TDM #5

[calderaevents]

ARRIVAL

It happens in an instant. A heavy weight in your gut, a trembling of your limbs, the world spins and you barely have time to register that you're falling before you lose consciousness. And when you awaken, it's not where you were last. Dark, unadorned oak walls surround you in a tiny room, the only furniture the bed you are currently resting upon, and the bedside table with a folded piece of parchment resting atop it that simply reads:

“The Tavernkeeper is awaiting your arrival downstairs.”

As you exit you find others like yourself emerging from the surrounding rooms. You are indeed in a tavern, but there is no hustle and bustle one might think to hear in such a place. The only person down on the main floor is a humanoid figure wiping down the bar, who smiles when they see you. They're familiar, but not, and you can't quite place their face. For some reason, however, their presence is comforting and warm.

“Welcome, Visitor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions.”

And you most certainly do.

Due to popular demand, the starter tavern and the drinks provided are available to in game characters via a portal accessible only to those with a faction gem.

DRINK MENU

FLAMEFRUIT SANGRIA a deep red wine based punch with chunks of softly glowing fruit floating in it. A single serving makes you feel relaxed, social, and maybe even a little flirty.

MOLTEN MEAD Though the thick drink itself is room temperature, it bubbles sluggishly, and feels very warm going down. The bold flavor affects your mood. You feel very bold! Like you could do anything!

BESALT BRANDY a hopefully staple drink for the brewery, this liquor is smooth and rich with a peppery bite. Ironically after consuming it, you kinda want to bite someone! Not hard! Just a little nip and nibble!

THAT ASHY ESPRESSO a single potent shot of dark espresso swirled with a gold-tinged cream. Intense and bitter with a hint of caramelized sugar. You are now very awake, hyper, and excited.

PYROCLAST'S WHISKEYa glossy black whiskey that turns a vibrant glowing orange when swirled. You now breathe fire.

EMBERMARK WINE a rich, velvety, spiced wine that immediately makes one feel mellow and calm.

CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY

As the effects of your drink wear off, the Tavernkeeper speaks once more:

”It is time, my friends, for you to find your new homes.”

You are compelled to walk through the only door leading out of the tavern, finding yourself not outside, but in a deep black, seemingly endless room with five portals arranged in a circle. As the last of you leave and the door closes behind you, gone when you look back again and replaced with nothing but that black void, three of the portals illuminate:

The first portal is surrounded by an almost blinding light, prismatic rainbows shining brightly in the dewy air outside of the tavern. A soft breeze may gently caress you, pulling you toward it. The portal seems to lead to a city in the clouds, airships and winged beings of all sorts soaring through the skies. Of the little bits of visible land, much of it boasts giant waterfalls that look like clouds melting into the land below. The portal calls to those who crave independence and freedom; and especially to anyone that wishes to find the strong bond of a family not forged in blood.

The second portal is encircled by a fairy ring of spotted white capped mushrooms, the faint scent of damp stone and rich earth wafting from within the faint green glow. Peering inside, one can see a sprawling harbor city of gray hewn stone, a melting pot of humanoid beings going about their day, and beyond, rolling green farmland and cottages clustered in small villages. This portal is destined for those who crave stability and solid ground beneath their feet. A simple life, an adventurous one, and everything in between can be found within.

The last portal is adorned with shells and seaweed, the glow of blue around it catching on droplets cascading down the circular opening. Beyond it you see a city housed inside a massive bubble deep under the ocean, spiraling towers encrusted with coral, and a variety of different creatures mingling about the streets. Outside of that bubble, merfolk swim, a massive squid engulfs the view from the portal as it smoothly glides through the water, and schools of fish disperse as it passes. A sanctuary in the sea that calls to those with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to aid those in need. Or perhaps it is the mystery that beckons you - the lure of the unknown in the depths that bids you explore it.

---

Upon following the pull of the breeze through the first portal, you are thrust into the beauty of a lively city that goes by the name of Heaven's Bow. Much of this main city feels exactly as you would expect on a city below, but there are clouds surrounding every direction you look. The walls of buildings are made with light-colored limestone, and buildings are generally built up to heights made even more grandiose by their position in the sky.

The Skyfall Docks are the first thing you notice, boasting hundreds of airships sailing in and out across the clouds with shouts that accompany a typical port city. Just outside is a fantastic market with goods not only from the other regions of Caldera, but from what some shopkeepers claim are other worlds--items sold or left behind by Visitors. Almost anything can be found in the markets if one is willing to look hard enough. Transport to other locations throughout the sky and even to the land or sea can be found here.

If the docks are too lively for you, you may instead find yourself roaming the underbelly of Heaven's Bow and finding brothels and gambling parlors filled with the promise of pleasure and fortune. The guild house for the Sylphs can be found here as well, giving out quests and training to prospective adventurers and guards alike--though none of them seem concerned with the illicit activities that surround them. Perhaps the freedom the Sylphs boast of extends to what others may deem an undesirable activity.

But most curious of all, you find a shimmering opal gemstone in your hand. When placed anywhere on the body, it will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If it was the second portal that called to you, you will find yourself in the busy city of Grey Ward, with its cobblestone streets and sturdy grey stone buildings. You are in the heart of the city, the Glass Market, so named for the colorful stained glass windows of the surrounding buildings. The scent of cooking food and the sound of barkers fills the air; watchful guards keep an eye out for pickpockets and thieves, and citizens go about their day. From here, one can investigate the rest of the city: the Sundown Docks, where both sea and sky faring skips transport people and goods. The Soot Spire, home of inventors and engineers. The Hearthstill, the main residential area. The Downs, a smaller residential area for those with less means.

Outside the city walls, one can explore acres of farmlands to the east and west, or follow Terra’s Pass to the less settled areas, but take care. Past the Skyward Range, out in the smaller burrows and villages, the influence of the city guard diminishes quickly, and you’ll have to keep your wits about you. Bandits along the road are always a risk, and the wildlife are less controlled by regimented hunting.

In your hand is a gemstone, a brilliantly green emerald that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If the last portal beckoned you through it, you find yourself within that bubble covered city beneath the sea, the city of Salt Spire. Your ears pop with the change in pressure, and the smell of the salty sea fills your nostrils. All around you buildings made of dark stone encrusted with coral and seagrass tower high above your head, the backdrop outside the dome a deep blue, seemingly endless sea filled with fish and merfolk and all other manner of creature swimming through the water. You stand in the heart of it all, surrounded by people with gils on their necks and scales upon their vibrantly colored skin, all of whom seem intrigued by your arrival. You have many options of where to visit in the city under the sea, but where oh where will you go first?

The Salt Spire Library is right before you, an impossibly large building housing thousands upon thousands of books of all genres. Fiction, non-fiction, romance and mystery and all between. You may even find books from your world and others! Oddly enough though, no Calderan history books are to be found, and if you ask for them, the librarians and locals all choose to ignore your questions.

If scholarly pursuits aren't to your interest currently, perhaps a trip to Bluetide Market would be more your style? The marketplace is host to every manner of shop one might ever need: artisans of all varieties, apothecaries and healers in the Shimmer Quarter, the most in fashion undersea clothing shops, food stalls, and all between can be found in Bluetide. There are also the Tideshore and Fogbottom docks on either end of the city. The former allows transport to the surface via large, magical bubbles for those that cannot hold their breath or make the swim themselves yet. The latter allows people to venture further into the sea. Those without their underwater abilities are offered rebreathers for travel that last for four hours before needing to be replaced.

In your hand is a gemstone, a shining sapphire that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

IGNACIA'S CRADLE/EMBER VEIL

Months ago, a piece of land from Heaven’s Bow fell from the sky and scarred the land below, damaging a part of the city. From that chaos and ruin rose new life, a new ruler, and a new city: Ignacia’s Cradle. Just a short walk from the edge of Grey Ward, the gates of the city are guarded by two massive obsidian golems, and any who did not rise from the lava itself are warned at the entrance that to travel about the city will be most difficult, unless they have obtained a way to mitigate the extreme heat: be that with a charm, an ability, or a potion. The very streets themselves are paved in slabs of volcanic rock, tall spires of buildings constructed and shaped by rapidly cooled lava. The main method of travel are the mine carts, with tracks that wind through the spires ready to take one to almost any location.

Currently, the main feature of Ignacia’s Cradle is the Lava Flats, home of skilled smiths that use the extreme heat of the lava to melt the strongest metals and create unbreakable weapons, glassmakers and jewelers who fashion elaborate headpieces, rings, and amulets. These items are sold at the Ember Market on the outskirts of the Flats.

At the edge of the city lies the Ashfall Terrace, where a small farm using the rich volcanic ash and soil is in its infancy, as well as the Basalt Brewery where clever alchemists are researching ways to use the extreme heat to craft new and unique beverages that they are eager to find folk to test them out on.

---

The hot spring of Ignacia’s Cradle is a breathtaking anomaly located just beyond the Ashfall Terrace, tucked into a secluded crater formed by the celestial impact that gave rise to the city. Here, molten veins from the Lava Flats weave beneath the earth, heating a natural reservoir that bubbled to life amidst the chaos. The spring’s waters shimmer with an ethereal brilliance, hues of deep turquoise blending with molten gold and fiery orange, as though Heaven’s Bow itself left behind a fragment of its essence. Steam rises in curling wisps, carrying the tang of minerals and faint traces of sulfur.

The spring, known to locals as The Ember Veil, is both a sanctuary and a marvel of natural wonder. Its soothing waters are reputed to heal wounds and fortify the spirit, with the temperature kept in perfect balance by an intricate system of naturally formed vents and channels. The edges are lined with intricately carved obsidian benches, where patrons can soak their feet or meditate in the rising steam. Plants resistant to the intense conditions—vivid fire lilies and ash ferns—dot the perimeter, their resilience a symbol of life’s ability to flourish even in the harshest environments.

Sometimes, when two or more individuals share the waters, the spring creates a subtle connection between their minds, allowing memories to surface like ripples on its surface. These shared memories appear as glowing, translucent scenes that hover above the water, visible to all within the spring. Participants can relive moments from their lives, experiencing them through each other’s eyes, fostering profound empathy and understanding.

Another of the spring’s mystical properties occurs when bathers who enter the waters feeling drained, injured, or burdened by grief often find their vitality restored. The waters seem to draw out negative energies and emotions, replacing them with a warm, invigorating sensation that spreads through the body. In rare instances, the spring has been known to accelerate physical healing, mending minor injuries and soothing chronic aches, as though the magic itself is stitching the body back together.

A lesser-known but equally fascinating effect happens on particularly clear nights, when the moonlight reflects on the spring’s surface, some bathers report fleeting glimpses of potential futures. These visions are often cryptic, appearing as brief, dream-like flashes, but they have guided many to life-changing decisions. The alchemists of the Basalt Brewery believe this effect stems from residual cosmic energy, and they have begun experimenting with enhancing it through the addition of rare minerals and lunar elixirs.

RADIANT SUN

The day begins like no other, with the skies painted in hues of golden-pink as the Radiant Sun ascends. Its light spills over the world, warm and soft, caressing the land and filling every heart with a sense of peace. Beneath its glow, emotions of love and connection bloom like never before. Strangers exchange heartfelt smiles, old friends embrace as though no time has passed, and lovers find their feelings deepened, their bonds strengthened.

Even the air feels different—lighter, sweeter, as though the universe itself is celebrating. The songs of birds harmonize with the melodies of impromptu musicians who feel inspired by the sun’s radiance. Those with magical abilities sense their powers of healing and creation magnified, as if the sun itself lends its strength to their intentions. Long-held grudges seem to melt away under the sun’s tender gaze, replaced by tears of reconciliation and words of forgiveness.

The Radiant Sun touches every heart differently:

◾A widow finds peace as memories of her late spouse no longer bring sorrow but gratitude for the love they shared.
◾A timid youth finds the courage to confess their feelings to the person they’ve admired for so long.
◾A gruff warrior lets down their guard, laughing freely with their companions for the first time in years.

For a fleeting moment, the world feels as it should be—unified, harmonious, and drenched in love.

But as the day wanes and the Radiant Sun dips below the horizon, an unease begins to settle...

JEALOUS MOON

The golden light gives way to deep purples and silvers as the Jealous Moon rises, its glow pale and cold. Its light pierces the heart, not to warm it, but to expose the insecurities that lie buried within. Where love had flourished during the day, doubt begins to creep in.

Under the Jealous Moon’s influence, emotions twist and darken:

◾A once-reconciled pair of siblings argue over old grievances, as jealousy over perceived favoritism resurfaces.
◾A couple, who had spent the day lost in each other’s arms, now question each other’s loyalty and intentions.
◾A nobleman, inspired to be generous during the day, grows suspicious of those who received his gifts, fearing they may exploit his kindness.

The air grows heavy with tension, and the magic of the Radiant Sun fades, replaced by the sharp sting of distrust. The moon’s pale light seems to follow people like a judgmental gaze, amplifying every fear, insecurity, and lingering resentment.

Worse still, the night seems endless, as though time itself has bent beneath the weight of the Jealous Moon’s envious glow. For three long days and nights, the moon lingers high in the sky, its pale, piercing light casting a shadow over hearts and minds, amplifying discord and despair. Its power sows strife among even the closest bonds, driving some to dangerous extremes. Yet, when all seems lost, the scholars of the three factions unite their wisdom and uncover a glimmer of hope—a means to dispel the moon’s cruel influence. For those who have not yet succumbed to jealousy’s grip, there remains a chance to reclaim harmony, a chance for redemption before the damage becomes irreversible.

The solution lies not in complex rituals or rare relics but in the simplest and most instinctive actions: physical connection. To weaken the moon’s hold, people must embrace one another—offering a hug, a handshake, or even resting a hand on someone’s shoulder. These gestures of closeness disrupt the isolation and mistrust that the moon thrives upon. Sitting side by side or holding hands creates a barrier against its oppressive light, reminding the afflicted that they are not alone. Even small acts, like sharing warmth through proximity or clasping arms in solidarity, build a shield of connection that the moon cannot penetrate.

As these actions ripple through the night, the Jealous Moon’s light begins to dim, its sharp, cold glow softening until it fades from the sky entirely. The tension in the air lifts, replaced by a quiet calm that feels almost foreign after the chaos of the past three days. Slowly, the world seems to exhale, and the darkness that clung so tightly to the hearts of many begins to loosen its grip. People step back from the brink of despair, their minds clearing as if waking from a long, disorienting dream. Relationships strained by the moon’s influence begin to mend as apologies are exchanged, tears are shed, and bonds are reaffirmed.

ALL IS WELL(?)

With the Radiant Sun rising again, its golden-pink hues spilling across the horizon, life begins to return to normal. The birds resume their morning songs, markets reopen, and the hum of daily activity fills the air once more. Though traces of the moon’s influence linger in whispered memories, there is a collective sense of relief and gratitude among the people—gratitude for the light, for connection, and for a second chance to heal.

In the outskirts of Ignacia's Cradle, Aella and Terra, two of the three leaders of the factions, come together to address the gathered crowds. Together they assure the people that this celestial event was a rare anomaly, something never before recorded in the annals of history. They explain that while the Jealous Moon’s influence was unprecedented and deeply unsettling, it was a unique alignment of cosmic forces that is unlikely to occur again in their lifetimes—or ever.

The leaders thank the people for their resilience and compassion, emphasizing how their acts of unity—simple gestures of closeness and connection—proved stronger than the moon’s envy. They commend the scholars for their quick thinking and the Visitors for their role in guiding others through the chaos. Finally, they urge everyone to move forward, not in fear of what has passed, but with the knowledge that even in the darkest moments, their strength lies in the bonds they share.

QUESTBOARD

Settled in? Good. It's time to make your way to the Questboard located in every city in numerous, easy to access locations. That is, if you want to make any kind of impact on the world or just get some Bones for anything you might wish to purchase. Visitors are given a very small stipend in which to survive every month, but all it does is keep you fed and housed. These quests will assure you greater wealth, and they're the main reason you're here: each finished quest helps the Calderans fix their shattering world.

Quests can be accepted at the questboard via magically signed parchment upon the board. Just sign your name to accept and the paper will be whisked away... somewhere. You're not actually sure. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.

Once quests are completed, earned Bones will be dropped off at the character's residence by Bonita, the mysterious artisan who has supposedly handcrafted every Bone circulating in Caldera. Please do not speak to her, she startles easily.

*February will be the last month to complete quests for this rotation. New ones will go up on March 1st.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Caldera's fifth TDM! All characters awaken in a strange tavern with nothing save the clothes on their backs, all of their powers stripped, and a piece of parchment directing them downstairs to the Tavernkeeper. There is a thread of all questions answered by the Tavernkeeper here, and if you have more, feel free to ask there for what would be offered ICly.

For OOC questions, please direct themhere.

All locations are available to be explored! Ignacia's Cradle and Ember Veil have been added, along with details about the Violet Drop regarding the Cult of Triton.

The TDM is game canon and all completed quests can be carried over once accepted into the game.

Participation in the Radiant Sun/Jealous Moon effects is not mandatory.

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Skandranon Rashkae 🦅 Mage Wars Trilogy 🦅 Sylph

[blackgryphon]

i. arrival
Skandranon hasn't, isn't, and will never be of a size consummate to the interior of a dwelling built for human proportions. He's huge, the size of a draft horse even before taking his wingspan into account, and his appearance as he wedges himself through the narrow door and his wings rebound from the tight squeeze is suitably dramatic. His ear-tufts touch the ceiling, his talons are already knocking furniture ahoo, and his tail is a menace.

Anyone who's too close is going to get a mouthful of feathers, and a blessing of wind, if they're lucky. Anyone less lucky will find themselves knocked about: mind the talons, now!

"Ashkhh... SSssorry, I'm not ussually thiss clumssy," He hisses, when he notices it at all. The feathers of Skan's hackles and mane are all puffed up with his confusion and distress, making him seem even larger than usual, and his voice is a hiss of displeasure, "Wherrre iss the dooorrr? Ah. Exsscusse me."

Make way! Or don't. It's your funeral.

ii. tavern
It takes him a while to get across the room, and at some point, someone must have waylaid him. Lying there, sprawled like the combination of bird and lazy cat that he is, and only somewhat approximating being out of the way, is a Gryphon. Someone has helpfully supplied him with a mug— or is that a bucket? It's full of drink, regardless, and he does seem, occasionally, to be drinking from it.

His beak is huge, hooked and sharp, and each curved talon is the length of a finger all by itself, but he seems calm, and friendly enough. Certainly there is a certainly aura of empty chairs nearest-by this enormous black creature, and yet... Not entirely.

Are you feeling brave enough to approach the Black Gryphon?

iii. sylphlands
The very first thing he does upon escaping the tavern is to shake vigorously. Feathers, dander, and dust go flying everywhere, including onto whosoever happens to be standing nearby. Then Skan sits, looking out over the expanse of... well, everything!

"Well, I'll be damned," He says, presently, "What is this place? Ah— Sketi, I don't have time for this, I have to find— oof, sorry."

Watch out there, he didn't mean to knock you over, spreading his wings like that. Need a hand up?

iv. Fountain of Memory
Skandranon likes to know the lay of the land, and anyone who comes across him on the Ember Veil might find him taking a break for some much-needed hydration at a certain fountain. And perhaps, if you wait too long you might start to see—

"Ah. Ahaha. Well. Nobody needssss to see that," Skan musses the surface of the water with his talons, visibly embarrassed. It really is shocking how much froth a creature as large as a gryphon can stir up, isn't it?

v. Radiant Sun
If there's one thing Gryphons love, it's sunbathing. And this particular sun is a particularly warm and lovely bath to have. What Skandranon doesn't seem to understand is that lounging around like he's had a snifter full of catnip is certainly blocking the path. You are an obstruction, sir.

Not that anyone seems too bothered. Indeed, everybody seems to be in a singularly genial and permissive mode, at the moment. Maybe that includes you? Or, maybe you find this whole thing ridiculous— or just want to pet the big fluffy birdcat creature. Well?

🦅. wildcard
Contact me here and let me know if you'd like a custom starter, or want to chat about how our characters might interact!

tavern

[hellrider]

A Gryphon is not a lion, but it's close enough, visually speaking, to catch the eye of this particular tiefling. His first thought is how did that get in here?, not in the sense of concern about a wild animal being indoors, but in the sense that he's now mentally measuring doors and windows and wondering if a wall will have to be opened up to allow him back out.

Sometimes it seems like the faction leaders don't plan at all before they bring people here.

If anyone was going to be bold enough to approach a gryphon, it would be a Hellrider. "Forgive me, I'm terribly curious what you're drinking. I wouldn't have the first clue what to serve a gryphon, so now I have to wonder if they were anticipating you well enough to stock the bar, but not well enough to make space for you in the room."

[blackgryphon]

The gryphon, for his own sake, does nothing to make himself take up less room. Far from it, with his wings relaxed enough to droop and spread, the pose only increases his footprint. Sprawled as he is on the floorboards, Skan does not significantly overhang Zevlor's height; he looks him comfortably in the eye, and tips his head slightly one direction to examine him from a better angle. What are you.

"I believe it is spiced wine," Skandranon tells him, at the end of this perusal, and taps the tin bucket with a gentle effort to set it a-swirl. For how much is there, it is likely watered down, but the velvety color of embermark spices intermix with an appealing fluidity, "I'm told it's safe. So far it's done me no harm."

Demonstrating this face, he bends to take another breakfull— and spattering flecks of red in most directions as he does. No one has ever accused gryphons of being neat eaters, not twice at least.

"So, what are you?"

[hellrider]

"Nothing like mulled wine in the cold," he says mildly, breathing in the spicy scent. "It's winter out there, in case you were wondering, but I think the worst of the bitter weather is over."

His own glass contains whiskey, which he hasn't tasted yet. Glancing around, he finds himself a seat close by and settles, crossing his ankles and leaning back casually. The scattering of wine earns a slight grimace, but it's the tavern's problem, not Zevlor's.

He laughs at the question. The last person who asked him that got under his skin, though they made up later. Maybe Nina's tone is just inherently brusque. "This, again. I suppose there aren't many people here whose worlds have tieflings. But that's what I am. Humanoid with infernal blood from an archdevil, many, many generations back."

[blackgryphon]

"Well, I won't say that doesn't ssound ominousss," Skan hisses, grinding his beak with a thought preoccupation. Even if it does, he can't seem to work up much concern about it; this entire place had the dreamlike air of unreality.

That, or he's had just about enough wine.

"But you seem polite. I am Skandranon, of the city of White Gryphon, K'Leshya. I suppose it's too much to hope you've heard of the famous Black Gryphon?"

[hellrider]

"Well, I promise not to try to collect your soul if you promise not to attack my horse," Zevlor says with a wry smile. "But truth be told, there are few who loathe archdevils as much as my kin do. We didn't ask to be what we are. Most of us are just trying to get by, like anyone else, in a world that judges quickly based on appearances."

"My name is Zevlor. I'm a Hellrider, formerly of the city of Elturel. Alas, no, I'm not familiar. There are gryphons in my world, and they're intelligent, but rarely sociable enough to share a drink in a tavern. I suspect we're from different realms."

"But if you'd have me sing your praises, go ahead and tell me of the famous Black Gryphon. I'm always interested in a good story."

[blackgryphon]

Unsociable gryphons. Well, such a thing could exist, surely— but Gryphons! He knew of no others that did not descend from Urtho's hand. Was it possible for the gates to have thrown his people even so far as another world? Was anything impossible, when the magestorms twisted all magic out of alignment and made so much that had been familiar into strangeness?

"Well, it all began with Urtho's army, of course. The Mage of Silence was a personal friend of mine, as close to me as family, really," Skandranon begins, gesturing grandly, and then they're off to the races.

First, of course, Zevlor needs to hear a tale of border-skirmishes, dropping stones and worse onto enemy heads, coordinating with his fellow Gryphons in rotating squadrons to maintain the dominance of the sky over Urtho's enemies. Then of course comes the description of his many daring rescues— The camps snuck into and the dozens of Makaar felled in the pursuit of freedom and safety.

"That was when I began dying my feathers black, of course. No sense in trying for stealth, when you show white feathers against the sky. Practically asking to be shot!" It's thirsty work, this. Oh, did you want to interrupt? Too bad, "Where wasI— oh, yes."

And of course there was the time he stole into a weaponsmaster's encampment all by himself and stole a lightning-thrower. And let's of course not forget his many exploits on the practice course, with its many tricks, traps, and obstacles to test the mettle of any gryphon,

"...Oh but of course it couldn't be easy, it was built to test and train the very best of us. And made by the most beautiful Gryfalcon you ever could hope to meet. Her name is Zhaneel, and the moment I saw her, I know she would be my mate."

It would be better, if Zevlor were a man capable of tolerating long speeches about how beautiful a particular female of the species is. Otherwise, he may experience something of a slump, in the middle of this story. Not to mention the bit about children and the abrupt lack of military involvement— he's a father, don't you know? Have you any of your own? It's the best thing in the world, fatherhood. And you, Zevlor, are going to get to hear all about it.

"Of course we did have to take them along to the Heighlei Court, but these hidebound fools don't know how to look after hatchlings, they kept sending the most unsuitable nursemaids you can imagine. And that was before the murders started."

This could go on for some time.

tavern

[wrathstrikes]

There's a fucking... Beast in here. Demonic beast, or regular flying one? He's not sure, but it seems tame. It's not a wyvern. Is it someone's pet? Weirdest pet he's ever seen. Eventually he bores of sitting alone in the tavern and wanders over, peering at the gryphon.

He has no idea it's sentient or can talk, so for now, just staring. What is it drinking? It doesn't look like just water. He peers over into the mug/bucket.

[blackgryphon]

Skan raises his head from taking a sip of wine, dripping messily, and regards his audience with an appropriate gravity. There's something extremely unsettling about having yourself under the gaze of a very large carnivore, and while Skandranon has very little personal experience with the sensation, he has oft been told of its power.

"Well?" He says, eventually, when it seems clear that this young man isn't going to say anything, "Use your manners, fledgeling."

[wrathstrikes]

Felix isn't unsettled. He's not at all scared of large beasts, having slain many in his life.

Well, he isn't unsettled until the thing talks.

His eyes widen.

"Wh-- You can talk?!"

[blackgryphon]

Skan flattens his ear-tufts to his head. Oh, it was going to be like that, was it? Of course it was. And he'd only just gotten the Haighlei to stop treating them like overgrown pets.

"Of course," He sighs, shifting his weight a little, the better to display himself as a regal and intimidating figure, and not a dumb animal, "But the question is, can you?"

[wrathstrikes]

Look, he's never encountered a talking animal! He's not actually trying to be rude. Yet.

"I don't think that is the question, but yes, obviously I can," he bites back.

[blackgryphon]

"Every gryphon I've ever known has been able to speak," He says, with what Skan feels is a perfectly rational level of patience, "Presuming they weren't infants."

He cocks his head and gestures with one talon, rolling the wrist illustratively as if to say and so there you have it, a gesture learned from human friends. Come on, boy, you've got to be cleverer than this.

"In my experience, most people would consider it rude to ssstare at someone as if they were a sssideshow animal."

[wrathstrikes]

Gryphon. He's never heard of it.

"Well, in my experience, animals don't talk, and it's not rude to stare at them. Are you some kind of shapeshifter?"

iii

[arlathvhen]

Lavellan had just been leaving a store, on a mission to find house goods to fill the house that she'd been hunting for. She can't just show up to the house empty-handed, right? They'd need--well, she had a list, right here--

And just as she's digging into a pouch for her list, a limb suddenly comes out of nowhere, getting her right in the shoulder, and the powerful wind that follows only assists in sending Lavellan ass over teakettle, tumbling to the ground with an entirely undignified squawk of dismay.

At least whoever sent her flying is already apologizing, and the heap of elf on the ground looks up to see whoever it is that has accomplished the task. It appears to be--Well. She knows what a griffin is, saw enough of them on Warden heraldry. Saw a baby one in real life, briefly. Is this a product of Caldera? Does Warden Davrin know? Does she have to tell him? And--is it speaking?

"I--You're big." She manages, still trying to gather thoughts sent flying by those wings. Then she blows a feather off her face. Goodness.

[blackgryphon]

"Thank you," Skandranon says, bending to examine her for injury— and then to offer the back of one talon to pull herself up, the toes firmly clenched into a ball to prevent accidental injury.

Two-leggers could be so fragile, particularly... He squints. Well, you look fairly human, young lady. But there's no point in speculating.

"You're not hurt, are you? One of my downbeats is nothing to sniff at."

[arlathvhen]

Lavellan doesn't look any worse for wear, luckily. It would take more than a little tumbling around the street like an idiot to knock anything serious loose. But she's certainly not going to turn down a helping hand--or talon. With a quiet thanks, she accepts the offered talon, and rises to her feet. Now it's just a matter of brushing off any more errant feathers and whatever other mess she's made of herself.

And that emphasis on himself--well. Lavellan is now quite certain that he would not appreciate her expressing shock at his ability to speak. It'd be a rude thing to point out, anyway, of course. He's eloquent enough that it's obviously not a novel idea for him.

"I'll be quite alright, thank you. A little scuffed maybe, but it'll buff out." That's a joke, you see.

[blackgryphon]

"Good, good," the Gryphon says, flipping his wings over his back fastidiously; he can see how that she was witness to that little shake-out. How embarrassing, "Ah, hmm..."

He really did need to find out where Amberdrake had gotten off too... and— He has no idea where he is. Where any of this is.

"Excuse me, my name is Skandranon," A novel enough phrase, though more common today that ever before. Being famous, infamous, or at least notorious, had its benefits, and one of these was never needing to introduce oneself, "I'm looking for someone. Do you know this place? Have you lived here long?"

[arlathvhen]

Don't worry, if there's anyone who is willing to overlook embarrassing moments, it's her. Indeed, she doesn't mention it at all, perfectly happy to let the matter rest. Whether it's a boon to Skandranon, or that she's the one embarrassed that she got knocked silly by talking griffin? Who can say for sure.

"It's lovely to meet you, Skandranon." In the wake of shaking hands (talons), Beleth offers a small bow. "I am Beleth Lavellan. I'm afraid I've only been here for a month, but I have met many people. If you describe the person you're looking for, and I haven't met them, then at least I can keep an eye out. There's also a...gathering, that people go to, in order to meet the people who've just." She presses her lips together for a moment. "Arrived."

Then, after a moment of thought, she pulls out her strange messenger bird thing. "If all else fails, you could put out a message on this, asking for him, and everyone will hear it."

[blackgryphon]

"Is there?" His ear-tufts come up, visibly interested. It's the best lead he's had yet, "...Rrrrrhm. That could be useful."

Beleth Lavellan, was it? Not prone to jumpiness, this one, either to conclusions or otherwise. He looked at her with consideration rising towards respect.

"His name is Amberdrake, he is a human, and his hair is long and dark. He will be wearing feathers," Skan extends a wing, as if the illustrate, "My own, actually, and white ones to match. He is a kestra'chern, so he will be dressed luxuriously, and he will be kind to anyone he meets, even if he is threatened. If you find him, tell him that the Black Gryphon is looking for him? Yes?"

Radiant Sun

[holdshisown]

Why would anyone be bothered on such a lovely day as this? Certainly not Maedhros. So what if this giant eagle thing blocks his path, it's not like he's in a hurry anywhere, and the creature does look so content that it'd be a shame to make it move.

"Perhaps you have the right idea, my feathery friend," he says with some amusement. "The day is rather lovely, why not take advantage of it and enjoy the sun for a while?"

[blackgryphon]

"Hrrrrrr, excssssactly," Skan agrees.

He's lying full-face on the pavement, belly-flat, legs splayed out the better to absorb head from the sun-warmed bricks. Even his wings are spread, a broad and inconvenient pair of sails to catch the warmth, despite the way they also block the path. Even his tail is looking pleased, curling and uncurling with visible pleasure.

"Of courrssssse," He temporizes, every word slurring into the lazy hisses and unmoderated trills of excess relaxation. Skan is perfectly capable of proper diction, when he wants to be, but right now? Why should he bother? "What kind of frrrriend would not join me, hrrrr?"

[holdshisown]

If Maedhros was surprised at hearing the creature speak he did not show it. It would not be the first time he heard speech from a similar being, after all. If Thorondor could speak why not this one?

"Ah. I did not wish to presume upon your hospitality, my friend," Maedhros says with an apologetic bow of his head. "But since you have extended an invitation of sorts I would not turn it down." So he makes his way over to sit down next to the great eagle creature.

[blackgryphon]

Companionably, Skan buffets Maedhros with a wing, in the manner of someone putting an arm around a stranger at the bar. In this moment, in this place, are we not all brothers? Of course we are, of course we are, who better to be with on days such as these?

"Ah, thiss isssss.... the life. All that isss lacking isss my mate bessidesss me and a good meal."

[holdshisown]

Indeed. They were all in the same boat here, so to speak, so why not be as brothers in this strange new land they'd all found themselves in. Makes sense, doesn't it?

"Almost reminds me of Valinor, back when the Tree's still stood," he hums. More content than he's been in a while to simply sit down and enjoy a lovely day with a new friend.