostkeep Island who helped the process along.  Ugh.

--

Translated from Urdu braille.

--

Tauns in the house!  Seriously, we had the Tauns show up.  A couple of the younger ones, who haven't entered cuberty yet, like me, hit me up and we started talking.  I was afraid they'd be upset about this loose indentured servitude I have going on, but no.  Apparently Taun took one look at the situation as Owona laid it out, and figured out our plan on her own -- she approves.

Like me and Owona, she sees how a leash can be pulled from either end.

Her advice?  Don't tip our hand too early, win by inches.  I'll give it to Taun she apparently sat the other clan leaders involved in this plan down and had them plan multiple cubi generations in advance for how things will go.

Assuming the demons and angels don't sit their asses in hot coals (apparently that's how Tauns convey 'shoot themselves in the foot' sentiments) my grandchildren's generation will be in place to gently shove them aside.

Had me a tumble with one of the Tauns, a nice jaguar guy called Charalampos.  Chartreus green and white-yellow spots/wings.  Got my interest by having a fight with one of Milda's brothers.  Good kitty.

--

Translated from Slovene braille.

--

We've got Hrienths, served hot and fresh in the T'Leylu Geofront.  They came in huge numbers -- had to double-check with Owona that the whole clan hadn't come.  They settled a geofront of their own and started building a sort of settlement of their own.  A fortress?

How drow of them.

Now, I don't know what part they're playing in the plan -- but I began to suspect something was up.  The Hrienth clan's strength is that they're aggressively stable as far as clans go.  They have outbursts yeah, but their clan's internal structures are more well put together than most governments.  Aaryanna really is representative of her clan in how fast they can react in a crisis, and how keenly they focus on what they have as a way to get what they want.

What did they do when they first show up?  Open up a bank using Ha'Khun gold dollars as the currency.  No, I don't know why everyone in the financial world uses Ha'Khun gold dollars -- they seemed confused that I even asked.  Like, did Ha'Khun invent the gold standard or something?

As far as I know, it should be a minor village on a completely different continent.  Ugh.

They hired Gaia and some other De'Tialdos to come in and help build their geofront how they wanted.  After the sewer system got set up they started building public bathhouses.

Mostalsia doesn't have a lot of bathhouses, it rains two hundred days out of the year -- but underground we don't see much of that.  And because they're public, they buck some of Mostalsia's clothing restrictions.  The entire T'Leylu Geofront is a clothing-optional area, but people still have to come (heh) because the other geofronts don't have sewer systems set up yet.  Those poor people.  Looking at pretty folks without clothes on.

I pity them, truly their suffering is greater than any other.

I remember a line from some play about the United States' early history.  Something about how NYC didn't care about D.C. becoming the capital because NYC had the banks.  It'll be ages before other groups have the money to open up a bank, and it'll be ages more before they can compete with bankers who can read people's emotions.

Ea knows at least some of this because she hasn't been sleeping well.  He he he.

--

Translated from Danish braille.

--

So I was having a pretty meh week.  I'd gotten magical homes down -- finally! -- but then realized I had to design the templates for these houses.  My personal home was gonna be custom, but some standardizations will help get the skills to make my own personal McMansion.

I want anyone with even the barest understanding of architectural design to be violently ill when they enter my home.

And, surprise surprise, the process for converting bamboo into fabric is still not quite there -- but at least the folks I'm talking to about it can see what I'm trying to accomplish.

But then.  Then!  We have a new set of technical-arachnids walk in.  Seme and her clan, quite literaly, came here from Steepmaw.  As om they walked.  We thought it was an earthquake or the ghost of Gyo'Oh but that was Seme physically walking to Telmun.

Things are getting Spanish Inquisition-y outside, it looks like.  Seme's clan grabbed what they could carry and booked it.

Apparently, all those years back when I heard from the Owona rep how I was on the short list to secure a clan alliance with marriage?  Seme's clan was the one they were talking about!

They're getting set up in the T'Leylu Geofront.  That's become 'cubi central' down here, since the Jins and Tauns moved their personal homes out that way.  I'm the only one still primarily living among demons.

Seme physically being here is a big deal -- she has a lot of magical power, and she's also physically stronger than pretty much everything save a dragon or giant gryphon.

I got to meet the girl they're talking about marrying me off to, apparently I'm the only one she's actually met.  The rest are just names she knows.  She's the older one of us, she's well into cuberty.

A phoenix succubus, cannot identify what kind of birb she be but she has bright yellow and black feathers.  I think she's a variety of pigeon, but I can't tell.

I should have studied birds more.  Her name's Percell, she got embarassed about it -- apparently that's supposed to be a boy's name.

She likes the red flowers I have back home.  Blood lilies, red hibiscus, red tiger lilies, apparently they all represent passion and confidence.  She's nothing like Ma was, personality-wise, and she knows that if the clans do agree for us to get hitched it'll be a contract marriage.  We stay married for a number of kids to be born, or until one of us dies.

I refrained from asking if she laid eggs, for which she was thankful.  And did not clarify of her own volition.

We talked about what we do for work, she asked how I was treated as a male secretary and I asked her about how bounty hunting compared to adventuring.

Naturally I would be the one to stay home and raise the kids, she'd come home covered in blood asking about dinner.

Overall, an alright fit I think.  Outside of us being different flavors of gay and being asked to do the yoinky sploinky, I think we'd be alright roomies and co-parents.

--

Translated from Malay braille.

--

Welp.  Family's going to be here soon.  Owona's sent off the message that clan members in Mostalsia and Klurid are to come here.  I'll get to meet up with my extended family.

That's... I don't know how to feel.

I'm obviously going to try and get Seme and Siar in the same room so they can get goo-goo eyes for each other.  But beyond that, I have no idea how to prepare for this.  I don't know these people from a hole in the ground, but the idea of meeting them and it going badly gives me such agita.

They're going to want to live in the T'Leylu Geofront, probably.  And they probably won't be cool with me living outside it.  I'd rather not because I don't like having to fly to work every day, and I can torment the demons by being their neighbor.

I don't know if my headwings will pop, Pa's didn't until he was almost thirty.  But I'm getting hungry less and sleeping less.

Not sleeping around less, but actually sleeping less.

I still take the time to do those things because both food and sleep are delicious.  Even a nap is enough rest time to let me grab a quick communion with Owona.

We talk semi-frequently, about the plan and how to utilize some of my otherworldly knowledge.

She's still mum on whether she intends to invest in me enough to keep Siar from overriding my clan connection.  But I get the feeling she doesn't trust Siar with the information I have on hand.

I'm trying to get through to her that, even if the conclusion is foregone, even if nothing can be done, we still have to try.  We won't know if trying to avert the horrors of the future is possible until we attempt it.  Maybe Siar and hundreds of thousands of regular cubi don't have to die.

Maybe I'll change my mind when I meet her and realize she's the worst thing since watermelon cream-cheese pizza.  Maybe... maybe she'll be so good I can forgive her for never coming to see me.

Cuberty is definitely on the way, I'm getting so emotional it's getting in the way of my focus.

I just re-read the last few entries, there's so much I missed out on writing down -- like how I finally did get bamboo fabric to work, invented y-fronts, and started an entire coffee caramel creme brule trend when I served them at one of Ea's meetings.

Found the thing I'm going to put my magical home in, also.  A snowglobe, a being merchant had it and didn't know what it was.  Hardly anyone on the Atoll knows what snow is, let alone what it looks like.  Working on restoring it first -- getting it refilled with water and polished up before I put my magic on it.

I'm rambling so I don't have to deal with family problems anymore.  Well screw that.  And screw you, diary!  How dare you document my feelings!  I'm going to go have a lovely nap, just to spite you.

Nyeh!

---

One journal entry to cover six years.  Ugh.

I wonder, does a Chair know all of these languages, or is it the equivalent of Google Translate then slapped into Braille? X3

Probably best to stick with stuff that uses a Latin-script alphabet for simplicity, but it might be fun to use the languages of other Chairs for maximum security, if using different characters wouldn't tip Gemenes' hand too much. It'd be fun to see an entry written in Dovahzul, for instance. Or ancient Japanese.

Ooh, opium. Oof. Yeah Gemenes don't push the opium sellers, you know your history, there were whole wars over the stuff. :B

Quote from: Liatai on July 12, 2024, 12:34:17 PMI wonder, does a Chair know all of these languages, or is it the equivalent of Google Translate then slapped into Braille? X3

These translations are courtesy of Fuzzybutt, the Chair with the nails in his neck.  Being a local fae of his universe, he knows all mortal languages.

Quote from: Liatai on July 12, 2024, 12:34:17 PMOoh, opium. Oof. Yeah Gemenes don't push the opium sellers, you know your history, there were whole wars over the stuff. :B

Thankfully Jin just uses it for its pain relieving effect, usually during major operations like childbirth or organ removal/regeneration.  Morphine's still far away from being developed.

Ahaaaa, so more for laudanum than straight-up opium or heroin. Watch out for vomiting. Old-timey tinctures of opium have a chemical component that modern laudanum has removed from it through use of a petroleum byproduct. (Yes, laudanum still occasionally sees use in modern medicine! Rarely, though! I'm surprised, too! Mostly as an attempted treatment for EXTREME diarrhea. Opiods do tend to cause constipation. x3; Or treating opioid withdrawal symptoms in babies whose mothers used opioids regularly during pregnancy.)

Also gotta be reeeeeal careful with the dosing. Naxolone's a long way off, historically.

(Side note, opioids generally don't do a whole lot for childbirth pain, but might help with relaxing muscles during.)

Chapter Nine: Venous Victory

---

Telmun City, 8538 Years before DMFA

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

From the overcast skies of Lostkeep Island, to the vault of a chamber below the earth they went.

It was finished quicker than a cut could bleed. He took a breath of air in one location, and let it out in the other.

The few outbuildings and verdant landscape of the island was replaced with stone and artificial lights. They were in great sinkhole, egg-shaped with the hole to the surface at the egg's narrow point.

Terraces lined the sides of the egg, with solid ground occupying only a third of the interior – the rest was a lake.

Nihi'lir saw buildings fill up all the available space on the ground then move up the sides of the sinkhole. In the distance there was a stone gate swung open through which people passed.

It was like Euberta's homestead, scaled up.

A violet-and-teal stag incubus greeted them with a bow. "Welcome Owona's children, to the T'Leylu Geofront, a district of Telmun City." He was dressed well – in a leather robe accented with gold, embedded feathers at the neck and shoulders, and the Hrienth clan symbol on the back. "We have arranged living space near the Tauns, per your clan leader's request. Who among you is your clan's representative?"

"Tis I," Siar proclaimed and stepped away from her clanmates.

"Well met, my Lady. We have guides who can lead your kin to their homes, if you would agree to meet with the other clan representatives over tea?"

They were guided up the side of the sinkhole – though the locals corrected them, said the word was 'geofront'. There were many aeries carved into the walls, with roads in the midst of being carved to connect them.

Flight was all but required to reach the galleries and balconies that served as entryways to the homes intended for them. The connecting tunnels and exterior roads seemed an afterthought.

Which the Hrienths confirmed, when Nihi'lir asked. They didn't anticipate being or mythos guests, let alone family members, when they'd built their aeries.

It was unmistakably Hishaani architecture. Lots of vertical space, like most modern architecture styles, but featured rounded edges on the top of most voids. All the support came from the exterior walls, so the few interior walls weren't load-bearing and could be decorated as desired. The stone which made up the homes had been magically polished, almost mirror-like in its quality.

When Nihi'lir had been shown to his home, he looked through the rooms and found them empty. Furnished, but no sign of occupation. Certainly nothing to show his son lived there. "Um, excuse me?"

He called out to the feline succubus, white-furred with violet-and-black feathered wings, dressed similarly to the stag, before she left Nihi'lir's balcony.

"I was told one of my family members was already here? My son, a raccoon with wings and hair like mine?"

The succubus flared her wings in surprise before she pulled them close to her body at the same time she folded her ears down. "A... raccoon?" Her voice was shaky. "Um. What's his name?" She began to mutter 'please no' over and over, so softly that only Nihi'lir's enormous ears could pick it up.

"Gemenes Tuler? About yea high?" He morphed part of his wing into a tentacle to indicate his son's height.

She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I was afraid it'd be him." Her emotions were a mix of resignation and emotional bracing. Like she expected to be screamed at. "He's... he doesn't live in this geofront. He lives in the Dilmun Geofront, on the opposite side of the Central Geofront."

A magical map was conjured in the thin air – it showed their current location, and the 'geofronts' around them.

Nihi'lir looked at the map and narrowed his eyes. "Um. Bit of a weird question to ask – but can you tell me why someone would want to do that?"

She made a face like someone had asked her to lick a lemon. "Um. From Dilmun, it's possible to reach Central by foot more easily. As you can see the path from T'Leylu to Central is much longer. We're working on setting up a gryphon cart service, but...." The guide shrugged. "There's... also the fact that Dilmun is where many demons live. And Gemenes has known to frequently fight demons."

Nihi'lir made a face. That did sound like his boy.

"Well, that's not quite right. They usually pick a fight with him." She shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know his address, so I can't tell you where to find him."

But a quick question to his clan leader could. Nihi'lir waved his guide off, and let her depart. Then, alone in his new home, he entered a meditative state to ask Owona where Gemenes lived.

'Number sixteen, Marrowbones Place. From the Central Geofront, he takes a route along the southern wall of Dilmun, then north in a straight line once he passes the food vendors, the home is on your left. I advise you to try the hotteok, Gemenes enjoys them perhaps you will too.'

Nihi'lir followed Owona's directions, and took her suggestion. Hotteok was the name for a type of griddle cake filled with brown sugar and nuts. He hadn't physically eaten anything in years by that point, and it was a wonderful reminder – food was delicious.

His son's home was on the ground of the geofront. There were others that were built into columns from the ground to the roof, others hung from the roof or were built into stalactites. The use of all dimensions of space open to them was something Nihi'lir wasn't used to.

He came up to the door marked with '16' in the stone and knocked. Where they got the wood for doors, he didn't know. There were trees in Central, perhaps those were harvested after a while?

A couple clacks of locks being undone, and the door swung open.

Gemenes had changed a lot in eight years. His curly hair had grown long, though the boy – young man – shaved the sides. He'd bulked up, and gotten over his dislike of trousers it seemed.

Trousers and coat loosely cut, made of a glossy red fabric with a blood drop pattern in white fabric. Oddly, it looked like he had a shirt made of a black fishing net that provided no cover for his torso.

As soon as Gemenes saw Nihi'lir, a wave of glee burst through Nihi'lir's emotional barriers. Joy, happiness, and excitement combined together to form the explosive emotion called glee. It wasn't usually to Nihi'lir's taste, but to have it come from his son at seeing him made him appreciate the electric sweetness.

"Oh you guys are here already?" Gemenes opened the door and stood aside. "I'd have come and gotten you if I knew – come in, just starting dinner."

Gemenes had learned well the assassin skills at controlling body language. An average person would never know how maddeningly happy he was.

Nihi'lir fought hard to apply those same lessons to himself – as he was an adult cubi the emotion hit him hard. He did allow himself to smile as he stepped into his son's home.

The front door opened up to a kitchen, an impressively large one. A magical hotbox cooked food on its top-cookers among a line of cabinets all along the wall. A coldbox and icebox sat next to each other – both taller and wider than Gemenes by half. More garlic, maize, and leafy spices occupied his son's roof than their entire homestead had possessed back home.

"Your front door opens to your kitchen?" He arched his brow up at his son.

"It's why none of the demons wanted it." His son shrugged and closed the door. He held up his hand and counted down from three. Then he swung his door open again. There was a red-and-pink alpaca with ibex horns, dressed in tight leather clothes, hand up to knock. "Milda, doll, what brings you here?"

Amusement and annoyance in equal measure rolled off Gemenes as he talked. Nihi'lir went to the the hotbox and used his tentacles to raise himself up that he could see what was cooking.

His son had rice cooking, and broccoli on another pan to sear.

"I smelled barbecue sauce and wanted to ask...?"

"If you could join us for dinner, sure. You know where the dining room is."

The alpaca skipped away into the house, excitement and hunger wafted off her like smoke.

Once he'd closed the door, Gemenes joined Nihi'lir by the hotbox. "Making barbecue tempeh with broccoli and rice as sides." He turned his head to smile at his father. "Wanna help with the man's work, or sit in the dining room like a woman expecting to be fed?"

Nihi'lir punched his son in the shoulder playfully, and went to work. He quickly found the tempeh blocks on the counter and began to chop them into strips the thickness of his fingers. "A demon eating a vegetarian dish?" He fanned his headwing and ear on the side his son stood. "And last I looked, you weren't a fan of that either."

"I already have a guest over, and she's vegetarian. My barbecue sauce is so good Milda thinks I'm serving chicken." Gemenes took the broccoli out of the pan to put in aromatic chili oil, along with grated garlic and ginger. It smelled fantastic.

"A vegetarian... a phoenix?" Nihi'lir put some oil in a pan and set it on an unused surface-cooker to heat up.

"Mhm. Owona's got me on the short list to set up alliance with Seme's clan, so I've been getting to know my maybe-bride."

Nihi'lir paused in his cooking to turn to look at his son with narrowed eyes. "Without chaperones?"

Confusion bloomed for a second then immediately became blazing flame of disgust. "Ew, Pa she's a woman! Ugh." Gemenes made a wretching motion. "Gah, almost put me off my meal."

"You're the one who thinks chaperones exist purely to keep the two parties from having sex. Your Ma and I went to slay a cryohydra together the first time they forgot chaperones." Nihi'lir smiled as his gaze drifted away. "Ah. That was a good fight."

"Ew. Not as ew as the sex thing, but still ew."

--

Siar

The Hrienths were an old clan, fifty thousand years of the earth old. Their founder was gone, and they prospered all the same. Few could claim such, fewer were interested in teaching others how they had achieved it.

Siar took in their city-within-a-city, and found herself envious. Owona's clan had nothing of the sort. Inconspicuous villages, steadings, and lives dedicated to live among others were Owona's ways.

Owona's ways were just, and kept their clan safe from those who would seek vengeance for the Shadow Clan's assassinations, sellswording – or worse, demand they sell out their employers. Even so, Siar found it stifling.

She had lived for thousands of years in homes of beige, grey, tan, or cream. She had worn earth-tone clothes. She had spent entire being lifetimes posing as one of them. It felt like she had been muzzled all her days, unable to speak freely. Siar had bitten her tongue while her sweet mother lived, but with her gone it became tiresome to endure.

Her Hrienth greeter, Veld, showed her to a building on the edge of the artificial lake. It was built in the Hishaani style, an obnoxious onion dome on the far side topped with a spire that showed the Hrienth moon with towers in alternating vertical and concave walls as they neared square roofs.

Inside there were servants alight with activity. Interior fittings for magic lamps were in the midst of installation, a chandelier was hauled into the sky. Rugs were unrolled for Siar and Veld to walk upon as they approached, then rolled up behind them – the floors had yet to be waxed.

"We beg your Ladyship' pardon, this building is still under construction in places," Veld turned his head to address Siar as they walked. "The meeting chamber is fully completed, however."

Some discontent must have slipped her leash and registered with his empathic abilities. Siar smiled and released a bit more of her envy. Envy always pleased hosts. "Fret not, I wish me and mine were so powerful to have splendor as this. Incomplete or no, it would be an improvement."

The meeting chamber was vast, all of polished marble, with illusion worked into the stone to increase the perceived space. Siar could tell it wasn't actual spatial magic, there was no accompanying sense of vertigo. A circular dais occupied the centermost part of the room – enormous in its size, with thirteen thrones arranged around its edges.

Upon the dais was embossed an empty hoop with four lines that crooked diagonally at their midst. Two at the half-mark, two at the upper quarter-mark. The recognized symbol for the cubi race.

Five of the thrones were occupied – and elevated from the ground. The thrones were carved into the tops of pillars, which by magic could rise or fall as wished. Differing elevations of the delegates was perhaps used to indicate their position in the hierarchy. Below the feet of each delegate, their clan symbol was embossed upon the throne-pillar.

"My Lords and Ladies," Veld announced to the seated delegates. "The representative of Owona's clan has arrived." He bowed deep and stepped aside for Siar to advance.

Once in the midst of the delegates, Siar fanned her wings and bowed. She had to be admitted to take a throne – it was a mere formality. But one that, if ignored, would spell disastrous results down the line. "Hail, honored ones. I am Siar, Owona's voice and counsel. Will you have me among you?"

"Hrienth raises no objection," spake a violet-winged she-cougar, her hair the same as her wings, her fur in shades of grey, and her glossy gown midnight black.

"Jin raises no objection," spake a pastel yellow and blue-green lizard, decorated with an impressive set of bone-white antlers. There was gold aplenty in their garb, tailored tight to their body. Oddly, the Jin's throne was highest of them all, even above Hrienth's.

"Taun raises no objection," spake a leopard of chartreuse green with yellow spots. He sat well for a man dressed in parade armor on a stone seat with no cushion.

"De'Tialdo raises no objection," spoke a blue-furred, haired, and winged feline dressed in a black dress more ornate than the Hrienth's. Her clan's seat was lowest of the extant thrones.

"I raise no objection," spoke a snow-leopard succubus, two tailed, with her fur – spots and all – set in shades of pink. Red-haired, dressed in a matte black chiton with golden accents. And, most importantly of all, three sets of pristine white-feathered wings. Her throne displayed the symbol of Seme, and to speak as such left only one interpretation.

"Lady Siar of Owona's clan, you may select any throne that pleases you," Veld addressed her.

Intrigued, Siar cast her gaze upon the vacant thrones – aha. She sat herself upon the nearest to Seme's perfect opposite. Her throne rose upon her seating, to sit higher than the De'Tialdo's and lower than Seme's.

Once Veld had left, the meeting proceeded with official business. Droll plan-making about how Siar's relatives would earn their keep, and provide for the community. It ill-suited her to impose upon her descendants as Owona demanded, but it did provide them with skills that could be plied to support themselves.

The universal combat training in her clan made them easily an option for guards, to lessen their dependence upon demons for security.

"Pray, tell me," spoke Seme's avatar well into the meeting. "Why has your honored grandson, who arranged for much of this, not represented your clan prior to this point?"

All eyes turned to Siar. She could tell the truth, and cast disrepute on Owona, or arrange for a lie that would convince no one sufficiently.

The spark of unhappiness in Siar's belly fanned into a flame for a moment.

"Because, he has only ever met two members of our clan." Siar admitted. "It is the way of things in Owona's clan that we seldom meet others of our clan besides our parents, siblings, and children. Even now, I could not tell you how many of mine own siblings possess offspring of their own, let alone anything about them. He could not represent a clan that he has no knowledge of."

It was perhaps the greatest insight their clans would ever have into Owona's. And if they disliked what they saw, perhaps they could persuade Owona to change her ways. After millennia, Siar found she hadn't the energy for it anymore.

"It seems you are deeply discontent with the way of things." Seme continued. She fanned her headwings upward. "Is Owona so intractable?"

"Exactly so." Siar flared her headwings as well. "It is her clan, she has the right to command us." That bone was tossed to Taun's representative – traditionalists, close allies of Owona's. Siar wanted no talk of duplicity to reach Taun's ears, lest she suffer The Avenger's displeasure.

And it was true. Owona had made the change, emerged with the third set of wings. Power transfinite and sole authority were her rewards.

As Siar glanced at Seme's avatar's own set of hip-wings, an idea came to her. Perhaps she should attempt the change as well. Earn those rewards for herself, and her descendants.

--

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

At dinner, he'd gotten to meet with one of his son's coworkers, the demon alpaca, and met his son's possible first wife.

Her name was Percell, she was an emerald dove phoenix succubus (though she didn't have any green in her plumage). She was yellow-and-black, Nihi'lir could only tell what kind of dove she was by the shape of her beak and her color patterns. Percell was a bounty hunter of Seme's clan, and had a powerful build not unlike Euberta when Nihi'lir first met her.

Like Gemenes, she wore a shirt made of netting, though she had an embroidered dudou top underneath. This prompted a discussion about the nettting-shirts – they were made from threads with magic placed upon them.

Specifically? That the netting couldn't be cut. So any slash attack made on them would be unable to do devastating damage. No protection against piercing or being bludgeoned, but still a massive advantage.

There was a moment when someone banged on his son's front door to demand 'a rematch' which provided some entertainment. The dining room was immediately down the hall from the kitchen, and lined with windows – they saw Gemenes run roughshod over a demon ferret and force the normally ferocious beast to submit.

By way of giving Gemenes his trousers and walking away with his odd loincloth on display for everyone.

As the one who had trained Gemenes in hand-to-hand combat, he could see obvious rust in his son's form. Mistakes he made in certain moves, which Nihi'lir recognized from the same mistakes Gemenes had made learning them.

Nihi'lir didn't say anything when the ladies were present, not even when he was presented the trousers since 'they were his size'. They were, but that wasn't the point. He waited until the ladies had left for the evening before he even started to muster the energy to talk to his son about serious topics.

It was stymied by an immediate unashamed hug from his taller son as soon as they had left.

Gemenes hugged Nihi'lir tight enough that he couldn't slip out easy, but not so tight he couldn't breathe. "I was afraid they'd never let us see each other again." Relief tinged with fear, hope that both wanted to dim itself and shine ever brighter – his son's emotions were a mess.

Alarm bells rang like chimes in Nihi'lir's head, but he put that aside and returned the hug as best he could. "Owona had to tell you we were coming, right?"

His son released him and flipped his hand dismissively. "Yeah, but she's been spending the past eight years debating if she should have me killed or not, and whether she should let me go with you guys when Siar ascends."

Nihi'lir's previous concerns were forgotten as he processed – Siar was planning to become a tri-wing? Owona was weighing the value of having his son killed?

Rage threatened to light in his belly – he stamped it out. His son needed assurances, not to see his father fly into a homicidal fury. That his son wasn't angry helped – Nihi'lir fed off his calm. Siar, however, would be upset at the news – if she wasn't aware already.

"I can tell you right away, the decision isn't hers to make." Nihi'lir lifted himself up with his wing-tentacles until he was eye-level with his son. "It's yours. When Siar ascends," he went with the same certainty Gemenes had displayed, "even if Owona invests enough power in you to keep you from automatically transitioning, you can be adopted in to the new clan. You don't have to worry about that – I won't leave you behind, whatever happens."

Other creatures and beings had so many words to describe love, long essays, entire books on the subject. But cubi who were creatures of emotion could describe love in exacting detail, according to its type. Love started when loneliness stopped, as the bard Quoar put it.

He felt that in Gemenes, a deep loneliness that Nihi'lir's words helped erode. In the space where that loneliness had been was love.

It no longer seemed appropriate to chastise his son from how rusty he'd gotten at combat. Another hug was called for, and administered. At least the emotional moment wasn't punctuated by his son's headwings popping for yet more awkward conversations.

Pop!

"Euberta, when I get down there I'm going to kick your mangy ass for pulling this shit on me again," Nihi'lir muttered as he felt his headwings brush his son's. That was going to be a whole thing.

"Hate to tell you but she's not down there," Gemenes muttered back. "Also, if you tell anyone I popped from a hug...."

"Me telling anyone that is equally as likely as your mother being in paradise, young man."

--

Glossary:

T'Leylu Geofront: An egg-shaped geofront far from the center of Telmun City. Originally used as water storage by the insectis, only one third of the geofront's ground is available for habitation, the other two thirds are occupied by a lake. The geofront's walls are used to increase available housing space.
Dilmun Geofront: A geofront adjacent to the center of Telmun City. Used primarily by demon or demon-blood residents for housing. Mostly urban, receives very little rainfall.
Central Geofront: The main center of Telmun City, where the primary lake is located, as well as all governmental buildings.

---

Aww shit, it's cuberty time!

Gemenes Journal #9

---

Translated from Illyrian.

--

First time we're going outside braille!  Woo!

Gil was so upset by his booty shorts, until he tried them on.  He still hasn't had the heart to tell his family he prefers his feline form to his avian, partly because it can wear tighter clothes.  I guess being a really poofy bird would have that happen.

Percell came by for dinner, and guess who also showed up?  Pa!  Honestly surprised he was close enough to Mostalsia to get caught up in the relocation order.  Had my cold dead heart growing three sizes this day.

Milda joined in of course because I can't cook with barbecue sauce without her demanding a portion.  It gives me a convenient carrot to dangle in front of her for future use, so I let it slide.

Vahru came by, demanded a rematch, and I got Pa some leather pants he can rock if he wants to.  Lucky guy has his clan mark on his rib cage -- can cover that up with any shirt.

He wasn't happy with how I was fighting, and neither have I been.  If I take these demon fights seriously and kill one of them, suddenly I'm a threat.  They come with gloves off -- and that'd be fun except.  If I do it first, they win.  They pressed me to do it.  But by beating them non-lethally, humiliating them day in and day out, I'm offending their pride.  Aras has had to be physically stopped from taking a swing at me.

An incubus shouldn't be strong enough to beat them as I do, according to them.  And if they get frustrated by that enough to take the fight seriously -- I can respond in kind without any loss of face.

I'm fairly certain the beings in Telmun think this is bizarre demon courtship, or something.  I've seen some of the kids start mimicking my tactics, at least.  May have unintentionally developed a bullying tactic.  Sales for my lava-lavas have gone up, either way.

Once the ladies left, Pa and I had a heart to heart.  It was nice talking with someone who really cared again.  I've been living among demangelic Mean Girls for years now, and Percell is still making her mind up on if she could bear to raise kids with me.

Having met myself, multiple times, I'm not going to ask her to rush her decision just because I'm lonely.

During our heart to heart, I popped.  Got my second set of wings -- can hear thoughts and gobble up emotions.  Pa taught me how to set up an emotion filter and how to fine-tune my mind shield now that I can receive instead of just transmit.

I'm going to need to meet Siar soon, both as introductions and to arrange for teachers to start on cubi training right away.  Some observations I've noticed, now that I'm fully grown:  Cubi shapeshifting starts in the wings -- they're the specialized organs for it, and as I get older that will gradually work into my whole body.  Just like the headwings act as transmitters/receivers for thoughts and emotions, the backwings have some transmission/reception abilities too -- I suspect magic.

Could by why Merlitz and other elemental mages get elemental wings when they're casting heavyweight magic.  Wings represent a connection to magical energies.  Zingauru's theories on magic indicate such, at least.

Pa didn't ask, but I know he wants to ask me to move to T'Leylu.  It'd be easier for learning, I'd be safer and closer to family.  I'd also be trading Mean Girls whose grudging respect I've earned, and random strangers that at least have positive interactions with me for Mean Girls I have no idea how to act around, and people who've only seen what I do and grown fearful.

Apparently cubi don't appreciate my clapback skills.  Such a shame.

There, I'd be less lonely in one respect because Pa would be there -- but I'd be even more so in every other aspect.

Here, the neighbors know when to knock on my door and ask politely if I can help fix their kids' sprained ankles, or ask Ea about fixing the roads.

Shouldn't make the decision right now anyway.  I have to meditate and find out what emotions I have affinities for.  SAIA won't be around for a while to let me take some tests and find out.

Owona had better wait for me to get some progress on that before she comes in for the traditional 'you got headwings now' chat.  Or I will go right for those cankles with all my new wing-tentacle teeth.

---

Chapter Ten: Brain Bleed

---

Telmun City, 8538 Years before DMFA

Siar

Most of the time, she did not meet with her descendants until they were older – usually in their early years, the earliest being five. Many were the result of their being parents deaths, as beings were wont to do, and the cubi parent being busy in their clan service period.

Siar had fourteen direct children in her life, half of which still lived. She had thirty grandchildren, ten of which still lived. Out of twenty-one great-grandchildren, only one still lived. And, at present, she had twenty-two great-great-grandchildren all of whom were alive when last she looked.

The mortality rate for assassins, sellswords, and wandering adventurers was not conducive to a vast family. She had come to the decision she would not fly off to coo over every babe long ago – to spare herself the pain on hearing of the little one's death.

She had been in the midst of examining the aerie awarded to her, significantly larger than her descendants', from what she heard tell, when her youngest came to her to present his firstborn.

Siar followed Nihi'lir, and felt for his emotions. He was agitated, hopeful, fearful, on the precipice of rage, confused, and yet felt safe all the same. She noted, for the first time, that her son had increased the amount of black in his fur. He used to be mostly red with black accents, but that had reversed in the nearly three decades he'd been away.

It looked like he wanted to become solid black, as his wings and hair had begun to darken at their edges.

"He brought some gifts, by the way," Nihi'lir told her as they walked. "He helped invent a new type of fabric made from bamboo, and he wanted you to have a couple bolts – before it gets popular."

"...What?" Fabric? From bamboo? "Bamboo the plant? The plant stronger than iron?"

"Yep – he works with a tailor in the city to produce it."

Siar tried to process that as they navigated the doorless abode's galleries to the vestibule. It was a balcony that extended away from the cavern wall – where plants and ponds were arranged to recreate Owona's symbol when seen from above.

On the outermost edge, overlooking the city, was a raccoon incubus. His wings were batlike, and blood red as Nihi'lir's were. His fur was natural raccoon fare, and he dressed in glossy red fabrics. Under one arm were six bolts of fabric, red, blue, green and yellow, magenta, cyan.
He stood with his back to them, his backwings folded over his chest like a cape. An ear flicked at their approach.

Siar felt anticipation from him, fear that roiled with hope until they became a messy foamy substance. Anxiety, energy thrown at possible futures without end, and annoyance were unexpected.

"Gemenes, this is your grandmother. Siar, this is Gemenes." Nihi'lir fanned his wings and stepped aside.

Her grandson turned to face her – he had his father's eyes, with the clan's usual black sclera. While she remained standing, he went into a one-knee bow, and presented the bolts of cloth to her.

"Tribute for you, your ladyship," his voice had a twang, like his mother. "Take these, products of my work here in this settlement, as a taste of what I can offer."

Siar hated that scripted dialogue required for ritual presentations. Owona's history as a mercenary boiled over into their very language for talking to each other. She approached and lifted the topmost bolt – red, her favorite color.

"This is made from bamboo, is it?" She felt the bolt, and noted its softness. The softness was greater than Hishaani silks, than Cryshield cottons, almost cloud-like. "How is this done?"

"It requires adult bamboo, and involves the shoots being shredded, treated with chemicals, and pulped." Her grandson raised his eyebrows, ears, and headwings. "It is satisfactory?"

"...Pending a tailor's opinion of this fabric, yes." Siar took the bolts of fabric and teleported them to her chambers with a thought. "Rise, let me look at you properly." When he did, Siar walked around him with her eyes narrowed. "You fold your backwings, why?"

A wave of pain, very old, rolled from her grandson like a wave – with frothing peaks of fear. He had a mind shield in place, so she couldn't see the images or hear the words of his thoughts clearly – but she could pick up a general impression.

A winged figure, bat-winged like him, stood still in a chamber while someone circled him as she did Gemenes. Once directly behind the winged figure, the circling person used great strength to physically rip the bones out of the wings.

Siar was dismayed. Her grandson thought she would attack him for no reason? Who would have – she answered her own question before she finished asking. Owona.

"I see." She glanced at Nihi'lir, and felt subdued confusion float off him like smoke. "I am Siar, known to some as the Wicked Witch of Lostkeep Island. I've done terrible things, often further than what was asked of me, to make a name for myself. It's... unorthodox, for our clan, to make a name for yourself. To have a reputation." Siar ceased her circling to stand in front of her grandson. "I found it most useful to cultivate a negative one."

Kinship, a peculiar emotion that coiled like vines, reached out to her from her grandson. She returned it in kind.

"I'm told you've cultivated a reputation as well. Come into my parlor, and tell me about yourself. As much as I like talking about myself, it's polite to offer a guest the first go-around."

They talked for a while, the three of them. She learned Gemenes hadn't kept to his training well because he was bombarded with play-fights from the demons in his neighborhood and at work. Demonic threat assessment said that Gemenes ought to have been easy to defeat, as cubi were weak at combat. It offended their pride that he did not fall within that, so he defeated them with minimal effort.

Siar had to put her foot down about that, since he had reached adulthood the growth of his powers and awareness would diminish his combat effectiveness for at least a year. He would need to throw a fight, take them more seriously, or decline challenges going forward. Perpetual challenges couldn't be allowed to endure.

When she brought up leaving his place of employment, she got an uncomfortable reminder – her grandson wasn't employed, he was indentured. He'd been paying off the ransom originally asked of him out of his wages. The original plan had been to use rewards granted to those who bring in residents to live within the city to pay it off – but a canker in the plan had revealed itself too late.

Most of the cubi who had come credited Owona for their desire to settle. So, the reward would go to Owona or her representative. Which Gemenes was not.

Further, his position as secretary to the head of Telmun's civil government was a greatly desired post. One which Siar would be foolish to waste.

"If I had the threat of 'if you lose I add you to my harem' instead of just humiliating them, it'd be easier," her grandson groused as he sat on his cushion.

Her house had come unfurnished, so she was in the midst of purchasing furniture to fill the space. For seating in the parlor, cushions around the room's central focus – a hookah. Siar and Nihi'lir partook of the hookah, but Gemenes abstained. Wizardweed wasn't to his taste – he preferred medicinal vapors.

Nihi'lir took the hookah stem he smoked from his mouth and exhaled curly smoke as he talked. "You're still on about that? Ten years later?"

"Hey, I've only waited this long because the clan rep you sent told me I had to get married first."

"What devilry do you speak of?" Siar's smoke was all diagonal lines when she took the stem out of her mouth to talk.

"He's had this fantasy about keeping a harem of men, though when last I looked you were going to do it to rampaging creatures?" Nihi'lir adjusted himself to lay on his stomach, then put the stem back in his mouth to smoke.
"I haven't been an adventurer for years, and if I were I likely wouldn't have met the girl all y'all are considering hitching me to." Gemenes crossed his arms and tossed his head back.

"Don't talk like hill folk in front of your grandmother, young man."

"Hate to break it to ya, Pa, but I am hill folk."

Siar had taken a deep breath of the hookah and breathed out conjoined hoops of smoke from her nose. "As the representative Owona's appointed, I'll override that restriction," she pointed at her grandson. "Make the threat. But make good on it, should they proceed anyway. I will speak to Seme, and ensure her greatest of granddaughters knows our purpose."

Nihi'lir voiced his displeasure with a groan at the same time Gemenes pumped his fist in victory. "An academic issue, anyway. Since you, young man, need a remedial lesson on combat."

By Siar's command, the two descendants of hers began that remedial lesson shortly thereafter. She could tell Nihi'lir wasn't wrong to believe Gemenes needed the lesson, but it wasn't so dire as he made it seem.

Gemenes practiced the deflection form – it emphasized meeting an opponent's strike with just enough power to redirect it, which left the attacker off-guard. While Nihi'lir practiced the mobility form typically used by assassins – it emphasized circular motions to get around attacks and opponents, then to attack from the rear.

Both forms lacked lethality, were reactive, and what Siar would consider the inferior forms of combat. She would have to make time eventually to teach her kin the importance of the breaking form. It galled her to impose on them like that, but it was necessary.

If none of them knew how to fight to kill, that would spell disaster.

--

Ea Gnashir

After a week, nothing had happened yet in regards to the Owonas in her city. Gemenes' behavior was not indicative of the clan as a whole, it seemed. He was forced to take a couple days off to establish a chain of command with his clan and receive instruction on cubi matters. Apparently such matters included the manifestation of his second set of wings.

This time away from her secretary gave Ea the chance to observe the problem and see if it merited dealing with. It was clear, the cubi wanted her city. But if they also had the strength to just take it, they would have by that point. Logically, it stood to reason that they needed time to build their strength up.

So she needed to build her strength up faster. She could talk to the family heads in the other clans to encourage flings or arranging marriages. Half-breeds would be motivated to earn their elder's approval by jumping when called upon. Beings bred ten times faster than demons, who were faster than other creatures.

As long as she could convince the families to take on the half-breeds and not leave them, it could go well.

An interesting note eventually came across her desk, however. The Owonas who had come to Telmun were taking on bodyguarding jobs from the looks of things. Partly, according to her sources, this was to allow the Hrienths to finish construction of physical paths to their homes so wingless people could come and go.

And another was that ever increasing numbers of young beings had taken to mimic the antics of Gemenes and Ea's relations. Fights with clothes as the trophy. There was money to be made guarding others from challengers.

The interesting aspect of it was the possibility she saw in it. Adventurers could defeat demons, and most adventurers were beings. It was a common cause of death for half-breed demons.

Having an adventurer guild chapter in her city was impossible – but she could amass power by taping into that potential from a different direction.

A summons was written up for some of the architects and certain former adventurers to discuss the nascent plan in Ea's brain. Because the construction of her balcony was too loud to beckon Gemenes to retrieve the scrolls, she had to take them to him herself.

When she stepped out of her office, she immediately put her free hand to the gap between her eyes. Another of her nephews stood across from Gemenes in the hall adjacent to Ea's office.

She quickly cross-referenced who the offending nephew was. Slate blue and aquamarine plumage with an iridescent bronze band of feathers around his neck, black spots on his wings – Ramuh. From Ya's second marriage to a Decapitante.

"Look, pretty boy, rules have changed." Gemenes had his hands on his hips, his chest out, and a smirk on his face. "You wanna scrap? We do it serious-like. Claws, blood, consequences. Got a lady my gram-gram wants me to marry, gotta impress her family – you know how it is."

Ea snapped her fingers before Ramuh could blindly accept. "You two want to fight – take it outside!" She pointed to the door and dropped the scrolls on Gemenes' desk. "And that counts as your fifteen minute break."

This was a new development. New entertainment – Gemenes had never changed the rules for his scraps before. Ramuh was probably not wise enough to realize the danger he was in, and continued the challenge anyway.

Ea stood from her incomplete balcony and watched the two young men circle each other. Her office was part of a grander structure, a central building with archways to eight towers that went all the way to the roof. At its center was a deep pool of water that went down to less than ten meters of the chamber below. Some insectis design philosophy was at play, but it was lost on Ea.

"As the challenged," Gemenes announced as a crowd began to form. "I set the consequences, and make the first move. Are we in agreement?"

"We are," Ramuh responded, and fanned his wings.

"Should you fall to me, I will subjugate you and induct you as the first of my harem for a number of years equal to your age at this time." Gemenes fanned his wings wide. "Should I fall to you, I will tell you a secret of magic that will help you become strongest in your lineage. Acceptable?"

"...You're a weirdo. Fine." Ramuh flexed his hands, turned his fingers into claws. "Make your first move."

"The agreement is struck. Let battle be joined."

Ea expected Gemenes to lead with one of his pseudo-gish techniques. A combination of magic and physical attack that would disable his opponent quickly.

Instead, Gemenes lifted his hand to his mouth and bit into his hypothenar muscles. The blood he drew worked against gravity and coated his hand. To those who didn't know better, it would seem like he'd put on a red glove.

"Your turn," Gemenes sing-songed.

Ramuh launched himself at Gemenes, one arm pulled back tor a diagonal slash.

The incubus sidestepped the slash and jabbed at Ramuh's rib cage with his red hand.

Ea's keen ears picked up a faint sizzle sound before she saw Ramuh recoil from the blow – a hole burned in his shirt, and his plumage underneath askew. 'Ah,' she thought to herself, 'he prepared a corrosive spell with his free move.'

Ramuh's combat doctrine was to meet the enemy's strength with his own, and overwhelm them. Powerful punches, kicks, and slashes all worked toward that goal. But Gemenes' combat doctrine was to deflect. With his clean hand he would meet Ramuh's attacks just enough to control the momentum, then lash out with his bloody hand to counter.

However, her nephew was not outclassed in the fight. His endurance meant he could put more energy into attacks than Gemenes could afford to spend. Ramuh's hardened skin provided great defense, while Gemenes relied entirely on deflection and his bewitched shirt.

Gemenes' net shirt couldn't be cut, any time Ramuh actually got his claws in the raccoon he couldn't create long gashes to damage muscles. Worse, Gemenes knew healing magic and could fix himself up in seconds if given time.

"Too much momentum," Gemenes cooed as Ramuh took to the air to try a diving kick. He calmly stepped aside and jumped when Ramuh hit the ground so the minor shockwave he created wouldn't affect him.

Ramuh had gone into the ground up to his waist, and found himself stuck.

As they had fought, Gemenes had collected all the blood spilled by himself into an orb that floated around his bloody hand. That orb was then promptly tossed into the cracked sandstone all around Ramuh.

"Right, give up?" Gemenes folded his hands behind his back, just out of Ramuh's reach.

"No!" Ramuh clawed at the stone to try and dig himself free. The blood that filled the cracks all around him didn't seem to catch his notice. When digging wouldn't get himself free, he collected mana in his hands and fired a bolt of black lightning at Gemenes.

Quickly blocked by a barrier of interlocking triangles. Defensive magic Ea had taught Gemenes. Contiguous barriers were easier to make, but once damaged tended to fail all at once. She'd had the theory that a barrier made up of many parts would be overall stronger, as it could survive partial breaking.

A theory proven correct as Ramuh burst part of the barrier and burned the wrist of Gemenes' right wing away.

In seconds, literal seconds, Gemenes' good wing had unraveled into four tentacles, two of which ended in monstrous heads. The heads resembled hooded cobras, but the face was too squashed – and they had three eyes to the usual too.

Those tentacle-heads launched at Ramuh with fury and began to bite into him, while the naked tentacles merely slashed him up.

Only Ramuh's hardened skin saved him from being filleted by the incubus' tentacles. Even so, he came out of the experience with deep lacerations, bite marks, and scared from the suddenness of it.

"Sorry about that," Gemenes growled with a wide smile. "I'm usually in far more control of myself when I get hurt. But parts of me just respond to rage so much quicker than I'm used to." He stroked one of the triclops cobra heads, and willed them to merge back into a wing. "So. Not asking anymore. Give up."

Ramuh cowered with his wings and arms protecting his head. "Alright. I give."

"Awesome." With a snap of his fingers, the blood in the sandstone cracks forced the stone to move. Gemenes had widened the hole so that Ramuh could climb out. "Glad to have you on the team, Ramuh. Good fight. Go tell your parents what you agreed to, pack your things, and be at my place by the end of my shift. Or we'll have this talk again."

Ea considered what she'd just seen as she watched Ramuh fly off, and Gemenes began to heal himself. She'd just seen an adult, if young, demon lose to an incubus new to his adult powers. That same incubus had been holding back the whole fight, and not used techniques that had easily got him victories for years.

Perhaps she'd been wrong about Seme being the death she invited in by the front door. Perhaps her death would come at the raccoon's hands, unless she avoided it. Ramuh hadn't been a bad fighter. Inexperienced, cocky, but he had the technical skills. Had he not locked himself in one spot, he could have possibly won before Gemenes got serious.

But the very first time Ramuh had done meaningful damage to the incubus, rather than devolve into a ranting lunatic or screaming about pain -- Gemenes had responded with vicious reprisal.

On reflection, Ea realized Gemenes hadn't reacted to the lightning bolt through his wing except to maul her nephew.

She left the balcony and her office to stand beside Gemenes' desk. When he arrived, the raccoon's wing was skeletal where it had burned through, but sparkles of red magic indicated an ongoing healing spell.

Without a word, Gemenes sat at his desk and started on the paperwork for the day.

"You'll treat him well?" She asked. It ultimately mattered little, Gemenes could have killed Ramuh and none of the family would have objected. They lived a dangerous life, death was but one fate that could befall them.

"Provided he behaves." Gemenes didn't so much as look at her. "Why do you care?"

"Because he's only twenty-three. By your agreement, he'll be released once he's forty-six, and then I will be obliged to help him seek vengeance if he wishes it."

"Ooh, ominous." Gemenes smiled at his paperwork, still not a single glance toward Ea. "Maybe I should treat him so good he decides to stay with me when he's released. Also? Triangles might not be the best way to go for that barrier spell – I'm going to try squares next time."

"Just don't accept any other challenges like that today – unless you want to use your lunch break."

She left, back to her office with the construction workers building the first of two balconies. Regardless of her suspicions, the wheels of government needed to turn. Though she dared hope her niblings would learn from their cousin's fate and leave well enough alone.

Foolish, in hindsight.

--

Glossary:

Cryshield: Capital city of the Cryshield Republic, the northernmost major port in Comia Atoll. Has the most trade with the various continents of Furrae out of the entire atoll, even more than Hishaan. Known to practice being slavery.
Wizardweed: A naturally magical plant that can be smoked to stimulate mana production and offer a psychedelic experience in large doses. Toxic unless prepared appropriately. The smoke takes a random shape once it escapes the lungs.
Medicinal vapors: A water-soluble drug known to improve lung function after inhalation. Frequently used to treat lung damage from smoking, or help the lungs clear debris from their interior. Creates a mint-like effect when taken for recreational use.
Deflection form: One of the three base forms of Owona's martial arts. Emphasizes survivability by redirecting enemy attacks until the opponent is exhausted.
Mobility form: One of the three base forms of Owona's martial arts. Emphasizes agility, physical quickness, and being in constant motion so as to frustrate the opponent.
Breaking form: One of the three base forms of Owona's martial arts. Emphasizes physical strength, using precise blows to injure the opponent in specific ways.

--

Cast:

Ramuh Decapitante: Race: Demon phoenix. Species: Passenger pigeon. Age: 23. A foolish young man who picked the wrong day to be brave. Knows magic, but only uses it when backed into a corner due to poor control. Favored element: Lightning.

---

For those who're wondering, slate blue is navy blue with a bit less black in it. At least, on Ramuh it is.

Bet when I said Owona's tentacle heads were blue volcano mythos, y'all thought they'd be male heads, huh? But I showed you! Hah!

Five internet cookie to the first person who gets the reference in the early parts of the chapter.

I said so in chat, but nice call-out to Soul Reaver.

Important Things to Remember #1:  Remember socks First, shoes Second.

---

• Nihi'lir Tuler Owona and Euberta Tuler have a child named Gemenes Tuler Owona, a chairly young man.
• This happened in an Amazon community where men were expected to be more submissive, take care of children, and handle domestic tasks.
• The women of the Amazon community were expected to be boisturous, quick to action, and to take part in the whaling of skeljúngr.
• Comia Atoll, where this took place, is a massive ring of land around a shallow sea.  It is made up of four islands, one of which is Lostkeep Island where the story began.
• Lostkeep Island's rural populations mostly live in underground communities build around cenotes.
• Giant gryphons, kaiju-sized monsters, lurk in the sky making flying a risky manuever despite the number of people with wings in this setting.
• Say it with me: Furrae is not safe.  It is colorful, and deadly.  Treat her with respect.
• Society is divided into magical beings (creatures) and non-magical ones (beings).
• There are odd implications about the race of Gemenes, Euberta, and their raccoon relatives.  Fuckery might be at play.
• Euberta Tuler, an old woman, does a substandard job of raising her son for the limited time she even interacts with him.
• Nihi'lir is a pretty decent dad, odd because his cubi clan is not known for familial connections.
• All cubi have a clan mark, which they cannot affect with shapeshifting and signifies their connection to their clan.
•     Nihi'lir's is on is ribcage on the right side.
•     Gemenes' is on his left calf muscle.
• Euberta eventually gets tired of being elderly, and solicits Nihi'lir for magical boosts so that she can go on one last whaling trip.  She later commits suicide-by-whale to die with honor according to her Amazon culture.
• Owona Clan has allies, they are Taun Clan, Jin Clan, Hrienth Clan, and De'Tialdo Clan.
•     Taun is a clan of soldiers, specializing in tactics and warfare.
•     Jin is a clan of healers, specializing in medical care.
•     Hrienth is less a clan and more a culture, due to their founder's death.
•     De'Tialdo is a clan of artisans, specializing in the heights of civilization.
• Owona Clan are primarily mixed between sellswords, assassins, and adventurers.
•     Nihi'lir and Gemenes are both assigned to be assassins, and are sent for training to that end.  Nihi'lir goes among the clan, Gemenes is sent to an adventurer school.
• Lostkeep Island is part of a nation called Mostalsia, which has the port city of Pudrock as their capital.
• Gaia De'Tialdo, the architect of the school, conveys Owona's orders.  So begins her torment.
• Gemenes first expresses his desire to create a harem of pretty men.
• Mostalsia and neighboring countries practice ancestor worship as the main religion.
•     A cult based on an alleged mutual ancestor, Smotli, has begun to emerge and result in violence/persecution of people not descended from him.
• It is believed Comia Atoll was formed by the Fae having an argument.
• Gemenes meets Illyria Scorcros at adventurer school, they become friends despite their clan's lack of political connection.
• Illyria is a healer, who wished to learn how to fight.  An exchange of education is established as the start of their friendship.
• The adventuring guild at this time has four primary tracks.
•     Marksman, who specialize in ranged combat without magic.
•     Warriors, who specialize in melee combat without magic.
•     Spellcasters, who specialize in magic.
•     Assassins, who specialize in sneaking and using magic to kill.
• Scorcros is heavily implied to be the precursor clan to Fa'Lina.
• Illyria and Gemenes team up with a warrior, Themis Riken, for their adventuring.
• Gemenes says no way, no how, is he ever going to Hishaan.
• Their first assignment is to guard a fort alongside other adventurers.
• A giant gryphon dying in the area, called Gyo'Oh, poses some difficulty.
• Gemenes meets Owona, it does not go well.
• It is revealed Siar is Gemenes' paternal grandmother and is not yet a tri-wing.
• Owona is vexed by the chairly nature of Gemenes and needs to ponder what to do.
• While investigating Gyo'Oh, a demon alpaca attacks.
• Illyria and a guest party member are able to escape, but Gemenes and the demon alpaca are eaten by the dying gryphon and presumed dead.
• They're not dead.
• Gemenes is kept as a hostage by the demon alpaca's family for two years.
• They live in an abandoned insectis hive, trying to build it into a great city.
• While chatting with Owona, it is revealed she never wanted to be a tri-wing.  Her emotional distance from her family is from having it thrust on her unexpectedly.
• Ea Gnashir, an angel related to demons by marriage, has the bright idea to take Gemenes into her employ so he can work off his ransom.
•     She comes to regret this decision.
• Smotli persecution forces thousands of persecuted beings and creatures to Telmun City for a better life underground.
• Among them are many cubi clans.
• Seme Clan arrives in totality, including their tri-winged founder.
• The cubi clans plan to eventually supplant Telmun's demangelic leadership.
• Jin Clan have already become vital for the city, as they have the most medical professionals and the training to increase that number.
• Hrienth Clan have approached being vital, as they bring in vital services such a banking.
• Siar is revealed to be unorthodox for an Owona.  Not just because she has normal-looking eyes.
• Nihi'lir proves again he is a good parent by explaining that Gemenes could be adopted into Siar's Clan even if he's not allowed to go naturally.
• Gemenes, being an incubus, is frequently challenged by demons on the belief that he should be easy to defeat.
•     He is not, in fact, easy to defeat.
• Eventually it gets to the point where Siar authorizes him to take challengers into his harem to force them to get serious or back off.

Gemenes Journal #10

---

Translated from zẖꜣ n mdw-nṯr.

--

I've put Ramuh in one of my template magical homes -- basement, ground floor, first floor. It's a one bedroom, one bathroom, with some additions.  The template didn't quite work so well?  The bathroom is on the ground floor behind the library when I'd intended it to be on the first floor.

Ramuh was alright with the space though -- it's big enough to have guests over if he wants 'em, it gives him plenty of room to expand his horizons, and he can keep it after his time in the harem's done.

I put his home in a wind chime, specifically his house is in the striker.  I've got it in the kitchen so he can smell when I'm cooking food and I can smell when he is.

He's alright with the work uniform I have for him, it's not terribly revealing as far as harem garb goes.  Topless with a lava-lava, and whatever he wants for unmentionables/footwear. I'm going to set up a dinner with Percell so she can meet him, and give her opinion.

Ideally?  She decides to get a lady harem going.  I don't know if bounty hunting puts you in a situation where you get to keep people for long stretches, but maybe if someone doesn't pay up?

If I have a harem of cute guys, Percell deserves a harem of cute girls.  Maybe we can get members of my harem and members of her harem into relationships after they finish their time.

Ramuh's a cute guy -- I still don't know enough about birds to tell what kind he is?  But his mammal form is also cute.  Surprisingly, his form isn't a feline like Gil's.  He's a canine kinda phoenix.  Floppy earred dog with lightning powers.

Anyway, interesting developments regarding Siar.  She's encouraged a lot of our clan members in the city to take on bodyguarding jobs, which gets them out of T'Leylu.  I'm told that it legitimately will take a while for the Hrienths to get physical roads up to their aeries, so there is at least a fig leaf.

But mostly?  It's being done to show how we compare to demons.  Let the beings see what we offer and make reasonable comparisons.

I'm going to hopefully have a template house I can shove into something mass produced, so my aunts, uncles, and cousins don't all have to rely on their employers housing them -- or just have a place they can go to get away from their bosses.

Ancestors know I would not have lasted this long living with Ea.

So, did meditation and found out my affinities.

Natch, I've got a solid affinity for rage and misery.  Confusion is also aggressively tasty, but its tangled up with the rage and misery -- I get the feeliing (heh) that they're related somehow.  Total aside but you have no idea how jarring it is to write in hieroglyphics that were lost to history in most of my Earth-lives.  Back to business, I've got minor affinities for lust and love.  To quote the Heavy, "Not big surprise."

My biggest affinities, though?  Greed, desire, hunger.  I can't tell if they're bound up in each other or if they're the same emotion.  Hunger is like pain, a weird grey area of physical sensation and emotion.  Fear is tasty, but I don't have an affinity for it.  At least not yet.  Maybe I can grow one?

I don't have the required training to string all these together to say what career I should pursue based off these affinities.

But right now I can tell Ramuh skipped lunch after our fight, so I'm going to start on dinner.  Ciao.

---

Be careful describing yourself as a snack around cubi with hunger affinities.  Strange things tend to happen.

Chapter Eleven: Purely Pulmonary

---

Telmun City, 8538 Years before DMFA

Gaia De'Tialdo

Telmun wasn't a city proper, not like how Hishaan, Cryshield, or Klurid were. They had the population, but they lacked infrastructure and industry. It was most evident in how the civil government didn't have the resources to hire Gaia for her architect work.

Once the adventurer school in Pudrock advised her it wasn't safe for her to continue working there, she'd returned to Hishaan for a much-needed vacation. Then a faction of the Hrienth Clan moved to Telmun and offered De'Tialdo Clan a massive sum of money for Gaia's services.

At first she'd been upset at the development, but then her dear auntie showed her the figure the Hrienths had paid. That he first project would be to design a bank only served to sweeten the deal.

Gaia loved to design governmental buildings like banks, city-halls, and postal offices. They let her flex her skill, push things just a bit and make the engineers responsible for building her works hate her.

She had a habit of designing things just barely feasible to force development of new techniques. That was how the De'Tialdo Clan stayed indispensable in Hishaan – they did not make do with what they had, they pushed ever onward.

The vertical construction gave her plenty of opportunity to perfect a new architectural technique she had on paper for decades: the cantilever. So many aeries needed construction, she'd gotten more than enough to use it in Hishaan.

Gaia didn't interact much with most of her clan mates also hired by the Hrienths, save Pegas – a city planner. He designed the Hrienth's fortress city for them, Gaia would design individual buildings. It's how they'd known to start with a bank.

She had furnished her clan mates and herself with magical homes that they kept in egg amulets placed in hidden spots for each of them. There was no way to betray each other's location if they didn't know, after all.

Gaia had hidden hers near the apex of T'Leylu Geofront, in a hollow of a root that hung down from around the edge of the sinkhole. Rain and mist obscured the area, so she had little suspicion it would ever be found.

If it was? She could teleport to it. Magic was wonderful.

However, while her hiring rates were outside Telmun government's price range – her consultation rates weren't.

Local architects in Dilmun and Central reached out to her to consult on designs they had in mind in the weeks after Owona's clan arrived. What they were building? Arenas, coliseums, and lecture halls – all to creature specifications.

It was interesting information, but she wasn't paid to spy – so only the De'Tialdo ruling council got the intelligence on what she'd been consulted on. Otherwise, she pointed out flaws or design errors and collected her gold dollars.

She sometimes saw Gemenes in T'Leylu, but always near the Seme or Taun aeries. He seemed to interact with Taun's representative to the other clans, or one of Seme's phoenix children.

Given that the relevant phoenix was a woman, and she'd known Gemenes to be a rainbow man since they'd met, curiosity eventually got the better of her.

On a day when the rain was heavy, the fog was thick, Gaia found her chance when the yellow-black emerald dove was at a cafe while Gaia passed. Gaia swung by the counter, and placed an order for a drink and coffee caramel crème brulee then stood near the muscular woman as she waited.

Broad-shouldered, thick and meaty limbs, she had the build of a fighter. Her fashion a sleeveless vest over a mesh shirt with a Kluridan dudou in white, incredibly broad trousers that almost looked like a skirt. She had a metal cube on a chain attached to her belt – there was magic on it, but Gaia didn't know what kind.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I've seen you before," Gaia started a conversation with an air of confusion and some falsified emotions for the other succubus to pick up. "Do you happen to know Gemenes Tuler?"

The phoenix succubus was startled, and took a second to glance at Gaia up and down. "Um. Yeah, I hang out with him a bit. You another friend of his?"

Gaia put on a pleasing smile, only somewhat faked. "I'm one of his teachers from Adventurer School, actually." She extended her hand. "Gaia De'Tialdo."

"Percell Venken," was the reply as the phoenix shook her hand. "I'm waiting on the crème brulee, you got time to chat?"

"So am I, wanna find a seat?"

They sat and started to talk while they waited for their orders. The cafe wasn't one of Gaia's works, but it definitely borrowed the Hishaani style, the use of vertical lines and horizontal curves. On T'Lelyu's ground locations, all the floors had subtle convex curves so that water wouldn't pool, and could be guided to storm drains.

"...an architect? An adventuring school hired an architect? To teach?" Percell's incredulity made her miss when their food was delivered to the table. She tried to throw a thank you at the server's back, but they left too soon. "Ah, dangit."

"Yeah, they thought if an architect taught the spellcasters on how to build structures safely, it'd improve survival rates. I was also teaching the warriors how to knock down walls without causing cave-ins." Gaia tapped her spoon against the caramelized topping on her crème brulee. "Oh that's a good noise."

"Oh, you're supposed to tap it first?" Percell picked up her spoon and deflated, sheepish. "I've always just started eating."

"Well you don't have to, but I like breaking up the sugar layer so it's not in big chunks. To do that, I crack the whole thing before I dig in." Gaia tilted her ramekin so Percell could see. "Like that."

"Hmm, lemme try." Percell's musculature would imply she'd struggle with such fine motions, but the opposite was true. She tapped her crème brulee with multiple rapid hits, faster than Gaia could manage. The sound of spoon on caramelized sugar filled the air. "Hmm! That is a pretty nice sound."

"You say you're a bounty hunter? Any specialization?" Gaia showed her the trick where one dragged the spoon around the surface then dug it into the crème brulee without words, and smiled when Percell did so.

"Yeah, I specialize in catching runners. Folks who want to get away rather than fight. Fighters are easy, because if they were good at fighting they wouldn't have a bounty in the first place. We give that work to newbies." Percell shrugged and ate some of her treat. She paused as she considered the difference having many small sugar shards added rather than a few big ones. "But runners can range from folks who are legitimately good fighters but know they stepped in it, to folks who might have sticky problems that made them run."

"So catching runners is harder work overall?"

"Oh yeah, mostly because you don't have the option to kill them if things get hairy." Percell stirred her treat prior to her next bite. "Oh this is good. But, if a bounty hunter's sent after a runner – they're wanted back alive. No ifs ands or buts."

Gaia took a sip of her drink – a dry brandy wine. "Is it wrong that I hope it's a little while before your professional services are needed here?"

"Well, until Pudrock recognizes this place or they develop a court system of their own, I'm effectively unemployed. My clan and friends are looking after me, so I'm able to treat this like a kinda sucky vacation." Percell smiled, one of those 'what can you do' sorta smiles. It looked nice. "What about you? All the work around T'Leylu must have you busy."

"Only in bursts. I design a building, then pass it off to the engineers to actually build while I supervise. A lot of the time I'm doing support work to help speed up the construction, but a lot of the time I'm bored." Gaia looked up at her current project – a pumping station to take T'Leylu's excess water and send it to Central. "Once you get good enough at your job, you streamline until there's lots of rest time."

"Hmm. Maybe you could take on apprentices? A massive headache, but boredom in our race can be dangerous."

"I've put in a request, but no one in my clan's interested at the moment. They're all going into blacksmithing." Gaia shook her head. "I don't know why, no one in my generation does. All the kids just want to be blacksmiths lately."

"Oh! I might actually know the reason for that." Percell's headwings flared with her excitement. "See, Dirdri, biggest port city on the inner side of the atoll? They found a way to make steel that resists rust and corrosion. There's been an explosion of steel on the market because everyone's selling off their old steel to get Dirdri steel instead."

That started a conversation about what so much steel being dumped into international trade would do to their respective businesses. Neither were optimistic it would be a good change in the long run, but in the short term it was fun to watch.

"...Anyway, Gemenes is going to meet me here. We're hoping to talk to our clans about – oh hey, there he is!"

Gaia turned to look over her shoulder and saw Gemenes at the cafe counter placing an order. He had a sour look on his face as he took his drink and approached once waved down.

"Yo," he told them as he took a sip. Curiously, he started to chew afterward.

"Hey," Percell replied. "Long day?"

"Long night, long day. Ramuh decided he liked it, and wanted to keep going all night cause 'you don't need to sleep'. Ugh." He took another sip and chewed it up. "Then Ea's new project had me busy. What about you two, having fun?"

Gaia blushed just a bit at how open Gemenes was about his trysts, but tried to remain friendly. "We're just chatting – ran into each other here, had some crème brulee."

"Oh? Cool, glad you're not being worked to death." Gemenes glanced at Percell. "Want me to leave and come back, or are you good to go?"

"I'm all done." Percell smiled at Gaia. "Was great chatting, but Gemenes and I need to go get our clans to agree on a marriage contract."

That froze Gaia mentally for a second. The closest equivalent she could think of was that someone had just told her the world was a tube. All her thoughts stopped as she tried to parse what she'd just heard.

"...I think you killed her. You shattered her brain and killed her. Here, let me do a manual restart." Gemenes poured some of his drink into his hand and rubbed it off on Gaia's nose before Percell could stop him.

Gaia expected a liquid, or perhaps stew. What she saw on her nose was a slightly damp mass of red spiders each the size of a grain of sand.

He'd been drinking spiders. There were spiders on her face.

There were spiders on her face!

Maniacal raccoon laughter echoed in her ears as brief flashes of panicked thrashing, wing tentacles, and spiders inching their way toward her eyes flashed in front of her.

--

Ea Gnashir

In hindsight, it was brilliant.

The best way to build up power was to build up the strength of her allies. To build up her city's sense of unity. Arenas, sports, bloodsport and combat schools would all allow that. Demons had their affections start after bloodshed, so that would be the best way to encourage her relations to dally with beings and produce a glut of half-blooded and powerfully motivated niblings.

Perhaps it would entice smaller demon families to join – who could tell?

Ea had Milda check in on Ramuh, to make sure he was not being abused – she interrupted the two of them in an all-night spar, seemingly. Ramuh had learned cubi didn't need to eat or sleep and wanted to test his endurance against Gemenes', to mutual satisfaction.

Perhaps that was for the best – having an outlet for energies would tire Gemenes out until he couldn't cause mischief.

Curiously, there was a mouse incubus seen in and around Gemenes' home too. Milda had seen him, and had dinner with him present but she couldn't remember his name.

Ea noted things in the description though – such as how Gemenes and this mouse had similar wings, eyes, and hair colors/textures.

As she sat in her home, in her comfortable robes, rocking on a hammock-chair, and sipping tea, Ea pondered. And plotted. And schemed.

She had an idea of who the mouse was, and had a devilish notion of how she could loop another leash around Gemenes' neck to make him behave and ply the cubi's tricks against them. She'd had to make sure her mind shield also policed her emotions, at least until she had a firm idea.

An entry she'd read in Gemenes' journal years back came to her mind – that his father had requested forbearance until his son manifested his adult powers.

Ea smirked to herself. It would take years to carefully navigate the issue, and ensure she wasn't playing into her newfound rival's hands. But it would give her more security, assuming it worked.

The message went out, sealed so Gemenes couldn't read it before he passed it off to the messengers.

A few days of schedule haggling, and Ea had a guest in her office. Just in time for the completed effect of her first balcony.

She sat in a wicker chair, while her guest sat beside her. Between them, a circular table where they could rest their drinks.

Siar, the Wicked Witch of Lostkeep Island, who had poisoned entire mer cities and laid curses that endured a thousand years, tilted her head to one side when she heard Ea's request.

"You wish to marry one of my descendants?" From her tone of voice, Siar suspected she was being played.

Ea did nothing to disabuse her of the notion. "I am unmarried among my siblings, this rankles them. For a time, I held out hope that I might attract another angel to be my mate – but alas." She shrugged.

"You cannot expect me to believe you merely wish to placate your siblings."

"Lady Siar, you have siblings of your own." Ea's eyes were half-lidded as she let a bit of frustration slip her emotional barrier. "You know how they can be with their whining."

"True." Siar nodded, her gaze a thousand kilometers away. "They do grow... tiresome as decades wear on." Her eyes snapped to Ea's. "But there's more to this." It wasn't a question.

"Indeed. Your clan is presently not isolated in T'Leylu, like the others. Your clan is martial, something my kin respect. Begrudgingly, given how long Gemenes kept teasing them, but even so." Ea kept her eyes locked on the Wicked Witch's. Unafraid. "And I think this would be an excellent way to avoid your clan ever being hired to dispose of me."

"...Your kin thought, for all these years that Gemenes was teasing them?"

A lie, rooted in how people perceived demons. Ea couldn't help but attempt to work flaws into her rival's operating doctrine. "But of course, they could tell there was a better fight Gemenes could give them, and he wouldn't. They were quite frustrated for a while."

Siar leaned back in her wicker chair. "I see. We would need to negotiate things such as naming, children, and dowry traditions – but... an arrangement could be made." Her ear, eyebrow, and headwing on one side rose. "Have any of my kin struck your fancy, or shall I prepare dossiers?"

"Well, I know it's a bit gauche... but I do have a bit of a type. My sisters saw a nice mouse among your kin, fit and gorgeous red eyes." The hook was baited, and laid into metaphoric water. "Is he old enough for marriage?"

The Wicked Witch's mouth twitched. A smile was fought against. But even if she knew it was a hook, the bait was simply too tempting. Siar's face melted into a feline smile.

"He is."

--

Ramuh Decapitante

His new home was in a wind chime. A wind chime that hung near a window in the raccoon's kitchen. It had heavy chimes that produced deep notes when struck, all of which hung from a cap made to resemble a house.

When Gemenes told him that, Ramuh had responded, literally: "You're taking the piss."

Then Gemenes had shown him the magical pocket-house inside. It was pretty big! A cellar, he hadn't known what those were – a couple of small rooms under the house, wild. A large ground floor where the front door had the staircase down and sitting room furniture – the kitchen immediately adjacent, then the dining room adjacent to that.

The second floor had the bedroom, a lab for making potions, and a trophy room. The trophy room back home had been a great spot for storytelling – all his older family members could show off what they contributed.

Gemenes had made it clear he'd built the house with the idea of multiple people living there, but the magic hadn't been cooperative. He was still new to the house-making thing. So the house would be Ramuh's to keep once he'd finished his 'harem time'.

It was weird, being subjugated instead of killed after a lost quote-unquote 'serious' fight. But cubi were weirdos in all other respects, adding another didn't much change the overall weirdo picture.

Gemenes was clear – Ramuh was the first member of his harem, not the only member. And that Ramuh wouldn't strictly be a concubine – he'd have chores to do, and studies to pursue. Apparently in cubi harems, the harem members were also advisors – Ramuh's input on big decisions would be asked.

It seemed like a less intense form of marriage, to be honest. Not terribly bad – he wasn't expected to make kids for a while, but still odd.

Cubi, what could you do?

He had dinner with Gemenes and Gemenes' future wife, they talked, and Gemenes ran the harem uniform by his future wife to make sure she thought it was acceptable for children.

A wrap-around skirt, no shirt or coat, and sometimes shoes. Percell, his 'lord's' future wife, only specified that all harem members needed to wear smallclothes.

There was an awkward moment when Percell and Ramuh had to explain to Gemenes – they weren't the same species. There were differences between doves, Percell, and pigeons like Ramuh.

In revenge, Ramuh challenged Gemenes to an endurance spar. It didn't take long to find out that in a drawn-out fight, or one where Ramuh wasn't off his game, Ramuh would win. It was a bit too late to save him from twenty-three years of subjugation, but hey. Better late than never.

Ramuh handled the boring tasks assigned to him and waited for Gemenes to get back – the raccoon had promised to teach him how to make bread dough that looked and tasted like chicken.

When he heard the door in Gemenes' kitchen and saw movement through the window, he left his magical home to greet the source.

Ramuh's flabbers were utterly gasted when he saw Percell and Gemenes in the kitchen, their clothes all torn up and with evidence of dried blood. "Did you guys get into a fight?"

Gemenes chuckled, low and malicious, as he opened the cold box for a drink. "Nah, ran into one of my teachers. Reminded her how I am as a student."

"Okay? Full disclosure?" Percell narrowed her eyes as she leaned on the wall. "That was funny. It was utterly hilarious. It also made us look like crazy people in front of my clan leader, you dumbass."

Ramuh blinked. Once, twice, thrice. "But you're cubi," he said like he had to inform someone the sky was up. "You're crazy by definition."

Percell turned to him with a glare that could ignite flammable substances. "Unlike us? You need to sleep. Remember that."

Gemenes patted him on the shoulder and put a bamboo cup of tea into his hand. "Good man, telling it how it is. She will one-hundred percent kill you in your sleep if you keep talking like that, though." He passed one to Percell and had one for himself last. "But, it didn't matter much – they agreed to the marriage!"

"Oh!" Ramuh beat his wings, smiling with excitement. "Great! When's the wedding?"

Percell paused in the midst of drinking to look at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Um. We kind of don't have the money or resources for a big wedding ceremony. So... we just had a contract drawn up, got some witnesses, signed in blood."

"Bada bing, bada boom," Gemenes commented as he shifted his hips and hands from side to side.

"I don't know what you did there, but yeah." Percell shrugged. "My clan is still rebuilding, the dowry we get from the marriage is going right into expenses. And Gemenes' family don't do big weddings, even for alliances."

"Now we gotta work out a plan – am I moving to Percell's place, is she moving in, do we move to a different house or different geofront." Gemenes counted off things on his hands in between sips of tea. "Oh, and when we start trying for kids."

"Well, I can't help with most of that – but I can help with the last one!" Ramuh was sad at first that there'd be no wedding, but he cheered up once there was something he could do. "I can cheer you on and clap to keep time." He set his cup down to clap his hands to a solid one-four time.

Percell, in the midst of a drink, promptly choked and started to cough.

Gemenes started to laugh like a maniac.

It took a minute, but eventually Ramuh got the two of them to keep time with their coughing and laughing. It helped when he started slapping Percell's back to keep time rather than clap.

They had no sense of rhythm, but he'd get them sorted out.

--

Cast:

Percell Venken: Race: Phoenix succubus. Species: Emerald dove. Age: 37. A succubus from Seme's clan, previously lived in Steepmaw as a bounty hunter. A big old musclebird, lesbian, prefers a challenging job over a reliable job.

---

Clap! Two three four! Slap! Two three four! Snap! Two three four!

Gemenes Journal #11

---

Translated from Scots Gaelic.

--

Much to the dismay of my savings, Percell doesn't think a one-bedroom home far from her family would be ideal for children.  We're looking at property for sale in Central right now -- lakeside would be ideal, but it's expensive.

I asked her if making a magical home for the kids to live in would be acceptable, she doesn't think it would since it would be me looking after the kids for the most part, and that would leave the actual house empty.

Our contract is for four kids, but they don't count unless they survive to sprout headwings.  Neither of us is in a terrible rush to get started on that -- Percell wants to finish her cubi education, I need to start on mine, so it's for the best.

Percell says Seme's cubi education process takes about fifty years to complete.  Learning the basics of all our powers and abilities.  Pa agrees with her on that count.  Guess the Academy really does innovate and streamline things.  Shapeshifting alone takes twenty years to get down, apparently.  And that's not counting the eighteen years me and Pa have to spend doing specialist assassin training that sets us back on everyting else.

Being blind for nine years, then deaf for another nine, just so I can kill people better?  That's going to suck.

Pa's got it worse, Siar's got a new arranged marriage going on and he's got to hope his wifey will agree to try for babies in eighteen years.

He wanted me to be there, when they put the magic on him to make him blind.  Wanted me to be the last thing he saw before he started the process.

I have made it very clear to Siar and Pa -- I'm hoping that the kids Percell and I have are all Seme clan, because the very thought of bringing more kids into Owona's clan right now makes me want to punch turkeys.

They don't even know what turkeys are.  Barbarians.

Siar is a better grandmother than I expected, worse than I hoped.  She's apparently got an epithet -- the Wicked Witch of Lostkeep Island.  She's a spellcaster primarily, and a master of brewing potions.  She kinda sounds like the voice actress who played Ursula in the Disney Little Mermaid movie too.  Hmm.

There used to be mer living in the inner sea.  Used to be.  Siar brewed a poison that depopulated their cities.  It was mercenary work, some aquatic mythos were being muscled out of their swanky inner sea homes and wanted the mer driven off.

Wish granted.

If I had to guess, her method for ascension to tri-wing status would involve the brewing of a potion.  While most of our clan in the city are working as bodyguards, she's taking up a position at the Jin's hospital.

Speaking of jobs Percell is trying to find work in town -- but the only jobs similar to her skillset would be debt collector, and she doesn't want that on her conscience.

Until that changes, she, Ramuh, and I keep each other sharp with spars and trading combat tricks.  They're both of the opinion that I've been slacking off a lot and not keeping up with my hand to hand skills.

Well I'm of the opinion that they've got potatoes for eyes.  Spellcasting's in my blood, I've always gravitated toward magic.  Both my parents were gish adventurers!  My grandma is maybe a decade or so from becoming a being of literal magic!

Maybe I can try and get Percell a job with the city.  Ea could use more enforcers, right?  Someone whose skill is tracking and retrieval, not kill-murder-maim-destroy-wreck-crush?

When we have kids, I'm not letting Owona dictate anything about their lives unless she gets her act together.  So I'm putting aside some money from my wages and investments to save up.  If they want to go to school, I will pay for it.  Not Siar, not Pa, me.  Because then I know it's unconditional.  ...Okay, as long as the only condition is they can't go to Hishaan.

Percell gave me weird looks when I said under no circumstances do we take the kids to Hishaan, not even for visits.  If they want to gamble with their lives when they're grown -- fine.  But while we're responsible for them, we're not going to the dragon-eats-your-soul city.

Anyway.  Pa was happy that Percell and I are putting off having kids -- said missing time with me when he had to go off to learn was some of the most painful things he's ever felt.  Plus, it gives us the opportunity to get some practice by helping him and his new wifey raise their kids.

A bit of parentification, but at least he waited until I was grown to do it.  Hopefully, it'll be eighteen years before it becomes a thing.  And fifty years (at least) before Percell and I have kids of our own.

That gives me and Percell time to save up, get jobs, live our lives a little, and plan out baby names.  It also gives me time to build up some projects to work toward.

Short list:

• Warp-aci.  I like me some glowrats.  Lots of utility there, and it makes it so I don't have to have a teleport spell prepped at all times.
• Cloning/resurrection.  The Fae are always so smug at how easy it is, I will find a way to translate that magic here.  I could do it now, but I'd need to do a near-death ritual to get the particulars.  Blasted Fae having it easy.
• Prepare for the Dragon-Cubi war.  Getting the prior items figured out first would be ideal, as they'll help with this.
• Make sure my plans don't interfere with Mab's.  I'm not one of her friends, she likely won't like my being here, and I don't want her to see me as an obstacle to be removed.

These are all big macro goals.  I have smaller projects to keep me occupied in the mean time.  Such as answering a summons from Owona I've been putting off by writing this.  Ugh.

---

Quote from: VAE on July 20, 2024, 04:46:16 PMI said so in chat, but nice call-out to Soul Reaver.

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your five internet cookies!

Quote from: Liatai on July 13, 2024, 11:36:05 PMAhaaaa, so more for laudanum than straight-up opium or heroin. Watch out for vomiting. Old-timey tinctures of opium have a chemical component that modern laudanum has removed from it through use of a petroleum byproduct. (Yes, laudanum still occasionally sees use in modern medicine! Rarely, though! I'm surprised, too! Mostly as an attempted treatment for EXTREME diarrhea. Opiods do tend to cause constipation. x3; Or treating opioid withdrawal symptoms in babies whose mothers used opioids regularly during pregnancy.)

Also gotta be reeeeeal careful with the dosing. Naxolone's a long way off, historically.

(Side note, opioids generally don't do a whole lot for childbirth pain, but might help with relaxing muscles during.)

They use the muscle relaxing aspects to keep the mother from injuring herself during birth -- with creatures, it happens a lot.  And also to keep stuff like wing tentacles from being able to tear the place up.

This group of Jins only have one pharmacist/apothecary, which is why Siar was able to sign up.  With her, they can alternate teaching and working instead of hoping no one needs pills made for a day.

Quote from: VAE on July 10, 2024, 04:43:13 PMOh right, I forgot to peek in here and say I love this.
Also, you've ~~probably~~ actually as we talked on Discord guessed Gaia to be my favourite character :P

Love you enjoying the story!  Glad I'm writing Gaia as intended. :3  She's mostly practice for how pre-character development Cyra would be, but if she has a fan I'm happy all the same!

Chapter Twelve: A Heart that beats for You

---

The Chairport, 8538 Years Before DMFA

Owona

Owona reflected on the experiences of a woman who would not be born for a thousand years at the very earliest. She reflected on Cyra. A woman who had wanted to conquer a great city, to provide luxury for herself and her descendants – as most creatures did – and had it backfire from unforeseen complications.

She looked at memories of still images, that depicted moments of Cyra's life as she interacted with her grandson – not yet born either. And as she did, Owona pondered if it was how the Fae felt. They were unshackled to time, and the limited knowledge of most creatures.

By Cyra's words, not yet spoken, Owona was her friend. By Cyra's memories, not yet acted out, Owona had saved her life on many occasions. By Cyra's actions, not yet taken, Owona was her peer as a terrible clan leader.

When Owona dove into the collective unconscious of her clan, she felt not a scrap of happiness. Not a mote of joy. What lay there were interconnected rivers of frustration, dislike, and misery.

They were every bit as miserable being in her clan as she was being its founder. Perhaps Owona could have endured such a thing until her scripted death, had she not seen what she had. But it was not so, knowledge had been given to her. Through Cyra's torment, she saw forgiveness and how others would step up to help.

Through Gemenes' memories, she heard words that encapsulated her. "I don't want to ruin more lives... hurt anyone else."

For the first time since she ascended to tri-wing status, Owona wept. Alone in her private sanctuary, she wept for the years of her life that had gone unlived, the goals she'd left incomplete, and the harm she had done.

To weep was to give an escape route for pain, and as Owona wept she leeched some of the unhappiness from her clan's collective mind. As the hub of the wheel, she could draw it out of her clan members and offer release.

"Things cannot continue as they are," she decided and dove into the connections between her and her clan members. "Gemenes, when you are able, please enter a meditative state – we need to speak."

For a creature of her age, patience was a must. She waited until Gemenes' mind opened up to her before she slipped into his mental space.

He had taken the time to sleep, to create a dream for her to inhabit rather than an unstable mental state.

Once again, the cavernous building was empty, save for two chairs – one of which Gemenes occupied.

"You called?" Gemenes' emotions projected weariness. He was exasperated with her, which correlated to memories she picked up from him – Nihi'lir had begun the nine years of blindness for his assassin training.

"I did." Owona sat in the chair appropriate to her size. "I have pondered, and come to a conclusion. The way I have administered this clan is not...." There were words she wanted to say, so many that she struggled to find the most appropriate ones. "I have erred in my leadership. It has made you and your elders unhappy. Even me."

"At no point in my time as one of your clan members have I ever suspected you cared for our happiness." Gemenes folded his hands in his lap. "What brought this on?"

"...I wish to make amends." Owona straightened her back. She would meet the task and overcome it, as she had so many times before. "I wish to restructure the clan, so that it is not nearly so miserable."

Gemenes' eyebrow arched. "I'm happy to hear that. However, you're telling me this why?"

"I have no idea how to... do this." The giant mole scratched her forehead with her claws – longer than her descendant was tall. "Could I ask you to help me?"

"Am I to take it this means I'm no longer at risk of being murdered?"

Owona nodded. "At least, not by me."

"Very good. Let's begin at the beginning." Gemenes unfolded his hands and gestured with them as he spoke. "You'll probably want to speak to the main family clan members you have running the show, get them brought up to speed on this. Then start telling the branch leaders, I'd recommend Siar be one of the first ones from her seniority."

There was a layer of bitterness to Gemenes that was only revealed when his exasperation faded. Like a layer of dust over a deeper issue.

"Understand – I and other clan members are feeling what you probably felt when you ascended. Trapped, bound to obligations we didn't ask for and living blunted lives as a result. How many of the branch family leaders or the main family know the circumstances of your ascension?"

"None." Owona shook her head to and fro – the motion created gusts of wind from her size. "You are the only one to upset me enough to reveal that."

"I'd advise you reconsider that. Sharing the root of the problem will help us empathize with you, and come to a solution we can all live with." Gemenes stood from his seat and approached her. "I'm not your peer, nor your senior. My perspective is limited. Seme is here, where I am – she is among the foremost therapists to have ever lived. You have allies in some of the oldest clans currently living. Siar is going to make the change any year – and you could reach out to Fa'Lina if she's ascended already." Gemenes spread his arm. "There is no shame in asking for help."

"They're all so... competent. With clans that love and respect them. Successful. And I'm.... " Cyra's words, text on a page, flitted across Owona's eyes in that moment.

Owona leaned back and considered. Seme was new to the alliance, it would be improper to ask her for such advice when her clan was in dire straits. Fa'Lina was not yet a tri-wing, and Owona had no idea where she could be. Siar... was someone she had hurt badly over two thirds of her life.

The misery Owona had made Siar live with would go on to be the focus of her clan, once it manifested.

Jin was grateful for Owona's information about Telmun. Taun was rage incarnate, as Owona was. They would be whom she approached for counsel.

"...A change of scenery is called for." The soft voice from the ceiling proclaimed.

Gemenes scowled and sat down in his chair again.

Quicker than the eye could blink, the scenery changed. No longer a cavernous room of glass and steel – it was a stone port adjacent to a sandy beach. Great ships, longer than Owona was tall, loaded people up and began to leave.

"Walk with me, talk with me." Gemenes rose from his seat and walked away from the docks, the ships, and the other minds as keenly developed as his.

Owona shrank herself down so that she could follow him without damage to the awnings of the port. She felt sand beneath her feet for the first time in centuries, even if it was a dream.

"Some of the clan won't be able to forgive you. You might not get to the point where the clan unambiguously trusts you until every living member dies and is replaced by someone who never had to live under the old system." Gemenes stopped in the sand to turn to her. "Are you prepared for that?"

"I am." She could already feel Gemenes' own bitterness, and echoes of discontent from the rest of the clan. "I wish to stop actively harming people, though."

"Well good. We don't want to be harmed either." He fanned his wings. "You know step one, start telling people things are going to change. Step two is finding people who will help you change. I'll do my part, but I'm not even a century old – don't expect miracles."

Owona nodded.

"Step three is to find a way to meet our needs without forcing us into jobs we don't want or have the skills for. I think mandatory combat training is alright still – but talk to others and get an idea." He shrugged. "You need to decide what parts to keep, and which to leave in the past. To help sort that – what made you want to fix this mess?"

A mote of the deep bitterness flecked out of Gemenes as he spat that question at her. Underneath the bitterness was revealed a terrible loneliness. Despite being part of a clan, Gemenes seemed to feel alone.

A more damning critique of her previous leadership, Owona would never find.

"I reviewed the memories of Cyra. How she mourned me after I died." Owona turned to look out on the sea. It was minty green, filled with algae, with fish that siphoned the tiny plants from the water. "And how she had similarly made her descendants miserable, but wished to make things better."

Gemenes had no reply. He glared at her to continue.

"Cyra considered me a friend. And...." Owona held up her hands – mostly made up by her long and unnaturally sharp claws. "And I couldn't imagine anyone would want to be friends with me. I haven't had friends in...." She tried to recall, before she ascended. The faces of her allies, her family members.

She could only recall faceless figures. Voiceless words they'd spoken. People without names.

"Well." Gemenes sighed. His bitterness was less pronounced, but still visible to Owona's supernatural awareness. "That's as good a reason as any."

--

Pudrock, 8533 Years before DMFA

Illyria Scorcros

When they looked themselves in the mirror, they didn't see the person they were thirteen years ago. Years of adventuring had given them confidence, strength, battle prowess.

It gave them perspective.

Their career hadn't been exemplary, far too often for the Guild's liking did they involve themselves in politics. But they had lasted longer than most adventurers. Many retired in their mid-twenties, if they lived. Not Illyria. Not Themis.

Their figure had gained muscle mass from thirteen years alongside warriors. They had long ago eschewed fluffy robes for a suit of armor. Their magic had moved from spells to their weapon – they were a new kind of gish.

They brought powerful protective spells, healing magic, and sculpted light to the forefront of battle. There wasn't a word for what Illyria was, not yet. As the pioneer of a new field of adventuring, their insight was sought. But they had none to give.

While they had remained strong, Themis showed signs that her lifestyle was not sustainable. As the healer of their group, Illyria had done as best she could. But they had no idea how to mend injuries of the spine, tendons, or nerve endings.

As they looked themselves in the mirror in their tavern room, their gaze drifted toward Themis. Their room was a two-bed, and Themis lay in hers atop the covers. Every three or four breaths, she coughed.

Illyria had to correct her spine from a slippage earlier in the day. What had caused it? A sneeze.

Themis had sneezed and slipped a disk. The whole rest of her day was spent recovering.

The two of them were equally muscular, after so many years. The armor Themis had gotten a decade ago from the school had only partially survived – no longer a full suit of lamellar, but with patches of studded leathers, chain mail, and siren-crab plates. It rested on a stand, next to Themis' axes, Illyria's brigandine coat, and warhammer.

Themis' armor gave her the visual shorthand of being 'the barbarian' while Illyria's gave them the visual shorthand of a professional warrior. The deception pleased them both.

A knock at the door shook Illyria from brooding enough to walk away from the mirror.

"Don't get up," they told Themis as they passed.

"I'm not an invalid," Themis wheezed back.

"You're injured, I'm your healer. It's an order." Illyria folded their wings over their chest so no one would be upset at the sight of – gasp – breasts. Mostalsian hangups about fashion were ridiculous. It wasn't enough to wear a shirt anymore, no definite features of the body could be visible. Baggy pants, loose shirts, an overall frumpy look.

It was why they hated adventuring in Mostalsia.

They opened the door and openly glared at what they presumed would be their disturber. Alas, there was no one.

"Down here, please."

Illyria looked down, and saw a figure at their waist-height. A mouse, with red and black fur – obviously demon-blooded. He was an older man, his flesh hung off his face in deep wrinkles, his hair was grey and turning white at the roots. The man was dressed in a Lostkeep Island lava-lava, sandals, and a seemingly heavy satchel bag, he walked with a well-worn cane.

"Hello," he said in a soft voice. "I was looking to hire adventurers, and the nice young lady downstairs directed me to you?"

Illyria glanced around, sure they were being pranked. "...Sir, how did you get in here? This is a Guild tavern, not open to the public."

"I used to be a Guild member when I was younger. They still let me in, even if they don't like me." He smiled.

Illyria's eyebrow rose. Intriguing. They leaned on the door frame, with the door open enough to let Themis hear and comment, but not make her state known. "Alright, sorry for doubting you sir. What's the job?"

"I'm Lir'rey, and I need an escort to see me safely to my son's wedding. It's not terribly far from here, but it's in dangerous territory I hear." The old mouse offered his hand to shake.

Illyria did so. "Illyria Scorcros. Congratulations on your son getting married."

"Thank you. It's quite unusual for him to be having a wedding, see. His mother's family were all very hush-hush, not doing any big celebrations. But I guess his new wife insisted." Lir'rey waved his hand. "The trouble is, whatever's been going on here on the mainland scared him off – he's living in Telmun City now."

Illyria tensed. Telmun was a demon city, a sanctuary for people fleeing the Smotli fanatics. They'd learned all about it after Gyo'Oh finally died. An underground city that spread out in unknown directions.

The city had been refused recognition from parliament on account of them harboring fugitives. Technically.

Telmun had no restrictions on coming or going, in an effort to entice people to do business and grow their city. However, Illyria had heard stories of people who had visited the underground city, returned to Mostalsia, and had that one visit hound them ever since.

Government officials would keep their names on a list, and they would automatically become suspects in the event of a crime near their homes or businesses – regardless of other considerations. They could no longer testify in court, or enter government buildings.

Illyria considered – their headwings hadn't popped yet, so they likely would in the next year. Either way, they'd have to retire. Themis, burdened with so many injuries, would have to retire as well soon.

Telmun, assuming they were welcoming, could be a convenient place to 'disappear', for Illyria to return to Swiftkeep, and Themis to settle down.

"I'm alright, let me ask my partner." They looked over their shoulder. "You in?"

"Assuming we aren't required to leave right now," wheezed Themis. "I'm in."

--

Astral Plane, 8533 Years before DMFA

Siar

In a meditative state, the Wicked Witch communed with her greatest of grandmothers. The space she designated for their conversation was clear – that they could see the astral plane outside the space, and be aware of snoops or other villains.

The astral plane was a place of solid color, with lightning-bolt paths of white light that connected all living things. From the astral plane, one could slip into another's dreams, into their thoughts, into their feelings.

Caution had to be taken when one actively went to the astral plane, it was not safe. Mythos and other creatures lurked on the plane, eager to devour minds.

While others shielded themselves from seeing the danger, Siar preferred to be aware of it.

Great Owona traversed the lightning paths in an instant and emerged in Siar's realm without need of invitation. Such was her authority over Siar.

"Well met, o ancestor mine." Siar fanned her wings as she bowed. A formality she wished she didn't have to observe for Owona, but was necessary nonetheless.

"Well met," Owona replied. The giant mole folded her wings and took a seat on the transparent floor of Siar's mindscape. "Are you in need of further resources?"

Siar faked a smile but didn't bother to hide her distrustful emotions. "No, we're fine on that count." She refused to believe that the change of heart Owona seemed to have undergone was at all genuine. Two thousand years, Siar had known her clan leader. She didn't believe Owona saw the need to change course, when her clan survived just fine miserable.

Why would she consent to a grand wedding when large celebrations of any kind had been banned for her entire reign? It made no sense.

Blessedly soon, it wouldn't be her affair anymore. She would make the change.

"I was talking to my son Nihi'lir just recently, regarding plans for his wedding. And he happened to let something slip." Siar fanned her headwings up, a minor threat display. "You are considering not allowing my grandson by Nihi'lir to leave the clan when I ascend?"

That was another thing Siar had learned when she followed up on the initial slip-up Nihi'lir had made. Owona believed Siar was not only capable, but would eventually ascend to tri-wing status. That Owona didn't seem to doubt it, and was confident enough to discuss it with her descendants openly was the greatest compliment the mole had ever paid Siar.

"Correct." Owona nodded. There was no shame, no shyness, no hesitancy. "Would you like to know why?"

Siar sensed no condescension from Owona, but how else could such a question have been intended?

"Enlighten me, o ancestor mine." Siar condescended to her in turn, with a repeat of the bow gesture.

"Because I'm reasonably certain the rush of information from him, on top of your own descendants, would snap your control of the ascension process. The sheer volume of information he has would overwhelm you, I suspect."

She took a step back, unsure how dire an insult she'd been paid. "You think my mind so weak that one grandchild more would undo me?"

Her clan leader's gaze softened. Her wings lowered themselves. "No. I do not." The elder succubus took a deep breath. "I lack the words to describe the issue as it truly is, for I have not encountered this before. So, I went in search of wisdom from elder clan leaders, and the phoenix oracles."

Siar's eyes widened. Owona had asked help from other clan leaders about one descendant? Even gone so far as to seek out the oracles?

"The oracles strung together words to make riddles of their answers, but I discerned their meaning. It would be harder for you to complete your ascension if you had to process Gemenes' mind as well as your other descendants. I have an interest in you surviving the process, so my choices are not good."

Suspicion and offense drove Siar to fluff her fur, flare her wings, and bare tentacles on her leader. "And what do you mean by that?"

Owona looked at her, eyes no longer soft. When the clan leader spoke, she always had a deeper resonant echo that followed her words. Like elemental shadow, as a voice. That echo instead spoke in harmony with Owona when she answered. "I've been informed that come what may, I will outlive you by a mere four hundred years. At best. So – the longer you live, the longer I do as well."

Oh.

Pure, unmitigated self-interest? Siar could understand that. She could, perhaps, come to respect that even. If Owona had truly consulted phoenix oracles, then there was no reason to suspect such a claim.

Owona was not one to directly lie. She could obfuscate, omit, or refuse to answer; when she gave a direct answer, it tended to be the truth. And Siar couldn't imagine Taun or another elder clan leader would give her false information on that count.

"...Fine," Siar replied after a lengthy pause. "But after I have ascended, after I have adapted to the changes – you will not keep me from my kin."

"You forget, o descendant mine." Owona lurched forward, supported herself on one hand and lowered her face to look Siar in the eye. Owona's eye was larger than Siar was tall, her pupil a match for Siar's wingspan. "He is my kin as well. As are you. And the reverse on both counts."

As quickly as she loomed, the clan leader withdrew.

Siar had been frozen – something as large as Owona having moved so fast was too much for her to parse in a moment's time.

"If he goes to you after, or I allow him to join you during your ascension – I have yet to see evidence that you would use Gemenes for anything but inflicting horror upon the world." Owona's eyes narrowed. "Prove me wrong, if you care to. Dispel my doubts. You're the one who sets the timetable – I have your whole life plus four hundred years to wait for your decision."

Owona's form began to become translucent.

"Goodbye, o descendant mine. I wish you luck in your new romance."

Then she was gone.

What had started as a demand for answers turned into a minor dressing down for Siar. And to top it off, Owona threw Siar's relationship back at her – an attempt at a compliment sandwich, no doubt.

She remained there, seething and silent, until she got fed up and began to dismantle her mental space. Perhaps Seme could assuage her bruised ego.

---

Hey, it's those peeps! Not dead at all! I like it when folks aren't dead. Means I can make them dead creatively.

Gemenes Journal #12

---

Translated from binary.

--

It feels like years since I last journaled.  Looking at my last entry, probably has been.  Been busy!

I'm involved in conference calls in the clan now, acting as the four year old at the table of villain schemes.  Any problems with the plan that I can spot are treated as foundational issues.  Not as fun as it sounds, because I have secretary work, I have landlord work, I have clan restructuring work, and I have to do cubi work.

It's like school all over again, only this time I don't have my friends to make it suck less.

Since I last journaled, I've added a couple guys to my harem.  And I got Percell to accept two girls into hers.  I have Ramuh still, his cousin Gil, and a being adventurer who wanted to be a silly billy -- he's a bull warrior, Hasicapt.  Bit of a lunk, got lost from his troupe and literally fell through to Central Lake.

Fortunately a certain handsome rogue was able to pick up his panic and get him to the ground safely.  He challenged me in fear, I won.  Bada bing, bada boom.  His term of subjugation is shorter than Gil or Ramuh's, I've sent word to the Adventurer's Guild he's here and in need of a pickup.  Once his group gets the message, they'll come pick him up and he's free to leave.

By the standards of the Guild, I'd be a fully realized gish adventurer now.  But I've been trapped in a hole, doing work for thirteen years now.  No real experience in the field.  Hopefully, once Siar ascends and Owona's clan is restructured, I'll be able to wander a bit.

If I have to wait until my cubi training is complete to see the world, to have fun adventures, and all that?  I might just give up -- because living like this sucks.

Oh right, I should talk about Percell's ladies.  She won the lottery, basically.  On the one hand, she has a mythos who she is looking after while Ea and the city council set up a legal system.  She's a type of elemental mythos -- constructs her body out of the elements she wants to, like a suit of armor around her energetic core.  When I met her, she had a smoky body like a ghost, which was the 'air' suit it seemed.  Lately she's been hanging out in the lake as a water elemental when Percell doesn't need her.  I think her name is pronounced Tuyē for us meat-people.

On the other hand, Percell also has a Zezzuva succubus in her harem, as a gift from me.  See, this elk succubus called Dianke challenged me to be part of my harem, but I'm not into that kind of thing.  So off she went to Percell's harem.  It was pretty obviously a ploy to get a spy for Zezzuva into Telmun and perhaps into Siar's clan once she ascends.  And since Percell's off on work so much, she gets to spy just as she wanted.  Though for a while she was upset that I wasn't into her like that.  Thankfully?  Ramuh, Gil, and Percell have been regularly reminding her she's very pretty all the same.  Hehehe.

Percell and I decided -- yeah, it's fine if our harem peeps want to the freak-nasty sex to each other, as long as everyone consents.  Percell and I mostly have the harems for the advice, skilled labor, and 'don't fuck with us' reputation.

My progress on my personal projects has all but stopped -- I can't muster motivation to keep working on them because being trapped for basically my entire life is finally catching up to me.  I still have a few years of indentured service to complete before my ransom's paid up.  If Pa and Ea can produce a child in the first year of being married, then my ransom will be forgiven.  But Pa's still got more four more years blind, then nine years deaf.  So not likely to happen, even before angel fertility problems factor in.

Back with Ma's tribe, wasn't allowed to wander much from home.  Back in Pudrock, not really allowed to go anywhere because of the Smotli freaks.  Back at the fort, it was my job not to go far.  And I've been here in Telmun for years.  I'm married, expected to have kids, I'm a landlord now -- renting out magical homes to help pay down that ransom faster.

I can't even be mad that the reference rewards aren't being put to my ransom -- all the money we have is being used productively.  Investing in businesses, infrastructure, people with exceptional talent.  And that's part of the problem.  I'm trapped, unable to leave without severe consequences, and I can't be mad.  It all makes sense why it is, the way it is.  Like with Owona's previous clan structure -- there were legitimate reasons for it to be that way.  But that way leaves me miserable, and every day it gets harder to hope that someday I could be free to go where I want, do what I want.

Though, for what it's worth, I have a protoform plan for a weapon to use against the dragons when the war breaks out.  The biggest weakness they have that I can find is they need to breathe, they need to conduct gas exchange.  And to do that, there are tissues of theirs that are not invulnerable.  So, I'm working on taking a page from Snadhya'rune's book.  A poison only I can cure.  A fungus that grows a fruiting body that resembles a flower.

I might have to test it soon, one of M'Chek's kids is allegedly looking our way.  She wants to use Mostalsia's unrest to bring the nation under her authority, and Telmun would naturally be a part of that.  Maybe even Klurid and the Swiftkeep Union, depending on her competence.  But I'll admit it's a bit hard to take a dragon called 'Blambe' seriously as a regional threat.

---

I'm back!  Bwahaha!  Glory to the House of Tacos!

Chapter Thirteen:  Back in Circulation.

---

Telmun City, 8533 years before DMFA

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

Five years, he'd been blind.  Four remained, then he would be deafened for another nine years.

By the end of the whole ordeal?  He'd be 'grown' in the eyes of the clan which he formerly belonged.

More than once, Gemenes had offered to reverse the spells which rendered Nihi'lir unable to see without the physical loss of his eyes.  Nihi'lir had gently turned him down each time.  If he didn't do so, he'd be mocked by his siblings forever.

He saw his siblings more often than before he moved with his bloodline.  Metaphorically, of course.  They helped him acclimatize to the lack of sight, shared strategies which had worked for them, and gently encouraged Gemenes to follow up on the tradition.

Since Gemenes would visit his home every day if possible, they often just had to swing by to catch him.  It put Nihi'lir in an odd position – he loved his siblings, and wanted them around, but they hounded his son while they were.

Infrequently, Ea would come with Gemenes, so the young cubi could be their mutual chaperone.  Those were good times – Nihi'lir could talk with his betrothed and they could know each other better.

The day came when Nihi'lir had trained his auditory and haptic senses enough to navigate from T'Leylu to Central, where his son's new house was located.

From what Gemenes had described the home as a stalagnate – a giant stalagmite and stalactite had met and were hollowed out for the home.  It ran from the floor of the geofront, adjacent to the central lake, and ran all the way up the geofront ceiling.

It was a mostly vertical home, the general circumference seemed to match the cenote rim from Euberta's tribe.  Blind, it was hard to tell.  He heard windchimes regularly throughout, he felt wind blow in from the outside as he landed.  A wave of spicy smells hit his nose – something, somewhere, was in the midst of cookin'.  Smelled good, too!

Recognition flowed from within the house, and soon Nihi'lir heard curtains move, and felt a wave of familiar 'glad to see you' emotion.  His son!

"How did you get the money to buy this place?"  Nihi'lir asked after he came inside, hugged his son, and was shown to a cushion.  The air was moist, spicy to smell, he heard water boil and metal clink against metal – he guessed he was in Gemenes' kitchen.

"Mostly?  Took out a loan from the Hrienths, used my magical homes to make it into a massive rental property.  The loan's fully paid already, now I'm puttin' it toward my ransom."  Gemenes was to his left, his elbow on the table to prop up his head – Nihi'lir could feel the vibrations in the table.  "Whole floors are full of magical home rental spaces – folks bring an item they wanna live in, we put it on a plinth."

A winged mammal came between the two of them to lay down teacups on saucers, then departed.

"Thank you, Gil.  Gil, Ramuh, all of us take turns powering up the homes for folks without magic of their own.  I charge below market rate, fix any problems they have right away – make the money back by sheer volume."  Gemenes sipped his drink, it sounded more viscous than tea.

When Nihi'lir brought his cup up to drink, the smell hit him – chocolate.  A treat from Lostkeep Island, full of memories.  "Ah, so you rent to beings and creatures?"

"Mhm.  Specially folks worried about privacy.  Got two adulterers using the homes for hookup spots, expect that number to go up as I keep security tight."  Gemenes set his cup down.  "So, wedding's in a couple days.  Any word from peepaw?"

"Don't use hill folk slang to talk about your grandfather."  Nihi'lir frowned, and sipped the chocolate again before he set the cup down.  His sense of smell hadn't increased like hearing and touch had – that would be something to develop when he began the nine years of deafness.  "He left Lostkeep Island, and is supposed to be here sometime today.  Part of why I'm out here today is so he can sense me."

"...Been years, and you still reprimand me for speaking hill folk when I is hill folk, Pa."  There was definitely hurt in his son's voice, mirrored with a bit of anger-shame-pain in the younger man's emotions.  "Was excited to meet 'em, but fine.  I won't talk."

Damn cuberty emotional volatility.  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

A growing trend among Gemenes and other younger Owona clan members was an ever-increasing sense of misery.  Unhappiness, woe, and despair were the primary emotions that they radiated – seldom was their trademark rage felt.  Taun's representatives had been to speak with Siar multiple times on the subject – the restructuring couldn't happen fast enough, it seemed.

Unfortunately, when Gemenes said he wouldn't talk he followed through on it.  Would not say a single word more to Nihi'lir, they had to communicate via emotions and thoughts after minutes of attempts.

Hurt, ashamed-of-me, not good enough, were the emotions that Gemenes communicated with.

Apology, loved-by-me, so-proud-of-you, Nihi'lir sent back.  He could pick up confusion from the others in the room, as they communicated secretly.

Bitter, disbelief.  Gemenes fired those feelings back with lightning speed.  Regret rolled off him as he felt Nihi'lir's reaction.  Apology, loved-by-me, weary-in-soul, woe.

"I'll try for a new baby in the first year, alright?"  Nihi'lir reached out to find his son's hand.  "So your ransom can be forgiven, and you can go on some adventures like you were promised."

Gemenes took a deep breath and let Nihi'lir take his hand.  "No, you won't.  Because you's gonna focus on catchin' up with your Pa, while he's here."

Nihi'lir adjusted his headwings, one up, one drawn down, while his ears and eyebrows matched the configuration.  "You think Lir'rey will be here for the entire year?"

"I think you got yer colors from him, since ya don't look a damn thing like gramma.  And if that's true, he ain't safe to go round Mostalsia right now."  A gust of wind blew in.  "Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.  Mornin' gramma."

"Morning, mother," Nihi'lir spoke up a beat after Gemenes.  Absent any mental or emotional probes from Siar, Nihi'lir wouldn't know where she was if Gemenes hadn't said anything.  He chose to trust his son.

Without preamble, Nihi'lir felt his mother grip his face from behind, and plant a kiss in his hair.  "Good morning, darlings," the Wicked Witch cooed.  "I just had a talk with our greatest of grandmothers, I need to discuss the particulars with Gemenes.  Do you mind if steal your son for a bit, Nihi'lir?"

"It's his house, he gets to decide who steals him."

"I'll yak with ya a bit.  Gil!  Don't eat all the onion soup, leave some for Percell!"  Gemenes downed his entire cup of chocolate, stood, and planted a kiss into Nihi'lir's hair just as Siar had done.  "Enjoy the drink, Ramuh's watching for... your Pa, he'll let you know when someone comes by."

Then, with a gust of wind, they were gone.  It was just Nihi'lir, and Gil.

"Oh hey!"  The voice of, presumably, Gil spoke up from the other side of the room.  "You're wearing Vahru's trousers!"

Which started an interesting conversation about how many trousers Gil's many relatives had lost to Gemenes over the years.  Single-handedly saw the rise of lava-lava and skirts on men, apparently.

--

Siar

There were few places the winged races of the atoll could fly without fear of gryphons.  Mostly, dragon domains or mighty cities which could actively drive them off.  Telmun was one such city, with so much vertical space despite being underground.

Her grandson flew well, which pleased her to see.  With his youth and long imprisonment, it would have been easy to assume he hadn't flown enough to become proficient.  He guided her up to a stalactite park where they could sit and talk.  A series of platforms connected to stalactites so that those who lived on the upper layer did not have to find passage below to enjoy greenery, a suggestion of Seme's that the city had run with.

The platform they chose was overgrown with plantlife that thrived in the partial shade from the nine openings in the geofront's roof.  Like a piece of the jungle above, brought below.  Gemenes sat on a bench of carved clay and polished wood, then patted the space next to him for Siar.

In the five years that had passed since they had met, the young man had changed.  From what Siar could tell – he had stopped all barber visits, and let his hair grow long into a curly mane that rested on his shoulders and down his back – with the addition of a beard isolated to his chin.  His wardrobe still glittered, but had grown to include glossy – influence from Siar, most likely.  Loose trousers, a broad sash belt, a shirt of bewitched netting, and a long-sleeved jacket that stopped at his ribs.

To Siar, and her colorful but simple fashions, he seemed a big-city dandy.  Particularly on days when he applied makeup.

She sported a dark pink chiton with a tyrian whorl pattern woven therein, and a white-and-pink beaded belt.  Much simpler, more elegant.

"So," Gemenes started with one arm thrown over the back of the bench while he faced her.  "How'd Owona piss you off this time?"

Siar lowered her headwings.  "She seemed to think I would struggle to ascend with you numbered among mine descendants."  Her hands folded in her lap, Siar tilted her body back, a pose to see Gemenes more broadly, to imply she wanted to see what Owona meant.

Gemenes nodded.  "Yeah, I can see that.  It took Owona years to sort through all the mess I brought, and she's been doin' this a while."  His headwings drooped lower than Siar's, along with his ears.  "Iffin you're gonna tell me you want me to stay with Owona during your asc -- "

"I'm not going to tell you that, no."  Siar let her tone become sharp while she stopped her grandson's spiral before it started.  "But, as Owona was not forthcoming – I'd like to hear from you why she thinks that way."  She filed away that Gemenes wasn't shocked – he had known about the issue and had been preparing for an eventuality.

Gemenes half-lidded his eyes.  "You want me to spill the beans on this?  Aight.  This for that, you don't breathe a word of this to Pa."

Blink.  Blink.  Blink.  "Alright."

A deep breath, and Gemenes launched into his explanation.  "Turns out?  Real afterlife is reincarnation.  Some past or future version of me achieved spiritual perfection – a state where they could remember all the lives they ever lived, and thus choose to stop existing.  But they didn't wanna, so they returned to reincarnation in a modified state." 

He conjured a series of stiff paper slides with simplistic illustrations of his points as he made them.  Simple, but helpful all the same.

"This makes me into what is known by the fae and real dragons as a 'chimera'.  A mishmash of people, places, and information.  All chimeras can gain access to their past lives when near death, or when we briefly die.  We don't get powers from our past lives, only information – we're part of the universes we're born into, with knowledge from outside.  Owona got hit by that when I formed my link to her."

Gemenes hiked up his trouser leg to show Siar his clan mark.  Ah.

Siar stretched out her hands and looked through the slides she'd seen as she replayed the exposition she'd heard.  It had been so surprisingly brief.  Like it was old hat to Gemenes.  "You... are a being that is a peer to the fae?"

Gemenes shrugged, with his backwings added into the gesture for emphasis.  "They don't tend to think so, but kinda?  Fae are all about chaos, chimeras tend to be about change.  I do loves me some chaos, though."

If true, which Siar had to assume was likely because Owona had made such a fuss about it, it would explain much of the oddities around her grandson.  And the situation in general – why Owona had wanted to change her clan after being stubborn for so long.  The great old mole had been blasted by the mind of an embodiment of change.

She set the slides down and looked at her grandson with her eyes stony, her mouth thin.  "You say you needed to be close to death to achieve this... was it when you were imprisoned?  Before?"  Siar probed with questions when the answers were offered.  An icy pit grew in her belly as Gemenes indicated – it had been frighteningly early in his life.

"...Ma was drunk.  She dropped me outside th' house."  Gemenes turned away and threw both arms over the back of the bench.  "Landed on my head, then fell into the water.  Was fully dead for a spell, but the healers brought me back once they fished me out.  Dunno where Pa was, but the family decided not to tell him."

Rage to the taste of tensed muscles, creaking cords of emotion that threatened to snap under any strain, bloomed in Siar at that revelation.  For a couple seconds, her mind was full of nothing but a sudden desire for revenge upon the Tuler family.

"Ma's already dead, and she's the one who screwed up.  So I didn't bother with vengeance, but hey.  You're all about overkill – maybe you know better."  Gemenes looked at her with the flattest expression Siar had ever seen.  "Part of the stuff I know, by the way?  Is one timeline where you die to a dragon called Hizell."

Siar's desire for revenge vanished quicker than a cut could bleed – she locked onto Gemenes' eyes.  Intensity met impartiality.

"There's more, but... do you want to try processing that on top of everything else with being a clan leader?  Or do you want me to hang back, and wait until you're more secure?"

Siar remembered Owona's words, about how she would use Gemenes' knowledge to inflict horror on the world.  A challenge to prove the old mole wrong had been given.  Siar didn't think about it too long, she reached out her hand to lay it upon her grandson's knee.

"You are my kin.  The way things are, you would endure misery alone if we took the safe way.  You've already endured too much for mine desiring."  Siar stretched one of her wings, sable and fresh-blood red, to stretch and pull her grandson closer.  Fresh blood red mixed with dried blood red in their proximity.  "Mayhaps it will be a more difficult ascent with you among us, but I would not ask you to remain more alone than you have been thus.  It risks my whole purpose, but I will make a clan where mine kin can know happiness again.  With you amongst us, from beginning until the bitter end."

In that moment, Siar didn't care for the glory being a tri-wing would afford her.  She didn't think how such an extraordinary situation would leave her possibly preeminent among other clan leaders.  She saw only the relief she could offer her descendants if she made the change.

They hugged, it was a lovely moment.  And then a group of bats flew through the stalactite park, and left them both covered in guano.  Such was life.

--

Themis Riken

She had lived long enough to grow old.  That was a legendary gift, her nieces and nephews back home would speak of her with awe.

She had lived long enough to grow broken.  That was a bitter pill she would have to swallow every day for the rest of her life.

Years of fighting, dangerous adventures, ballroom dancing, and mail delivery had left every limb of hers reduced to near uselessness.  Even her own backbone couldn't hold up – just recently, she had injured herself with a sneeze.

Illyria was so good to her, to help keep her functional up to that point.  They had taken much better care of themselves, they didn't suffer of cascading injuries like Themis did.  They, perhaps, had another decade of adventuring in them.

As they left Pudrock with their escort, Themis felt like she was likely to die in the first real fight they had at her lowest moments.  She and Illyria cut such an intimidating figure together that none of the black-coated Smotli police force even came near Lir'rey – but if they did, Themis wasn't sure she could win the fight.

Every time those thoughts seemed to overwhelm her, Lir'rey would speak up about his own adventures and ask how the Guild's training had resolved certain problems he encountered.

"So they started to teach everyone to look for ambushes?  I can't imagine the marksmen and assassins liked their niche being lost like that...," the elderly mouse said as they walked the road from Pudrock to Ghostglen.  On the road, they encountered others who cast hateful looks Lir'rey's way, but Themis and Illyria's 'stink eye' skill was superior.

"I don't think they did, but we haven't encountered any of them from before the change was made."  Themis leaned heavily on her walking axe as she moved.  Her own legs, her own wings, her own back couldn't be trusted.

They soon came to the fork in the road where the jungle was thicker, where the paved road was more well made, and where black-coated Smotli police hung out to with mean looks for everyone.  The road to Telmun City.

A stuffy mandrill looked them over and curled her lip.  Yet, without a word, she waved to her fellows to back off.

Themis knew that their faces would be noted.  Their records checked, and they would never be safe around the black coats again from that time forward.  Her aching bones told her she wouldn't have to worry about it for long.

"You remind me of my son's first wife," Lir'rey said and patted Themis as they walked the jungled roads.  "An older lady, she was once a gish adventurer but retired.  She became a whaler after, so not too much of a reduction in activity, mind."  There was a queer mark on the palm of his hand Themis noticed – a ragged red crescent mark, that forked at the base with a dot below – as if the shape walked over it.

Themis glanced at Illyria at the word 'was', then patted him back.  "I'm sorry your son lost his first wife so... young?"

Lir'rey shrugged, a pronounced 'what can you do' gesture.  "Boy spent twenty years or so mourning her, rather than giving me more grandkids – I'm hoping the new wife is a bit more active on that count."

Twenty years?  In mourning?  Themis stopped in her tracks, then hastily caught up to them after the shock wore off.  "Your son must've loved her a lot."  She hadn't known anyone in her life that loved someone enough to mourn for such a long time.  People died all the time, to spend two decades in mourning was madness.

"I think so, too."  Lir'rey sighed and rubbed his head.  "Boy fell head over heels for a woman old enough to be his mother, then fell to pieces when she passed.  I hope he's a bit more level-headed now, but... no telling, with our family.  Least I get to see my grandson, finally."

"With how well you're aging, you might live to be a great-grandfather," Illyria observed, sly.

"Oh, that would be delightful."

They continued on through the jungle, down a road that seemed well maintained but seldom used.  In certain sections, there was dust on the bricks.  Dust.  In a wet jungle.  How could that even happen?

As they walked, the ground to the south of them suddenly gave way.  A region of depressed earth, flattened trees, and foul smells – with one noteworthy feature.

A giant pile of exposed bones and flesh, in the distance.  The corpse of the once mighty Gyo'Oh, the kingfisher giant gryphon.  Half of the decomposition had been completed, with more still to do.  Her feathers had long gone, as had her skin.  Her meat, what remained, had been baked into jerky from the sun, wetted by he rain, and dried again.  Mushrooms the size of umbrellas grew from the line where her skeleton lost all flesh, and fell into a pile.

Themis and Illyria stopped to look at the dead gryphon.

"Gemenes was wrong, it seems."  Illyria let out a bitter chuckle.  "Not forty years to decompose."

With difficulty, Themis reached out to punch her friend in their shoulder, playful.  "He was wrong about a lot of things.  But he's been at rest for thirteen years, don't wake him up with old memories hmm?"

Lir'rey looked at them with a tilted head.  "Huh.  Small world.  My grandson's name is Gemenes too."

Themis stiffened.  She saw the fur on Illyria's hackles rise instantly.  What?

"I'll spare your feelings about your lost one by calling him by his last name, then.  Young Mr. Tuler, alright?"

Her muscles tensed so much she felt her bones creak.  Illyria's eyes went wide as they parsed the implicit meaning.  What?!

"...Did I say something odd?  Is 'Tuler' a slur or some—thing!"  Lir'rey scratched the side of his head then jumped back when Illyria's skull made a 'Pop!' sound.

Themis turned just in time to see Illyria with a second set of wings, covered in glittery lights, sprout from their tightly-braided hair.  A cubi.  Illyria was a cubi.  Gemenes wasn't dead?  Illyria was a cubi!  Gemenes wasn't dead?!

All too much, too fast, Themis' weary heart couldn't keep up.

"Wha-ho, hey!  Baby concubus, could you help me keep your friend from sliding down into the valley?!  Please!  She's much heavier than she looks – which is impressive!"

--

Cast!:

Lir'rey Dimanika: Race: Murine incubus.  Species: Mouse.  Age: 133.  An incubus from the infamous clan of the quackers.  Had a demon father, and inherited his colors, greatly desires grandkids.

--

Glossary!

Chimera:  One of the multiversal races, peers of true dragons, fae, demons, and others.  Made up of people who are able to break the barrier between universes and lifetimes to acquire vast sums of knowledge from their oversouls.  Naturally the weakest of the races, as they only really have access to information.

---

I hope I've done a good enough job to sell Siar as a genuine emotional center for her would-be clan.  Enough for folks to feel sad if/when she gets got by Hizell.

Gemenes Journal #13

---

Translated from Latin.

--

Siar and I spoke about the future -- how we could prepare for things so that they go differently from the comics.  It's a little over seven thousand years out, so the odds of deviation are low if we start now.  Short of killing Hizell now, and taking his nation for ourselves.

Which might be fun, but Siar doesn't know where he rules.

She does approve of my plan to use bio-weapons, said I'm continuing her legacy in so doing.  If we didn't both have a million things to do, I'd have taken her down to my lab so she could comment on my progress.

I started with a fungus that grew on Gyo'Oh's corpse and studied it for a few years -- it stubbornly refuses to infect cells below a fixed size.  I could only get it to grow on samples of Gyo'Oh's flesh and certain large mythos.  Exactly why it won't grow on people-sized organisms, I don't know yet.  Once I've adventured and collected cadavers of larger creatures I can run more tests.

But when I laid out my plan for warp aci, Siar pointed out something I could do with them.  Possibly.  I don't know the exact speed they work at.  But since dragons need to breathe, it could be possible to teleport them into places where they wouldn't get enough air and could black out before they can teleport back.  Especially if we could catch them exhaling their breath-based magic attacks.  She used the depths of the ocean as an example.  I was thinking more like space.  Far enough away that they wouldn't immediately see Furrae and could teleport back.

I'm making it sound simplier than it would be in practice.  Teleport amputations would be much easier.

However, when I showed her my cloning plans she told me I would be best served finding an apprenticeship with a dragon directly, or with Zezzuva.  Short of asking the fae, they would be the best ways to get insight into the soul.

I probably shouldn't pull a Farri and almost kill myself on purpose for more oversoul knowledge before she ascends to try and cheat.  We're already pushing things  considering I'm probably the equivalent of dozens of descendants all knotted up in one.

She wants me to shift my focus, once I'm back to work on the projects.  Away from the bio-weapons, and focusing on warp aci and cloning.  It's a shame Ikaarion won't be born for four thousand years, his metabiological knowledge would help.  Hey, maybe I'll end up being one of his instructors on that front.  Does he go the Academy, when it's founded?  I shoulda read those stories more.

Speaking of those stories?  I got Siar to answer a question I've been asking for years.  It turns out Ha'Khun really did invent the gold standard -- and they thought to have it under copyright.  That's why everyone and their great aunt Schmerta uses Ha'Khun golden dollars -- if you want to use the gold standard, you're legally required to do so!

Wonder if Ha'Khun will send assassins after me if I introduce platinum to Furrae.

---

Remember to consult a physician before introducing new economic systems.  They might advise you to take out life insurance prior!

Yes, Daryil did go to SAIA.  However, helping to exterminate the dragons?  If he was still in his evil phase, he might not have developed the skills Gemenes is interested in.  If he was post-evil, he would probably not want to use anything so blunt as a bio-weapon.

Post-evil he had really hoped that Hizell and his cronies would be done away with, but the others who took a more neutral stance could be left alone.

Going into the PF stories I was given a pretty direct hint that there wouldn't be any dragons post-DMFA, but that was 19 years ago and it's not impossible Mab has changed course since then.  I know I have...

Quote from: Tapewolf on May 05, 2026, 05:19:54 AMYes, Daryil did go to SAIA.  However, helping to exterminate the dragons?  If he was still in his evil phase, he might not have developed the skills Gemenes is interested in.  If he was post-evil, he would probably not want to use anything so blunt as a bio-weapon.

Re SAIA: Yay!  Re dragons: Extermination isn't the name of the game right now, it's creating an exploitable weakness to use in asymmetric warfare. The only known belligerents in the war that are known are Hizell and his wife -- there isn't enough information available to plot a war of extermination.

Also it makes me happy Daryil considers bio-weapons blunt.  It shows how much he's grown from his evil phase.

Quote from: Tapewolf on May 05, 2026, 05:19:54 AMGoing into the PF stories I was given a pretty direct hint that there wouldn't be any dragons post-DMFA, but that was 19 years ago and it's not impossible Mab has changed course since then.  I know I have...

Times change, people change, and stories change in the telling!  Most of mine do, anyway.

Chapter Fourteen: Type Aaah! Personality.

---

Telmun City, 8533 years before DMFA

Illyria Scorcros

Status update: Adult cubi status had been achieved.  It had likely come as a result of a spike of hope that followed the idea that Gemenes might not be dead.  Though Illyria couldn't linger on that – they were on the clock.

The road into Telmun after they unfortunately popped in front of Themis and Lir'rey was quietly marched.  Themis refused to speak to them, she would hold her hand up to stymie their attempts to explain.

But there was no hostility in her face.  Her thoughts were hidden behind a mind-shield they had provided, and they had only the ability to feel emotions of others for minutes by that time.

Lir'rey was all smiles, but held his finger over his mouth to 'shh' them when they tried to explain themselves.  He flashed the queer mark on his hand – as if that would explain everything.  When it clearly didn't, the old mouse's eyes twinkled and he smiled wider.

Weird.

Below the vibrant and green jungle, Telmun was just as alive, if slightly darker.  Somehow warmer too.  Every building was made from stone, as if carved from the earth.  Beings, phoenixes, and multiple creature types all were seen.  Mostly, they were of darker colourations – demon-descended or of similar palettes.

While underground, the city wasn't dark.  Magical lights on the red side of the spectrum lit up streets and homes, lanterns were hung on ropes between buildings – either on the ground or high above.  All three dimensions were used; for housing, for business, for decoration – there was no waste to be seen.

To Illyria's eyes, it seemed a festival would soon happen.  Perhaps the wedding tradition in Telmun was to do so on special days?  They didn't know – the Swiftkeep Union did not encourage marriage.

As soon as they passed through the border checks, and walked the winding road down from the surface, Illyria felt a headache come on which grew worse the longer they walked.

Lir'rey walked as if he knew the roads, as if he'd been to Telmun before.  He guided them to a tunnel which said 'Dilmun-Central Connection' on signs.  "I hate to impose on you – but could you stay with me until we get where I'm going?"

Illyria glanced at Themis, who gave a brief nod.  "Um.  Er, yeah.  That's easily doable."

"Thank you.  I'm afraid if something happened here, I wouldn't be able to defend myself."  Lir'rey's red eyes twinkled when he said that.

If behind them lay Dilmun, what was before them had to be Central.  A much higher ceiling, more detail in the stonework – carved pillars, wall murals, mosaics in the streets, etc. – and ten great holes in the cavern roof.  Nine hundred meter holes around a three-hundred meter central gap.  Like a cenote with multiple openings.  Greenery was present, along with natural sunlight.

The people of Central were more affluent, by their dress and the way they looked at the three of them.  Like flies in ointment.

They passed many grand buildings – fit to be equal to the district in and around the capitol in Pudrock.  But the one Lir'rey seemed set on was a comparatively humble building near a lake 'neath the centermost hole in the roof.  A stone column reached from the floor to the distant ceiling.  Spiraling paths were carved at the base, to multiple doors at different levels.  Balconies were paired to the nearby doors, the curtains inscribed with a number in a contrasting color to their base.

Past the halfway point, the paths were swapped for bridges that connected the building to nearby stalactites.  There was an entire second city in the rooftop portions.  Parks, domes, a swimming pool, a marketplace.  It seemed the roof and the floor never truly needed to interact, save by way of gravity.

Illyria marveled at such development because it distracted them from their headache.  Every time they tried to engage Themis in conversation, she stalled them again.

Lir'rey pointed up at the tall tower.  "My son's up there in the middle section.  We just gotta find the way up there...."

Illyria looked, and saw that the balconies in the central area had no numbers.  Perhaps they were all one suite?  One balcony in particular seemed wider than the others, longer, with a more elaborate fence around the edge.  "If I was a betting dog...."  They said, and bent down to offer their free arm to Lir'rey.  "...I'd say that's an aerie entrance."

Once the diminutive man was carried by Illyria, they and Themis took to the air.  It was only after they landed that Illyria noticed how much strain Themis went under to match their speed.

She fell to one knee upon her landing, her breath in gasps.

From the floor to the top of an arch, curtains the color of dried blood blocked their view of the building's interior.  A shadowed figure stood at the center of the curtains and stepped through.

A feminine figure, made of grey stone chunks that floated near each other in approximation of a body.  Mist clung to the rounded head in mimicry of hair, while floating water took the shape of eyes and a mouth.  The figure wore clothes – a duduo of primarily red and secondary yellow, a lava-lava with the inverse color ratio.

"Helloings," a voice with eerie lightness spoke as the figure threw their hands up.  "Welcome to Tuler Tower, we have vacancies for renters – are you looking for a new place?"  Their mouth didn't move when they spoke, it took the shape of an emotion and held it thus.  Squinty-eyed excitement.

Illyria didn't know why – but the feminine elemental mythos seemed to make their headache lessen.  Balm on a irritated wound.

Lir'rey stepped out of Illyria's grasp and approached the elemental.  "Hello, I'm Lir'rey.  I came because my son Nihi'lir is to be married – is he in, today?"

"I'm so happy you're marrying your son!  I don't knowings any renters by that name, but I will go check real quick!"  The elemental waved their hands while backed up behind the curtain.  Apparently?  There were stairs on the other side, as their silhouette abruptly fell backward with a flail after they passed through.  A crash and tremor echoed through the air and balcony.  "I'm okay!"

Immediately Illyria's headache began to grow worse.

"I like her, she's funny," Lir'rey commented as he turned to look at Illyria and Themis.

"...It seems Gemenes got his magical home business up and running," Themis said after her long silence.  "Perhaps... he has an old friends discount?"

"Themis, even if he doesn't I'm going to give you as much money as you need."  Illyria told her, soft as a cloud.

"I'm still coming to terms with the years of your pity I've endured – don't add to it so carelessly."  Themis looked at them by moving her eyes only.  A sign of simmering anger.

All four of Illyria's wings sagged.  Themis thought they pitied her?  Why?

What had they done wrong?

--

Ea Gnashir

Her city had grown to fifteen thousand permanent residents.  More came every day, fleeing the Smotlis, and the poor economic prospects in Mostalsia.

To no one's surprise, when everyone with a darker colouration became an undesirable, it soured trade relations.  Enough people had come to the city to justify the settlement of a new geofront, Coyose.  Primarily, it was for food production.  Farming, fish cultivation, and animal husbandry were the contributions Coyose brought.

It also necessitated distribution of the family as they became more organized.  The Decapitante family had relocated to Coyose, where they could blend in with beings and phoenixes to ensure food production went smoothly.  Ea had been able to keep the cubi clans out of government, but every year it grew harder to keep them away.

At some point the population growth from internal reproduction would become too great, and she'd need to involve the cubi.

Something her kin brought up at meetings of the family heads.

Their meeting room had grown more artful over the years.  A portico had been carved into the perimeter, which allowed gemstone lights of a less musical nature to be suspended on chains.  Four of the nine columns that supported the portico were carved after the founding heads of the families, all distant ancestors of those seated at the hollow square table at the center of the room.

To mark their power, all heads of the family had taken to wearing Gyo'Oh's feathers in their formal attire, as Aras had done a decade prior.  They had the sense to use Gyo'Oh's muted down to not contrast their own colors – all save Harald.

Foolish boy had yet to learn his lesson about fashion.

Aras had the floor, and used illusion magic to fill the hollow space of the table with the jungle above Telmun.  "They're looking for every safe road in and out of the city," the ram-horned alpaca said with his teeth sharp in anticipation.  "Something's got them so confident that they want to block any attempt to run away."

"That's not necessarily the case," Ea observed as she looked at the cute pink feather symbols Aras had chosen for the Smotlis.  "We have obligations now, beyond our own glory.  If they exploit it by luring our kin into great combat while the beings we guard are slaughtered, they still win."

Aras' smile faded, as he stroked his chin in thought.  Damn Gemenes, he had introduced the concept of goatees to the Woebetides and Crossbones families.  All the menfolk had started to wear their beards in that style.

Meliora examined the projection of the jungle and narrowed her eyes.  "Their numbers aren't great enough that they aim to encircle us and move in.  They don't seem to have flyers, so as soon as we took to the air – we'd escape."

"As soon as we took to the air, we could drop death upon them too."  Harald had a fan made from part of a flight feather from Gyo'Oh, and fanned himself like a diva.  "There is some game at play here.... Could they be trying to bait the dragon into attacking us?"

"Pudrock would make a more enticing target.  It's a lot funner to knock down towers versus stick your arm down a hole to swat at mice."  Aras crossed his arms and nodded at his own words, like they made complete sense.

"...Is that why Milda came to us and asked if we had any butter to spare?"  Meliora narrowed her eyes at Aras.  "Let me smell your arms."

Aras quickly folded his wings over his chest.  "Nuh-uh, not happening teeth monster."

But Meliora was not one to be denied.  The two of them quickly devolved into 'Get back here!' and 'Someone open the doors, let me out!' while Harald and Ea sat at the table.

"If they have any spies in the city, they'll know about your upcoming wedding."  Harald obscured his mouth with his fan.  "I can't imagine a true angel marrying what they would consider a demonic abomination would be something they'd tolerate."  One well-plucked eyebrow arched.  "Shall I have the jungle between us and their position... made more welcoming?"

Ea nodded, her hands folded in her lap.  "Please do.  But keep exact positions documented so we can make the jungle safe again when needed."  She glanced at her in-laws, as they dashed about the room like demons one quarter their ages.  "I'm grateful you are less like your father, he would have joined them in their nonsense."

Harald fanned himself again, a smile visible on his beak in between fannings.  "I'm proud of myself, I really wanted to get involved – but this outfit's too delicate.  Why, if I raise my arms too sharply -- "  Fool that he was, he demonstrated right away and the shoulderpad he'd worn with Gyo'Oh's bright feathers around the edge bent out of shape.

She watched his face go from pleased, to shock, to that queer kind of anger directed at oneself.  "Harald?"

"Yes, auntie?"

"Did you make your shoulderpads super thin so they'd rest on your plumage easier?"

"Yes auntie.  Could you...?"

She snapped her finger and the bent metal contorted itself back into its original shape.  "I wish you would study more magic and learn to do that yourself."

"But auntie, I'm too pretty to study!"

Somehow, she found herself thinking wistfully of the time when Aras, Meliora, and Harald's father Logia would run around the meeting room.  At least Logia was book-smart.

With half the members in the midst of demon chaos, Ea adjourned the meeting and left for her office.

Gemenes passed her a stack of papers which had arrived while she was in the meeting.  A message that her soon-to-be father-in-law had arrived with armed escort, wonderful.  The introduction of rainbow fish to their ponds had remained steady – no spawning had been observed yet.  And there were rumors that an Amazon tribe was in the midst of formation – in the unsettled Palayme geofront.

If she could keep growing her town, keep growing her power, she could eventually rule a city peer to mighty Hishaan.  The trick would be to keep her rule, rather than becoming a figurehead – her ambitions hollowed out with the appearance of success while she became a tool.  Ugh, the thought was distasteful.

Once she got to her desk, she started to draft a piece of legislation.  "Something meaningless to give the lay people something to chew on and think I'm on their side...."  Ea muttered to herself as her glass pen flitted across the page.  "Official sanction to settle uninhabited geofronts?  Form micro-communities?  As long as we control the food, the markets, and transit to surface...."  She felt a wicked smile tug at her lips.

Perhaps she could even work it into her wedding speech.  Something to practice while she was being baked into a hollow cake, that she could launch into after she jumped out.

--

Themis Riken

After Lir'rey had given them their pay and departed into the building to be with his son, Themis and Illyria sat out on the aerie entrance on the provided benches around the perimeter.  Different benches, mind.  Themis was still quite cross with her canine companion.

She didn't know if they were aware of their transgression, and so she stayed silent as she organized her thoughts to explain why she was upset.  It seemed like the silent treatment from the outside, most definitely.  But such wasn't the case.

Though, if Illyria stopped from digging themselves deeper into a hole by way of silence?  That would be fine as well.

She had no intention of opening the discussion right on Gemenes' doorway -- not until he allowed them inside, anyway.

A winged figure appeared behind the curtains – for a moment Themis thought it might be their raccoon companion from years ago, but no.  The wings were feathered.

Out stepped a dove, black and yellow in her plumage.  Attired in the garb of an adventurer, thick leathers and metal armor sporadically throughout the outfit.  A succubus, for she had the telltale headwings.

"Well met, adventurers."  The succubus greeted them as she stepped out.  "I'm Percell Venken, I'm told you're old buddies of my husband."

Any certainty that Themis had that the Gemenes Lir'rey had referred to and who she remembered was immediately cast into doubt.  Illyria seemed just as surprise, their wings puffed up and splayed out as they assumed a shocked pose.

"...We must be mistaken," Themis said with a bowed head.  "The Gemenes Tuler we refer to was a raccoon with red wings and hair – who made it a point to mention how attracted to men he was."  Themis used her walking axe to stand from the bench, with some difficulty and shaking legs.  "Sorry to have disturbed you, ma'am."

"The Gemenes Tuler I'm married to is a raccoon with red wings and hair, who exclusively finds men attractive, right."  Percell put her hands on her hips and smiled at them.  "While I'm of the opposite persuasion."  She looked Themis and Illyria up and down, clearly interested.  "Both of you?  By the way?  Looking fine today."  Percell drew out the 'I' in 'fine' to emphasize their beauty.

Illyria looked away, no longer bashful but still somewhat avoidant.  "Um.  Thank you, but um.  I'm... not a woman.  Or a man."

That response took Percell off her game visibly, she fluffed up and held her hands up.  "Oh.  Oh!  Sorry, didn't mean to assume!"

"I appreciate that you see value in a broken old warrior like me."  Themis inclined her head.  "But – if our Gemeneses are the same, how can you be his wife?"

"We signed a marriage contract to secure our clans' alliance.  We're only married until we produce four children and raise them to adulthood."  Percell looked between them, her beak pressed thin as she narrowed her eyes.  "From the suspicion and confusion I'm picking up on – the Guild never told you that Gemenes' death was faked."

For the third time in a day, Themis felt like all the wind was knocked out of her by words.  Truly, they were a vile thing to inflict such injury without the possibility of reprisal.

Together, as one, the adventurers spoke:  "What."  Flat, uncomprehending.

"Yeah.  I don't know all the details, but he's been held for ransom for years.  His clan and the Guild wouldn't pay, so they've had him working it off.  Want to come inside and wait?  He's at work right now."

Thus were Themis and Illyria allowed inside, up a couple floors and seated at a table within a well-stocked kitchen.  Percell filled wide cups with a thick brown liquid that smelled saccharine and yet earthy.  Normally, sweets would not be Themis' preferred drink but the liquid seemed to magically lift her spirits.

The taste was pleasant.  Not something she would have sought out, but pleasant all the same.  Or, perhaps merely inoffensive.

She and Illyria waited in the kitchen as employees dressed in lava-lava alone for men, or with dudou tops for the two ladies, came and went for their duties.  Two demons, the elemental mythos from before, a succubus, and a being adventurer.

The adventurer talked with them for a while, he was awaiting pickup from his group, and they talked about some adventures they shared.

But all too soon, it was just Themis and Illyria in the kitchen.  With the distraction, Themis found the obstacles she'd had for thought articulation had been removed.  Her thoughts were clear, no longer even tinged in anger.

"Were you ever going to tell me you were a concubus?"  Themis asked them as she lifted her head to face her friend.  Seated, they were the taller, since most of Themis' height came from her legs.

"...No," Illyria admitted and rotated their cup of 'chocolate' in their hands.  They hesitated to meet her gaze, but after some time they looked at her.  "I would have tried to convince you to retire here, and I would have retired from adventuring to go back to my family.  Where I could learn how to control cubi... powers...."  They trailed off as one of their eyelids began to twitch.  Illyria squinted it shut and rubbed the temple on that side.  "Sorry.  Headaches."

Themis nodded.  "We would have parted ways, and I would have been none the wiser.  Me, to live out my life in a broken shell while you grow into a second adulthood."  There was no envy in her voice, nor in her spirit.  Only grim awareness of how things would have played out.  "Do you remember Thena?  Toward the end?"

Illyria nodded.

Thena had been infected with a disease deep in the jungles, and failed to tell anyone.  The job had been to transport medicine from Cryshield to the epicenter of the outbreak to save whom they could.  Thena refused to let a civilian die so that she could live longer, and all but forced herself into a warrior's death that could have been prevented.

"We've known each other for fifteen years.  Almost half our lives."  Themis reached out and touched Illyria's hand as they flinched from more headache pain.  The hand Illyria kept gloved at all times, from an old scar.  "And yet, in that time... I never proved worthy enough to share knowledge of this part of you.  I'm not angry – anymore – but... disappointed in myself."

Illyria worked their mouth, like they wanted to say something.  "These past fifteen years... have been the happiest years of my life.  And the reason I didn't bring it up sooner...."  They averted their eyes.  "It's probably going to end up being the happiest years of my life.  All signs point to it being downhill from here."

Themis knew that Illyria's family were not kind.  They held love always just out of reach to serve as motivation to their children.

All of a sudden, Illyria gripped the sides of their head.  "Augh!  I think this headache is growing into a migraine!"

Before Themis could react, a grey-and-black hand reached out of the shadows to ruffle Illyria's hair.  "Boop, emotion filter."  A familiar voice, deeper than when last she heard it, preceded a garish raccoon's arrival in the kitchen.

Themis blinked.  Once, twice, thrice, as she beheld Gemenes.  A ghost of the past, alive again.  With longer hair, shiny clothing, and quiet confidence.

"You did it," Themis said to her friend, last seen half a lifetime prior.  "You finally became a whore."

--

Cast:

Tuyē: Race: Mythos.  Species: Elemental.  Age: 44.  An elemental mythos, a criminal currently awaiting trial for stealing forty cakes, as many as four tens, and attempted cake husbandry with intent to distribute.

---

Smotlis be gathering, sons they be marrying, old adventurers despairing, all while a dragon is harrying!

Gemenes Journal 14

---

Translated from Sumerian.

--

The gang is back together!

Poor Illyria, they were getting overloaded by all the emotions and thoughts of people way faster than Dan did in the comic -- probably because of the sheer number of people.  According to Themis, they went through Dilmun into Central -- the most densely populated geofronts.  Oy.

Still, I slapped an emotion filter on them and was able to get them feeling much better.  Themis is in a bad way, though.  I set her up with an emergency appointment at the Jin hospital and patched up the most serious stuff myself.  Apparently, after they were released from their fort duty Illyria stopped learning healing so they could learn physical combat and light magic.

They've become a paladin, though apparently that term isn't in use just yet.

Illyria doesn't want to go back to Swiftkeep or their family, so I volunteered an empty plinth for the two of them to stay with me.  Themis, until we get her fixed up and she can decide what she wants to do.  Illyria, until their cubi education is going.  I'll ask around, see if anyone's got an open spot in their classes -- it'll probably be either Hrienth or Taun.  Apparently Scorcros and Seme don't see quite eye-to-eye on some stuff.  So Fa'Lina hasn't ascended yet, darn.

Remember that snowglobe?  The one I wanted to use for my personal home?  I used it for the home I gave them.  I didn't realize how badly I missed them until they were back.  And they've had it rough, rougher than me most likely.  So... I thought if I gave them that home, it'd show that I still care about the two of 'em.  They're still my friends, and I don't begrudge them not visiting for thirteen years.

Apparently Scorcros didn't tell Illyria that Owona even asked for her clan's help in Telmun.  Apparently the Tauns in the Adventuring Guild never informed them I wasn't really dead.

Maybe me being five years deep into cuberty has made me get sappy, but I thought if I gave them something I treasured for years it'd speak more clearly than words.  I'd make it into a group home, but it's a two-bedroom cottage inside, and I don't think they're an item.  I'll just have to find something else to live in.  Maybe I could find another merchant selling snowglobes, but that's unlikely.

Gave them a tour, let them walk outside in the snow.  Being tropical folk -- they'd literally never seen enough ice in one place to make things cold.  We made a snowman, it was fun.

The snowglobe home isn't inside the globe, see.  It's in a pocket realm that exists within the snowglobe.  It's modeled after the tiny cottage in the snowglobe, but it's not the actual thing.  You can't see outside the realm through the globe, and no one can see in.

I'm not so naïve to think that they haven't changed in thirteen years, the pit knows I have.  But I want to meet them, hear about their adventures.  Maybe use those adventures to inform how I make mine when I'm free.  In two years, my ransom will be totally paid.  I'll be free to leave Telmun.  Though I won't be fully proficient in cubi stuff for another forty-three years.

Illyria balked when I told them that it'll take fifty years to be fully trained.  Not my fault they didn't pop until thirty-one.

The two of them escorted my peepaw to attend the wedding but he and Pa are catching up as I write this.  Ain't getting time to get to know him just yet, but get this?  He's a Dimanika incubus.  Who thought letting a quack quack and someone with the title Wicked Witch try for baby would be a good idea?  I mean, they were right -- Pa's perfectly placid and agreeable.  But still -- common sense says it shouldn't have been a good match.

Speaking of matches, Seme has gently asked Percell and I to try and make a kid soonish.  Sooner than either of us woulda liked, but she's anxious.

This prompted my lovely wife to lay out the facts of phoenix breeding with backup from Themis.

It's easy to think that they're like humans.  But fun fact?  No.  Not even slightly.

Between a week to ten days after we do the freak-nasty sex to each other, the egg will finish forming and be laid.  Then the egg will need to be incubated for four months roughly before it hatches.  Then, they grow as regular babies.  Percell is still waiting for Ea to finish up their legal system so she can be a bounty hunter or jailkeeper, so she'll be looking after the egg for a while until either that gets resolved or it hatches.  Then, I'm on perma-dad duty.

Most likely?  Dove phoenixes with their mammal forms being raccoons like me.  Probably going to be lots of orange, given Percell's all yellow and I'm natural and red.

Now if you excuse me, I need to start preparing for the unfun parts of having a baby: Making them.

---

Just lie back and think of Gargareans, Gemenes.  That's a good racc.

Chapter Fifteen: Long Dried Blood

---

Telmun City, 8533 years before DMFA

Siar

In a chamber hidden deep in the T'Leylu Geofront, Siar stirred a cauldron.  The room was cavernous, formed from an air pocket as the stone had cooled.  Alas, no crystals had been within.  But with time, effort, and careful attention to detail, it had been made into a chamber large enough to house a tri-wing.

Perhaps two.

The cauldron Siar stirred rested atop a fire rune, no actual flames emerged – only heat.  Within her cauldron, her bubbly brew cast unnaturally bright red light into the dark chamber.  Such crimson light highlighted a figure so massive they could only be seen in parts, at such proximity.  Twinned tails, white feathered wings, a glimpse of a yellow crook-like mark.

Seme, despair made manifest.

The beat of her smallest wings, those upon great Seme's head, created wind to funnel fumes from Siar's brew into vents spread throughout the walls.  The beat of her heart was so strong it caused the earth around them to rattle.  Her aura was so strong, Siar had no need to breathe – a level of sustenance that required hundreds of thousands of other people's emotions to achieve.

On the morrow, her youngest son would wed an angel.  Weeks thence, Siar would imbibe her brew and make the change.  She would shed her flesh in part, to become a being of emotion and magic.  For years she had meditated upon herself, her family, and how she would try to make their lives better.

Seme spoke to her with thoughts, for her actual voice would echo dangerously in the cavern.  'Does the knowledge of your own death trouble you?'

With her thoughts, Siar replied.  'Somewhat.  I possess a strong negative reputation.  Freed from Owona's neurotic need for secrecy and being hidden, many grudgeholders from events I may've forgotten will seek me out.  For all I know, this Hizell may be one such injured party.'

The giant woman blinked, and a gust passed through the cavern.  'Hizell rules a land called Incalcul, across the ocean on the opposite side of the atoll.  There, he is attended by a race of mythos he has groomed to see him as their godking.  That is all I know, from inherited memories of Divallis.'

Seme did not often speak of, or reference her previous clan leader.  No one knew the particulars of Seme's ascension, only that she and Divallis came to the arrangement peacefully.  Siar didn't even know Divallis' gender, or species – let alone their personality – the topics were a place of pain in Seme's history.

She would wait until Seme felt comfortable enough to share, if ever.

'Siar.'  Owona's mind brushed hers, from afar.  'When you have a moment, meditate and see me.  Gemenes and I must discuss things with you.'

Siar's whole mood changed, for the worse.  Her wings fluffed up as did her tail.  'Owona wants to talk, would you be upset with me if I bit her arms off?'

'I'd be impressed actually.  I've seen her do battle – it's wonderful to behold.'  Seme moved her head into the light cast by Siar's potion, and visibly blew a kiss down to her.

Siar mimed being thrown across the room from the impact of the kiss, and departed to her home so she could meditate.

Her home had long since been modified so that her ascended form fifteen point three meters tall, would be able to move about.  Though she would never admit it, since the idea for ascension entered her mind six years prior, she'd been sketching possible clan marks.

Red would be the color.  Arterial blood red, like her flight feathers.

She floated atop a pool of water broad and deep enough to fit her entire bloodline wingtip to wingtip, and centered herself.

As easy as breathing, she followed a mental path laid by Owona's message, into a shared dreamscape.

Siar stepped onto a sandy shore, adjacent to a sea of green algae-rich waters.  A stone port was behind her, where metal and glass ships that towered above the waters loaded crowds of people.  For background dressing, the people were so detailed – Siar could swear each was truly a person.

"They are," Owona's voice said as if she were right beside Siar.  "Each one of those people is a past life of your grandson, Gemenes.  I have spent thirteen years reviewing them, and I have barely scratched the surface."

She looked around, and saw an umbrella shoved into the sand not too far away.  There, Owona sat with the proportions of a normal mole.  As she approached, Siar glanced back at the titanic crowd of people who boarded the huge ships.  Each of them so clear, even at a distance.

That would indeed pose a hurdle on the path to ascension.

A spell shifted Siar's garb into something suitable for swimming – to fit the tone of the dream.  Smallclothes, a fringed wrap about the chest, and a broad blanket which she wore like a cape.  As she approached, she saw Owona dressed much the same – in earth tones to Siar's red and black shades.

Gemenes' head lay in the sand, supported by a roll of fabric while Owona poured sand over his body.  "Welcome to the Chairport, gramma," he greeted with his eyes closed.

Her head and backwings mirrored her eyebrows as she looked down at her grandson and clan leader.  "...Chairport?"

"It's a pun based on the name of this overoul phenomena," Owona waved her clawed hand, dismissive, and continued to pack sand onto Gemenes.  "Sit.  We have much to discuss."

Siar narrowed her eyes and laid her blanket down next to her buried grandson.  Her greatest of grandmothers didn't seem to object that Siar had put the young man between them.  "What is this all about?"

Owona poured sand around Gemenes' neck, then looked up to meet Siar's gaze.  Impassive indifference met suspicion and didn't flinch.  "I have reviewed the limited information about the clan you will lead, and the death you will face if all remains unchanged."  Owona's dominant black-sclera eyes contrasted readily with Siar's recessive white-sclera eyes, as did their green/red wing colors.  "I would like to save your life, if possible."

Teeth bared as she smiled, Siar bowed her head.  "Truly, a sentiment I would mirror."

"Excellent.  I have reviewed the circumstances of your death: It is by ambush.  You are lured into single combat, goaded into summoning your clan, and then beset by an ambush of tri-wing class combatants unknown in number."  Owona counted off on the talons of one hand as she carved muscles into the sand used to contain Gemenes with the other.

"But, see?"  Her grandson chimed in.  "He don't pick that fight with yous until you propose alliance with clan Cyra.  Cyra ain't even born yet, don't worry 'bout her right now."

"The fact that my alliance with her clan directly results in mine own death begets a certain level of worry, grandson."  Siar spoke with flatness that any pane of glass would envy.

"The key point to remember," Owona spoke up and began to carve with both hands, "is that he was willing to leave you be until that point.  So if you position yourself carefully when the alliance is announced...."  She trailed off and shrugged.  "Draconic ego can be so easily exploited."

Siar nodded as she saw the logic.

They stayed on the beach and discussed the distant future in greater detail.  Eventually, Siar joined in on carving the sand over her grandson, just to occupy her hands.

It all ended with a rumble through the dreamscape.

"Whoop, Ramuh's waking me up," Gemenes said.  "Guess Percell is layin' that egg."

And thus, she became great-grandmother to another wee babe.

--

Illyria Scorcros

Gemenes had given them a home and a place to put it without charge, even though they could pay for several months rent at his posted rates.

Illyria had done some digging while Themis was gone to see the healers, see.

The home Gemenes had given them was a queer ornament, a water-filled glass orb on a wooden base, with an image of a cozy cottage on the inside surrounded by white powder that could float as debris in the water if shaken.

And the actual home, in a dimension inside the ornament, all that was true.  The floorplan mimicked the cottage's dimensions, and even had an exterior yard where flakes of ice fell constantly into deep sand-like piles across the ground and on the building.

Snow.  Illyria had only read about it in books.  Rain that froze on the way to the ground.  Most common on the tops of mountains or in the distant north.  Comia had no mountains at all, the entire atoll barely got above sea level, and their adventures had only taken them to the northern oceans where icebergs floated.

Something troubled them as they dressed for civilian life for the first time in a decade – no armor, no weapons.  Their new powers could pick up some emotions – though it took them time to parse what they picked up.  See, Gemenes set up an emotion filter around them so they would not be overloaded and driven to headaches, and that blunted their perception.

From Gemenes, when he saw them and Themis, he was joyful.  When he had given them their ornament to be their home, he was pained.  But when they showed him their clan mark, there was a queer complex emotion that they didn't understand.

Sadness, deep sadness, that felt like it was stretched over something.  Then, a spark of hope and determination.

With Themis at the doctor, they decided to seek out the raccoon for questioning.

They stepped out of their cottage's front door and trudged through snow into the border zone.  A flex of magic, like a wave of water, hit them and they put their feet not on snow powder, but stone.

A gallery of plinths, well lit, along the outer edge of the wall, and around the outside of the spiral stairs throughout the building.  An elderly zebu couple waved to them as they brought their shopping into their home – a porcelain teapot covered in intricate blue leafy vines.

Up the stairs, in the central portion of the tower, Illyria found Gemenes and Percell in the kitchen.  Both looked like they had only heard of sleep in passing conversation, frazzled, in their nightclothes, and with their eyes glazed over.

Between them at Gemenes' kitchen table was a melon-sized egg with flame-like colouration.  A prominent crack was in the midst of being filled with wax by Gemenes.  He held the block in one hand, and melted it with a flame on the fingertip of his opposite pointer.  Drip, drip, drip.

Illyria blinked. Once.  Twice.  Thrice.  "Is now a bad time to offer congratulations?"

"Nah it's fine."  "I really don't think we deserve them at this point."  The wedded pair spoke at the same time.

Gemenes' glowing eyes lit up as his ears flicked down, his headwings flared upward.  "I'm going to take that as a 'wait until they hatch' thing, Percell.  Because I did not try to sit on an egg and crack the shell."

"Can we not fight in front of the baby?  Or the egg?"  Percell spoke as if exhaustion was all she had ever known in her life.

Illyria narrowed their eyes at her, but said nothing.  It was still hard to be taken seriously when their primary colors were white and pink.  They sat at the table and took their gloves off.  "If... now's a bad time, I can go.  I just wanted to talk about our clans?"

Percell sighed in relief.  "A change of topic, oh thank the ninety-one sages."

Eyebrows raised, they looked at Gemenes.

"Seme's clan doesn't do ancestor worship – they follow the teachings of clan sages who made significant contributions to the clan."  He shrugged and set the wax block down.  Gemenes extinguished the flame by closing his finger into his fist with a sizzle.  "I know Seme and Scorcros don't really get along, and our clan leaders used to fight all the time...."

"That's not what I'm talking about."  They brushed their fingers across their clan mark on the back of their left hand.  "When you saw my clan mark you... felt sad.  Why?"

Gemenes looked at them, mouth thin with pain, and glanced over at his wife.  "Do you want to have this conversation here, or in private?"

"Here's fine.  She's older than either of us, she probably has better insight on the problem."

Percell nodded with her thumb raised.

The raccoon sighed and pulled the egg into his arms for cuddling.  "I've been made aware of certain future events.  Not certain, but most likely.  The most likely outcome is clan Scorcros will cease to exist sometime in the next thousand years – passed down to a succubus named Fa'Lina."  He hugged his egg, careful to mind the crack.  "Who will not have a happy reign."

Illyria blinked, then pondered.  "Fa'Lina... I have an aunt with that name.  But she's a fruit, like you and Percell.  I don't know that I have any cousins by her."  They assumed a thinking pose while they racked their brain for faces.

"Her wings the opposite arrangement of yours?  Taller than any of us?  Tig ol' bitties?"  The first two questions were quickly confirmed but the third required cupping motions in front of Gemenes' chest to confirm what he even asked.

"I can already tell we're going to get so many complaints about our kids being crass," Percell muttered.  "Talkin' bout titties in front of the egg like that."  She blinked, then pinched the region between her eyes.  "And now I'm doing it too."

"The infection spreads~"  Gemenes rubbed his face gently on the egg.

Illyria reflected on Gemenes' crude description, and found it matched.  What cemented it was the mention of Fa'Lina's 'tig ol' bitties'.  Each one the size of Illyria's actual physical head made them memorable.  "Yeah, that describes her.  So, she's going to take over my clan?"

"Mhm."

Percell pawed at Gemenes' egg-cuddling arm.  "I want a turn.  Gib."

With narrowed eyes, Gemenes passed her the egg.  "If I have to fix another crack, you're going to be doing the work for egg number two...."

Illyria made a face.  "Ew."

"Indeed!  Fruit, all of us, forced to participate in physical reproduction!"  Gemenes flapped his arms and stood.  "I'm going to be working on a fix for that.  Jars where fetuses can develop into babies and more, that sort of thing.  Not today, but."  He shrugged.  "Gotta go get ready for work, it'll be a solo day today."

Their eyes narrowed as they stood to follow Gemenes.  "Wait, but today's your father's wedding!"

"Yeah, and he's getting married to my boss."  Gemenes rubbed his temples as he walked.  "People still need work permits approved, taxes still need to be processed, and today is payday for three hundred of the city's employees.  Someone has to be in the office to make all that happen."

"...Want me to get in my full armor setup and fuck with the people that act uppity?"

"Sure!  We'll make a day of it!"

--

Ea Gnashir

She was resplendent, in a gown made from feathers contributed by her siblings and Gyo'Oh.  Her mousy husband had a beaded lava-lava and a cloak of similar design to Ea's gown.  They almost matched, even if their colors clashed a bit.

Two long processions departed from Ea's home – one from the bridges to the upper layer, and another to the ground layer.  The bride and groom marched with their families to reach a shrine to the Gnashir ancestors, where the marriage would be cemented.  In so doing, every ambitious fool who saw Ea as a vehicle for their own rise in power would be stymied, at least for a while.

Not all the family would be able to attend, that was fine.  Her younger siblings all flanked her, and their spouses with them.  Then, out from the center, her niblings and in-laws would form layers of protection.

Ea's wedding announcement had given rise to a wave of celebrations motivated by her and a few whispered words with golden promises.  The best kind of promises.  Vendors sold festival food, games were held, flower petals lined the streets.

Mostly engineered, of course, but the legitimate better life her city offered people made them most appreciative.

And, of course, if Nihi'lir could overcome angel lowered fertility within the first year – she would be free of Gemenes and his chaos.  She could hire one of her niblings as her secretary, and plug one hole in her organization's information security.

The ceremony was done soon, and the two newlyweds retired to her home.  For being blind, Nihi'lir navigated the great estate well.

Being servants helped them out of their wedding clothes, and took them to storage for eventual display in a museum.

Her mousy husband sat on the marital bed in his smallclothes while Ea directed servants where to put his clothes in the chamber's closets.  Much of the room's beauty would be lost on him, such as the mosaics across the roof, the prismatic curtains around the bed, or the water feature for Ea's frog collection (and turtle).

"I know you don't need to sleep, but if you would consent to do your meditations here for a while I would appreciate it."  Ea sat on the bed next to her new husband and unbound her hair so it could fall into her natural curls.  "My siblings will see it as us going above and beyond trying to make a baby, the populace will see it favorably for much the same reason, and it will enable my wards to acclimatize to your presence."

Nihi'lir nodded.  "I can do that.  Your wards automatically adjust to people?"

"Yes – it's a complex array of if-then decision-trees I wrote into them so I wouldn't need to take them down and re-apply them for every staffing change.  That's how I lost two of my siblings – assassins struck while the wards were down."

The Gnashir family once consisted of Aa, Ea, Ia, Oa, Ua, Ya, and Wa.  Aa and Ia had been the ones to die to assassins, while Wa had vaporized by Ea's mother for requesting a letter of introduction to use for applying to jobs.

Their mother expected them to be able to forge her handwriting by that age, see.

"I'm so sorry, it wasn't us was it?"  Nihi'lir scooted closer to her, his back and headwings lowered.

"No.  Adventurers who knew enough about angels to know who really called the shots among a group of half-demons."  Ea reached out and scooted her new husband to her side, and in so doing enjoyed a guilt-free grasp of his upper thigh and bottom.

Guilt was, unfortunately, her one weakness in the eyes of her mother and siblings.  It was why they allowed her to command them – she wouldn't abuse her power over them to avoid 'feeling bad'.  They overestimated how debilitating guilt could be, a carefully constructed view Ea had managed.

She felt so guilty for lying to them.  Truly.  Honestly.

"I've been up front about my wariness of your clan, which prompted our union.  Kin of yours have taken the lives of employers, friends, and a couple paramours.  But such is the nature of our life."  Her hands drifted more obviously toward her husband's bottom and her eyes shifted to the servants.  She needed them to see her initiating the contact, so no one would doubt her supremacy in the house.

Nihi'lir's ears flicked in their direction, and he shifted to make Ea's hand migration easier.  He timed it so that one of Ea's maids had her eyes in the right place to see Ea's hand in motion.  A victory he assisted her in having.  Perhaps he'd make a good partner even after the marriage ran its course.

As the servants left, and they were about to make ready for a 'fun' part of their day, Nihi'lir's fur puffed up.

"Picking up a wave of fear and panic coming from that way," he pointed south-east, toward Central Lake, the first major landmark in that direction.  "Is something happening?"

Ea, her hands ready to de-smallclothes her new husband so they could get to business, clicked her tongue.  "If something truly ridiculous were to happen, the alarms would -- "

Sonorous bass horns began to blare in three short blasts, three long blasts, then three short blasts again.  The code for all of Ea's demon kin to make ready for combat.

She took a deep breath through her nose.  The use of that specific code likely a significant problem.  "I'm going to get dressed.  Assuming all goes well, we can pick this up when I get back."

Ea removed her hands from her husband's person and summoned her battle attire from her closet.  The same one she had fought Gyo'Oh with, years ago.  A suit of armor meant to guard her most vital points from magic-piercing moves and weapons, and a spiked sheathe for her horn.  Just in case.

She left her chamber, and would never return.

---

I couldn't help but notice that things were going smoothly for a long while.

So I decided things should stop doing that.  :3

YES MORE MORE MORE

Quote from: Merlin on May 17, 2026, 02:10:07 AMYES MORE MORE MORE

More what?

Domestic cuteness?  Siar and Seme being a cute and slightly villain-coded couple?  Wrecking of peaceful environs?  Lobster risotto??

For serious, I'm glad you're enjoying it, whatever it is. :3

Quote from: Chairtastic on May 17, 2026, 11:10:34 AM

Quote from: Merlin on May 17, 2026, 02:10:07 AMYES MORE MORE MORE

More what?

Domestic cuteness?  Siar and Seme being a cute and slightly villain-coded couple?  Wrecking of peaceful environs?  Lobster risotto??

For serious, I'm glad you're enjoying it, whatever it is. :3

MORE DAMMIT MORE

Gemenes Journal 15

---

Translated from Huttese.

--

Slow day, but still gotta pass the time somehow.  Going to pester Illyria about their clan and see if I could perhaps preserve them.  Ideally, I'd preserve some Cyran kiddies too.  Even got a good idea of how, but I need to find a way to study the solar system first.

Hiding out on the moon might not be far enough, see.

Scorcros is in Jin's age range, being perhaps one to two hundred years off from each other.  No one's sure who's the more senior, causes some problems.  They have a sort of caste system set up -- wolves are warriors, and rank higher in the clan.  Dogs are support, and rank lower.  A sort-of 'the highest dog is still lower than the lowest wolf' setup.  Despite being very, very pink, they're fighters and mercenaries at heart.  Competition for Taun, it would seem.

However, while Taun is a beneficial force in the world -- Scorcros seems to be firmly a hindrance.  She and her wolves act as bullies, and her particular power over memory makes it worse.  Dragons, fae, and tri-wings are the only beings who can defeat her false-hydra like passive memory erasure.  Apparently she hasn't fought a lot of weres to see if it works on them.  But she's spent the past fourteen thousand years going through every species of mythos to see if they can fight off her amnesia-fu.

So far, no joy.

Illyria's confusion about Scorcros passing the clan to Fa'Lina makes more sense the more I hear about Scorcros.  She is at best passively racist against dogs -- as it stands, she would never agree to that.

Scorcros' clan affinity is still hope -- but Scorcros teaches it in a much darker way than Fa'Lina.  They sense hope keenest of all so they can find people hiding from them on raids.  I applaud the weaponization, but goddamn.  That's savage.  Using someone's hope to find where they're hiding from you?  I'll have to remember that.

The clan ascended when Scorcros devastated the gryphon city of Shirator and took a holy relic left in their keeping -- for a meal.  She ate a magical artifact and it tri-winged her.

I have got to find out what's up with cubi ascension, this is ridiculous.  Tri-winging from particularly tasty meals?  I want to do that!  It would fit so thematically with my hunger affinity!

Bee tee dubs?  Illyria was actively creeped out by my affinity being hunger.  But they were willing to listen to me on how to find their own affinities.

Hope, natch.  But second strongest was pain.  I get the feeling that they were feeding on the pain of their opponents a little bit while they adventured, and used that to strengthen themselves.

Imagine being powered by your opponent's pain and not the fact they skipped a meal before fighting you.  Doesn't that sound nice?

Oop!  Fear spike, gotta go.  Hugs and kisses!

---

I direct you to the inspiration for this entire Scorcros/Fa'Lina divide.  Bwah (https://missmab.com/Comics/Vol_493.php)!

yessssss

Chapter Sixteen pt. One: Exsanguinate

---

Telmun City, 8533 years before DMFA

Milda Woebetide

The wedding ceremony had been alright.  Not too annoying, and auntie Ea got to showcase the family's power to the entire city.  Well, the entire city who could afford to attend.  People still had to work, roads wouldn't pave themselves after all.

Milda passed number sixteen Marrowbones Place and saw a being family, moles, being shown the property by one of her cousins.

Things had been slightly less homey since Gemenes moved out.  No more mooching off him for meals, no more counting on him for last minute fashion advice.

Only after he moved had Milda learned – a good half of the meals he'd made had no meat in them.  The wily raccoon had found a way to make vegetables taste like meat!  To appease his wife!  Milda couldn't even be mad at the deception – he'd fooled her honestly.

She was moments from unlocking her front door to nap before her shift when she heard the deep horns blare.  The call for all members of the family to defend the city from an attacker.  It hadn't been used since Gyo'Oh first came to the region.

The call for battle, for glory, had come!  Milda forgot her tiredness, she forgot her fancy clothes, and hardened her skin in anticipation of fighting.  Dilmun, where most of the younger demons lived, came alive with flying alpacas and ferrets.  Like a swarm of bats, they took to the air and looked for anyone in the midst of combat before they would depart.

A few demons and half-breeds, not of the families, joined them.  Good!  Milda gave them encouraging smiles as they joined the group.  They would get blood on their claws, and earn rewards for their carnage as was proper.

Some, however, didn't.  Milda saw a demon on the ground, among the beings and phoenixes.  It was hard to tell his species – bear, otter, or perhaps something else.  Red-brown fur with glossy red hair pulled back in a posh style, two impressive horns, and pronounced sideburns.  A thick tail – which prompted the otter option, that ended in a spade, and clothes of red and pink.  The same colors for his wings.

Milda thought poorly of the fellow before she looked away, and sighed.  'Pity', she thought to herself, 'he's a looker.  Kinda looks like a dragon.'

She flew with the flying legion, as she pondered that.  Her thoughts churned and ground their gears until they approached the Dilmun-Central tunnel.  But by then, it became moot.  Ahead of them, through the tunnel to Central, they could see a definite dragon.

Blue-green scales, a black-and-grey speckled pattern throughout like Milda saw on some bird eggs.  Wings with an inner lining of the same speckled pattern.  No demonic spikes on their head, they had a row of spinal spikes from their arrow-shaped head down to between their shoulders.  The dragon stood atop the surface of Central lake and exhaled a blast of smokey white magic that hit the shore then became as fog while it rolled through the streets.

At first, Milda thought nothing of it.  She forgot the queer posh otter-bear thing she'd seen in Dilmun. There was a dragon in front of her – and she couldn't wait to see if their hides were truly invulnerable.

But then the fog grew thicker.  It reached from the streets, to the roofs of buildings on the bottom layer, and then higher.  It brought with it a sharp, unpleasant chemical spell.  Something for auntie Ea to sort out.

Per their training, Milda and all the demons around her collected magical energies.  Some summoned weapons, others prepared magical attacks.  Milda's spell was one Gemenes and Auntie Ea had worked on.  Killing magic, they called it – a piercing spell.

A wide array of colorful blasts lashed out at the dragon on the legion's approach.  The dragon swept their wing and deflected the spells as if they were projectiles.  All except Milda's, a beam of white that gobbled up light within itself to seem dark.  It carried on and struck the dragon's wing.

On contact, it created a loud crack noise – similar to stone in the midst of fracture.  A bloody hole was left in the sixteen-meter-tall beast, to their shock and Milda's glee.

"It bleeds!"  She called out as the bloodlust seeped into her mind and turned everything red.  All around her, her kin had the same reaction.  Claws were extended, sharp teeth bared.  "If it can bleed...."

"It can die!"  The legion replied.

--

Siar

She had retired to her aerie to lounge with her lover's avatar for the rest of the day.  Seme did not judge her for her wickedness, and would listen to Siar talk about her misery – while Siar did not judge Seme's contemplation, and would listen to Seme as she charted ways out of despair.

Seme had taught Siar that a clan leader couldn't just embody their clan – they had to embody an emotion.  They had to have pondered it, mastered it, threaded it through their lives. 

It wasn't enough for, say, Owona to embody rage – she had to embody different aspects of rage.  She had to root herself in a distinct rage from Taun.  Siar would be asked to do the same for her affinity, which would be misery.

Like Seme, Siar charted courses in and out of misery.  Sometimes, for whole days, she would reflect on how others experienced misery than herself.  She had to talk to her descendants and find the ugly details of their experience.

While the unascended cuddled with despair incarnate, she felt like she knew her descendants as well as she knew herself.  Warts, and all.  All except Gemenes, because she would not be able to know the vastness of his information until she ascended.

Siar felt Seme smile into her neck.  "You're ready, I think.  You could drink that potion any day, and make the change."  In avatar, Seme could speak to her.  To Siar's ears, Seme's voice soothed like lotion.

"Yet still I harbor doubts in mine heart."  Siar laid back on the pillows so Seme could rest her avatar's weight atop her.  "Mine kin think I will do so, mine clan leader is as certain as the sunrise.  You believe in my readiness.  The future itself has spoken my success to me.  Wherefore does this doubt linger?"  She stared at the distant apogee of T'Leylu, the hole through which rain fell.

What if all she had heard about the future was wrong?  That having heard what could happen had compromised her?  What if she left her descendants in their misery under Owona, because of her failure?

Seme's hand interlaced with Siar's.  "That doubt is your mortal mind, trapped in meat.  Meat that would lie to you, if it preserved its existence.  Become like me, become emotion and magic and might, to silence that doubt."

"My intent is thus."  Siar squeezed her lover's hand.  "After I have waited the requested time so mine ascent does not despoil my son's wed --"

A shadow moved over the distant point of T'Leylu's apogee.  Seconds late, a wave of fear from thousands of people rolled over Siar so sudenly she felt their terror.

She and Seme got up from their pillow pile on the balcony, and as they came to their feet a sudden downward wind hit them.  Something pink passed through Siar's peripheral vision followed by an impact tremor.

Seme puffed up her fur and broke her avatar – her physical body's movements in the distance could be heard.

Siar went to the edge of the balcony and looked down.

Stood atop T'Leylu's lake surface was an eighteen meter tall pink wolf succubus, clad in white armor.  A slit in the faulds revealed a third set of mauve wings.  Skulls with gemstones in their eyes decorated the wolf's armor, or hung from her ears like baubles.  Her eyes were like kaleidoscopes, a scintillating pattern that shifted constantly.

Realization hit at the same time that the tri-winged succubus lifted her head to howl.  Many lesser howls came down from above as response.  The giant snatched a boat from the water's surface and threw it with force at the docks.

"Scorcros," Siar said and looked up.  "And her wolves."  From on high, many pink points of light started to fall down toward T'Leylu's bottom.  She turned from the balcony right as Seme's true body ran passed her, Siar ran in the direction Seme had come from.

Scorcros was ancient, and mighty.  Seme was skilled, but had tens of thousands of years less experience.  With the sounds of two giants in battle, Siar ran to the chamber where her potion lay.  Once she was at speed, she took to the air to fly with greater quickness.

Pink streaks of light landed in the city as she traversed the distance between her balcony's edge and her home.  Where they struck, explosions followed along with vivid pink fire that ate at the stone visibly.

Behind her feline snarls and canine growls rattled the very stones.

'Siar.'

Owona's mind reached out to her as Siar ran.

'I'm busy!' Siar thought back.

'I noticed.  Ascension is not a process that can be rushed, you will not complete it before Scorcros' wolves find you and interrupt.  I will send reinforcements, prepare a beacon.'

Reinforcements?  Not often done in a clan of assassins and mercenaries.

Siar stopped, halfway down the hall to her sanctum – where her potion waited in the cauldron.  Her entire home rattled with the ferocity of two giants outside.  Siar's keen ears picked up on the scrape of metal on stone – Scorcros' wolves had entered her home too.

She wove magic together into a shape of bright lights, with her aura bent toward a call for help.  A white-armored pink wolf with a chipped greatsword rounded a corner to her right as the spell was completed.

Before they could even snarl, a green three-eyed cobra head on the end of a wing-tentacle bit them in the midsection and slammed them down into the ground.  A bloody crater was all that was left of them.

Siar was suddenly cast in shadow.  She looked up, and saw Owona tower over her.  In the air around the giant mole, other cubi with glowing eyes like theirs began to appear in colorful bursts.

"Maintain the beacon for five minutes, then rejoin the battle."  Owona said and began to shift her form.  The mole became like a cloud of green gas, with only her eyes left unchanged.  "Strike unseen, O Children Mine."

For the first time in two thousand years of life, Siar saw her clan jump to help each other.  Her clan leader slipped away toward the distant battle, and her mortal kin vanished into the shadows.  More popped into the hall and vanished without words or a glance.  Had Owona anticipated an attack?

Had all the work done to make the city a sanctuary been bait to draw out Scorcros, Owona's old enemy?

Or, even more unlikely, did Owona genuinely want to protect something?

Siar pondered that while she continued her beacon spell.

--

Owona

When Scorcros and Owona first met, she had asked her elder why she was so bloodthirsty if she was hope incarnate.  The answer had set the tone for their interactions for thousands of years.

"Hope is an abattoir.  For hope's sake, people endure great suffering and live on when death would be kinder.  Hope prolongs pain, and gives rise to despair when at last exhausted.  We are called not just to embody the aspects of our emotion that we like, little creature."

Scorcros then proceeded to beat Owona very nearly to death, no emotion on her face.  It was a task to her, nothing more.

Owona had not been tri-wing at the time.  Every time they clashed directly afterward, Scorcros won.  But the defeat was less shameful with each occurrence.  In their latest bought, when they met in the center of Comia Atoll following Siar's massacre of the mer, the fight had been a draw.  Each time, Scorcros seemed excited to do battle with Owona, her repeated victories only made the sentiment greater.

While she slipped through the air as smoke, Owona pondered what that meant for the old wolf's mental state.  If she didn't know better – Owona would assume Scorcros wanted a foe who could defeat her.

For the first time, she beheld the T'Leylu geofront with her own eyes as she flew high into the air.  It was, naturally, on fire and in the act of being sacked.  She never got to see nice places when they weren't on fire, that was not how things were done.

Scorcros, the memory eater, did battle with Seme on the surface of the lake. 

Seme was a mage at her heart, she called up the water to lash the wolf with liquid whips that froze seconds before impact.

However, the wolf was armored, so whips of any kind only drove her back.  She inhaled and let loose a mighty howl at Seme.  The air compressed into discs with the force of Scorcros' voice.

Seme, the top three meters of the lake's surface, and detritus from the shattered aeries were flung into the geofront's ground level.  The titanic snow leopard crashed into the Hrienth bank and had to collect herself.

Owona opted to buy her the time to do so.

Smoke became a one-meter pellet of green that fell to the lake with all Owona's mass.  She fell right between Scorcros' legs, bent the wolf's water-walking effect with her weight, and bounced right into her enemy's chin.

Crack!

While Scorcros was lifted off her feet and thrown back, Owona unfolded herself and sank below the water.  T'Leylu's lake had enough algae that she could blend in without her green giving her away.

"You really, really ought to invest in a helmet," Owona snarked to her elder through her sonorous second voice.  It allowed her to sneak about while Scorcros recovered.

Scorcros skidded across the surface of the lake, and worked her jaw once she came to a stop.  "And deny you the obvious cheap shot?"  The wolf grinned, her kaleidoscope eyes a mix of indigo, red, and yellow.  "Good to see you too."

"This is not a friendly interaction, harridan."  Owona-as-water flowed with a wave onto the shore, wrapped herself around a broken section of house, then flung it at Scorcros' left knee as it receded.  The polenyn was torn off from the force, to expose the mail beneath.  "You blaspheme the day my descendant is married, you kill my kin, you threaten a sanctuary to which you were invited!"

"I know!  You thought I would fear some angel-worship cult enough to dull my claws, blunt my teeth?"  Scorcros stomped her foot and the water on the lake's surface began to boil.  "You thought I have need of sanctuary?  I like you, so I won't be insulted – but damn can you be hurtful sometimes."

It was a baited hook, a setup for a 'hurt' punchline which Scorcros would counter.  Owona paid it no mind, she went beneath the surface of the lake and found a stalagmite in the bed.  She condensed herself into her base form and broke it off from the bed, then lined up her shot.

Toss!  Followed shortly by impact!

Stone at great speed tore through ornate metal and dug into semi-divine flesh.  Scorcros' blood poured from the wound, moreso once she pulled the projectile out.

To do battle while her mind was bombarded with pleas for help, the sensation of dying clan members, and feeds from her kin in combat was not easy.  Tri-wings were not meant to be combatants, despite how many earned their titles in battle.

So she didn't begrudge Seme for taking so long to recover.  Owona fought, regardless.

She was a tri-wing who had mastered shapeshifting as a form of combat.  Owona could control herself to such a degree that her very molecules could move at her will.  While Seme recovered, Owona made use of those skills.

Scorcros was stronger than her, had greater reflexes and reach – tens of thousands of years more experience in combat.  But Owona had creativity, and the promise of a future  Scorcros was stronger than her?  Owona became smoke so that Scorcros' limbs passed through her.  Scorcros had greater reflexes?  Owona used parts of herself to trigger them on command by way of movement in the wolf succubus' peripheral.  Scorcros had superior reach?  Owona contorted her body as if she were rubber.

It wasn't elegant, it wasn't graceful.  Their battle was not some beautiful form of communication.  It was messy, like when Scorcros crushed a house to put the dust into Owona's eyes.  It was ugly, like when Owona tugged upon the skulls that hung from the wolf's ears.

While they fought, their clans did battle.  Owona's struck from shadows, where they either got the kill swiftly or were soon killed themselves.  Scorcros' fought for loot, glory, and slaves – as if the battle was a stage performance; their battle prowess only made their display of ego more difficult to stomach.

In the end, Owona succeeded at her task.  She kept Scorcros' full and undivided attention long enough for Seme to rejoin the fight.

While the two warriors did battle, Seme had charged a spell of killing.  Owona recognized the magic – it was one that Gemenes had developed with the help of the angel Ea Gnashir.

'Zoltraak', was its name.

The spell could break magical defenses, destroy matter, and move with horrifying speed once mastered.

Once Owona recognized it, she quit the field and took to the air out of seeming cowardice.

Grinning Scorcros chased her into T'Leylu's airspace, and only remembered Seme's presence when the spell's telltale sound echoed.  Like stone that had fissured.  Scorcros looked and saw the attack come as darkness in a cage of white light.

Owona watched a beam two-thirds Scorcros' height strike her, break like a stream of water, and keep going.  When it stopped, Scorcros had only her left arm, and had lost a significant portion of her chest, right backwing, and right hipwing.

Blood and magic spilled from her as she toppled into the lake.  Owona dived in after her.

The two enemies looked at each other beneath the water.  Scorcros had gone limp – her kaleidoscope eyes began to fade into something almost normal.  The in-between state resembled stained glass.  Scorcros' expression was plaintive.

She didn't want Owona to save her, the mole realized.

Owona didn't want to rescue her either.  But she saw in Gemenes' memories, the mighty figure of hope that Scorcros' heir would be.

For the sake of the future, for the sake of their children, Owona swallowed whatever grudge she had against her old enemy, wrapped her up in her wing tentacles, and swam back to the surface.

In an act of seeming bloodthirst, Owona physically slammed Scorcros' mangled body into the shore, and crushed the port authority building under the wolf's weight.

"Why wouldn't you let me die...?"  Scorcros asked, her voice broken by the question and her injuries.  "You won, at last...."

Owona felt Seme's approach, she felt Seme's flaming anger through her aura.  A quick explanation had to be thought up, one both clan leaders would accept.

"You don't get to decide anymore!"  Owona pantomimed her rage – a volcanic explosion after much prodding.  Her voice echoed through T'Leylu.  "You came here, ruined this day for hundreds of people – for your ego!  You are everything a clan leader shouldn't be!"  She pointed in the wolf's face, her mighty claw jabbed into her nose.  "You want to die!?  You want out, at long last!?  You will pass your power on to the next generation, like you should have done millennia ago!"

Seme's rage abated at Owona's words.  The lie had worked, and she believed.

All around them, the fighting had stopped.  The wolves had lost heart at their leader's defeat, and the defenders took the chance to fall back to the remaining buildings.

Owona swept her arm wide.  "Where in this pack of hounds is Fa'Lina!?  Step forward!"  She picked Scorcros off the ground and slammed her back into it with force enough to quake the earth.

Silence followed, until rocks began to shift.  From out of a ruined shoe store, stepped a poodle succubus with wings of pink-and-white.  The one Gemenes had shown her, in his memories.  Fa'Lina.  To Owona's eyes, she seemed afraid – her hands shook and her steps were stilted.

Owona heaved the defeated and dying Scorcros across the ground so that the wolf could look on her descendant.  "Give your power to this one, or I will ask Seme to heal you here and now."

Seme crawled onto the shore, onto Scorcros' opposite side.

The wolf looked at Fa'Lina, then back up to Owona with her lip curled.  "You wish me to make a dog my heir?"

Despair incarnate gathered magic in her hands and reached for Scorcros' wounds.

"No, please!  Don't save my life!  I'll do anything, just don't save my life!"

The future was secured, though there was still more to do; for they hadn't been the only ones attacked.

---

For obvious reasons, you shouldn't expect a Gemenes journal before the next chapter.

Gemenes Journal NULL

---

Transcribed by a mysterious creature not of linear time.  Written in Faespeak.

--

Hi!

You're going to find this entry in your journal, you're going to read it, you're going to spend a bit of time processing it.

It's really nice seeing other non-linears taking interest in this podunk universe, and I'm glad you're not a dragon.  [A drawing of a butt takes up the entire next page.]

There are plans for this universe.  Your presence here meddles with them.  For the record?  I love what you're planning to do -- actively trying to uplift several races to the level of non-linears by way of multiversal knowledge?  That's better than cupcakes, that!

So.  This is a gentle warning.  By which I mean the tragedy happening to your city right now.  The dragons, the tri-wing, the religious fanatics sniping people on the way out.  All that?  That's the warning.

I don't like to be mean, but I will be if you make me.

And hey!  This could've been way worse.  You could've stumbled into messing up Mab's plans, and then you'd have been kicked out of the universe altogether.

So.

Bamboo fabric?  Fine.  Uplifting these linears?  Don't think it'll work, but you're free to try.  Warp-aci?  Dragon killing fungus?  Cloning?  All good.

But I have dibs on inventing y-fronts.  And I'm not going to get around to it for another six thousand years, locally.  So you're going to knock off introducing them, capiche?  I'll let you know when it's safe to start with them again.

You got your heart set on something similar?  No one's called dibs on bikinis yet.  Stay in your lane, and no one else has to die.

With love,

Albanion.

---

...I lied, there was a journal entry.  Bwehehehe.