#is my vision with the wings+antenna shape clear.. please please please hope this is clear

[starflungwaddledee]

of all the characters that have (or can!) be controlled by morpho in your AU, who would you say is the most powerful (you can't say Morpho Knight himself, that's cheating)

"you can't say morpho knight/galacta knight" not a problem because i wasn't gonna. greatest warrior in the galaxy still gets his ass handed to him by someone on the regular

dreamless reaper.

this would be like... a profoundly bad end of the chrysalis au. i think morpho would probably only be able to get kirby if it had burned through all the others, and i just don't think there'd be a coming back from this one tbh

you can also see that unlike with morpho dee this one is way less fragile; proper pauldrons and shoes, wings aren't full of holes. morpho dee was purposefully expendable because taking bandee was never the actual goal

[amorphousfurrysnakething]

So I have a fursona now

Despite being an incorrigible furry for over a decade now, I’ve never actually managed to get a stable-ish fursona sorted out ‘cause I’m indecisive (and didn’t realise how my fluidity was interacting with that). But now I have and want to froth, so:

Name:Ráðsviðr Náttfari ("Rath") Species: Garden Tiger Moth (https://www.ukmoths.org.uk/species/arctia-caja/) NB Masculine, he/him, pan (masc preference) Appearance: A moth, he has eight limbs (four arms, two legs, two-ish wings) and is covered in a soft fuzz of fur. Lean build, but looks bulkier due to fuzziness. Red body, brown and red spotted wings. His wings have arcane text written across them and close inspection reveals that they're made up of lots of very thin pages. Job: Thaumozoologist (Lives in a pseudomodern fantasy setting)

Powers: Scrivened Wings: Has dozens of very thin wings, which when at rest or when being used as wings look like a pair of normal moth wings in shape. These wings are covered in text copied from books, to absorb text, he must read the original. The character can read any of the text on their own wings by concentrating on them, and others can read them like a book. Although he can fly with his wings, it's fairly undignified fluttering and he doesn't like going too high. Wizard: A dabbler in the arcane, he favours spells of healing and others that interact with animals and living phenomena, as well as general utility spells.

Because I can't draw and don't have the funds right now to commission a ref sheet off someone, I instead wrote some horny which I'm going to put behind a cut.

(NSFW, Contains fingering, pet play, teasing and denial, casual nudity, bondage and an unreasonably buff lion)

  There's a knock at my door, and I start. I'm not expecting anyone, and I'm currently sprawled, topless, on my sofa. I cast about for a jumper, my society might not have a problem with casual nudity, but I have enough body image issues to do so. I don't manage to turn one up before the knock comes again, and its insistence calls me over to the door on instinct. I mutter a quick spell, opening a window through the thick wood, and smile as I pull the door open.

"Hiya, Marcus."

The lion grins down at me. I'm not short, but Marcus is massive. He's a head taller than me, and in contrast to my skinny build, he's broad too, and exudes easy confidence that I'm both jealous of and so very gay for.

“Hey, Rath, need to pick your brains.”

“Sure, come in.”

I try not to blush as my sometimes-boyfriend strides into the room, and it's made harder when his tail gently brushes against my stomach. He's been running, and isn't wearing much more than a pair of shorts that show off his legs as he brushes the mud off his paws. He's probably flirting with me, again.

“Can I grab a drink?”

“There should be a clean glass by the sink. What do you need?”

He tosses me another grin. “Looking for information on thaumic mutation in plants. There's a nest of something nasty up by Silver Beck and it needs clearing before some hiker stumbles into it.” he calls over his shoulder as he heads for my kitchen.

While he's busy filling a glass, I start looking for the books I'll need. My library might not be huge, but I've thus far failed to maintain anything beyond the most rudimentary organisation, and by the time Marcus comes back in I'm fluttering near the ceiling, glaring at a row of computing manuals that should be arcanobotany references. Or at least, could be, after the first three locations were, in order: empty, the 4th edition of Thaumaturgic Encylopedia, and the complete Judge Dredd collection.

“Any luck?”

“Nope.”

I descend quickly, trying to salvage some dignity by getting my feet back under me. It's...not entirely successful; moths are not known for being elegant fliers. While I'm distracted, Marcus slips behind me.

“I'm sure there's something on these wings of yours.” the husky whisper in my ears coincides with a firm rub between my shoulderblades, the leonine pads sending jittery tingles through my body. My wings flicker, the arcane text flowing across them dancing in my brain. “You remember the safeword?”

“Banana.” I'm not trying to whisper, but my breath has left me.

“Good boy.” he purrs. I can feel his arms wrapping around me, and at the corner of my eye I see the contrast of his golden fur against my red fuzz. “Now, then. Do you have what I need?” The magical text scrawled across the layers of my wings dances behind my eyes, and I nod.

“Very good boy.”

He gently guides me to my bedroom, and I have no desire to stop him, simply enjoying the feel of his muscle and fur against my body, and the hard warmth where his groin rubs against my back; the absence when he lets go is almost painful. He pulls my box of toys out from under the bed, his bent posture putting his tail and arse on full display in front of me.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You're hot too, you know.”

This time I do blush, and though it's barely visible through my natural colouring, Marcus' smirk tells me he sees it. The smile turns a little ironic, as he stands back up, and my vision goes dark as he wraps a blindfold across my eyes.

“Good lad, now get yourself naked while I get my reading table set up.”

I hesitate, but a squeeze to my arse that is both reassuring and warning suppresses my reservations, and as I hear him moving around I quickly strip off my clothing. Once I'm done, I suppress the urge to cover myself again, and my unpleasant brainworms are silenced by an appreciative noise from Marcus.

I know he's done when his lips meet mine, pulling me into a passionate kiss while his paws explore my body, as they've done so many times but never seem to tire of. He draws me close, his clear arousal heightening my own.

After a few minutes, he pulls away and a needy whine escapes me.

“I know, lad, but I do need that info.” His own lust is clear.

I'm guided over to the bed, and gently pushed onto it. With a firm hand, he straps me facedown and spread-eagled, at his mercy. He settles himself over me, kneeling across my lower back, the light pressure of his body delightful as he bends over, rubbing again at that spot between my shoulderblades. A brief, ecstatic spasm leaves me limp, and I can feel the leaves of my wings begin to separate out, becoming the pages of the book they are.

“Very good. Now, you know what I need.”

The text on my wings, scrawled across the eigengrau filling my eyes, runs rapidly through my brain, and the thin pages of my wings flip and blur. A cool wind brushes across my antennae until I find what is needed.

Marcus gives a pleased pet to my head, and leans back against my abdomen, and for a few minutes I am nothing. A pleasant calm of the cool and warm and dark, with a background scratch of Marcus' pen as he takes notes. Occasionally, the peace is punctuated by the soft pleasure and pressure as he turns a page.

“There we are.” He scritches the base of my antennae, and I purr without meaning to.  “You're adorable. Now, I think I'm going to order us some dinner, if that's OK with you?”

“Yesss.” I'm so relaxed that I don't manage much more than a soft hiss, but Marcus knows me well.

“Well, sit tight.”

I can feel the weight shift as he gets up and leaves me alone. I know it won't be long before he comes back, but I wriggle impatiently anyway.

“Patience, lad”

Marcus punctuates his return by running his paw across my crotch, which only causes me to struggle more, whining with need.

“We've a few minutes before it arrives, so...”

He lays his erection against my arse, and I push back as far as my binds will let me, hungry for more, but Marcus knows me well, and he leaves me desperate as he takes his pleasure, rubbing his body against mine with only the briefest, but expertly chosen, touches to  my most sensitive areas. His early growls turn to ragged pants as his orgasm approaches, and I grind my body against him, trying to increase his pleasure in hopes of reward, as well as an instinctive act to attenuate the sensations he's so skilfully denying me.

“Pleasse...”

“Good pets don't talk.”

His admonishment is gentle, but unyielding, though quickly unnecessary as words are lost in a pleading whimper.

“Good...good...” the intended compliment is abandoned as his climax comes, and he roars in delight, splattering his cum across my back and wings. It's a long minute before he's able to catch his breath again. “Good boy.”

I moan plaintively, feeling my own unfulfilled arousal drip out across my bed, but he just gently pats my arse and gets up, going into the bathroom to clean himself up and leaving me to stew in the frustration in a most delightful way.

He's barely done when the doorbell goes, and his brief negotiation with the deliverer ends in curry smell awakening an entirely different hunger in me. I hear him plate up the food, and he unbuckles my restraints, though he doesn't let me free, quickly binding my arms and legs doubled over, denying me my hands and forcing me to crawl to the bowl of curry he's left on the floor. Leaving me to sort myself out, he sits in a chair with his own dinner, smirking at my fumbling.

By the time I've managed to empty my bowl, he's long finished, enjoying an eyeful of my raised rear. As I rock back, licking the last of the sauce from my lips, he gets up, stalking towards me and pushing a finger into my still-wet pussy.

“You're really desperate, aren't you.”

Remembering the earlier command, I don't respond verbally, trying to fill my voice with as much desperation as I can as I whine in acknowledgement. Marcus chuckles as he adds more fingers, one by one. He knows his business, and I'm soon panting as his movements send waves of pleasure through my body. After a moment of particularly masterful attention to my clit, he bends low against me and whispers.

“Do you want to cum?”

I nod again, and with a his long experience, he quickly brings me to a shuddering, screaming orgasm, the waves of pleasure turning into a tsunami that crashes over me.

As I lie there, recovering, he strips off the bondage gear, murmuring gentle praise that ends with us both curled up in my bed.

[emberglowfox]

hey I did that fighter’s block thing at 1 in the morning here’s what I’ve got

words: 2k    prompt: space

KSSSSSSSCH. My scream goes mute as the air is sucked out of the room like a magnet and I'm hurled out of the familiar white walls into the vast empty vacuum of space. No. No, no, no. I force my eyes open, ignoring the dead-cold chill gnawing at my limbs as I flail hopelessly, body shooting through antigravity farther and farther away from the transport ship. My lungs burn like a flame is eating them inside, stealing any oxygen I desperately gasp for. But there is nothing, except me, my imminent death, and the rapidly shrinking blip of white in the distance. I scramble for the emergency oxygen tank on my angle, fingers fumbling with the nylon strap as my vision starts to blur with black spots and my head spins. With a weak yank, I tug it out and stick the plastic end into my mouth, biting hard. Fresh air flows into my mouth and I heave in a long breath, eyes squeezed shut and lungs relishing every tiny bit of sweet oxygen. As quickly as I can, I slow my breathing and put my free hand to my head, knocking on the headset. I can hear nothing but static, which I guess is better than hearing absolutely nothing at all. I am in an endless void, populated by a billion trillion stars, blinking at me as if to say, 'What are you doing here? You don't belong here.' I let out a long, slow breath, limbs shaking from the cold of space and the fear. The fear. It's mind-numbing, blinding my senses to rational thoughts and repeating a mantra of death. 'You're going to die out here', it says, and I honestly believe this time that it's right. No one survives being sucked out of an airlock. Not even with a reserve oxygen tank. With the tank, I have about 30 minutes of breathing if I really gauge myself. And that's if I last that long before the chill freezes me completely and I'm left an icy shell of a human hurtling through the vast abyss of space. I am the only thing for miles. No one can see me. No one can hear me. I close my eyes and picture the warm orange walls of the home where I grew up. I can almost smell the cinnamon sugar and my mom whistling an old tune from the radio as bars of sunlight creep up the far wall. I can almost feel the soft bristles of the rug in the living room, sprawled out staring at the textured ceiling. I can almost see her face, eyes crinkled at the corners and face dotted with faded freckles and flowers as she tells me to help her. But it's just an 'almost'. It's like reaching for the light at the bottom of the ocean, knowing you're doomed to drown as it slowly fades away. I will never see mom again. My breathing starts to pick up, and I hastily slow it down. What should I do now? What can I do? Last words. Final will in testament. I'll die out in the vast abyss of space where no one knows my name. No one will care. ...But still. If they recover my body somehow; to mom I give my helmet. I spent days upon days, years upon years to get it. She knows its worth, not just in money but in my sweat and blood. It is the testament to how far I've come, as one of the first humans riding the frontier of space travel. Let's see.... To my older sister I give my camera. It's a polaroid, and old, old thing, but it still works. She always wanted to use it, anyways. To my younger brother, I give my pen. It has the Archenvaak insignia on it. I know he'd love to study it and the strange glowing ink it contains. To Vanessa I give my book of flowers. It contains pressed petals from across the far reaches of the galaxy, from small to large. I sure bet it beats that run down flower shop. I laugh, wasting valuable air, but I'm beginning to no longer care. Talking about my own death this way, it's... Strangely calming, in a way. Knowing that I'll be able to live on in the memories of my loved ones is a small but gentle comfort in this icy grave. To Alexander I give the old crown from the neighbor's fence that we stole when we were kids. It's still in my closet on the upper shelf, unless someone moved it. It's rusty, but still as shiny and prestigious as it was when we nicked it off of Mr. Mitchel's wooden fence all those years ago. To Gloria, I give my locket. It still has the picture of us at the river, chubby-faced, muddy, and grinning, perfectly enclosed within it. It smelled like metal and earth when I left it, and I hope it still does. And last but not least, to my dad. To my dad, I give the letters. Dozens of letters, never sent from a child who knew better than to expect a response. I don't know how they'll get them to you. Maybe I can show you them myself in a little bit. I open my eyes again, checking the pressure gauge. I have about ten minutes left. Final will and testament is down. Any last words? Last words. Last words. The last words I'll ever say. I really am going to die, aren't I? Then there's the tears. Big wet globs, pulled off of my face by momentum and frozen into shards moments later, leaving a trail of glittering diamonds through the black. I hiccup and sob and sniffle, rubbing my eyes as my oxygen tank begins to blip in a warning. I stop, blinking and hoping my eyes don't freeze over. I can no longer feel my legs or my lower arms. I can merely wobble my arms and head like a broken marionette. Even in death, I am helpless. Where was I. Last words. I have nothing to say. There is no one at my bedside to comfort me. No young children crying as I pass. It's just me, young and bright, in the emptiness of the one thing I always wanted to visit. I made my life goal to visit space, and it responded by stealing my final breath. A strange world, isn't it? Last words. What do you even say? What can be said to make anyone feel better, especially yourself? Words are powerful, they say, but they cannot alter what is. I guess that's true now. The oxygen tank blips again. 3 minutes left. Breathing is becoming harder, and my lungs fight against the increasing pressure for air. I start to feel lightheaded. I can no longer feel my arms. My mind begins to fill with a heavy fog. It's gentle and soft, not at all choking and harsh as I once feared it might be. Thoughts become obscured until they eventually drift away, no longer important. I think of mom for maybe the last time, and her words come to me. Not her words, her song. I came into this world with her song, it's only fitting that I left with it. I take a deep breath that I cannot afford and hum into the echoing canister to no one. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." I cannot hear myself, but I can feel the vibration of the metal against my lips. "You make me happy when skies are gray." Beep beep. 1 minute remaining. "You'll never know dear... How much I love you." I struggle desperately to inhale, seeking anything left. I manage one last breath. "Please don't.... Take.... My... Sunshine... A....Way..." The canister beeps loudly before shutting off. I let it go. It has served it's purpose. The fog drifts ever deeper into my mind, obscuring everything. I can only faintly remember the ship, my job there. I can only faintly remember Ad'zheel, the archenvaak who gave me the pen, xher carapace shining like polished gold. I try to reach back in my memories, but they have drifted away like a dandelion in the wind. Strangely enough, I do not fear. I am no longer afraid. The silence of space, once a terror, is now calming. I slip the headset down to my neck, basking in the numb, loose emptiness. I let my heavy eyelids flutter shut, my lungs feeling thick but not aflame. The cold drips away, replaced entirely by numbness. My final word is goodbye. I do not hear the hum as I go still.

. . .

The light is bright. Blindingly so, like someone is shining a flashlight into eyes that have not seen the sun in years. I squint away, biting my tongue. My lips taste like mint, with a faint touch of copper. I try to look around, but all i can see is pure untainted white. Am I in heaven? I don't know what I expected. I never really delved into the religious side of my thoughts. A figure begins to emerge from the light, a strangely molded blurry shadow. It is odd and out of place, and it appears to be speaking. I can hear it, but ever so faintly. It is like listening to someone speak in a pool of molasses, but blurred further. I cannot make out what it is saying. It turns, and something is shoved to my face. Something far outside of my brain clicks, and I inhale. It's like a light switch has been flipped. Pain roars into my limbs, which are now acutely alive and aware. The light fades, replaced with a slick black interior lit by white lines of glowing material. I am inside a ship. Is heaven a ship? I twist with pain, eyes scrunched up in agony. It's indescribable. It's like being on fire, frozen, pulled apart, and squished together at the same time, but a million times worse. The being is clearly panicked, blinking at me and chittering something in a strange language. It hastily darts out of the room, returning moments later with a package of... Something. Heaven is strange. It pulls open the package, which opens like gel being stretched open. It is not a substance I recognize. Inside are similar substances, but smaller and orb-shaped, the color of amber. The being holds some out to me, and I am confused. It lets out a high whistle and opens my mouth with a leathery claw, the other jamming the things into my mouth. They're horrendously sour, but I swallow. Almost immediately, relief floods me. A jagged breath falls out of my mouth, and I'm hunched over. My senses clear, and I'm immediately alert. I'm in a foreign alien ship just on the brink of death. No, beyond that. The being is chittering incessantly, feathery antennae waving hastily. I do not recognize the creature. It is taller than me, with a thin frame and thick, black, leathery hide. Its head is long and reminds me of a viper, but it has antennae. The rest of its body is layered like chitinous armor, with thick wings reminiscent of a bats and a stubby tail. It has four gleaming orange eyes. I realize my error and quickly pull up the headset from around my neck, flipping the translator switch on. The chittering becomes glitchy, computerized words, but they're understandable. "I was so worried, I found you in the middle of no-where, my life scanners indicated nothing, but now you are alive and-" "Who are you?" I blurt. The being stops and blinks at me. "What?" It's more of a low squeak. "Who are you? What species are you?" The translator feeds them through the microphone, and they become a series of fast clicks. The creature cocks its head. "I did not introduce myself. My apologies. I am Vihkoz, of the Verahzzians." I nod, not understanding at all, but not needing to. "Greetings, Vihkoz." My pronunciation is pitiful, but they do not seem to notice. "I am Amelie of the hu- of the terrans." I pause. "Thank you for saving my life."

[abakersquest]

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – VOX POPULI

Baron Hado swore under his breath as he finally managed to return to the central hut. Inside, a nervous and whimpering Raphi had already curled up defensively. The Baron didn’t need to hear it; he knew they’d lost their entire quarry in the shimmer smoke below. His carapace felt stiff and itchy thinking of all the money and praise they’d be missing out on from Kota’s General. He expressed most of his frustrations on the terrified cave cricket with a swift kick, knocking him across the central hut’s floor and into a far wall with a pitiful pained squeak.

“This never, never, never happened,” he said eyed his other underlings maliciously. “Understood?!”

All of them flinched, and then nodded, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Last thing that armored monster needs, an excuse to kill, kill, kill us.” He slumped into his chair with a grunt. “So… That was the Stellar Flare.” His crooked mouth slowly bent into a jagged and ugly smile. “Wouldn’t mind getting’ my claws on that, that, that.”

One of the crew began to speak from somewhere behind his seat. “Ah… Baron? There actually is something else, else, else.”

Hado was silent, merely turning his head to bring the voice’s owner into the periphery of his vision.

“… The brightstone? It’s gone.”

The Baron did nothing at first, at least that’s what everyone told themselves. They’d all turned away and waited for the screaming to start, and then stop just as abruptly.

---

Wally’s attention was elsewhere as the two helpful Insicai introduced themselves. The stone the taller one held yanked the entirety of his focus toward it. It glowed serenely and produced a small amount of heat, but there was something else about it he couldn’t place. A familiar sensation that seemed so out of place, it became that much harder to remember where he’d felt it before.

A furtive nudge to his ribs brought him back into the conversation.

“Well welcome back Mister Flarebearer, did you have fun on your little daydream vacation?” Rozzi teased.

His mind scrambled for every possible detail it could from the missed conversation. It was a talent every child desperately tried to master in their school days that they, and at this moment Wally, failed quite spectacularly at. He quickly observed the two Insicai to learn at least something about them. The smaller of the two, with blue fuzz around her neck and wrists, had to look up at him from a deficit of more than half a foot. Her large blue wings, the pride of any butterfly Insicai, gave her a sense of volume that betrayed her actual size. Her clothes, clearly once the ornate trappings suited to regal standing, showed signs of damage, repair, and a long string of rough cleanings that drained their color and crispness.

The much taller one, a hornet Insicai, wore light bronze armor that offset the soft orange hue of her carapace, with as much scuffing and scaring as a well used but intact shield. A dent here, a gash there, and what he could see of her natural body armor was no better off. It was clear from both of them; they’d seen more than a fair share of fights.

“Sorry,” he said eventually. “I just… That stone. I can’t place it but it’s like I’ve seen it before…”

The butterfly smiled quite brightly, “Ah, there may very, very, very well be a reason for that, but first, since you were so distracted.” she lowered her head and crossed her long antenna. “Siani Dae-Cael, former first chair, Imperial Medical Council”

The hornet repeated the gesture, which Wally now assumed to be a common greeting among Insicai, “Ori Han, former primus of the Imperial Guard.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Sir Wally,” said Siani. “We had heard rumors that there was a new, new, new Flarebearer and… It’s certainly given us all a great deal of hope, considering.”

Ori nodded in agreement. “After Empress Anani willingly joining forces with the witch, there certainly hasn’t been much, much, much of that.”

“According to our new friends,” Hector began. “Their empress disbanded the senate and declared Insicai’s loyalty to the revived Kota. Which lead to some obvious discourse amongst the people and leadership.”

Ori continued, “The Imperial Guard was set upon the dissenters with orders to kill. I abandoned the Guard that day, and helped, helped, helped in any way I could.”

“Thankfully,” Siani said. “My husband had discovered this place. We were able to hide here quite, quite, quite safely until… That brute Hado. He and his soldiers stormed in through a disused side tunnel and laid siege to our refuge. We barely managed to push him back and destroy the passage he’d discovered… But not before he took this.”

Ori held the gleaming stone forward. It lit the space like daylight would, and surrounded them all with comfortable warmth. “A brightstone, it was keeping our refuge warm and lit, lit, lit.”

“Well,” Wally smiled. “Glad we could help with that then.”

Siani nodded, “It is very, very, very appreciated. Now, would you and your vassals please come with us? I just know you should all meet my husband as soon as possible.”

Wally could feel the word ‘vassal’ ring off the hearts of everyone around him, like a hammer pounding against a tin pot. He tried to turn to concoct some apology when Rozzi’s hand clasped his shoulder.

“I’m sure Sir Wally would love to see you to your refuge, Miss Dae.”

Siani smiled and started down the stone passageway alongside Ori, both clearly unaware of the venom hiding in Rozzi’s tone. Once the two of them were further ahead, the party quietly began to whisper to one another.

“Well that was a mortal wound to my pride,” Hector sighed.

“It could have been worse,” Wistea said. “She might have called us ‘servants.’”

“I’ve never even had employees…” Wally added remorsefully.

After a few steps Hector started laughing, and then everyone else joined in.

The sound of a hand slapping against the tunnel wall ended the moment of levity and all eyes turned to Hyla, leaning on it for support, clearly exhausted. She noticed all the eyes on her and tried to straighten up, failing to keep her legs from shaking. “I… I’m fine,” she preempted any concern loudly. “Just… A little tired, I’ll find my second wind soon.”

Before she could take another step, Hector had taken a knee in her path, looking over his shoulder at her with a confident grin. “Wouldn’t do for a knight of Animana to leave a lady to collapse from exhaustion. Climb up.”

Hyla stared at Hector for a moment before producing a soft yet indignant noise in her throat.

“You can either climb on my back, or I’ll have to sling you over my shoulder, your choice.”

The throaty call of mortified frustration continued before she finally approached him and gripped onto his shoulders. The croak of surprise she let out as he lifted her was another fine layer of embarrassment, leading her to desperately avoided eye contact with anyone from her new station on Hector’s back.

As the party continued forward, Blackeye nudged Wistea and whispered, “Ain’t you got more of that Runner’s Grass stuff?”

“Of course I do, and I will remind her of that when we get where we are going,” Wistea practically chirped. “But right now, she has to learn to rely on us, and this is a good start.” With a self satisfied grin she practically hummed with happiness as she walked.

---

The tunnel soon came to an end where the glow of torchlight could be seen sifting through the bars of a large metal cage. Alongside the light came the familiar and comforting sound of rushing water, echoing down the passage behind them. Everyone cautiously stepped into the cage on Siani’s polite urging and flinched when it began to move, producing a strange buzz as it slid downward. Wally could see metal rails built into the wall as the cage descended, suddenly reminded of the platform in Crescent Town. He couldn’t recall it humming like this, but it must have some similarities.

When the cage finally reached the ground the outfacing wall of it lowered of its own, forming a ramp. Waiting for them outside was another Insicai standing by a large lever, Siani and Ori exchanged words with them and they rushed off with the brightstone.

Leaving the strange moving cage behind, the group beheld a great cavernous space lit by carefully placed torches in the distance. The atmosphere was cold and damp, making its presence beneath the arid and featureless salt pan even more baffling. Ahead of them, Wally could see huge structures that, despite their strange shapes and great size, seemed oddly familiar to him. Scattered amongst these bizarre and, on closer inspection, ancient constructs, were much newer makeshift homes. Small, simple shacks, with a clear preference for hexagonal walls over square ones, all built with little thought to personal space. To their right, a sizable underground waterfall filled the space with its crashing. Wally’s eyes followed the resultant river as far as the light in the cave allowed, seeing that it flowed beneath a gargantuan water wheel covered in rust and other indicators of age.

Everyone moved forward until they reached a thin plank suspension bridge that stretched from the rise they’d arrived on down to the settlement below. As Blackeye and Wally, carrying their supplies and the resting Polly, would be the heaviest, they agreed to go last.

Hector’s foot tapped the first plank several times, his hand running along the rope that ran on either side. “Metal,” he remarked with some awe, “certainly not what I was expecting.”

“Metal rope,” Rozzi said. “Leave it to the Insicai to show everyone up.”

Those gathered at the other end of the bridge watched with an air of caution as Wally hefted the weighty sled over his head. He carefully made his way down the bridge to them, his tail acting as a perfect counter-balance the entire way. As he set the sled down with a thud, Ori looked to him and said, “That much power in such a small, small, small frame… Are you sure you aren’t Insicai?”

“Pretty sure, what with all the fur and bones,” Wally replied, mostly to ignore Ori’s choice to emphasize the word ‘small’.

As they moved on through the refugee settlement, a myriad of surprised and cautious eyes were their only welcome. There could hear hushed anger, see quiet fear, and notice the curious children that were pulled away by protective parents. Insicai weren’t people Wally saw quite as often as other members of Mondia’s population. He hadn’t known about their long standing isolationism or xenophobia, most likely because even the expatriated citizens of the empire wouldn’t dare to speak ill of it. Pride, along with hardy, thick shelled bodies, were things all Insicai had in common.

Amidst glances and glimpses he could see the now threadbare fabrics adorning their rigid frames. It made him think of the shabby hand-me-downs he’d been given by the more charitable Castle Town citizens in his youth. He imagined they too were once brilliant and beautiful things, most likely made to give the hard-bodied Insicai some softness to appreciate and color to match their own occasionally brilliant carapaces.

They soon arrived at a much larger, older structure covered in what was once elegantly designed metal work. Despite the extra angles and strange material that went into making it, they could all easily recognize it as a house. Just then, the cavern was bathed in bright but false sunlight, and the cool moist air became as warm as a spring day. Above them, within a special metal framework, that to Wally resembled a large colander, the light and warmth of the brightstone shone down amplified.

Ori pulled a clearly new cord attached to a freshly polished bell beside the front door to the building. Inside they could hear the sound of weighty objects being moved, glass clattering, and an annoyed voice joining in every second or so before the door finally opened. Behind it, a tall and thin grasshopper Insicai adjusted a slightly dingy and worn waistcoat and tie. He blinked several times at the somewhat outlandish assembly before him.

“By my carapace… The Stellar Flare!” With a step he was out the door and crouched down in front of Wally. “It’s everything the old journals said it would be! A metal that isn’t a metal with a brilliant red gem of otherworldly luster! Bit smaller than described but then I suppose it adjust to the user.” Without pause he reached over Wally’s shoulder to take hold of the hilt, stopping only when Wally quickly took a firm grip of his wrist.

“ARGUS ORTHO CAEL!” Siani shouted. “WHERE ON MONDIA ARE YOUR MANNERS, MANNERS, MANNERS?!”

Argus eyes trailed down the hand, over the arm, up the shoulder to the slightly annoyed face of a wallaby. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Honestly didn’t see you there.”

Wally’s shift from a slightly annoyed expression to full annoyance was a remarkable thing to see up close.

“My but that’s fascinating as well… The Flare finding itself in the hands of an almost extinct genus of Animani… Speaking of hands.” Argus tried to pull his back from Wally’s grip, failing comically. “Grip like a vice this one.”

“I’m so very, very, very sorry Sir Wally!” Siani quickly rushed over and struck the sides of both of Argus’ right arms. “You went and insulted him twice! Apologize sincerely!”

Wally finally let him go. He sensed a manic energy in this entirely impolite Insicai, but nothing overtly malicious or threatening. Not that knowing that made him feel any less irritated.

“Why?” Argus began. “Nothing I said was even remotely insulting. I saw the Stellar Flare before I saw him, and wallaby Animani are, in fact, very rare in the current era.” He looked at the group once more and honed in on Rozzi. “As are red panda Animani, remarkable!”

His focus then turned on Captain Blackeye. “My word, Arias Cofresi!” then sailed toward to Hector and Wistea. “A third Animani carrying a Sauroian, and a Planaetian Nobel! This is absolutely astonishing!”

Siani sighed loudly, her antenna drooping in defeat. “Everyone,” her voice hummed with exasperation. “This is my husband, Argus Ortho Cael. Former first chair, Imperial science council.”

Argus smiled at them all, turned on his heels and headed back toward the open door. “Well, back to work then!”

Confused glances were exchanged as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Both Siani and Ori then raised their hands to count down from three.

Exactly three seconds later, the door opened and out popped Argus’ head. “Aren’t you all coming?”

While the group made their way inside, Rozzi turned to the somewhat defeated looking butterfly and asked, “You’ve been married to that for how long, exactly?”

“It will be ten years soon, soon, soon, not that it matters, he always forgets our anniversary anyway.” Her expression grew from upset to apologetic, “I know right this moment he seems…”

“Spirited?” Wistea volunteered politely.

“I suppose that’s a kind way of saying ‘brash’, but once you get to know him he becomes much, much, much more tolerable. He really is quite brilliant; there just isn’t much in the way of a middle ground to his focus.”

The interior of the aged building was lit by strange bulbs that resembled small gas lamps, except that they gave off much stronger and steadier light. Hector, after finally setting Hyla down, watched as Argus picked up a small jar connected to one of the lamps by thin wires and shook it. Inside the jar was what appeared to be loamy soil with something squirming about inside. After Argus set it down, the attached light grew brighter.

Further in, books, scrolls, and other artifacts were strewn about on every flat surface available. Towers of literature created narrow corridors and framed chalkboards covered in strange symbols that most of the group assumed to be the written language of the Insicai.

Wistea stopped in front of one of the free standing displays of research art and grew confused. “Mister Cael… My Insikik is a little sparse, but does this actually say ‘false moon theorem?’”

“First, it’s Scholar Cael, and second, never mind that! Can’t prove it anyway. Without exact knowledge of the surface composition of the moons it’s all based on suggested gravitational mechanisms that I can only hypothesize. I simply found it odd that every nation, regardless of its position on the planet, experienced the exact same fluctuations of season at precisely the same time.” Argus swept one of his arms over a table, knocking a hefty amount of books and papers to the floor; he then carefully set out several cups and saucers that had been on the summit of several separate book towers before. “Now, would anyone care for some tea?”

Rozzi gave Wally a nudge, “Why are we here again, exactly?”

He looked at her pensively, struggling for a short moment to even remember, before turning to Argus. “Scholar Cael… is that brightstone of yours and the Stellar Flare related in some way?”

Argus smoothly sat at the table and steepled both sets of his long green fingers, his stoic expression resting behind the larger pair as he spoke, “Now what makes you say a thing like that?”

“There’s… Ever since I first saw the Flare it’s felt like… I was looking at something alive. I couldn’t explain it until I learned that it was a weapon not created just by mortal hands, but also the gods. Just now, when I looked at that brightstone we helped recover, I felt the exact same thing.”

The lean grasshopper said nothing, he hardly moved. Slowly, a chuckle began in his throat, growing by the second into a chest heaving guffaw before he sprang to his feet and thrust his arms to the air and shouted, “I KNEW IT!” He leapt over the table, rattling some of the tea cups as he landed before Wally; and slapped his hands onto the wallaby’s shoulders. “They are my boy! They absolutely are! Hah!” He rose to full height once again and turned to the table. “Teacups? No time for that! Darling, would you be so kind, the blue scroll sleeve, you know the one, I keep it in the umbrella stand by the bed.”

No one had noticed when, or even that, Siani had left the room. But seconds after he’d asked for her, she was already coming down the stairs with the large blue tube in hand and a confident smile.

“Dearest, you truly know me best,” Argus sighed happily.

“Well, well, well. Someone has to.” She tittered and handed over the tube.

Argus popped one end of it off like the cork of a wine bottle, launching into the far corner of the room, breaking something that sounded like porcelain. Inside the tube was a large tapestry, woven from beautifully colored silk that showed only the mildest signs of age and wear. Argus carefully draped it onto one of the blackboards and stepped back to let the others see it. “It took me years to find this in a stone vault buried in the industrial depths of the capital, along with a map that lead to this place.”

Curious eyes scanned the seemingly sequential imagery before them; the first in the series was a silhouette of a small Insicai, its four hands raised toward a feminine figure surrounded by a halo of flame. The next image was of a shimmering stone in the same Insicai’s hand. The final image on the tapestry showed the Insicai holding the sword aloft before the female from the first image.

Argus cleared his throat to call everyone’s attention. “I’ve verified the tapestries authenticity; it is well over a thousand years old and depicts what had only been legend to the people of this sovereign nation. More than a millennia ago, a great flame raced across the sky, shining its light down on the whole of Mondia before it impacted here. Well… Not here, the capital. The mountain we call ‘Anago’ is the impact site. There, Rollo Poda arrived to discover that what had fallen was a mass of brilliant ore that shone like the stars and sun. And, at its heart,” Argus slowly pointed toward the hilt of the Stellar Flare, “a brilliant and mystical red jewel.”

“Hang on,” Blackeye spoke, shattering Argus reverent tone. “Can’t be right, Insicai don’t live that long. I met Poda just after the war, he was a hunched over little fella sure, but not that old!”

Argus chuckled. “Yes, I heard the stories you journeyed with him. Did he ever tell you what he was searching for?”

Blackeye shook his head.

“Poda’s personal mission was to find the missing pieces of the original ore that fell to Mondia, brightstones! All the bits left over from when he forged the Stellar Flare!”

Wistea gasped. “So… When they called him the ‘Shining Star of Insicai’…”

“The title was meant as an insult at first, everyone hears the legend of the Flare as children, of a woodlouse Insicai being the first great mind of the nation. So when the old fellow made himself known during the war, the various scholars of Insicai mocked him. They stopped mocking when his brilliance shone as bright as the title implied. Those same scholars laughed at me when I said Rollo Poda was, in fact, the very same Insicai who gave form to the Flare… And now I know it’s absolutely true!” He rolled the tapestry and tucked it back into its tube. He handed it to his wife and took a knee before Wally, clapping his hands onto the wallaby’s shoulders once more. “Thank you, my boy! Half a lifetime of research and theory, and now I know I’m absolutely right… You have no idea what that means to me!”

Wally smiled politely, not certain he did much to deserve the thanks, but still happy to have helped in any way.

“Now,” Argus clapped his secondary hands, “the matter at hand. I’ve no doubt you’re all here to destroy that damnable battleship, yes?”

Confused looks were exchanged before Hector spoke. “That thing Kota’s Generals fly around in? It’s here?”

“Well not here, it docks at a special platform built into the side of Mount Anago for maintenance and resupply. In fact, I hear its still under repair. Most likely you all gave it a sound trashing and are here to finish the job!”

Argus smile faded as he saw the somewhat dour expressions on their faces.

“Ah, you didn’t know it was here. Well, that’s alright! Now you do and right when it’s at its most vulnerable! If we all move quickly we should be able to take that flying travesty apart and severely diminish the capabilities of Kota’s frontline forces!” Argus bolted upright and started to walk out of the room. “Darling, help me pack a bag, I’ll be going with them! If anyone on the planet could help dismantle that horrible contraption, it’ll be me. Especially after I get back to my lab and retrieve my invention!”

There was the sound of a distant explosion, everyone but the Insicai reacted defensively.

“Good, good, good. It went as scheduled,” Ori commented calmly. She then remembered that the room was filled with people who had no idea what just happened. “Ah! My apologies everyone! That was a planned, planned, planned demolition. Hado might’ve seen the access hatch to southern tunnel three. As is now standard, any, any, any potentially compromised entrance is demolished.”

“Is there nothing else you can do but hide down here?” asked Hyla.

Ori shook her head. “Only I and a handful of the Imperial Guard broke off from the main force, and many of them were injured in our last battle with Hado. Everyone else here, here, here is a scholar, a politician or just a citizen. They have no formal combat training and Hado’s forces are actually quite, quite, quite numerous. What you fought today was only a small, small, small platoon under his direct command.”

“With an official Imperial sanction,” Siani added. “He was put in charge of Chidulas and the surrounding area. Conscripting as many able-bodied citizens as he could, could, could for his forces, along with a number of Imperial Guards.”

Hyla’s brow furrowed and her hands clenched into fist. She turned to look at Wally and declared, “We have to help them! If we just leave, Hado’s soldiers could return!”

Wally was about to reply when Hector interrupted. “Hyla, I hate to say this, but I don’t think we can.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly. “What?”

Hector’s expression was stoic as he spoke. “Our priority is to defeat Kota. Destroying their flagship would be an enormous step forward. If we miss our chance to do so now, we may never have another. Not to mention if we succeed, we’ll have more time to get Wally to Krust Mountain and restore the Flare’s power. The greater good demands we stay the course.”

Hyla only grew more frustrated. “I… I know that! But… Can we really just leave these people to fend for themselves?! It might have been accidental, but we met them and they need help! That means something!”

“I’m not any happier about it than you are, Hyla, believe me. However we simply can’t stop to help everyone we meet if it means losing a great opportunity.”

“If we don’t help them whose to say they’ll even still be here if we succeed?!”

Wally brought his foot down several time to call everyone’s attention, his father’s most effective technique against arguments. In his case, however, it lead to several book towers collapsing and something made of glass falling to a noisy, unseen demise.

“Right then,” he spoke in a stern yet orderly tone, or at least hoped that’s how he sounded. “That’s enough of that, especially since you’re both right.” He crossed his arms. “We’ll go around the room and have everyone’s say on the matter. Hyla, Hector, you’ve had yours… That means we move on to you, Wistea.”

“M-me? Oh…” She cleared her throat and straightened her posture as she did for every lecture she’d ever given and forced her thoughts into order. “I… Agree with Hector. That ship has been a major threat us since the Silent Marsh and we barely managed to survive our encounters with it.”

Next down the line was Blackeye. “I’m for stayin’ here and takin’ it to that clam handed scallop. Ain’t in me to just walk away from people in need. Know my Polly’d agree if she could.”

“I’m with the Captain and Hyla on this one,” Rozzi announced. “Know what it’s like to need help and not get it. So I ain’t about to leave innocent folk in the lurch.”

Wally rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Then I propose we divide our efforts. Argus, you’re certain you can help disable their airship”

Argus stood to his full height and crossed his arms firmly, a move that gave him the sturdy countenance of a well made fence post. “Certain as sunlight, my boy! Especially after we get what I need from my lab in the capital.”

“Fine. Hector, you Hyla and Wistea will go with him and destroy the battleship if you can. I’ll stay here with Rozzi, Blackeye, and Polly when she wakes up. We’ll see if we can’t knock down the Baron. Besides, we all know Kota’s tracking my every move. If she wants she can probably send Hado and his forces straight to wherever I am… So if you go to the capital without me…”

“None of her forces will see us coming, of course!” realized Hector.

There was a fire welling up in Wally’s belly that refused to go unnoticed. A courageous conflagration of emotion that the moment called for, and Wally would deny no longer. “Up ‘til now, it’s been half measures… We’d fight Kota’s army or run from them, they’d take whatever they were after and leave the world to make up for what we couldn’t do. I’d say it’s high time we changed that! No more bitter victories! No more running! We take the fight to them and win!”

Rozzi giggled. “Speeches like that ain’t very baker-like y’know?”

The heroic visage he’d unconsciously taken on softened slightly. “Too much?”

She shook her head with a smile, “Just right.”

Wally scanned the eyes of his friends and the determination that lay within them. He held out his hand toward the group. Hector recognized the gesture immediately and put his hand on top of Wally’s. Rozzi was next, followed by Wistea who sensed the pattern. Blackeye placed his hand atop hers and all eyes turned to the newest member of their party. Hyla felt her chest swell with a newfound sense of inclusion; she fought back a tear or two, as well as dwindling hesitation, and placed her hand in the center of her newfound allies.

“To Victory!” Wally shouted.

“VICTORY!” Everyone gladly replied, throwing their hands into the air as one.

<[Chapter 20]–[Index]–[Chapter 22]>