calderamemes | TDM #6

Entry tags:

!mod post,
!tdm

TDM #6

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

SHADOW ELIXER an inky black liquid that seems to absorb light rather than reflect it. Grants temporary invisibility in darkness, but also makes the drinker whisper secrets unknowingly.

WIDOWS KISS A velvety red-black wine. One sip fills you with irresistible charm.

FOOL'S ECLIPSE A deep, glossy black drink with a golden swirl that never fully mixes in. Every sip tastes slightly different: sometimes sweet, sometimes sour, sometimes oddly salty for no reason at all. After one drink, the drinker's speech becomes hilariously jumbled, replacing random words with completely unrelated ones.

BLURBERRY FIZZ A deep blue liquid that constantly fizzess with tiny silver bubbles. When poured, the bubbles briefly form random shapes: sometimes a cat, sometimes a shoe, sometimes... a tiny screaming face (but only for a second). The drinker will also hiccup tiny, harmless floating bubbles for five minutes.

VEIL OF MIDNIGHTA crystal-clear vodka cocktail with shifting black, shadowy swirls that never settle. Causes the drinker's shadow to detach and do whatever it wants for five minutes.

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 broken shells and torn seaweed, the glow of blue around it flickering like a dying flame. Beyond it, you see a city housed inside a massive bubble deep under the ocean, its once-grand spiraling towers cracked and crumbling in places, encrusted with coral and debris from the destruction that came before. The streets are bustling, but an underlying tension lingers. Outside the bubble, merfolk swim, but some still bear the scars of battle, and the deep waters beyond are darker than they should be, as though something still lurks in the abyss. A sanctuary in the sea, one that calls to those with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to aid in rebuilding what was lost. Or perhaps it is the mystery that beckons you, the remnants of a catastrophe yet fully understood 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. However, signs of destruction mar the once-thriving marketplace. Some windows shattered, stalls bearing scorch marks, and a few buildings reduced to rubble. The scent of cooking food still lingers in the air, but so too does the acrid smell of smoldering wood. Watchful guards keep an even keener eye out for pickpockets and opportunists in the wake of the recent chaos. Citizens go about their day, some with a newfound wariness in their eyes.

From here, one can investigate the rest of the city: the Sundown Docks, where both sea and sky faring ships transport people and goods, though repairs are ongoing in some areas. The Soot Spire, home of inventors and engineers, where efforts to rebuild have begun in earnest. The Hearthstill, the main residential area, bears the scars of collapsed roofs and damaged homes, with families working together to restore what was lost. The Downs, a smaller residential area for those with less means, has been hit the hardest, and aid workers scramble to provide relief to the displaced.

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, but some are marred by cracks, with scaffolding and patches where reconstruction has begun. The backdrop outside the dome is a deep blue, but lingering shadows in the depths hint at what once emerged from below. People with gills on their necks and scales upon their vibrantly colored skin move with a determined purpose, their curiosity toward newcomers now mixed with cautious wariness. 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.

SOLEMN CELEBRATIONS

After the chaos and destruction, the people of Caldera come together to express their gratitude to the Visitors, whose sacrifices were crucial in summoning Vesper, the newly awakened star god. This event, though filled with warmth and appreciation, carries the weight of what is still to come.

In Salt Spire, the bubbled underwater city, the heart of the celebration takes place. The bioluminescent glow of deep-sea creatures lights the festivities, their soft illumination casting a peaceful glow on the gathering, even through the haze of darkness beyond. Tables are laden with treasures from all three cities—gifts of wood and stone carvings from Grey Ward, textiles and plants from Salt Spire, and intricate glass orbs from Heaven’s Bow. It’s a moment of unity, as everyone, native and visitor alike, celebrates their survival and the hope Vesper now represents.

Above the sea, in Grey Ward, a quieter but equally heartfelt celebration takes place. The city, normally known for its steady hands at rebuilding, hosts a gathering of its people and the Visitors who have come through. Lanterns hang from the buildings, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Music from the land flows through the air; melodies of hope, of survival, of community. The people of Grey Ward offer their craftsmanship, beautiful wood carvings, practical tools, and heirlooms passed down through generations. Their gratitude runs deep, though they know the fight ahead will be long.

Heaven’s Bow, distant and high above the rest, holds its own subdued gathering. The people here are quieter in their celebration, reserved in their gratitude. Though they were not as directly involved in the summoning of Vesper, their support is evident in the delicate glass orbs they offer, each infused with starlight—a symbol of their unwavering faith. Their contribution may be less physical, but their presence and belief in the unity of Caldera is no less important.

In Salt Spire, the people raise their glasses high. "To those who fought to protect us," they toast, their voices rising in harmony. The people of Grey Ward join, their songs and music a reminder of the resilience of the land. Even Heaven’s Bow contributes with their delicate, glimmering orbs. The Visitors, new and old, are welcomed with open arms, gifted with tokens of appreciation. No one is excluded, for their presence, newly arrived or not, is valued deeply.

VESPER'S REQUEST

But, as the celebration continues, an undeniable presence looms at the edge of Salt Spire. Vesper, a massive, shadowy knight, the star god born of the Visitors’ sacrifices, stands apart from the merrymaking, watching quietly. His form, still flickering with the remnants of his connection to Triton’s darkness, is not yet fully settled. He speaks to the crowd, his voice calm, though tinged with the weight of what lies ahead.

"I was born of your sacrifices," Vesper says, his gaze sweeping over the Visitors. "I will not forget what you’ve given me. But our fight is not over. The darkness that birthed me still lingers, and Triton’s influence has not been erased. We must prepare. I will stand with you, when the time comes. And together, we will face what threatens this world."

The mood shifts slightly, a quiet understanding passing between the people. The celebration, while still joyful, carries the undercurrent of an impending storm. Triton’s return is inevitable, and though Vesper has emerged as a beacon of hope, his power is still growing. He will need the strength of those who summoned him, those who sacrificed for him, to confront the coming challenge.

As the night wears on and the festivities continue, the people of Caldera remain united in their shared resolve. The threat of Triton still hangs over them, but for now, they take this moment to honor the Visitors—those who sacrificed so much, and those who have only just joined the fight—and to strengthen the bonds that will be vital in the days to come.

Vesper welcomes conversation, yet it does not come naturally to him. His words are brief, precise—always tethered to his purpose, the reason for his existence. And therein lies his quiet concern: that something is missing. He yearns to connect, especially with the Visitors—the ones who gave of themselves so that he could become what he is now. A new star god. The light meant to stand against Triton’s encroaching darkness.

He speaks with certainty: he is the good that Triton once was, the lost brilliance of a god now twisted by corruption. But he does not wish to be merely a reflection of what once existed. He wants to grow beyond the shadow of the past, to forge an identity that is wholly his own. And so he seeks help—not only in understanding what he is but in becoming something more.

"Find memories," he says. "And craft new ones with me."

Memories of Triton’s past linger in the world, echoes trapped in places of significance. These must be sought out, for they hold the key to understanding Vesper’s origins.

SPECIAL QUEST: ASTRAL ECHOES

Vesper seeks the Astral Echoes, shards of violet light scattered across Caldera, each holding a fragment of Triton’s past. To understand himself and shape his future, Vesper asks the Visitors to retrieve them. This special quest will last the duration of the TDM, and will reward 400 Bones when turned in.

◾MEMORY ONE: THE DESCENT:

Near Salt Spire, a Violet Crystal Shard hums softly in an ancient ruin. When taken, it pulls the mind into a vision.

Triton falls, a streak of violet fire tearing through the sky to Caldera, a barren wasteland below. He crashes, sending stardust into the air, his form radiant with light, deep indigo skin marked with glowing lines, and eyes burning violet. He touches the earth, rivers of light spread, and the world begins to take shape.

But he is not alone. Aella, the sky, sweeps through the heavens, breathing life into the winds. Cordelia, the sea, shapes the waters and the depths. Terra, the land, molds the earth, forming mountains and valleys. And in the shadows, another lingers, a distant vision, hard to define, their presence felt but not fully understood. Together, they craft the new world.

"There will be law where there is chaos," Triton says. "Light where there is shadow. Justice where there is none."

The vision fades as the Violet Crystal Shard is given to Vesper. He holds it, feeling its pulse.

"He did not come to rule," Vesper murmurs, "He came to protect."

The shard dims, its purpose fulfilled. Yet its memory lingers, a quiet ember.

"Caldera was formless," Vesper whispers, "And they shaped it into something just."

He lifts his gaze, something stirring within him—understanding or perhaps the weight of his path ahead.

◾MEMORY TWO: THEM:

In a cave deep within Ignacia's Cradle, a faint Violet Crystal Shard pulses softly. When a Visitor holds it, they are pulled into a distant memory—one of doubt and rebellion.

The world is young, full of light and order. Triton stands with his companions—Aella, Cordelia, and Terra—shaping Caldera. But in the shadows, something stirs.

A figure, hard to define, stands apart. Their form flickers between light and darkness, their eyes filled with uncertainty.

"This world was meant for something more," they whisper, voice tinged with frustration. "Why does it feel so controlled?"

Triton watches them, sorrow in his eyes, but they step further into the shadows, their form dissolving, lost to doubt.

"Maybe it should burn," they murmur. "Maybe it should fall apart and rise again—wild."

The Violet Crystal Shard pulses as the figure vanishes into the darkness, leaving only the echo of Triton’s sorrow: "They were never meant to follow the order. They were always meant to fall into the shadows."

The memory fades, the figure still a mystery, their true nature lost in the shadows of the past.

◾MEMORY THREE: THE EXILE:

On the broken cliffsides near Grey Ward, a Violet Crystal Shard lies half-buried in the earth, its faint glow drawing the Visitor in. Upon touching it, a vision fills their mind—Triton stands, his form radiant with celestial light, yet his expression is one of deep sorrow and rage.

A shadowed figure, barely discernible, is ripped from the land. The figure’s volcanic home follows, both hurtling into the sky. The moon is born from their exile, the caldera formed in the center of the realm all that remains.

"You cannot do this," Triton’s voice shakes with grief. "They were meant to shape, not to be cast away."

The figure fades into the distance, and Triton’s grief transforms into fury. "They were not yours to remove," he says, the words heavy with loss.

As the vision fades, Vesper holds the shard, feeling the surge of sorrow deep within. He breathes in slowly, understanding the weight of Triton’s loss.

"I was not meant to be a reflection," Vesper murmurs. The echo of Triton’s voice lingers: "I should have protected them."

The memory settles into Vesper’s heart, shaping his resolve. The past will not bind him; he must grow beyond it.

◾MEMORY FOUR: THE LAST STAND:

At the foot of Cordelia's tower, the final Violet Crystal Shard rests upon the weathered steps. It lies half-hidden, barely visible to the eye, as if waiting for the right moment to be found. Only now, as the Visitors approach, does it reveal itself.

Triton stands before Cordelia, his violet glow dimming as his power fades. The air between them crackles with tension, and his voice trembles with disbelief:

"You would strike me down, Cordelia?"

Cordelia stands tall, her sorrow evident but her resolve unshaken. "You leave me no choice."

With a final, desperate lunge, Triton reaches for the stars—the same stars he had once shaped—but they remain silent, indifferent. Cordelia’s blade pierces his chest, the sound of shattering power filling the air as Triton’s body cracks into violet shards, scattering across the land.

His final words echo through the vision, filled with regret: "Was I wrong?"

The vision fades, and Vesper stands on the steps, his hand still holding the shard. The weight of Triton’s question lingers, heavy in the silence.

Vesper’s breath catches, the sorrow of the moment settling deep within him. "He was more than just a fallen god," he whispers, his gaze searching. "He was a part of this world—his doubt, his pain. And it shapes me now."

The shard pulses one last time, and Vesper knows this memory is not just a reflection of the past—it is a part of his own journey, one that will lead him to forge his own path.

CHOOSE [HIS] DESTINY

When all shards are given to Vesper, he stands in silence, the weight of Triton’s past pressing upon him. Then, he speaks:

"I was born from a fractured god. But I am not him. The past shapes me, but it does not define me. So I ask you—what will I become?"

Visitors may influence his choice:

◾Option 1: Embody Triton’s Lost Virtues

Vesper embraces Triton’s virtues of justice, wisdom, and light, becoming a beacon of hope for Caldera. This choice grants him the strength of a god, with a deep understanding of the weight of justice. He will fight against the corruption Triton once embodied, drawing on the wisdom of the past to prevent its recurrence. "By standing for what is just, I will be ready to fight against what Triton has become."

Option 2: Forge a New Path

Vesper rejects the past, creating his own identity free from Triton’s shadow. This choice grants him freedom and strength, allowing him to reinvent himself as a new kind of star god. He will fight against Triton’s darkness, symbolizing the triumph of free will over legacy, and gaining the power to face both external and internal battles.

"I will not be a shadow of what came before. I will become something stronger."

Option 3: Balance Light and Shadow

Vesper accepts both the brilliance and downfall of Triton, walking the path of balance. This choice gives him the strength to wield both light and shadow, allowing him to understand Triton’s corruption and fight it from within. Vesper’s knowledge of both sides of existence will make him resilient in his battle against Triton’s darkness.

"I will fight with the strength of both light and shadow, knowing each part of me is necessary to stand against the darkness."

Once the Visitors make their choice, Vesper will stand in silence, the decision settling within him. He is no longer just the fractured god he once was, but something whole—ready for the battle ahead. Triton’s darkness still threatens Caldera, but Vesper is stronger, more prepared, and more determined.

"Thank you," he will say. "With your help, I’ve chosen my path. When the time comes to face Triton, I will bring the light he lost—or create something new to stop his darkness."

[With Vesper's awakening, shadow abilities have been unlocked for the Undine faction]

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.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Caldera's sixth 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.

To Choose Vesper's Path, please state which option you would like to choose here. prospective players are encouraged to weigh in!

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

The following pages have been updated:

◾Additional rewards have been added under the Undine section of the rewards page.

◾Vesper has been added to the NPC page.

Have fun, Visitors!

main navigation

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Easily managed. I'm sure there's a kindly citizen somewhere here that'll lend us a bit of line," So saying, he extends one foreleg, and executes the gryphonic version of a courtly bow, and thereby lowers one shoulder far enough that even a man lacking the use of one leg can probable scramble up onto his back, "Easy, now. Don't grab my ears, if you can help it."

Eventually, they get settled; Viktor sitting more on Skan's shoulders than his back, the massive shoulder-muscles bunched under his thighs as Skan's wings fold over Viktor's legs, hiding them from the knee down. He walks with an easy, rolling motion, smooth as a cat, and remarks upon the interesting features as they go along.

"...Of course the market used to go out farther, and there were a great number of food stalls right along the cliffside, before the disaster. I'm sure we'll see a shoring-up of the foundations there, soon— ah!" A weathered-looking old man is passing them by, and startles to be noticed by so large a creature. And then he seems to recognize what he's looking at and smiles wreathe his salt-marred face; he has a long coil of rope hung over one shoulder, "Sir, I am in need of a rope."

The man is only too eager to help, and it's only by physically pressing the bones into his hands that Skan is able to make the transaction more even, despite the effusive apologies that it is so poor a rope, and so old and faded in color, and that he could not do more to help.

Truly, it is hard, to be so beloved.

With wide eyes, still wondering how this is his life, Viktor hobbles closer to Skan, gently grabbing around his neck and trying to swing his good leg over. It takes some awkward grappling and shifting to get himself situated, but he does end up semi-comfortably seated on the gryphon's shoulders. Still, he is clinging a bit, because he doesn't trust his leg or his back or really most of his weakened body to keep him from falling off.

He's more than happy to let Skan do all the talking- Viktor is quiet anyway, so it takes the pressure nicely off of him. It also allows him to just look around and observe things from this improved vantage point, taking in the bits of information he can glean about Caldera and its recent events from Skan's commentary. It's actually quite interesting.

The townsperson Skan addresses seems almost starstruck, and Viktor wonders if he is some kind of local hero. Perhaps from saving people in the recent tragedy, he has earned a reputation? It's all a mystery to him, and he's truly just along for the ride- literally. Viktor thanks the old man as he takes the rope in hand, assuring him that it's perfectly suitable for them. Taking it in hand, Viktor tries to figure out the best way of securing himself to Skan, but he's not familiar with a gryphon's anatomy or the way they fly.

"Should I sit here, or further down your back?" He asks. Or perhaps he shouldn't sit at all?

Edited 2025-04-04 17:05 (UTC)

"Hrmm, let me think," He replies, swiveling his head to see the problem at hand. What would it do to a man to sit where Viktor is, when he took off? Nothing dignified.

"I've never carried anyone like this in flight. In my talons, to be sure, but back home we'd put you in a bespelled basket and drag you along behind.... Hrr," Well, maybe dignity was overrated, compared to safety, "Best if you lie flat. If nothing else, you won't fall off or overset my balance. We can work out something more permanent later. Assuming this doesn't put you off the whole idea to begin with."

This last said with a saucy sort of a grin, ears high as he tosses his head. Come on, who could be put off by flight? You ground-bound two-leggers don't know what you're missing.

"Here, pass me the end and we'll cinch it under my belly. It won't be comfortable, but it'll get us there. Time enough for refinement later."

Skan mentions carrying in talons, and a magical basket, and the gears in Viktor's brain start turning, imagining what such a basket could look like and how it would work. Perhaps he could build something for Skan- aside from Viktor, there must be other things he needs to carry at times.

"Of course not," Viktor says easily, to the comment about being put off. Skan has not only solved a problem for him but given him the opportunity to fly. Of course, he's been on airships and the like, but he's never flown on the back of someone else. His dignity is certainly not the priority at the moment. Plus, he'd much rather preserve the unbroken state of his bones than his pride.

So, he leans forward to grab his bad leg and swing it backward, then awkwardly scooches down so his chest is flush with Skan's back. He passes him the rope and helps him thread it around them both, looping it around his own abdomen for good measure. It's all far from graceful, but first experiments rarely are, and soon Viktor binds them together securely.

"I'm Viktor, by the way. I appreciate you doing this." Maybe he should've introduced himself before he had a face full of feathers.

"Skandranon," He replies, twisting experimentally to see how Viktor shifts in his restraints— or rather, hopefully does not shift, "Skandranon Rashkae. Trust me, the appreciation is all on my side. There's barely anywhere here that makes doors wide enough for me, and you wouldn't believe the trouble I've had with food. It's like people look at me and see something that's not a person with thoughts and opinions of my own, with a culture, and a history. A talking animal."

Some might think that a fair comparison, in some ways. Skan... does not. A person is a person, and an animal an animal. The difference is more than the number of legs or the nature of one's clothing— or lack thereof. It was in the mind. And in Skandranon's mind lives a deep well of fury that rages against those who treat his people as animals— there have certainly been enough of them, on all sides, and even within family.

But no matter. To work.

"Let's go have a look and see what we can't find from the air, hm? All ready? Holding on?"

Viktor makes a little oh sound as Skan explains how he's been treated. How awful, and relatable.

"I cannot say I fully understand, but... I have always been an outsider... Looked down on. Even now." While he doesn't have the experience of being seen as an animal, exactly, he's always been othered and isolated because of his disability, and people in Piltover view those from the Undercity as less than human. Even his own beloved research partner had called Zaunites dangerous. To Viktor's face, knowing he is one.

"I am glad we can help each other." He has every intention of repaying Skan, and ensuring that he never feels alone. If they're alone, they can at least be loners together.

Viktor doesn't move much in the restraints, and he sticks his crutch firmly between his body and Skan's- if he loses that, he's screwed.

"Yes. Ready." He grabs tightly to Skan's body, gripping his feathers.

Ouch, Skan winces, and sends a private wish the K'Lashya's star-eyed Goddess that Viktor at least not pull them out. But he makes no complaint; he's not a whiner, despite what some may say.

And then it's wings spread and up, crouching for the all-important leap and the mighty first downbeat. It's an ungainly start, with the added weight, but he beats strongly up against the chill, dead air until the morning sun breaks over his wings and brings with it warmth and the living breath of higher winds. A thermal rises under him, warm air boiled off the arming stones of new construction below and Skan rises with it, riding the unseen slope higher and higher through the air. It's a smooth, almost magical motion, balanced in the delicate flick of his tail and the subtle motion of primaries out at the ends of his wings.

"Alright back there?" He says, swiveling his head up and back to look at Viktor with one eye. He seems aright, and his weight is well enough it was. He's skinny, "I'm going to circle awhile, scout it out. Have a look around too, if you can!"

And then the ground drops away as they clear the new, ragged edge where the cliffs collapsed in the earthquake, and they are abruptly a very long way from the ground indeed. Skan continues, unperturbed, banking gently to one side as he executes a long, sweeping circuit of the Grey Ward, looking for... something. The glint of light, of magic. Anything.

Viktor keeps his grip gentle, but he's nervous enough that he needs to grip something. Another problem he'll have to try to resolve with engineering and/or magic.

He watches in awe as Skan powerfully lifts off the ground and they begin to ascend. There's a slight bit of shifting, but he stays firmly on Skan's back, tightening his arms around him a little more.

"Yes!" He calls against the wind.

The ground suddenly falling away is terrifying and exhilarating; his stomach drops and his body stiffens, but he grins and laughs. Being bound to the ground and needing to walk quite slow for all of his life, never even able to jog, this contrast of speed and freedom is thrilling and pleasing.

Once he's taken in their surroundings a bit more, he looks down to the ground, despite the dizzying height, and searches for... Something. Something that looks perhaps magical or shadowy. For a while he doesn't see anything but rubble and dirt, but then: a glint of violet light. He points toward it.

"There?"

But Skan is already banking towards the glint, sliding off the table of warm air in a deft and dizzying sideways tilt, as motionless as if it required no effort at all, except for the strong plow of his tail through the wind, directing their flight. It is a lazy descent, by his standards, wending long curving swoops to lose height by increments rather than a more rapid curve that nevertheless would have strained his passenger. Not to mention the ropes, of course.

Time enough to aerobatics later, when they had become better acquainted.

He pulls up shallow, backwings in many small flutters. It isn't graceful to fuss so much about landing, but he's trying to be gentle, and not tip Viktor off in a heap. The landing is hard on his wrists, therefore, but Skan calls himself well pleased with the flight as a whole.

"Now, let's see..." He leaves Viktor to loosen the ropes, or not, as it pleases him, and stalks over to have a look at the little glint of— "Ah ha! This does look like just the thing..."

But how to get it out? It's wedged down under some rubble, the discarded remnants of reconstruction all piled up here until it can later be cleared away. And were it not for the narrow gap and the weighty stone, Skan's reach would be more than enough to simply pick it up and go. But the only way to reach down and get it is a narrow gap.

Purest luck had given them an angle for the sun to glint off its luminous violet surface. But only goodwill had made them able to get it.

"This is a job for a pair of hands," He decrees, with a grin. They two are very nearly perfect opposites; he a being of almost pure strength, physical prowess in every line, but not even enough dexterity to hold a pen. Meanwhile, his companion has a clever mind and cleverer hands— and looks as if he might blow over in too stiff a wind, "Seems we make a good team."

The circling creates so much for Viktor to look at. This is wonderful. But as fun as the flying is, he does heave a relieved breath when they're safely back on the ground.

He stays on Skan's back as he investigates, figuring they'll need to fly again soon, and peers over his shoulder at the glint of the shard. His face brightens again as Skan declares this is a job for Viktor. He's delighted for the opportunity to be of help to his new friend.

He unties himself from Skan and carefully slides off his side to the ground, wobbling slightly as he gets his crutch under him. He hobbles over to the shard, which is indeed stuck down a crack that only a long, thin arm can reach. Thankfully, Viktor has two of those, and they work. Getting to the ground is awkward- he unlocks his brace and his knee immediately buckles, but he uses his crutch to shakily lower himself down. Once he lands hard on his butt with a soft grunt, he angles himself toward the crevice and reaches in, in, in, feeling around...

He touches something smoother than the rest, and hopes that's it, slowly extracting it from the rubble.

Yes, that's it- he reveals a beautiful, glowing violet crystal, about the size of a grapefruit. For a few moments he just sits there, looking at it with wide-eyed awe, turning it in his hands. Then he looks up, and holds it up to show Skan.

"Fascinating!" There's a slightly-mad scientist's fervor in his tone, and a hint of pride. He is proud of them; they do make a great team, like Skan said.

"And dangerous," Skan reminds him, hunching close to see better, cupping his wings like mantling vulture, "That's meant to be a fragment of a god's mind, let's not forget."

And all that's left now is to return it to its rightful owner. Or what passes for it, more or less. Shaking off the dust and melancholy, Skandranon holds out a talon for the fragment, and then assumes the same crouch as before, the better to allow Viktor to mount up. There really must be a less undignified way to manage this... perhaps some kind of loop or stirrup?

"So, Viktor. How do you find the world of your homeland? A good life, a hard one? Got a spouse, family? Hm?"

Danger... Has never been something that deterred Viktor. He's taken significant risks in his research, he's even knowingly risked his own life. A crystal that holds a fragment of a god's mind sounds a fair bit like a Hextech gemstone, if you ask him. Perhaps even the Hexcore... Ah. Right. He should heed danger... He definitely should.

Viktor sets about the awkward and tiring work of getting up off the ground and then up onto Skan's back again. It takes longer than he'd like, and takes more out of him than he'd like, but it's better than how much he'd have to do without Skan helping him.

He's tying himself on securely again as Skan asks about his homeland. Ah. Hm. Yes. Well. What to say about that...

"No family. A hard, lonely life. I clawed my way to success without help. The past few years have been better. My research partner Jayce and I found some success with the technology we invented. However..." He trails off, not wanting to put words to the next part, but it's probably obvious just by looking at him or hearing him cough, anyway. "I am going to die soon. They assured I won't in this place, but when I go home, I anticipate it."

Skan grinds his beak thoughtfully. Private doubts flicker and die, expressed only in the lash of his tail, and the quick, furtive motion of pupil and ear-tuft. He thinks of Amberdrake, fleeing Ma'ar's regime across field and countryside. Thinks of the war's hungry maw, eating up people and land and history, blood on its beak. He thinks... no one gets anywhere alone, not truly. Only, he doesn't know anything of Viktor's circumstances.

Can't, really, know the world from hie view.

So, instead he says nothing for a long minute or two, and grinds his beak, and thinks. Viktor ties on the rope and Skan waits patiently, only eventually opening his mouth to say.

"And what is waiting for you, there that is so urgent? You can stay, you know. I'm sure they would let you."

Skan says nothing for a while, and Viktor isn't sure what to make of that. Perhaps he said too much, so he keeps his mouth shut. Until Skan speaks again, and he lifts his head from the tying to look in his eye, Viktor's own eyes widening.

"I can? For good?"

Clearly this is news to him.

"But Jayce..." He says quietly, and trails off. So he'll go home to Jayce and die a week later? What's the point of that? Just to say goodbye, he supposes. No, there isn't much reason to go home. But.

"If I stay, I will be sick forever. There is no cure." And he's already so tired. He's weak and in pain and coughs blood every day. It's no way to live in the long term.

"Oh of course. There is no cure. And no talking Gryphons. No alternate worlds. No magic, or gods, hmm?" Gently, he biffs Viktor with the elbow-joint of one wing: get fluffed, nerd, "Are you the kind of man who faces the odds and gives up? Don't be so dramatic. People come back from the dead, here."

Are you secure? Yes? Good. Skan clutches the shard tightly in one talon, gathers himself for the leap and is off into the sky, just as before. The slip-stream from the seaward side is treacherous, at this angle, but he's grown used to it, and uses the interference off the cliffs as a boost, catching easily in the sheer between the cushioning still-air and the racing open winds. It's fit to be a brisk morning, and he settles in for the long climb up the wind.

Were he alone, Skan would simply be tempted to simply flap for it, and damn the effort, but he thinks his passenger would not appreciate being jostled about so vigorously.

"Let's just talk to some of the healers here. Miss Lior owes me a favor, and I'm sure I don't mind cashing it in to have her take a good long look at you. If you're willing."

"No. I went to terrible lengths to try to cure myself, and..." His voice breaks slightly. He can't quite bring himself to admit what happened. His throat tightens, and he buries his face in Skan's feathers as they take off, quiet again as they fly.

As Skan speaks again, he lifts his head, taking in the glittering sea beneath them.

"Alright. If you insist."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TDM #6

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw terminal illness

no subject

cw terminal illness

no subject

no subject